when we first got married i had to psych myself up every time to say “my wife” to a new person. it was awkward because with “girlfriend” a lot of people would just assume i meant “friend,” and of course “fiancée” is gender-neutral when spoken, so we’d always had plausible deniability. but the meaning of “wife” is pretty unavoidable. still, i made myself do it on principle, and slowly but surely it became natural.

now i love saying “my wife,” to everyone all the time. i love saying it to the old woman distributing the strawberries at the farm share, asking if she knows where i can still get rhubarb because every summer i make my wife a pie. i love saying it to the gay employee helping me at crate and barrel, telling him i’m buying these glasses because my wife and i both had them growing up, and seeing his eyes light up. i love saying it to friends of friends and to new acquaintances and to potential coworkers and to the women at the laundromat. i love being aggressively out, and i love having such an easy way to be aggressively out. i love being the first woman with a wife someone has ever met, making our existence part of their reality. i love being visible for other lgbt people who might feel a little less alone knowing i’m there, which helps me push past the fear when it comes. most of all, i love not hiding. i love saying “my wife” and i love my wife.

  • what she says: i'm fine
  • what she means: i should have told them i was sick last week, they're gonna think this is the way i sing, why is the pianist playing so loud? should i sing louder? i'll sing louder. maybe i should stop and start over. i'm gonna stop and start over. why is the director staring at his crotch? why is that man staring at my resume? don't stare at my resume i made up half of my resume look at me stop looking at that, look at me, no, not at my shoes don't look at my shoes i hate these fucking shoes why did i pick these shoes? why did i pick this song? why did i pick this career? why does this pianist hate me? if i don't get a callback i can go to crate and barrel with mom and buy a couch. not that i want to spend a day with mom but Jamie needs space to write since i'm obviously such a horrible, annoying distraction to him. what's he gonna be like when we have kids? and once again... why am i working so hard?these are the people who cast Russell Crowe in a musical jesus christ, i suck, i suck, i suck, i suck

Request: Could you do a fanfic where Newt has a emotional breakdown?

~I can feel the feels already. Here we go! :) I hope you enjoy!~

“Niffler, stop that now!”

“Pickett, I know. Give me one second, please.”

“Dougal, the occamies are fine, leave them be right now….never mind, Dougal, please help them.”

Newt ran around the case, trying to keep his creatures under control. For some reason, they all decided that today was the day to drive their owner mad.

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A Soul Lost at Sea (Olicity Victorian AU Fanfiction) Chapter 13

Rating:  Mature

Summary:  Five years after pirates attacked his ship, Royal Navy sailor Oliver Queen returns home to England to find his affluent family in financial ruin.  So when he’s presented with the opportunity to marry Felicity, eldest daughter of the ridiculously wealthy Noah Smoak, Oliver doesn’t hesitate to capture her hand…even though he has no idea if he can capture her heart.  Or if Felicity could ever possibly learn to love a soul lost at sea.

Tags: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Victorian attitudes, Arranged Marriage, Romance, Pirates

Link:  AO3

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General BotW Tips!

You can smash boxes and crates and barrels with two handed weapons like axes and sledgehammers. There is usually food or arrows in there.

You can feed animals by holding or dropping foods in front of them. This includes your horse(s).

Spotted/dappled horses are easiest to tame, but aren’t good stamina-wise; they maneuver a lot easier, though. Good beginner horses.

Two-colour horses have more stamina, but are slightly harder to tame, and slightly harder to maneuver.

Solid colour horses are the hardest to tame, but have the most stamina, and are very fast.

Keep your guardian parts for upgrading your bombs/stasis, etc.

Keep Bokoblin horns for upgrading your clothing at the fairy fountain.

Be sure to find the tower in each new area you go to right off the bat; it’s a lot easier to explore when you have a map.

If you wear clothing of the same set, you’ll gain a special bonus.

Your horses CAN DIE. Do not fall off cliffs with them…

If you attack cucoos enough, they’ll lay an egg (they still attack you after enough hits, so be careful not to hit them too much).

Recipe lists aren’t all that essential as long as you remember that there is no mixing ingredients with effects (stamina and defense or speed and stamina, etc), and you should be able to make something that is edible.
And don’t mix monster parts in a meal either.

Guardians are terrifying until you cut off their legs; if you aren’t ready to fight and kill one yet, don’t… But you can get away from them by cutting off a few legs.

Sometimes fairies fly out of random enemies as they die; catch them while you can!

You can get fairies behind Kakariko village at the great fairy fountain. Sneak up behind them and grab them - you don’t need a bottle.

Remove your sword and any metallic items if there’s a lightning storm; you’ll get struck by lightning if you don’t.

Feel free to add more info! I haven’t gotten all that far in the game myself.


OK KO: Barrels and Crates Animation Director: Jake Ganz Art Director: Ismael Bergara Animated by Studio Yotta

Domestic Klance Headcanons
  • Keith and Lance love Mythbusters. They watch it together all the time and they bet on if something will be busted or not. Lance will often take a side he doesn’t necessarily agree with just to make the the episode more exciting (and despite his ego, to see the cute face Keith makes when he inevitably wins)
  • Hunk and Pidge like to watch it with them but after an incident where Monthly Mythbusters Marathon Monday coincided with Klance Makeout Monday, they always make sure to plan a different day to join in.
  • speaking of which, Lance loves to have theme days of the week. It changes every week to make it exciting but without a doubt, Keith wakes up every Sunday to a list of ideas for the week. Some themes have included, Taco Tuesdays, That thong th thong thong Thursday (one of Keith’s favorites might he just add, despite the horrific name of course), 
  • Despite the fact that Lance is a crazy driver due to his inability to handle the sensory overload that is driving Lance style (what do you mean, I could just not drive with music, Keef? that’s ludicrous I tell you!), Keith isn’t sure whether he prefers him in the passenger seat because he has no control over what his boyfriend will do
  • Lance is impossible to get out of bed however when he finally does get out, he is the sunniest of morning people, ready to take on the day. Keith on the other hand bolts out of bed the second the alarm goes on but is a grumpy robot zombie for a solid hour despite being technically ‘awake’
  • Even though it’s not technically a theme or an alliteration, Lance’s favorite thing to do for Keith is make breakfast for him on Saturday or Sundays, anything he wants. It’s the only day when Keith doesn’t act like the world has betrayed him for being awake in the morning.
  • Lance is good at interior decorating, Keith doesn’t give a shit as long as he can find his stuff. 
  • When they first moved in together, Lance took Keith on an all day adventure to Ikea, Crate and Barrel, Pottery Barn, Anthropologie, you name it to let him pick out something big enough to keep said stuff, only to find out it literally only included like ten things other than his clothes. That day tested their relationship more than any thing they had yet to deal with. They are reluctantly stronger for it now and have tackled the obligatory Target, Bed Bath and Beyond, and Costco trips with ease.
  • Keith has a variety of weird collections, and builds on them now that he and Lance have there own place. 
    • said collections include: geodes that he started collecting in elementary school when his mom gave him a big amethyst for Christmas. 
    • band t-shirts. He has so many more now that he got Lance hooked on collecting t-shirts too and since they have a huge amount of clothing storage. He lowkey wants a t-shirt wall in their office like in a certain store that will not be named
    • knives, obvs. much to his friend’s chagrin. He also has a super expensive sword that hangs over their mantle that Lance gives the evil eye almost every time he walks in the apt. (I have a whole fic prepared to write about this, it’s a great story I swear). 
  • Lance is in charge of almost all the cooking when they aren’t eating Hunk’s tasty leftovers. However, Keith is the ULTIMATE™ snack king. He always has the best snacks with him. He buys Lance special treats that he surprises him with on movie nights. Speaking of movies, Keith has very particular stances on popcorn and candy and he always has the hookups for anyone’s snacking needs. He practically grew up on road trip foods so its part of his nature to be Prepared™. 
  • Keith introduces Lance to a lot of great music, old punk bands, classic rock, alternative music, etc. (they also occasionally listen to his guilty pleasure music from his teens. Pop-punk was a good bridge between more hardcore stuff and what Lance typically likes). They blast Blink-182 when they clean the apt. They’re 80 year old neighbors love it. 
  • Lance introduces Keith to movies, classics and new. Sometimes they watch crappy sci-fi movies and have their own Mystery Science Theater.
  • Lance leaves notes and doodles for Keith everywhere. He’s a pretty talented cartoonist. Keith keeps all of them, even most of the napkin doodles that Lance packs him for lunch. Shiro sends Lance pictures of Keith at work, smiling like a dork when he unpacks his lunch. Lance saves those.

The little head start she had didn’t much matter because she slows on the stairs complaining about  "you rich people, and your fuckin’ 700 stairs, why don’t you just get an elevator for Christ’s sake?“ and Harry zeros up behind her, placing gentle hands on her hips and giving her nudges.

"You’ve got this, Darlin’ only twenty more to go!”

“Eat. My. Ass.” She punctuates with each step, but she doesn’t bat his hands away.

“Now, is that any way to talk to your boss?”


Y/N is Harry’s personal assistant 

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anonymous asked:

can you do a blurb where you have begun dating Niall you volunteered to babysit freddie and everything is fine with you and freddie at first but its all gone crazy after a while and your freaking out cause you don't want louis or even niall to think you screwed up?? All these baby blurbs i NEED one where you are babysitting freddie for the first time pleaseeeee???? I love your writing!!!

Could you do a blurb about you and Niall being really close friends and he is babysitting either Freddie or Liam’s baby and asks you to keep him company and watch the kids with him and then he sees you interacting with the kids and realizes he is in love with you?

A/N: This isn’t edited - at all.  I got these two requests and sort of combined them.  Ended up being kind of a friends to lovers.  But all fluff.  Fluffiest fluff.  Enjoy!!!

Babysitter’s Club

The wailing starts back up the minute you sit down on the couch.  Freddie’s baby monitor lights up, and you pull yourself up to check the small, black and white screen.  Louis had warned you that he was teething, and you’d assured him you could handle it.  Niall seemed a little more reluctant to believe the brave face you were putting on, but that still didn’t stop him from hopping in the front seat of Louis’ Range Rover to head out to some charity luncheon.  If you and Niall hadn’t been such close friends for so long, you probably would’ve been better at pretending to know what to do with a baby.  If you hadn’t been in love with Niall for so long, you probably wouldn’t have agreed to help him out by babysitting for his mate’s one year old either.  But, alas, here you are.  And you are in way over your head.

You collect some of the supplies Louis had set out for you and trundle back up the stairs to the nursery.  According to the schedule Louis has typed out for when Freddie is at his house, he should be taking at least a 2 hour nap right now.  You don’t know a lot about babies, but you do know that if they’re sleep schedule gets screwed up, their whole night is going to be a disaster.  You tiptoe into the nursery and find Freddie with his fat little hands gripping onto the side of the crib.  His cheeks are wet from the crocodile tears spilling from his bright blue eyes.  You’ve measured out the exact amount of infant tylenol into a dropper, and have a warm sippy cup of milk on stand by.  You scoop him out of his crib and settle into the plush glider in the corner of the serene room.  Freddie squirms a bit, still a little unsure of you, but happy to be in someone’s arms nonetheless.  “I know, I know.  Babies can smell fear.  Your Uncle Niall told me.”  Freddie blinks up at you and kicks his chubby legs out.  You dribble the tylenol into his mouth, thanking God and whoever else is listening that he takes it without a fuss.  Curling your legs underneath your bum, you pull a small blanket from the basket next to the chair and get settled in with Freddie snuggled in your arms.  He’s happily sucking on the sippy cup and your stress level is rapidly going down with the soft suckles and coos coming from this precious baby.  

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A Strange Man and A Bartender.

The wide streets were lined with grey, rectangular buildings that spat dark smoke and white hot sparks at passers by.  Workman, young and old, scurried up and down the road like rodents. Crates, barrels, bits of timber and sheets of metal were hoisted on to mens sholders and transported from factory to factory. Irene felt claustrophobic - The constant sound of metal scraping against metal, the men shouting at each other from the roadside and people of all sorts talking, crowded the streets and made her feel decidedly ill. There was a drunken brawl taking place to her left, a man whoring - on the open road - to her right and another individual taking a piss against the building just in front of her. The throws of people seemed un-phased by the commotion and Irene wondered if perhaps it was normal for them. With a strange twisting sensation in her gut Irene realised that one day this might be her normal too. She kept walking at reasonable pace, determined to look like she belonged amongst the city’s inhabitants. She stopped to ask directions but found that the people were as cold and hard as Birmingham itself. Not that they hadn’t earned the right to be - The war had made everyone cold.

The streets began to narrow and split into lanes. Confused, she checked the piece of paper in her hand again. The directions she had been given were not near detailed enough and in fact mentioned nothing of the three pronged street she had come to. She stood there in the middle of the road utterly confused. Where the fuck was she? The noise, the smoke, the fucking people. She wanted to go home. Solemnly, she reminded herself that that place didn’t exist anymore. Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the sound of the carriage speeding up the road behind her until it was too late. “Get off the fucking road,” the driver screamed and Irene turned around just in time to see a horse and carriage, driving madly up the street, heading straight for her. “Get off the fucking road, you stupid bitch,” the man yelled again. Somehow something in her brain clicked and she managed to fling herself out of the way just as the carriage flew past. Irene fell hard on her knees, her skin had broken and her skirt had torn. She ripped off the tattered parts of her skirt. Her once ankle length dress now sat mid thigh. Irene tried to mop up the blood that had bloomed on her badly grazed knees. Using the part of her skirt she had torn off she attempted to clean out the dirt that had settled in the abrasion. A loud bang erupted to the right. Curious, she stood up and peered into the dark alley way where the sound came from. The alley way wasn’t particularly special apart from the wooden sign that hung on the establishment at the end of the alley.’ The Garrison’. Was that the place? She checked her bit of paper again and decided that even if it wasn’t she could at least ask for directions. She untied her curly black hair from its bun in attempt to make herself look slightly more presentable. She took a deep calming breath, the heel of her boot clicked as she took her first step toward the place that would change her life.  

The noise from inside the Garrison rivalled that of the noise in the Birmingham streets. Men sat in clusters, telling stories of glory from the good old days, over drink. Some men sat at the bar and just drank in silence, downing glass after glass of brown liquid - they were the men trying to drown their sorrows. Others came for all sorts of reasons.

It was a nice pub and Irene could see herself sitting in there drinking. The mahogany oak and patterned wall paper made the place seem warm and inviting and the people, though loud, seemed fairly content. She made her way over to the bar, weaving through the pint carrying men. She dodged wondering hands and ignored lecherous glares with a practised ease. In her own town, the barkeep at the pub knew everything about everyone. There was not one person in that place that hadn’t passed through his doors. She hoped it was the same in the city. The bartenders face was haggard and old, but nonetheless kind. She smiled at him and put both her elbows on the bar top. He flipped a glass in front of her.

The deep oak doors flew wide open an in walked a man - if you could call him that. From the looks he got, he seemed like something akin to a god. Some people in the bar openly stared, others risked quick secretive glances over the rim of their drinks but all were silent. The man seemed oblivious to this, and in three long strides took a place on the bar right next to her. He was tall - and towered above her. Not that that was much of a feat, she had to stand on her tippy toes to reach a comfortable height over the bar. His broad square shoulders and small waist made him a cutting figure in a suit. A peaked hat was pulled down over the front half of his face obscuring it from view. She was instantly intrigued but kept her head facing the barman. She simply hadn’t the time for mysterious men. The barman was the first person to openly address him,

“Irish is on the house Mr.Shelby.”

The man only nodded in response as a bottle of Irish whiskey was put down in front of him and her glass tumbler was dragged across the table. The other people in the pub had slowly resumed talking and the noise began to build again. The Shelby man placed two coins down for his drink. The man was generous, but from the way his eyes cut into her she wasn’t sure if he was just parading his wealth. He didn’t seem the type though, sensible hat, sensible shoes.

“A drink for the lady?” the barkeep smiled returning his attention to her.

“No. Thank you. I’m looking for someone actually, a Ms. Elizabeth Grey.” The Shelby man visibly tensed at my side. I continued, choosing to ignore his strange reaction. “I was told I could find her here. If you could point me her way it’d be much appreciated.”

“What business do you have with Polly?,” The Shelby man asked before the barman had the chance to respond.

Irene turned towards him. “I’m sorry,” She said in the most patronising voice she could muster, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. “I didn’t realise this was a three way conversation. To whom am I speaking?”

“I apologise for not formally introducing myself, Thomas Shelby.” He looked her up and down. He was sizing her up. She felt herself flush, suddenly overly conscious of her grazed knees, messy hair and short skirt.

“Now Mr. Thomas Shelby what relation do you have to Ms.Elizabeth Grey? Are you her father perhaps?”

Infuriatingly impassive he replied “I can’t say that I am.”

“Then surely you are either her husband, brother or son? In Birmingham you could even be all three.”

A smiled played about his lips but he just shook his head - no.

“Then I do not see what business I have speaking to you.” In an act of complete dismissal she turned her back to him, eyes set on the barman she inclined her head, telling him to answer her question.

Thomas Shelby stood, turning to face the rest of the room. The bar, again, became silent.

“Get the fuck out - All of you”

He didn’t need to ask twice, people abandoned half drunk beers on the table and simply stood and hurried towards the door. No protest, no argument. Just obedience.

The last man left…

And she was left alone, with a strange man and a bartender.

Today Sheila and I bought some furniture. At Macy’s the saleslady said we could save $100 if we opened a Macy’s card. Crate and Barrel offered us even more in store credit if we signed up for their card.

I declined both.

Nowadays it doesn’t take more than a few moments to electronically apply for a credit card. It’s not like we would have had to meet with a credit manager, fill out forms in triplicate, supply a thumb print, and sign our names six times. Credit is easy.

I have a credit card through my bank. My Target card is also a credit card. We shop at Target enough that the 5% discount is worth it.

Over the years I’ve seen some nice card offers from LLBean, REI, Delta Airlines, and others. They each have their own perks and discounts.

I don’t want a bunch of cards. A simple life fits me better. My credit rating is excellent and not having a ton of cards might have helped.

Next on the furniture shopping list is a new dresser. We’re going to go from two dressers to one and get matching night stands. That means getting rid of some clothes. There are plenty of things I never wear.

Simple. Easy.

anonymous asked:

LaF Kiss Game: On the seaside, interrupted by a screeching seal

@lucycamui, I’m going to just,,,, casually leave this here,,,

The port of Torvill in the kingdom of Nikiforov is bustling with activity from the boats and carriages coming in and out. Gulls cry overhead as they soar over the bright blue surf crashing down onto the golden sand. An entire fleet of ships line the wooden piers, bright flags from all sorts of nations fluttering in the wind.

Yuuri jumps out of the cart and onto the cobblestones just before the pier entrance, shouldering his bag and waving at the cart driver. Several dockworkers begin unloading the other goods from the cart and carrying them onto the ship – crates and bags and barrels full of food and materials to trade with the surrounding kingdoms. Yuuri would be riding with this ship out as well, sailing towards distant lands, away from the cold apprehension which seizes him every time he sees his beloved prince and all of the things that could go wrong from loving not wisely but too well.

The ship would sail out at midday, and it’s nearing eleven according to the bell tower of the nearby church. Yuuri has time for a quick bite and a drink, before he has to be onboard. He’ll be helping the ship’s cook in the galley to pay for his fare out to Iglesia. It’s a good thing the captain didn’t ask too many questions as to why a baker would be wanting to flee the country in the first place.

But just as he’s about to cross the street, the crowds in the street begin to part. There’s some sort of commotion further down, it seems; there’s the thundering of hoofbeats and the whinny of a horse. And then there’s murmurs.

“What is he doing here?”

“The Prince!”

The street is cleared. A white horse gallops into view, slows to a canter, a trot. And his prince is on its back, looking out through the crowd, his hair and clothes dishevelled, his eyes wide and anxious.

“Yuuri?” The Prince shouts.

The murmurs grow worried. Yuuri tries to shrink down, tries to edge back towards the docks, but suddenly the Prince’s head turns, and their eyes meet, and there’s no way Viktor wouldn’t recognise him now.

Yuuri feels his face burning. He swallows, straightens his back again, smiles hesitantly. 

“Yuuri,” breathes Viktor. He practically jumps off his horse, and the people left between them dive out of the way as the prince strides towards him. “Where have you been? I woke up this morning and you weren’t there. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“I…” Yuuri trails off, fidgeting, as the words he wants to say desperately elude his grasp.

“What will it take to convince you not to run away from me?” pleads Viktor. 

Yuuri bows his head, looks down at his feet. He says nothing, because the last thing he needs is something completely idiotic to fly out of his mouth in a moment of panic.

He feels a gloved hand on his cheek, feels the prince’s body stepping closer to his. His heart is pounding in his head, harder than a drum, faster than a rabbit. He can’t bring himself to look up, to see the overwhelming emotion that he’s sure must be tucked into those beautiful blue eyes. Viktor is too close

There’s a loud farting noise. Yuuri startles and turns to see a seal flopped out onto one of the smaller docks in this port. Its mouth is open and it is, for lack of a better term, clicking and screaming fart noises at them

Viktor laughs. “I think that seal is trying to tell us something.”

Yuuri watches, morbidly fascinated, as the seal begins to slam its flippers onto the dock, continuing its terrifying screams as it does so. “Why would you say that?” he asks.

Viktor shrugs. “It seems to be very… enthusiastic.” Already people are turning away from them towards the rowdy seal, clapping and cheering and making pocket sketches of it. 

Yuuri feels part of the knot in his stomach ease at that, and he turns to look up at Viktor, whose expression is sheepish but still so overwhelmingly kind.

“I’m sorry I keep…” he gestures towards the ships. “I was just scared that maybe sleeping in your bed will be too much, or that once we get together you’ll tire of me, or that you’ll find someone better –”

“Shh.” Viktor shakes his head, puts a finger to his lips. “I’ll never tire of you.”

“You say that now,” Yuuri chastises. “But what if –”

“No,” says Viktor. “No what ifs. This is here and now, Yuuri, and right now I love you more than the sun loves the moon, more than the ocean loves the sand. And since my love outstrips them both, it must last longer than the sun can shine and the ocean can flow.”

A part of Yuuri melts at that. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“I’m thinking about writing a book,” retorts Viktor. “How The Prince of Nikiforov Had His Heart Stolen. It’ll be the second to last line.”

Yuuri swallows. “What’s the last line, then?”

“This,” replies Viktor, and kisses him.


Meanwhile, out in the ocean, Katsudon the seal munches at a fish. “Thanks,” he clicks, in the selkie language.

Phichit, hovering just a couple inches above the waves, laughs and manifests another fish into his hands. “I owe you one, buddy.”

“You don’t think it was overkill?” wonders Katsudon.

“Well, it would’ve been better if Selkie for ‘just fucking kiss already’ sounded closer to English, but you know, we can’t have everything.”

If seals had shoulders, Katsudon would have shrugged. Instead he settles for a twirl that conveys about the same amount of je ne sais quoi. “It worked, though,” he points out. “Not in the way you expected, but it worked.”

“Thank god,” says Phichit, and throws him the other fish.

In the Heart of the Sea

Originally posted by prettystucky

Originally posted by celestial-prxncess

Peter Parker x Reader

In the Heart of the Sea

Author: Morgan

Warnings: None?

Note: I tried to tag everyone that asked, but some of the tagging seems to have worked and some of it didn’t! Sorry! But yeah y’all were so hype for this! I hope it lived up to your hopes! Please give feedback!

Tagged: @thatstrawberrylemonade @littlevelvethearts @bellatrixyoass @contagiousarea @koalawinter @cremedelabrulee @a-girl-who-loves-disney @superwhoavengelocklover @hotmessofafangirl @cassatron-castiel @weasleywickedwarlock @onewayoranotherimgonnamisha @bring-me-the-chemical-p

Lightning flashed above the stormy sea. The waters swirled wickedly, churning the Iron Man, the ship captained by the second-best captain on the seven seas, Captain Stark. The crew scrambled to toss their belongings below deck before any more crates could fall overboard.

“I mean it, Peter! Get below deck!”

“No can do, Captain Stark! I’m not going under until the rest of you do!” Peter replied stubbornly. He was soaked with rain water, dripping wet. The boat lurched to the side, causing everyone on the deck to fall over. Peter scrambled to get to his feet, grabbing onto the sail mast.

“Get! Below! Deck!” Stark ordered. “Now!”

“Okay fine!” Peter shouted in reply, making his way towards the door to the lower deck. The boat tilted again, violently lurching to the side. Peter slipped on the wet wooden floor, sliding across it. In one swift motion, Peter hit his head, fell overboard, and landed in the angry waters with a splash.

Somewhere in the depths, you felt like something was off. Perhaps it was the smell of the human deck boy from the large ship, or maybe it was the alcohol that leaked from the pirates’ lost barrels. So many foreign smells from the humans that lived on the ship drifted through your nostrils. But whatever it was, be it fate or something written in the stars long ago, you followed the feeling, large scaly tale flicking behind you powerfully.

Your long hair trailed behind you in the water as you swam as fast as the currents could carry you. It was a powerful storm, and even a mermaid like you had difficulty navigating the harsh waters.

Drifting in the murky waves was the deck boy. His eyes were closed, and it appeared he was unconscious, his tousled brown curls surrounded his head in a cloud. You rushed forward, much surprised by the sight of a human. He must have fallen off of the ship along with the other cargo floating around in wooden crates and barrels, you figured.

Moving as quickly as you could, you dragged the boy to shore, depositing him on the beach. However, it appeared he wasn’t breathing. You leaned down and pressed your lips to his, and with an ounce of magic, you pressed a hand to his muscled chest. Its only covering was the whispy white shirt that hung limp and wet around his body. Your fingers glowed, palm pressing a jolt of power into him.

With a heave, Peter coughed wickedly, desperately, depositing the water in his lungs onto the shore. He looked at you with a hazy disoriented expression before slumping onto the sand, unconscious. You smiled softly, deciding to sit on the beach with him until the storm ended.


The next morning, Peter still hadn’t awoken. He was beyond exhausted from the ordeals of the night before. Carefully, you carried him through the water and set him in the small rowboat attached to the side of the ship, wrapping him in what appeared to be part of a sail to keep him warm until he awoke.

Humans were cute, you decided. His legs were certainly odd, much unlike the tail you possessed, but he was too handsome for his oddity to matter. He appeared to be young, about your age if not a bit older. You smirked, pushing these thoughts out of your mind. Relations with those that walked the land was strictly forbidden. But still. He was cute. For a human.

Peter bolted awake with a shout, looking around at his surroundings. You returned to the water with a large splash, narrowly avoiding his disheveled brown gaze, or so you thought. Dr. Jarvis Vision looked over the railing of the ship very surprised, but grateful to see the little deck hand.

“There you are, Parker! We feared we had lost you to the sea!”

“I uh…well, I guess not…” Peter raked a hand through his hair, looking around. He could have sworn there had been someone next to him, but maybe it was just remnants of a restless dream. A dream. Of course. There couldn’t be a…whatever he had seen. No. It had to be an illusion of the water. He had simply hit his head too hard. “Good morning Dr. Vision.”

“Is that Parker?” Prince T’Challa, the royal-gone-rebel who had recently joined their crew of merry pirates, asked, looking down at the deck boy. “Welcome back, boy. Maybe next time you’ll obey the captain’s orders.”

“Yeah…” Peter gazed off into the waves. “We’ll see about that…”


“Quit gazing off into the sunset, Parker! You’re supposed to be sweeping!” Captain Stark teased the dazed teen as he rushed to get back to work. “What’s gotten into you? Since you fell off of the boat last week, your head’s been in the clouds! Did you lose a few brain cells down there?”

“Not exactly, I just…” Peter paused, sighing as he watched waves lap the shore of the nearest island. “Captain, permission to speak freely?”

“Of course,”

“Well…sir…Have you…ever seen something you thought was impossible? Something that couldn’t be real, and yet…it feels…feels like you could reach out and touch it if you really tried. But when you look, it’s…”

“Gone.” the captain nodded, a look of empathy flashing through his eyes. “I know that feeling. The feeling that something extraordinary slipped through your fingers. The…One that got away…”

“Yeah. I guess. I dunno…” Peter scratched the back of his neck. “I just…I can’t help but wonder if we’re not alone here.”

“Of course we’re not. Rogers is still out there with the others somewhere. If they survived the wreck.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, kid.” Stark ruffled Peter’s already-messy hair. “I know.”


“I think you’re sick.” Your mermaid friend Jemma braided your hair. “Your cheeks have been red and you’ve been stuck in a daze. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” You stated, gazing at your reflection in the speckled glass mirror you had found in a shipwreck not so long ago.

“I think she’s in love. Who is it? Triton? Neptune? Percy?” asked Skye, Jemma’s sister.

“No, not quite.” you shook your head. A shy smile tugged at your lips and a rosy color spread across your cheeks.

“Do we know him, or is he from another cove?” Jemma continued questioning.

“You don’t know him.”

“Hmmm…” Skye hummed, looking at you. She wouldn’t let it show, but there was concern in her kind brown eyes. “Just…be careful, would you?”

“I will…I promise.”


You hadn’t intended to swim so close to the surface, nor had you meant to wander to the pirate ship that floated on the glittering waves. But your heart and your tail seemed to have minds of their own. And they were conspiring against you. You watched the crewmates walk across the deck on the peaceful night. The stars were so bright in the sky above, making a map of glowing diamonds.

You watched carefully for the deck boy. Peter, you had overheard. Peter Parker. There. There he was, sitting on a barrel. He was messing with a trinket from the mainland. You had no clue what it was. You had never seen anything quite like it, but you could tell from the way he held it, looked at it so carefully, that he had a strange interest in the little devices.

Cautiously, you surfaced, letting your head out of the water so you could hear him. He was deep in conversation with one of his other crewmates. He had hair so white it was almost silver, the beginnings of a beard, and he spoke with a thick accent.

“You look so lost, Peter.” the man said, a silver locket dangling from his fist. “I know how you feel. I haven’t seen my sister since The Avenger sank.”

“We’ll find her, Pietro. We’ll find the others.” he promised the man in the dark. “I know it.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I always am.” Peter offered a half-hearted smile.

“Well, I’m going to bed. Don’t stay out too late. And,” Pietro smirked. “Don’t fall overboard.”

“I won’t.” Peter chuckled, shaking his head.

You sighed, looking up at the deck boy. What were you doing here? It was forbidden. This was forbidden. And with great reason. If men, greedy mortal men knew of the existence of the merfolk, they would stop at nothing to take everything the creatures held dear, hunting them to extinction.

And yet, this boy, this human boy looked so kind. His eyes held all of the stars, and his skin was smooth and soft and warm. You put a hand over your mouth, fingers tracing the smooth lips that had saved his life as you remembered the feeling of his against yours. Did he even remember? Would he?

You turned to leave, but before you could, he spoke.

“Wait.” he pleaded, his voice soft. His eyes searched the shadows beside the boat frantically. He knew you were there. He could feel it with all of his being. “Please. Don’t be afraid.”

“Perhaps it’s you that should be afraid of me.” you said in a somewhat teasing tone. “After all, my kind aren’t supposed to exist.”

“A-are you-?”


“Why…Why did you save me?” Peter asked. “I know it was you. I think. Unless there are more of you.”

“You fell overboard.”

“Well yeah, but-”

“You were going to die. No one, not even a man deserves that fate.” you answered simply. “I have to go. If my people know I was here, if I talked to you, Poseidon forbid…”

“Wait! Don’t leave. I…what’s your name?”

“(Y/N).” you told him against your better judgement.

“(Y/N).” he repeated. You blushed, cheeks burning red at the way your name sounded on his tongue.

“I have to go.” you stated, more seriously this time. Though he couldn’t see your face, he could hear the urgency in your tone.

“Will I ever meet you again?”


“Yes.” you cringed as soon as the word left your mouth. You couldn’t stop the next one. “Tomorrow.”

“O-Okay! Great! Um-” he nodded, his heart fluttering. “I’ll be here.”

“See you then, Peter.” you smiled, splashing into the murky waves.

“How did you know my-” But you were already long-gone. “Name…”


You avoided your friends from the cove all day, careful not to speak to them too much. You didn’t want them to suspect anything. They couldn’t know you had gone to the surface, much less been caught, much lesser actually talked to him. It was a dangerous game you were playing, but your heart didn’t seem to care. You couldn’t get the youngest pirate out of your mind. Everything about him was so different than the humans you had heard of growing up.

His smile, his laugh, his kind brown eyes that held all of the stars…You felt like you were flying. It was nothing you could control. But it was a good feeling. A good sort of fiery chaos coursing through your veins.

It was late at night after all of the pirates but one had gone to bed. Peter leaned against the railing of the boat. He climbed down into the rowboat, holding a lantern. He set it in the boat and looked out on the horizon. Another clear night, and no sight of you. Maybe you had lied to him. Maybe you had been unable to find the ship. Possibilities swam through his mind, and his hopeful expression fell.

“Hey there sailor,” you greeted, popping up to rest your elbows on the edge of the boat.

“Oh my God!” he pressed a hand over his heart. You laughed at how cute he was when he was surprised. “You’re here.”

“I’m here.” you smiled.

“God…you’re so beautiful…” he whispered, stunned. He had never gotten a good look at you until now.

“Thank you.” you giggled. “You’re quite cute yourself, deck boy.”

“R-really? You t-think so?”

“Well, for a human anyway,” you laughed.

“So you really are a-”

“Yep.” you waved the fin of your tail behind you. “Crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” he ran his fingers through his thick brown hair. “Crazy.”

“I take it your humans don’t know you’re here.”

“Nah. They’d think I was a madman if I told them I was staying up to meet a mermaid.”

“Maybe you are mad.” You tilted your head, grinning. “Maybe you hit your head just a bit too hard when you fell from your boat.”

“Maybe I did. That would explain why I’m talking to an angel.”

“Are you always so flirtatious or is that a new development?”

“I-I’m sorry. Am I not supposed to do that? Is that okay?”

“I suppose I’ll let it slide.” you bit your lip, your wet hand cautiously finding a place above his dry, warm one.

“You’re not going to drown me, are you?” Peter asked, brown eyes wide.

“What would be the point in saving you only to drown you?” you laughed, shaking your head. You pressed a kiss to his soft cheek, causing him to blush five shades of red. “I think you’re mistaking me for a siren, Peter. There’s a difference.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Well, I’m afraid I have to go before one of the others notices I’m missing.” You told him, glancing away. His face fell, not wanting you to leave quite yet, but he understood why. “I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

“Okay. See you soon.” He nodded, giving your hand a quick squeeze before you slipped into the water. He watched your tail twisting through the water like a fine ribbon as long as he could, but soon you were out of sight. He held a hand over his heart. Was he trembling? Had this single creature turned his limbs to jelly? Melted him to a puddle? Yes. She had. And best part was she hadn’t even tried.


Captain Stark gazed out his window as the mermaid splashed back into the depths. A smirk tugged at his lips. The sight of his deck boy falling head over heels for the mystical maiden tugged at his heart strings. And it brought back memories of her. The woman that had stolen his heart.

She too, was a mermaid, a beautiful mermaid by the name Virginia. But the other merfolk simply called her Pepper. She would visit the captain, back when he and Captain Rogers were co-captaining The Avenger. It was long before the crash. Long before the wreck that had split the crew in two, leaving half of them with Tony and the other half with Steve.

He met with her as often as he could, almost every night. One night, she had joined him on the ship, sacrificing her tail for a temporary pair of human legs. And after that seemingly magical evening, she vanished. He never saw her again. But that had been so long ago. Peter would have only been a glimmer in his parents’ eyes at that time.

Stark shook his head. He half-wanted to warn the boy not to get attached. Their kind never seemed to stick around long. But yet, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter the magic he saw in the boy’s eyes. He sighed. Peter would have to learn that lesson for himself.


Back in the cove, you sat at the mirror, combing through your long silky tresses with a shell comb. You hummed a melody to yourself, smiling. You couldn’t stop thinking about Peter. You couldn’t get the human boy out of your mind.

“I know what you’re doing, (Y/N),” one of the older mermaids, Maria stated. Her voice was warm, but firm. She had compassion, but she knew you had to stop doing what you had for the past month. Almost every night, you had snuck off to see Peter. It was too dangerous. What if the rest of the humans found out? What if they tried to take you? She couldn’t lose you. Not after she had already lost…

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently.

“I know you’ve been seeing someone, and I knows he’s not-”

“(Y/N)? There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you!” Jemma swam into your chamber with Skye not far behind. “Sorry Maria, but we’re really, really late for class.”

You looked to Maria apologetically before swimming after Jemma and Skye as fast as your tails would carry you. There were no classes today, but there were plenty of shipwrecks to scavenge.

“You saved my fin,” you chuckled.

“We know.” Skye nodded. “Jemma and I might be all right with you spending your nights with a human boy, but Maria? May? They won’t be.”

“I know.” you nodded solemnly. “I can’t hide him forever. But…I don’t know. I…I care about him. A lot.”

“We know. Just be careful.”

“I will be.”


“Look what I found~” you sing-songed, surfacing beside the rowboat. Peter jumped, the silence of the night suddenly gone. A smile found his lips easily. You set the sack of metal trinkets in the boat. “Thought you might like them.”

“These are for me?” Peter asked, sifting through the things you had brought him. Compasses, stopwatches, silverware, candle holders, old bracelets and rings. “Where’d you find them?”

“A shipwreck not far from here. This stuff has been down there for nearly a hundred years.”

“This is so cool! Thank you,” he smiled gratefully.

“Will you help me up? Into the boat?” You asked. Peter nodded, gripping your arms and waist and helping you into the small rowboat. You sat with him, closer than you had ever been. Only your fin touched the water.

“There you go,” he smiled, cheeks red. He slipped his hand into yours, his larger fingers, intertwining with yours. “I missed you.”

“It’s been a day, Peter.”

“I still missed you.” he chuckled. You rolled your eyes and gave his shoulder a little shove. “Do you…is it possible…” he shook his head. “Nevermind.”


“It’s stupid.”


“Is it possible for you to…stay? Here? With me?”

“You mean like all the time?”

“Well…yeah…I guess…”

“Wouldn’t that be weird? For me to just swim around the ship all the time, Peter?”

“Well…I meant like…on legs.”

“I’ve never tried. I could look into it. If you like. But…I have a life at the cove too. I can’t just leave forever.”

“I know. Maybe I could come with you? We could take turns.”

“Where did this sudden urge come from Peter? Why do you suddenly want to be attached to my hip?”

“I…I think I realized that I’m in love with you. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but I-”

“I love you too.” you offered a soft smile. You wrapped your arms around him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. He held you close, letting out a long breath. His calloused hands pressed against your back as his eyes squeezed shut. He wished he could just stay in this moment forever.


Weeks passed. You researched everything you could on mermaid-human transformation, but you came up blank. All of the spells were either extremely dark or undocumented. It was an impossible search. Soon, Maria caught wind of what you were trying to find and pulled you aside for a private conversation.

“(Y/N), we need to talk.” she tried again, closing the curtains to the chamber.

“I know you know about Peter.” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. “I know it’s not allowed, but…I love him. I’m sorry. I…I can’t control how I feel. I can’t just stop loving him…”

“I know.” she nodded, compassion in her eyes. “There’s…there’s something about your mother that none of us have ever told you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your mother…my best friend, fell in love with one of them. A human. She didn’t care about the rules. And because of it, she died.”

“What are you saying?”

“Your mother died in childbirth. She was a mermaid trying to give birth to…you. You’re…you’re not entirely merfolk. You’re one of them too. What I mean to say is you’re drawn to the human world for a reason.”

“Does that mean I can be one of them?”

“There are legends about those born of earth and of the sea. They say you can change back and forth at will, but it takes a certain motivation. Your heart has to be in it.”

“It is,” you nodded.

“Good.” Maria offered a smile and a warm embrace. Though she was worried, she knew you would be safe. You had to learn for yourself. “Go. Explore.”


“Peter!” for the first time ever, in broad daylight, you called to him. He nearly dropped his broom. The others on the ship looked to Natasha, the only woman on board to see if she had called, but she hadn’t. She shook her head. “Peter!”

Peter made his way to the railing of the ship and looked down at you, swimming in the water. Had you gone mad? Coming to him in broad daylight when everyone could see was dangerous to say the least.

“What are you doing here?” he yell-whispered, looking at you with fear in his eyes. Fear of what the others would say, what they would do. Stark stared at you with a look in his eyes that you didn’t recognize. Something silent, reminiscent, something lost in translation. But there was something familiar about you. Something he couldn’t quite place.

“Come here,” you told him, motioning him to come down to the row boat. He did, hopping down with ease. The crew watched in disbelief as he helped you onto the small boat. Your long, heavy green tail dipped into the water slightly.

“What are you-?” he started to ask. Before another word could escape his mouth, you kissed him, pressing your lips to his softly. There was a warm feeling, deep in your stomach. It tingled, pulling and pinching and twisting. And it hurt, but it was a reassuring kind of pain. Then you felt it. You felt your tail slowly begin to split into a pair of legs, feet replacing your fins, and a pair of scaly shorts left around your hips.

You opened your eyes, peeling away from Peter to look down at them. It was bizarre, but it felt so right. Like everything in the universe finally clicked into place.

“How did you-?”

“My dad was a human. I don’t know who he was, but…because of it, I can change back and forth.”

“You’re joking.”

“No. I’m not.” you smiled. Peter helped you stand. You shook, wobbling on the strange appendages. He pulled you to his chest, holding you close for support.

“I’ve got you.” his eyes sparkled like the glittering waves surrounding the great ship. “I’ve got you.”

“Mind…introducing us to your friend, Peter?” First Mate Rhodes asked with a smirk. The others pulled the rowboat up closer to the deck. Peter helped you step onto the wooden surface. You leaned against him, waving shyly at the strangers that surrounded you.

“This is (Y/N).” Peter stated. “She’s uh…a mermaid. Kind of.”

“Kind of.” you repeated with a nod.

“Well…welcome aboard!” Tony motioned to the rest of the ship. He tried to act as though everything was normal, but it was very obvious that something was off. “I…I’m sorry for asking this, and I know it seems off, but was your mother…was her name Virginia? Did she go by Pepper?”

“How did you-?”

“And you said your father is a human, right?”

“Yeah…” you raised an eyebrow as he stepped closer, looking over every miniscule detail of your face. It finally clicked. This was your- “Dad?”

“I think so,” Stark nodded, enveloping you in his arms. He pulled you close. This was why Pepper had left. This is why. His daughter. His child. And she had found her way back to him.

“Nice to meet you…finally…” you whispered. Tears fell from your eyes. Everything seemed to fall into place.

“You too, kid.” Tony nodded. “You too,”


And so you learned about the human world from actual humans, alternating between living on the ship and living in the sea. Eventually, you brought your mer-friends to meet Peter and the others and introduce them to your long-lost father.

You and the other mermaids spent months searching, but after a long while, you found the other half of the Avenger’s crew on another boat called the SS Freedom. Pietro and Wanda were finally united, and the team became whole again, welcoming you to their ranks with open arms whenever you wanted to join them on the ship.

Life seemed so strange compared to the way you used to live, but you loved it in every way, thankful for the hand fate had dealt you. As you laid on Peter’s chest, listening to his soft, sleepy breaths, you couldn’t have wished for anything more in life. This was heaven, and you would never, ever get enough of it.