Siren's Call
  • Reads 52
  • Votes 3
  • Parts 7
  • Time 51m
  • Reads 52
  • Votes 3
  • Parts 7
  • Time 51m
Ongoing, First published Sep 03, 2018
"Oh devilish sirens,
Luring us with
The saccharine melodies
Of your coarse voices"

Sirens were thought to be the abandoned lovers of the sailors of the seas and oceans. Harmless mermaids, but with great, mind-turning powers. But they choose to come back with their haunting voices, luring them in, paying them back for what they did to them. 
 ----
Having women on board a ship was bad luck. Azalea Bloom didn't seem to see this as a problem. Donning trousers instead of skirts, she embarked on the most famous sea voyage yet. Sailing across the Caribbean and through the Atlantic on board the greatest of all the ships, Maria 2.0. Cabin boy wasn't much of a position, but at least she was living a dream. 

Until, Nate Dayholt seemed to start putting two and two together, drawing closer and closer to the truth. Now she has to do anything she can to make sure he doesn't find out. If he did, she'd have to walk the plank, she knew it. 

She couldn't leave the dream she's worked on for so long...
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The Pirate King (MxM) ⚣

62 parts Complete Mature

When Alistair Melek gave his life to the sea, a various degree of things changed. For starters, his love for bloodshed was exemplified. Bolder. He was drawn to the clash of a sword like a moth drawn to a flame. And this love was damned to spread through his crew as some treacherous disease, claiming any and all who joined. But he knew this was the price he'd pay. The price for the sea itself. So when his crew completes another standard loot and pillage from a merchant ship, he allows his men a bit of fun. He liked to give them an audience, rounding up those who didn't fall victim to the blade during battle, and forcing them to beg for their lives. To prove how much they really wanted to live. Alistair had ruled the sea for some years now. Killed thousands, maybe tens of thousands. Destroyed hundreds, maybe thousands of vessels. And yet, each feeble human was all the same. There was not one man he threatened that didn't beg for their lives with all they had in them when faced with the wrong end of the sword. Each feeble human was always the same. Or so he thought. And yet, he also thought that this would be one standard job. A treat for his men after a night of good work. But this particular survivor, the one with long white hair and dead looking eyes... He wasn't a merchant. He couldn't have been. More important, there was no hesitancy when Alistair asked the fairly built man whether he wanted to live, and the man replied with a simple no.