#my bonny lies over the ocean | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amoreva · 6 months

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MY BONNIE

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pairing: racetrack higgins x fem!reader

summary: after a year without seeing her, race is able to see her beauty in the moonlight. he’s able to see her, once again.

warnings: small mention of death

a/n: an idea popped up and i couldn’t stop writing. i don’t think “my bonnie” was an actual sea shanty, so we’ll pretend like it is.

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The Seven Seas are dangerous to navigate with the vicious weather and the creatures haunting the depths of the ocean. From krakens the size of two pirate ships to mythic Scylla to serpents that feed on the mutineers to the dangerously beautiful sirens.

The sirens are most common within the Seven Seas. Pirates are wary every time they voyage across the seas. Race even more cautious. He had been a survivor of a few siren attacks. His crewmates don’t believe him. They laugh and mock because all pirates know…once you hear a siren’s song— you are dead.

The moonlight and stars twinkle in the night sky. The crew mates of the Crooked Star laughing drunkenly. Albert or Romeo had found the alcohol stashed below the deck. It caused for a mass party among the crew.

What were they celebrating? They don’t even know themselves, but everyone loves a good drink of alcohol after being on the seas for so long.

Race was leaning against a barrel. A wooden cup of alcohol in hand with a cigar between his fingers. The lanterns on the ship illuminating the wooden deck orange and yellow. A wide tipsy grin on his face as he watched his crew sing sea shanties and dance.

“My Bonnie lies over the ocean!”

“My Bonnie lies over the sea!”

“Well, my Bonnie lies over the ocean!”

“Yeah, bring back my Bonnie to me” “Yeah, bring back. Ah, bring back”

“Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me. To me!”

Yet, something combated the pirates’ singing. Something magical, enchanting to the ears. Something luring. Race could recognize it within seconds. He could always recognize their songs.

It sobered him up real quickly.

“Sirens!” Race’s voice boomed over the singing. The word sobered everyone on the deck real quick. Wooden cups, empty or not, were discarded. Hands covering their ears. Alcohol staining the deck, but they could get the stains out—if the crew survived.

“Beeswax!”

Again, Race’s voice boomed. He’s learned well enough beeswax can muffle the songs of sirens. If that didn’t work, you better tie yourself to the mast of the ship.

Race was able to shove the beeswax into his ears when he saw his friend, Mush, mindlessly walking towards the edge of the ship. The pirate gritted his teeth and launched himself at his entranced friend.

“Mush, you idiot!” Race shouted with intensity. He would not lose his friends to these creatures. Albert helped Race tie Mush to the mast of the ship.

Once you hear the sirens’ song, you couldn’t get out until they stopped. Race rushed to the railing of the ship. He could see the heads of the sirens, peeking out of the dark waters. For a second, he thought he recognized one. A siren from the last attack he went through. That was impossible though.

Jack stormed to the edge of the ship. His face stern as he held his flintlock pistol. A shot rang out. The heads of the sirens submerged in the water quickly.

Race’s heart was beating against his chest. Adrenaline pumping through his veins. All is calm, but you could never be too sure. Mush’s head lolled to the side as he regain his senses. The other crewmates of the Crooked Star wearily glance around at each other.

They look at Jack for orders. Jack looked at Race. At least none of his friends will mock him for “surviving” sirens now. Davey crouched and put beeswax in Mush’s ears. Thankfully, he was the only one who was entranced.

“Retire to your bunks, keep the beeswax in until the morning!” Jack barked the command and glanced at Race. A silent thank you passing his eyes.

Lanterns were blown out as the pirates dragged their bodies below deck to their hammocks. The hangovers tomorrow would be a lot to deal with. Race decided to stay out on the deck. An exhausted look in his eyes. He picked up one of the wooden cups and filled it with alcohol, well—half way. There was barely any left.

The moon was the only light source he had as he leaned against the railing of the deck. A cool breeze blowing through his hair. Race was with his own thoughts for a moment or two when there was a thump and a splash.

Faintly, he can hear a hum. He can’t hear the tune, so against his survival instincts—he takes out the beeswax. He hopes, he prays.

He can hear, clearly, someone humming “My Bonnie”. The shanty his crew was singing earlier. His heart beats against his chest, for a different reason, not fear, but love.

“You humans put words together that don’t make sense and call them songs.” That only confirmed his suspicions.

He turned around and there, right there, was the dangerously beautiful creature he warns others of. She had the face and the upper body of a mortal woman, but that doesn’t dismiss the tail hanging off the deck. The scales that captured moonlight.

Right there, sitting on the edge of the deck was his Bonnie.

“Bonnie can’t lie over the ocean. It’s impossible.” The siren stated. She’s leaning back on her hands. Her hair slicked back against her head due to the sea.

“Y/N…” Race let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It had been so long since he heard her voice, seen her face, her tail, her beauty. It was his Bonnie.

“Hello, my love.” Y/N smiled.

Race tackled the siren in a hug. His knees slammed against the deck. His shirt getting soaked with the water running off her body. He didn’t care— he was just so happy to see her.

Y/N hugged the pirate back. She can feel the weight of emotions through one single hug.

The siren and pirate first met during Race’s first siren survival. He had been the only one to survive out of a crew of 20. This intrigued Y/N. Pirates hadn’t figured out how to survive siren attacks back then, so she was curious.

Fortunately enough for her, curiosity did not kill the cat. Though Race was weary and young, he wasn’t naive. He knew he should’ve killed the siren, yet he held a conversation with them. Maybe it was the despair realizing he was the only one left or possibly, his teenage hormones that couldn’t resist a beautiful creature. Y/N’s company made his sailing a little more bearable.

They talked, laugh, spoke to each other about their dreams every night. Every night, until Race reached land. Y/N returned to the ocean, but not without leaving Race a gift. One of her scales. It was one of the smaller ones, but it held memories. Memories that Race interpreted they both enjoyed each other.

Race confessed his love the second time he saw her. She accepted. He was still young, early 20s, but now…now that he’s a little older and matured — he knows, he knows his love isn’t some infatuation, but true, pure love.

“I see you found yourself a more suitable, stronger crew.” Y/N stated her observations for earlier. Her and her sisters were close to getting one to feed on, but Race got in the way of that. Not that she could be mad.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Race pulled back from the hug to cupped her face. A million of words being spoken with his eyes. “A year away and I still recognized you.”

“A year away and somehow, I’m still dreaming of when I could see you again.” Y/N admitted softly. She glanced at a soft colored silver chain around his neck. She reached out to remove it from under his shirt.

It was her scale on a necklace.

Race kissed her forehead. “Had to keep you close, somehow.”

The pirate sat down next to her. Legs hanging off the deck next to the scaled tail of his love. It still feels unreal that she’s here. He’s praying he isn’t hallucinating from the alcohol and cigar from earlier. “May I?”

Y/N doesn’t respond back. It was something they both needed after being apart for a year. Their lips meet, a contrast in temperature. His warm lips against her cold lips. The smell of the sea on her skin makes him feel dizzy. If the sea and moonlight were a person, it’d be her.

Her hand cupped the back of his neck, deepening the reunion kiss. They kept kissing and kissing until Y/N was warm. They pulled away, but Race hugged the siren once more.

“I missed you so much.” He reiterated.

“I missed you too, my love.” Y/N said it back.

“I didn’t know you were on this ship until I saw someone tackle their crew mate.” Y/N giggled quietly, remembering the scene from her perspective in ocean. “I hate you for being able to prevent our attacks.”

“Well, I survived two others. I would be stupid to not use this knowledge to my advantage, sweetheart.” Race snickered and wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders.

It was silent for a moment. The couple enjoying each other’s presence. The moonlight reflecting off of Y/N’s scales softly. Race’s body heat keeping Y/N comfortable in his arms. The ship aimlessly sailing north.

“Does the song really mean a woman is lying on the ocean water?” Y/N asked softly. Her curiosity was one of the things he admired about her.

“No, sweetheart.” Race kissed her forehead. “The song is about someone they love caring about the other’s return.”

He paused letting her process. “In this case, us pirates, sing the song in hopes we return to our loved one. Like my captain, Jack, is waiting to return home to his wife, Katherine or my buddy, Romeo, hoping someone is waiting for him at the dock for his return.”

“Or me, waiting to be reunited with you.” Race muttered softly. Y/N glanced up at Race. A small, loving smile on her face as she leaned up to peck his lips.

“You should be singing my Bonnie lies in the ocean. My Bonnie lies in the sea.” Y/N joked with a giggle.

Race matched her smile. “Well, my Bonnie lies in the ocean. Yeah, bring back my Bonnie to me. Bring back, bring back. Bring back my Bonnie to me. To me.”

Y/N leaned her head against Race’s shoulder as he sung the modified words to “My Bonnie”. It was special to them. Only they would know the true meaning.

And when they parted ways, they had a new song to hum when they missed each other. Not a siren song or a sea shanty, just their love song.

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#newsies #uksies #newsies broadway #newsies x reader #race higgins #race x reader #racetrack higgins #racetrack newsies #racetrack x reader #siren au #pirate au #alternate universe

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syoddeye · 3 months

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I re-read For the Record from the beginning to motivate myself and decided to write down every single music reference, start to finish. (At least I tried.) This is mostly for my own benefit but if you like any of these artists or albums, we should be friends. 🖤

Chapter Titles

HAMMS IN A GLASS by Winona Fighter

Sometime Around Midnight by the Airborne Toxic Event

Got You by Amyl and The Sniffers

Baby Baby by The Vibrators

Crawl! by Idles

Feeling in Love (From the Waist Down) by Twen

Good Fortune by PJ Harvey

I Was Made For Lovin' You by KISS

Hand In My Pocket by Alanis Morissette

Crush by Cigarettes After Sex

Happiness is a butterfly by Lana Del Ray

You're My Waterloo by The Libertines

Waterloo by ABBA

All Mine by PLAZA

Sit by Japanese Breakfast

Song References

I'd Rather Be With You by Bootsy Collins

Cowboys from Hell by Pantera

Chiquitita by ABBA

Peaches & Cream by 112

I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You by Aretha Franklin

Whatta Man by Salt-N-Pepa

Kiss from a Rose by Seal

Bless the Telephone by Labi Siffre

Timber by Pitbull ft. Ke$ha

West End Girls by Pet Shop Boys

Fuck and Run by Liz Phair

Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye

Mercy Mercy Me by Marvin Gaye

My Bonnie Lies over the Ocean

Stronger by Britney Spears

Album References

Load by Metallica

Reload by Metallica

White Pony by The Deftones

Young, Gifted and Black by Aretha Franklin

This Is Me…Then by J Lo

Rio by Duran Duran

Artist References

Slipknot

David Bowie

Mac Demarco

SWV

Sugar Ray

J.I.D.

Sinéad O'Connor

Foals

Twin Shadow

Pixies

Oasis

Slayer

Darondo

Lianne La Havas

Four Top

Mötley Crüe

Prince

#writing #for the record

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kydtyk · 4 months

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Scored this weird mystery record at the Mormon thrift store in Tucson. No artist is credited, just producer, recorder, mastering, and cover design. There are no original songs and no publishing date, but it says "recorded since 1962" and has that full band 60s pop sound, including a rocking, almost surfy cover of "My Bonnie" (lies over the ocean) and a surprisingly dark, languid cover of "Michelle" by the Beatles.

#personal #vinylrecords

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goofygoldengirl · 10 months

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#poll #polls #titan #submarine titan #meme

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septembersghost · 2 years

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does anyone else have a jukebox installed in their brain, that is playing any song you've possibly ever heard in the background at any given time? and some days it makes sense, because it's that bop you played on repeat yesterday, but others it drags up a childhood rhyme you haven't heard in decades and it shouldn't even be in there? what kind of quarter was dropped in and brought that to the surface?

yesterday, it was on the street where you live from my fair lady. no rhyme or reason, it just appeared in my head.

today, it's my bonnie lies over the ocean. there is no explanation for this. who knows when the last time i heard it was. but what makes this funnier is, when i was little, i misheard the song. i sincerely believed it was, "my body." my body lies over the ocean, my body lies over the sea, my body lies over the ocean, oh bring back my body to me. this made logical sense to me, until i was eventually corrected, because i thought the song was sung by a ghost.

#and you might ask yourself #why doesn't this bitch sleep #well. imagine what it's like all the time in my head.#jess.mess #PEOPLE STOP AND STARE! THEY DON'T BOTHER ME! 'CAUSE THERE'S NOWHERE ELSE ON EARTH THAT I WOULD RATHER BE! LET THE TIME GO BYYYY-

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prince--thomas · 2 years

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Bring Back My Bonnie to Me [Part One] ~~ [Tonnie + Elinor]

In which Tom and Annie meet face to face for the first time since Levi was born...[takes place: May 23, 2022 evening]

@ugly-anastasia, @mamabear-elinor

[tw -- order stuff, manipulation, thoughts of violence/murder lol]

THOMAS: This was only Tom’s second time at the old castle in the woods and it gave him the same sense of dread and foreboding as it had the last time he’d seen it. Its parapets rose high, disappearing into the trees and a dense fog lay like a blanket over the ground. A chill ran up his spine, despite the relatively warm day. Dawn was just cresting over the horizon, but in the dense forest you could not see it. It didn’t matter to Tom anyway. It just marked his second…third? day without sleep. And another sunrise where his son was still missing.

He had come only on behest of his aunt, with no idea why she had called for him. At the very least, he could see Merida and see if she had any updates on their situation. What they were going to do. And look at his cousin with his own two eyes and know she was alright.

He could do that.

The knocker on the large oak door echoed and it took only moments for Elinor to open it.

“Oh, Thomas,” she frowned, reaching up to put her hands on either side of his face. She brushed at his oily, messy curls and brushed her thumbs against the apples of his cheeks. “We are going to fix all of this, I promise.”

Tom wanted to tell her that they couldn’t fix all of it. Unless that demon could bring back Eric from the dead. (And would Tom even want him to?)

Instead, he just nodded mutely and allowed his aunt to pull him into the castle. “Come, sit down near the fire. You’re cold as ice.” She squeezed his hand, but he barely felt it. He let her lead him, though, as if he was just a small boy again, clinging to his mother’s skirts.

That was until he stopped in the doorway of the sitting room, his feet planted. “What--what are you doing here?” he snarled, his eyes wildly darting about the room--looking for his son. “Where is Levi? What have you done with him?”

“Thomas.” Despite his own anger and his own exhaustion, his aunt’s voice was still an effective whip, cracking over his head.

He was breathing heavily, his fists trembling where he clenched them.

“Let her explain.”

“Aye, she bloody well better.”

ANNIE: Annie was really good at the art of curating an emotional crisis. Her most recent online scandal was proof of that. She knew how to put on just enough makeup that she looked tired, but not ugly; the perfect messy bun that said “I don’t care what I look like right now, but I do still look good;” a matching lounge set that was cute and understated and, like, respectful or whatever. Annie was good at reading the room.

But Annie’s current emotional crisis was not curated. She did not have any makeup on, and her hair wasn’t in a perfect messy bun, it hung around her face in a frizzy, unbrushed mess. She was wearing the same jeans and blouse she had been wearing all day, but there was a noticeable coffee stain down the front. Annie clutched at the offending mug tightly, like it was a life raft.

Tom had been right. She had handed her day-old son over to murderers. What kind of mother did that? And what was going to happen now?

“Tom, I didn’t know,” she whispered hoarsely. “As soon as Elinor told me, I– I realized I had been wrong. She was just so… Eloise, she always knew exactly what to say. I thought I was doing the right thing for Levi by listening to her. And then…” Annie’s voice caught in her throat and she started to cry– not for the first time that day, or even that hour. “I’m sorry, Tom!”

THOMAS: “I bloody told you!” Tom bellowed, his shout echoing off the walls. All his frustration, all his fear, anger, and grief unleashed. He took a step forward.

Elinor cut in front of him, drawing Tom up short. “Thomas--”

Tom sucked in a deep breath and then turned away from angling towards Annie. He crossed to the other side of the room and began pacing back and forth, a couch and coffee table between himself and Annie on the other couch. Elinor stood in the middle of the room between them. He ran a hand through his hair.

Then, all of the sudden he stopped short and whirled on Annie again, gripping the back of the fragile, antique wood hard enough heard it crack.

“Where is he?” he snarled, eyes hard and sharp. “Did you LEAVE HIM WITH THEM?”

ANNIE: For Annie, tears were usually a defense mechanism. She cried when she felt backed into a corner, because she knew how to use her tears as a weapon. But she wasn’t fighting Tom. That wasn’t what this was about.

Instead, she yelled back at him, her voice low and still thick with tears and decidedly more British. Yelling felt better than crying. It felt like she was doing something. It was practically her and Tom’s primary form of communication, wasn’t it?

“I told you, I didn’t know! Stop bloody shouting at me! You’ve got no idea what it’s like to be in my position! You think I wanted this? To find out the people who were supposed to be giving him the life he deserved are bloody psychopathic murderers?!”

THOMAS: Tom didn’t want to stop shouting. Maybe, once upon a time, he would’ve felt bad for it. For shouting at Annie, the mother of his child, a woman. But right now he only saw her as a kidnapper. Taking his son from him. Leaving his son in the care of, as she said: psychopathic murderers. He had no sympathy for her. Her tears meant nothing to him. How many tears had Levi cried? How many more would he cry if he grew up in the clutches of the Order?

“I told you!” he bellowed right back at her. “I told you and you didnae listen to me! I begged you but you thought you knew better, eh? Knew my family better than I did. Thought I was what? Crazy? A brute? A liar? Why? Why would--”

“Tom--”

“Nae, Auntie,” Tom snapped at his aunt. “She deserves this! I tried--” Tears suddenly clouded his vision “--I did everything I could.”

Elinor reached out and gripped his shoulder with surprising strength. “I know,” she murmured to him. “I know. Fighting isn’t going to fix this. It is what they would want. You need to be strong. For Levi. For your son.”

Tom let out a shuddering breath, bowing his head forward as he gripped the back of the couch. He sniffed once, then sucked in a deep breath and nodded. He looked back up, still glaring at Annie but when he spoke, some of the heat was gone from his voice.

“You’re gonnae help us get him back. And you are gonnae listen. And do everything that I say. Are we understood? This is not your world. It is mine.” He is my son.

ANNIE: Annie opened her mouth to tell Tom exactly what she thought of him. That she thought he was stubborn and secretive and no, she didn’t think he was crazy, but she didn’t trust him, and that was enough to get her to listen to Eloise over him.

(That wasn’t the whole story, of course. The whole story was that Annie didn’t really feel inclined to trust men as a baseline, and she had developed a deep aspirational obsession with Eloise over the past few months, and she felt drawn to people who validated the things she already believed about herself. Annie wasn’t self-aware enough for that part, though.)

Elinor was the one to interrupt Tom, though, and now Tom was crying, and that was what actually scared Annie. She wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid of what he was afraid of. If his family was capable of murder, what else were they capable of? What else did Tom know?

Annie stared at Tom, wide-eyed and pale. Her hand twitched and more coffee splashed out of the cup, but she didn’t notice.

“Why do you think I’m here, Tom? Obviously we’re getting him back,” Annie said, but her tone didn’t have the irritable, sarcastic tone she usually took with Tom when she said things like that to him. It was at once both desperate and flat. “I don’t care what I have to do. Sure. I’ll listen to you. If you know something I don’t, that’s fine. But I have information, too. Stuff you might not know. And they still trust me. So we’re gonna need to work together.”

THOMAS: Obviously we’re getting him back, Annie said, but that--meant nothing.

There was no ‘obviously’ about it. Tom would not underestimate the Order. They wanted his son. Tom had, technically, sworn his son to them. They would make good on their threats. He knew that they would. This was a dangerous situation. Not just for Levi, but for Tom--for everyone that he cared about.

He glanced at his aunt, who was still standing at his shoulder, a hand on his arm. Her gaze was steady, but firm and he appreciated it. At least someone else here knew what the stakes were.

“Alright: what do you know then?” Tom asked. He resented this. Working with Annie. But, at heart, he was a warrior. And it would be stupid not to take advantage of the assets he had. It didn’t mean anything. Tom wasn’t doing it for Annie. He was doing it for Levi.

ANNIE: Annie frequently preached that anything was possible if you set your mind to it. That didn’t mean she always believed it. But it was what people liked to hear, and right now, she didn’t really want to think about what would happen if they didn’t get Levi back (because she had thought about it. She had mulled it over all day. She didn’t know all the details of why they had killed that boy, Tom’s cousin, but it meant they were dangerous and they would kill again and Levi wasn’t safe there).

So right now, she was gonna have to believe it. She was putting her whole mind to this— every last ounce of determination she had. She was even working with the last person she wanted to confront right now. It was going to be worth it. It had to be.

“There’s going to be a party. Monday night. It’s kind of a meet-the-baby welcome-to-the-family type thing. And I’m invited, obviously, and they think I’m still totally fine with, uh… him being there.” Annie stumbled a little over that part, her face reddening. There was a reason they thought that. Because, for a moment in time, Annie had been totally fine with that. “Apparently it’s at a new location, this property they just got in London. They sent me the address and all. So I think I should just, I guess, uh, go in there, get Levi, and make a run for it. Not totally foolproof, but… it’s the best plan I got.”

THOMAS: Yeah, of course it was a new property. The Order wasn’t going to go back to their old haunts. The places that Tom, Phil, and John knew. The places they knew the weaknesses of. It would be stupid to stay there and, unfortunately for Tom, the Order was not stupid.

Part of him wanted to pace the floor, but Tom had never been one for pacing. He was stoic and still, as the storm raged inside him. He rubbed an exhausted hand over his face, trying to blink away the tears and bleariness. His mind chewed over Annie’s words, trying to find fault with them. He was so focused on the plan itself that he almost missed the other part.

The most important part: they think I’m still totally fine with him being there.

So, she had left Levi. She had been planning on leaving him properly. The Order hadn’t taken Levi. Annie had offered him up to them on a silver platter. Tom wanted to launch himself over the couch and strangle her. But even with the righteous fury coursing through him, he was too tired. Instead, he took a deep breath and stood up straight again, but he didn’t look at Annie. He couldn’t. If he did, he’d start shouting again.

He looked at his aunt.

“Do you think it will work?” he asked his aunt, because he knew she’d know better than him. After all, this was women’s territory. Babies and parties and things like that. His aunt had plenty of experience organizing such events.

Elinor nodded. “If they believe she gave Levi up of her own volition and just wants to come to the party, they won’t see it as a threat. She is still his mother.”

And though that did not mean as much as a father to the Order, it still meant something.

“Aye. Alright. But I’m going with her.”

“Tom, no--if anyone spots you.”

“No. I am going,” Tom snapped harshly, glaring sharply at his aunt. “I have to go.” The fire gave way to tears again as the fear squeezed his throat.

ANNIE: Annie was inclined to side with Elinor. Because even if she realized, now, that she had been wrong about Tom, she still trusted Elinor more. Tom was the one who was angry and emotional and who was making her feel the depth of all the terrible things she didn’t want to confront about her mistake.

But, then again…

Annie didn’t want to go alone.

“You can’t come in, but it might help to have someone driving the car,” Annie suggested weakly. “And, uh… I mean, obviously I don’t wanna think about the worst case scenario, and I am pretty scrappy, but if it comes down to it, might be good to have someone there for backup who’s, uh…” How was she supposed to put this. “…Trained for this kind of thing?”

THOMAS: Tom was trained for this kind of thing.

Maybe this was what his whole life had been leading up to, in some strange, twisted way. The Order had given him the tools he needed to tear it down. To save his son. If he was someone else, maybe he would not be able to. Even another Prince. Another Prince would not have the skill he had, passed down to him through his father, nor the special time spent training--the whole Order investing in him, Phil, and John, they way they hadn’t in their peers.

They had crafted Tom into a weapon and set him loose under false pretenses. Now, he was the banshee on the moor and he was coming for them. Something about that soothed him. He knew, objectively, that killing anyone would lead to his own death, but he was a talented soldier. He did not have to kill them in order to fight.

Tom still did not want to look at Annie, to speak to her. He was still boiling over with fury that she would leave their son in the clutches of the Order.

But, after a long moment, he managed to nod. Just once. “I’ll drive. You’ll go in and fetch him. If things start going wrong, text me.” He said all of this still looking at his aunt, but eventually he turned and met Annie’s gaze, his own hard as stone.

“If he’s gone, if I lose him--”

The threat burned up in his throat, because he did not know what he would do. Part of him felt that it might be satisfying to run Annie through with a sword, but the grief at just the thought was far too painful to even comprehend. So, instead, he just let it linger.

“Come on,” Elinor said softly, putting her hand on Tom’s shoulder. “You both need to rest. You have a long day tomorrow…”

ANNIE: It was what Annie was thinking, but would not say.

They weren’t going to lose him. It didn’t matter that the Harringtons had been nothing but kind and welcoming and accommodating to Annie (well, maybe sometimes they had been a little cold, which always just made Annie crave their approval all the more). According to what Elinor had said, these people were crazy evil murderers, and Annie was getting Levi out of there before any of this continued.

Not that she was comparing Charlie to a murder cult, but if the past year had taught her anything… it was when to get the fuck out of a situation.

So no, Annie was not going to let herself imagine what would happen if she failed. She nodded at Elinor and didn’t look at Tom, and then she went to start her skincare routine. She knew she wasn’t going to sleep much tonight. It was probably useless. Still, Annie clung to the routine.

#swynanastasia #swynelinor #tonnie #elimas #bring back my bonnie to me #my bonny lies over the ocean #the fall of rome

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breitzbachbea · 7 months

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tell me what have you seen in ireland? uwu

Oh my god. Oh myyy god. I'LL GLADLY TELL.

So, I did just stay in Dublin bc I like to really get to know one place on my own terms instead of hopping from place to place and only see a bit. I did spend one day in Derry, though.

In Dublin, I went to:

- Dublinia, a museum about medieval and viking Dublin. One of the students working there talked his whole shift away with me and became a friend.

- Christchurch Cathedral, where Strongbow is buried

- St. Patrick's Cathedral (even found two of the mismatched tiles, bc 'only God is perfect'!)

- Dublin Castle (Saw the River Puddle! Or is it Poddle? I'm so bad with Irish river names)

- Strolled through St. Stephen's once, but didn't explore much.

- Went to the see the Book of Kells and the Long Hall in Trinity College (their Cicero bust is so funny)

- Went to the Cobblestones pub with a tumblr mutual and it was a lovely evening

- Visited Henrietta Street 14, one of the old Georgian townhouses that tells the stories from the British High Life to Irish squalor in Dublin

- Just walked around in Grangegorman and Phibsboro, bc that is where Harry, Soph and Paddy live (DESPAIR. still have no clue where I want Charlie to reside.)

- Went to the 'Dead Zoo', the national natural science museum.

- Went to the national archaeological museum and saw a cool sword. And got more extra viking info, bc it was with my Dublinia friend.

- Went to the museum of Modern Irish Literature, which was 80% James Joyce. (One room encourages you to write down the beginning of a book and I just left the beginning of a Harry and Charlie One-Shot at the wall).

- Went to the National Gallery and saw some John Keats and Renaissance Era stuff

- Went to the General Post Office Museum with their great contextualization of the Easter Rising with what came before and after. (Love the poster walls that really embed you in the Zeitgeist).

- Went to EPIC The Museum of Irish Emigration. That one was fun, I think.

- What's it called, Merrion Square? Wherever the Oscar Wilde statue is. I went there.

- In Derry, I went to the Guildhall to see their exhibition on the Ulster Plantation. That was cool!

- I also went to the Free Derry Museum, which does such a good job of contextualizing the beginning of the Troubles.

- And I walked the entirety of Derry's walls once!!! And bc the busride didn't go through Belfast, I saw a lot of the countryside in Derry, Tyrone and Armagh.

- Went to St. Michan's to see the Crypt YEHAAAAW. (The bodies are mummified bc of the temperature staying the same, the limestone walls and the methane gas that comes up through the ground).

I honestly may have forgotten something, I'm not sure. It was all in all a great trip and I already ache to return, the same way I ache to return to Sicily. I know it's Scottish and there is no Ocean in sight but ... my bonnie lies over the ocean ...

#beareplies #mary-eve #I also spent too much time and money in Hodges and Figgs. God. I have barely a cent to my name now.

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 2 years

Note

I don't get how "Bonnie" is a pun.

"Bonnie" is an old-fashioned word for "pretty girl." (E.g. "my Bonnie lies over the ocean.") Since she's only ever referred to as "the pretty girl" in #6, calling her "Bonnie" is my bit of wordplay.

#animorphs #bonnie park

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renee561 · 1 year

Text

My friend has asked me to post her strings because she found the bells of Tumblr to be so amusing she spent lots of time just playing the bells and sent me her strings.

Scarborough Fair:

663337876 35653[4]23

666553287 63217656

My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean:

532121653 53218782

532121653 56217678

58628777767823

286287777678

Happy Birthday:

556587 556521

2223176 443121

Mary Did You Know:

67123 63287 5678287

67123 63287 5671243

366 787656 234356

3432123 434343

We Wish You A Merry Christmas:

51121766 62232175

53343216 556278

58887 78765

2321155 556278

Auld Lang Syne:

51113212 3211356

65331212 3216658

65331212 653356

65331212 3216658

Silent Night:

5653 5653 227 885

668765653 668765653

2242783 8535421

Shepherds in the Field Abiding (Gloria):

33355431 332335543

56543 45432 34321255 123432

56543 45432 34321255 1234321

Hark the Herald Angels Sing:

58878332 5554323

58878332 5228765

55514332 55514332

6665434 23451123

6665434 23451121

Hedwig's Theme:

(or rather a close approximation thereof)

36876327 687563

36876 3554 2431 386

13131432 71832313

13131544 2431316

Lily's Theme:

5632876 56353

356567876 35656

Happy New Year:

88853331 1355432

23443231 1325721

Her version of Little Drummer Boy because she's not familiar with the song:

123334343 11233334343

23455565432

2345556[7]654 65435432

123334343 221

Jingle Bell Rock:

8887776763 676356764

2345652345 [approx] 656565722

8887776763 676356764

2345652345 66758

1121 1121 7876553

1121 121 556666765

#renee posts friend's bells findings #serena is lovley and talented #permission to post these on behlaf of my friend #tumblr bells

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lazycowboynerd · 5 months

Text

I made a thing

Music credit below the cut:

Song is My Bonnie lies over the ocean by The Pirates of St. Piran, an 18th century reenactment group based in the UK. This is from their 2018 album, The Mermaid's Tale. I used it in my video because it was the only non-instrumental version of the song not sung by a bunch of small children (I also like the sound of their voices).

Source: https://youtu.be/14QteTo83MY?si=-MKb1O5gRiqRduHG

#fnaf #meme #idk why i made this tbh #also you should check out the pirates of st piran on spotify; they're kinda cool

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toddycats · 2 years

Text

Hey uh,,,,, I wrote a deeply fucking personal essay? poem? just now and idk where to put it but if anyone wants to read it here u go. It's about being nb.

Knowing

I’m three. I know the alphabet in English and in French. I can read children’s books to my parents. My favorite color is green. I love horses. I watch science programs on TV with my dad every Wednesday. I don’t like my name because it is unusual. I want to change it to Ruby.

I’m four. I have a Cinderella dress that I wear everywhere. I love Disney princesses like every girl my age. I still love horses, and dinosaurs and stuffed animals and construction equipment and drawing with markers.

I’m six. All the girls in school say pink is their favorite color. I say that too. It’s still green.

I am nine or ten. I am playing MarioKart for the first time with my best friend. I choose to play as Peach, because she is the only girl character we have unlocked so far. I always play as Peach from then on, even when we have unlocked every character there is. I don’t like change.

I’m ten or eleven. I am about to leave for tennis camp. Well, it’s really just me and my friends being taught tennis by our parents’ co-worker and making up endless songs to the tune of “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.” My mom brings me a training bra and tells me that I have to wear it because I am starting to grow breasts. I remember crying. I don’t remember why.

I feel somehow oafish compared to the other girls my age. I wish I was delicate and pretty like them. Maybe then they would like me better. My hair is long, down to my hips. I don’t know how to make friends at school, just how to keep the ones I already have.

I have my first period. I try hiding it for all of five minutes but I’m too scared. I cry all day, to the point of hiccups. I feel like I’m becoming somebody I’m not. I really, really hate change.

I’m fourteen. I wake up one day feeling deeply unsettled. I put on my tightest sports bra and sit in the car on the road trip that my family is taking, watching the soaring canyons go by outside the window and lost in a fantasy wherein the character I am playing is a boy. This is a first for me.

I am at a friend’s house, in her basement. She tells me, as we are constructing a marble run, that a friend from school is using they/them pronouns. I don’t understand what this means in the slightest. I think later that if I was really who I claim to be, then this should have made sense to me instinctively, should have awoken some curiosity in me. All that happens is that this memory seems to crystallize in my mind, hard and solid but offering no clarity.

I have learned the word misogyny and use it liberally. I hungrily hunt down feminist memes on Pinterest.

I am lying in bed after a long day of taking college classes in high school. I admit to myself that I might be bisexual after all. I am crying. I remember promising to myself that I will never question my gender, because if I do, if I decide that I’m nonbinary, that’s how I’ll know I’m faking everything for attention. I cry myself all the way to sleep.

I tell my mom that I want to be Sherlock Holmes for Halloween: wouldn’t that be fun? (I love Sherlock Holmes) I tell her that the hardest part would be the hat but if I can find that I would be just fine for the rest of it probably and can I borrow that magnifying glass we have sitting by the phone. She looks at me blankly and asks, “Like a guy?” I go as a cartoon character who shares my name instead. She is a girl.

I’m in my prom dress, looking in the mirror. I should feel like a princess. I don’t remember how I do feel but it’s not like that.

I’m in real people college, and I’ve just taken a shower. That uneasiness starts to creep in again, like it has here and there over the years. I put on a sports bra and a sweatshirt, comb my short hair, and go to get lunch. The people passing me on the stairs give me looks. I smugly think that maybe they think that I’m not a girl. Which is ridiculous, but it feels good.

My RA says that they never really felt like a girl growing up. Never. And that’s why they knew they had to transition, that they were always nonbinary. We draw “genderbread” people. I put a tiny spot of blue in the mostly pink brain of mine because that feels right. I don’t show anyone.

I have a long-distance boyfriend, and when I’m at H&M I buy a lacy bra because I think maybe it would be nice for him to see me in it when we get back to school, in all my feminine glory. I’ve never bought a lacy bra before. I’ve long since stopped wearing skirts on a regular basis because they make me feel deeply uneasy somehow. The boyfriend ghosts me long before he ever gets to see the bra.

I’m in the dining hall, waiting for a scoop of mediocre food. The lovely older man who is serving that day always calls each of us “ma’am” or “sir” in a lighthearted way. He calls me “sir” then immediately corrects himself and I feel delight as I’ve never known in his confusion. I eat my food and listen to a worn-out musical playlist that serves as the only bulwark against the tide of anxiety that has been rising all year.

I’m in bed with the guy I consider then to be the love of my life. He jokes that my breasts are 20% of the reason that we are together. I feel sick.

I can’t get out of bed in the mornings. I hyperventilate every time I go to the grocery store.

I’m alone in my apartment. I am wearing two sports bras at once. Also a big black hoodie. I have tied my shoulder-length hair back because I can’t stand to look at it. I’m trying to remember what feeling like a girl feels like. I don’t know if I have a memory of it or not.

I have a panic attack at his cousin’s wedding. I’m wearing a dress for the first time in a long time and realizing that nobody will ever love me enough to marry me. My makeup is running.

I’m being broken up with. He has tears in his eyes and so do I. I remember screaming that I’m nonbinary and I want to use they/them pronouns and that’s the real truth, so do with that what you will. He is quiet a minute and then says that he doesn’t believe in that, but he’ll respect it because it’s me. I cry myself to sleep again.

I cut my hair in the bathroom mirror. I feel insane while I’m doing it, I feel relieved.

My friend (the one with the basement) gives me a binder that she got secondhand from the person who has used they/them pronouns all these years. She says I need it more than her, that she just wears it for fun anyways. I start to wear it every day and it is a bit fun, actually.

I graduate college. I walk in a button-up and the binder and yellow Vans and I feel alive.

My anxiety improves. I don’t know if it’s the Lexapro or not being with him anymore or coming out. I don’t know that I care.

One time, for a class in high school, I wrote an essay about grey areas. I don’t know where it went, I can’t find it anymore. I wrote it about the bisexual identity that I was questioning at the time, but a part of me wants to find it and read it through for some clue, any clue, that I might have been nonbinary even back then. Because that would change something, I think.

I’ve been told that people don’t just decide that they’re trans. That they must always have known. That the people around them must always have known. I don’t think I knew. I don’t think I was ever certain about anything. Does this make me a liar?

#salem speaks #my writing #not furry #not art #trans stuff #nonbinary

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