see how the match wasn’t corrupted? no cheating, no cards, no bad behavior? all of this last match was done in respect and sportsmanship like i just wanna cry that france didn’t win but the match they played was one of the best of the world cup 🥹
gonna rant a bit here but the way this whole world cup will leave a hole in my chest makes me a bit sad because how many memories do i have now? i remember the funniest match of france vs paraguay, the daily vlogs of the french team, the memes, and now yesterday?
it was beautiful 🫠 i’m glad to have experienced it again and i hope we will win our third star in four years :)
This is (mostly) a straitened English man ritual in my experience but now that I spend more time around much-older cishet men in homosocial spaces, I love to see it, and I love to respond to it in kind.
You're talking with a cishet man, and the conversation has turned a little bit serious, you're talking about your feelings or maybe your family, and in a moment of really letting your guard down, you tell him something personal. In my experience, this often happens when I come out as gay, which often takes me a few weeks or months after meeting a new person, but I've seen it happen when someone opens up about drug addiction, or their wife cheating on them, or basically anything where you might want the other person to keep it a secret.
In response to this revelation, the strait man immediately gives you verifiable kompromat on himself, as a way of reassuring you that hey, you gave him a big secret he could socially wreck you with, now he will give you one of his, so you're both safe. You were out on a limb, telling him you have a husband, so now he's telling you about the time he committed treason. Now we're even, I can't betray you by gossiping, because you could get me locked up for 20-to-life. Mutually assured destruction.
It is my favourite and most profound kind of intimacy.
hiiii I love your fics with as the brother and I have one
So it’s a Garrett x sister reader and they don’t have a good relationship cause Garrett left her in that house, so know she’s sixteen still living with her father and Garrett and Hannah come over for thanksgiving? You can decide what happens
Thanksgiving
Garett Graham x little!sister!reader (y/n)
Summary: Garett reunites with his sister during Thanksgiving. The family holiday brings Garett to the realisation that his father has never stopped hurting y/n.
TW: Phil Graham
Word Count: 2.6K
The closer they got to Phil’s house, the quieter Garrett became.
Hannah noticed almost immediately.
He’d barely spoken in the last twenty minutes, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other drummed an uneven rhythm against his jeans.
She reached across the center console and intertwined their fingers.
“You okay?”
Garrett forced a smile.
“Yeah.”
“Liar.”
He let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
“I hate coming back here.”
“I know.”
Thanksgiving could’ve been spent with friends at Briar.
Anywhere but here.
But Phil had called.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Eventually Garrett had answered.
“Just one dinner, Garrett. Cindy wants to meet you.”
Cindy. His father’s fiancée. The woman somehow willing to marry Phil Graham.
Garrett still couldn’t understand that part.
“I’ll be fine,” he murmured.
Hannah squeezed his hand.
“I’m here.”
He looked over for just a second before pulling into the long driveway.
Nothing about the house had changed. Same white siding. Same perfectly trimmed hedges. Same porch where he’d once sat for hours after hockey practice because going inside felt worse than the cold.
His stomach tightened.
“I hate this place.”
Hannah quietly unbuckled her seatbelt.
“I know. I’m here with you, okay?” She smiled reassuringly and squeezed his hand.
—
Phil opened the front door before they’d even reached it.
“Garrett.”
“Dad.”
No hug. No handshake. Just two men staring at each other.
“You made good time.”
“Traffic was light.”
Another silence. Then Phil stepped aside “Come in.”
The house smelled like roasted turkey and cinnamon.
Everything looked… normal. Like one of those picture-perfect homes in holiday commercials. Garrett had always hated how convincing the act was.
“Garrett!”
A woman appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel. She looked to be in her early forties with kind eyes and a nervous smile.
“You must be Hannah.”
Hannah smiled politely.
“You must be Cindy.”
“It’s so nice to finally meet you both.”
She pulled Hannah into a brief hug before looking back at Garrett.
“I’ve heard so much about you.”
Garrett doubted that. Phil rarely spoke about him unless it involved hockey.
“Thanks,” he said simply.
“Oh!”
Cindy turned toward the hallway.
“Y/N!”
Garrett hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until he heard her name.
Footsteps echoed against the hardwood floor.
Then she appeared.
She’d grown.
The last time he’d seen her regularly she’d barely reached his shoulder.
Now… She looked sixteen. Still smaller than him. Hair pulled back into a loose braid. An oversized sweatshirt swallowing her frame.
For one ridiculous second, Garrett only saw the little girl who used to steal his hockey sticks and insist she could beat him one-on-one in the driveway.
Then reality settled back in.
She stopped a few feet away.
Neither of them spoke.
“Hi,” Garrett said quietly.
She looked at him for a long second.
“Hi.” Her voice was soft. Almost careful.
Hannah smiled warmly.
“It’s really nice to meet you.”
Y/N looked at her. “You too.”
The conversation seemed too polite, respectful, and distant. Garrett hated how formal it felt.
“You’ve…” He searched for something to say. “…grown.”
A tiny shrug. “I guess.”
Silence settled awkwardly.
Cindy clapped her hands together. “Well!” She smiled too brightly. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“I’ll help,” Y/N said immediately.
Before Garrett could ask another question, she disappeared into the kitchen beside Cindy.
He watched her go.
“She seems nice,” Hannah whispered.
Garrett nodded absently. “Yeah.”
But something felt off. Not wrong exactly. Just different. He remembered a little sister who never stopped talking. Who followed him everywhere. Who begged to sit in the garage while he taped his hockey stick.
This girl barely looked him in the eye.
—
From the dining room, Garrett watched Y/N move quietly around the kitchen.
Without being asked, she grabbed plates from the cabinet. Set the table. Refilled drinks before anyone noticed they were low.
When Cindy reached for the gravy, Y/N was already handing it to her. Like she’d memorized exactly what everyone needed before they asked.
Hannah noticed it too.
“She helps a lot.”
Garrett nodded. “Yeah.”
“Does she always…?”
He didn’t answer. Because he honestly didn’t know anymore.
At one point Cindy accidentally dropped a serving spoon.
The clang echoed through the kitchen.
Y/N visibly jumped. Not dramatically. Just enough that Garrett caught it.
She immediately bent to pick it up.
Garrett frowned slightly. Something about that exchange lodged itself in the back of his mind.
Before he could think about it any further, Phil’s voice cut through the room. “Dinner.”
Everyone gathered around the table. Garrett pulled Hannah’s chair out. Phil sat at the head. Cindy beside him. Y/N quietly took the remaining chair. The spread looked almost too perfect.
Turkey. Mashed potatoes. Stuffing. Green beans.
The kind of Thanksgiving dinner people put in magazines.
Phil folded his hands together. “Let’s say grace.”
Around the table, everyone reached for the hand beside them.
Garrett took Hannah’s. Then reached automatically toward Cindy. She smiled gently and slipped her hand into his.
As she did, the sleeve of her cardigan slid back just enough for Garrett to catch a glimpse of dark purple blooming across the inside of her wrist.
His breath caught.
The room suddenly felt much, much colder.
Garrett’s fingers went numb.
For a split second, all he could see was the bruise.
Dark purple.
Finger-shaped.
Old enough to have faded around the edges. New enough that it hadn’t healed.
His stomach dropped.
No.
His eyes flicked from Cindy’s wrist to Phil. Who sat calmly at the head of the table, hands folded as though nothing in the world could possibly be wrong.
Garrett stopped hearing the room.
“…Lord, thank You for bringing us together…”
Phil’s voice faded into static.
The bruise blurred.
Suddenly he wasn’t twenty-two anymore. He was eleven.
His mother kneeling beside the washing machine, hurriedly tugging the sleeve of her sweater down before answering the front door.
“Mom?”
“It’s nothing, sweetheart.”
“Did Dad—”
“Garrett.”
A shaky smile.
“Please don’t.”
The memory disappeared as quickly as it came.
Another one took its place.
Him.
Thirteen years old.
Looking down at the purple marks wrapped around his own wrist after Phil had grabbed him before practice.
“Coach is going to ask.”
“Then tell him you fell.”
Back to the present.
Garrett’s breathing had become shallow.
“…Bless this food…”
His eyes remained locked on Cindy’s wrist.
His heart pounded louder.
Too loud.
Too familiar.
No.
No.
No.
His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor.
“Stop.”
Phil paused mid-prayer.
The entire table looked at Garrett.
He was already standing.
His voice came out louder this time. “I said stop.”
Silence crashed over the dining room.
Cindy looked confused.
“Garrett?”
His eyes never left her wrist. “Your sleeve.”
She frowned and instinctively covered her arm with her free hand.
“It’s fine.”
“No.” His voice shook. “It isn’t.”
Phil leaned back in his chair.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
Garrett ignored him.
“Cindy.”
His tone softened immediately.
“Can I see your wrist?”
She looked uncertain.
“It’s really nothing.”
Garrett laughed once. A short, broken sound.
“That’s exactly what people say when it isn’t.”
Across the table, Hannah stared between everyone, completely lost.
“Garrett?”
He finally looked at Phil. “What happened?”
Phil’s expression didn’t change.
“She bumped into the counter.”
Garrett’s jaw tightened.
“Really.”
“Yes.”
“Funny.”
He nodded toward the bruise.
“Because that looks exactly like someone’s hand.”
The room went completely still.
Phil’s eyes darkened. “You’ve got a lot of nerve making accusations in my house.”
Garrett took a step around the table.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve pretending I don’t know what your hands leave behind.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
Cindy’s face had gone pale.
Phil’s voice turned sharp. “Sit down.”
“No.”
“I said—”
“I heard you.”
Garrett’s own voice rose.
“I’m not sitting at a table with a man who—”
“Garrett.”
Hannah reached for his arm. He barely noticed. His chest rose and fell unevenly.
Then a movement. Tiny. Almost impossible to notice. Except Garrett noticed.
Because he’d spent years making himself notice. At Phil’s raised voice Cindy flinched. Small. Instinctive. Her shoulders curled inward for less than a second.
Garrett felt sick.
No…
His gaze shifted automatically toward the other side of the table. Toward his sister. Y/N. She’d flinched too.
Not because Garrett had shouted. Not because of the argument. Because Phil had.
It wasn’t even a conscious reaction. Her shoulders tightened. Her fingers immediately dropped from the table into her lap. Her eyes lowered to the plate in front of her. Like she was trying to disappear.
Garrett stared.
No.
No.
No.
His voice came out barely above a whisper.
“…Y/N?”
She looked up slowly.
And what Garrett saw on her face stole the air from his lungs.
Fear.
Not confusion.
Not annoyance.
Fear.
Directed at him.
Like she thought… Like she thought he was going to lose his temper next.
His heart shattered. “…Hey.”
His voice immediately softened. “It’s okay.”
She didn’t answer. She just kept staring. Wide-eyed. Waiting.
Garrett looked at her for another long second before something inside him broke.
“…Really?” The word came out almost pleading. “Y/N…”
His throat tightened painfully. “…You think…” He couldn’t even finish.
She instinctively shrank farther into her chair. The movement was tiny. Barely noticeable. But Garrett saw it.
God.
She was afraid of him.
Not because of anything he’d done.
Because she had learned that when a man stood up and raised his voice the next thing that happened was always pain.
Garrett’s eyes burned. “Oh, sweetheart…”
The words escaped before he could stop them.
Y/N blinked. Confused.
He shook his head slowly.
“You think I’m him.”
Silence.
She didn’t say yes.
She didn’t have to.
Her silence answered for her.
Garrett’s chest physically hurt.
All these years.
He’d convinced himself that leaving had protected her.
Instead…
His little sister had learned to fear raised voices so deeply that she’d looked at her own brother like he might become their father.
Garrett turned his head toward Phil. Slowly. His expression had changed. The shock was gone. The grief remained. But underneath it was fury. A quiet, controlled kind that somehow felt far more dangerous than shouting ever could be.
He looked back at Y/N.
Then spoke the words that would change everything.
“Go pack a bag.”
The room fell silent.
Y/N blinked. “…What?”
Garrett didn’t take his eyes off her. “I said go pack a bag.”
She looked from him to Phil then back again. Like she genuinely couldn’t understand what he was asking.
Garrett’s voice softened. “You’re leaving with me.”
Her mouth parted slightly. “What?”
“Go upstairs.”
She didn’t move.
“I…” Her voice barely came out. “I can’t.”
“You can.”
She looked toward Phil without meaning to.
The movement was tiny. Automatic. Like checking for permission had become second nature.
Garrett noticed. Something inside him twisted painfully. He took one step closer.
“You don’t have to ask him.”
Y/N’s eyes widened. Garrett held her gaze.
“You hear me?”
Still nothing.
“So go.”
Silence stretched between them.
Finally she pushed her chair back. Slowly. Almost cautiously. Like she was waiting for someone to tell her no.
She stood. Looked once more toward Phil. He hadn’t moved. His face remained calm. Almost amused.
“Go ahead,” Phil said evenly. His smile never reached his eyes. “I know you’ll be back.”
The words sent a chill through the room.
Garrett’s jaw tightened.
Y/N hesitated only a second longer before turning and hurrying upstairs.
The sound of her footsteps disappeared into the second floor.
The second she was gone, Garrett rounded on his father.
“I spent years convincing myself she was okay.” His voice shook. “I told myself leaving meant she wouldn’t have to go through what I did.”
Phil shrugged.
“You always were dramatic.”
Garrett actually laughed. A broken, disbelieving laugh.
“You know…” He nodded slowly, noticing Cindy look down at her lap, tears quietly slipping onto folded hands.
His anger shifted. It wasn’t just Y/N. It had never been just Y/N. Phil had simply found new people to control.
“You deserve better too,” Garrett said quietly to Cindy. She looked up in surprise.
Phil scoffed. “Don’t fill her head with nonsense.”
Garrett ignored him. “Leave before it’s too late. Our mom couldn’t… but I know you can.”
Cindy stared at him, “It’s complicated…”
As Garett was about to say something, hurried footsteps echoed down the staircase. Y/N appeared clutching an old navy duffel bag. It wasn’t very full. A few clothes.
Garrett frowned. “That’s it?”
She looked embarrassed. “I didn’t know what I was allowed to take.”
The sentence hit everyone differently. Hannah’s eyes immediately filled with tears. Garrett just stared.
Allowed.
Not wanted.
Not needed.
Allowed.
He walked over and took the duffel from her shoulder. “You don’t have to ask anymore.”
She looked uncertain. “…Really?”
He nodded once. “Really.”
She followed him toward the front door. Every step seemed hesitant. Like she expected someone to stop her.
Halfway there, Garrett reached back and instinctively took her hand. She stiffened. He immediately loosened his grip.
“It’s okay.”
Then he saw it. A faint yellowing bruise wrapped around the inside of her wrist. His breath caught. Slowly, very carefully, he turned her hand over. His thumb barely brushed the edge of the fading mark.
“…Y/N.”
She quietly tried to pull her hand back.
“It’s nothing.”
His eyes closed for just a second. When he opened them again, they were glassy.
“You know me.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
She looked at him. Really looked at him. For what felt like the first time all evening.
“I know.”
“No.” He shook his head gently. “I don’t think you do.” His thumb squeezed her hand once “So let me remind you. I’m your brother.” His voice cracked. “I should’ve come back sooner.”
The admission hung between them. Y/N swallowed hard.
“I thought…” She couldn’t finish.
“What?”
“I thought you left because…” Tears welled in her eyes. “…because I wasn’t enough of a reason to stay.”
Garrett looked like someone had punched him. He stepped forward without thinking and wrapped his arms around her. For a heartbeat she stayed completely stiff.
Then she hugged him back.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I am so unbelievably sorry.” His grip tightened.
Y/N’s words were muffled against his chest with her quiet cries. Garrett shut his eyes.
“I thought getting away from him meant I was protecting both of us.” His voice broke. “I never realized I left you to survive him alone.”
Neither of them noticed Hannah quietly wiping tears from her cheeks. Or Cindy watching from the dining room doorway with heartbreak written across her face.
The front door clicked open.
Cold November air drifted inside.
Phil remained seated at the table. Calm. Collected. As though this were nothing more than an inconvenience.
“You enjoy your little vacation,” he called after them.
Y/N froze.
Phil’s eyes settled on her. “You’ll be back.”His voice remained smooth. “You always come back.”
For a moment the sixteen-year-old girl looked like she might believe him.
Then Garrett stepped beside her. He didn’t let go of her hand. He looked directly at Phil.
“No.”
Just one word. Quiet. Certain.
“You don’t get her back.”
Phil smiled.
“We’ll see.”
Garrett didn’t answer.
Instead, he looked at his sister. “Ready?”
She looked at the open door. Then at the house she’d spent years believing she’d never escape.
Finally she nodded.
Garrett smiled, a real one this time, small but steady. “Good.”
Keeping hold of her hand, he led her across the threshold.
The door closed behind them with a solid click.
For the first time in a very long time, Y/N walked away from that house.
i know i’m late to the game but i started watching love island season 8 like a week or 2 ago and casa amor just ended and let me tell you. i’m conflicted, because i truly feel bad for these women getting screwed over but ALSO. girl wtf are you thinking? like melanie literally listed all the red flags and reasons NOT TO BE WITH SINCERE before CHOOSING TO GO BACK TO SINCERE. and corey setting up that whole picnic and being the exact opposite standing there like wtf????
and ANIYA OMFGGGGGG carl was absolutely perfect. she stated that she was “the happiest i’ve been in the villa” and still chose FUCKING KC? i never liked kc i just pitied him, and aniya fucking CARRIED their couple and what did he do? he bitched about her holding him back and when she expressed concerns he made her feel like she was crazy and overbearing.
and i hate hating on a woman, but titi is evil. she literally came in the casa with the expressed and sole purpose of breaking up aniya and kc. and she was all smirking and shit and defending that asshole, LIKE GIRL STFU YOU DIDNT WIN ANYTHING kc was itching to ditch aniya he was not exactly being picky. and what, like he’s such a fucking prize? i hope those fuckers know they don’t stand one single chance of winning. despicable. DESPICABLE.
The cry echoed through the jungle unlike anything Edward Kenway had ever heard.
It was high and haunting, carrying over the canopy with such raw anguish that it prickled the hairs on the back of his neck. For one fleeting moment, he thought it was a woman screaming for help.
His hand flew instinctively to the hilt of his sword as he sprinted through tangled vines and towering palms, boots splashing through muddy pools left by the afternoon rain. The cries grew louder with every step, desperate and panicked, until he burst into a small clearing hidden deep within the island.
A lone Templar stood knee-deep in a shallow freshwater pool.
“No…” the man hissed with feverish delight, leaning his weight against the hilt of a sword driven into something beneath him. “Cry for me, you beast… give me your tears…”
Edward didn’t hesitate.
His hidden blade snapped free with its familiar metallic click.
The Templar barely had time to gasp before Edward seized him from behind and buried the blade beneath his ribs. The man’s eyes widened in shock.
“You—”
Edward twisted.
The body collapsed sideways into the water with a heavy splash.
Only then did Edward finally see what the sword had been pinning.
Not a woman’s leg.
A tail.
His entire body froze.
It was immense, covered in shimmering scales that caught the scattered sunlight filtering through the trees. Long translucent fins drifted through the water like flowing silk, trembling as fresh blood spread from the wound where the sword had pierced the powerful tail.
“…What in God’s name…” His voice barely a whisper as his eyes locked onto yours.
Then you hissed.
It wasn’t merely a sound, it was a warning.
Your lips peeled back just enough to reveal sharp teeth before you launched yourself toward him with startling speed despite your injury.
Edward reacted on instinct, stumbling backward as claws scraped across his sleeve.
“The devil—!”
Before either of you could make another move, another familiar voice cut through the clearing.
“Edward!”
Mary Read shoved between you with enough force to nearly knock him into the mud.
“Stop! You can’t harm her!”
Edward stared at Mary as though she’d gone completely mad.He jabbed a finger toward the snarling creature behind her.
“Mary… that is not human!”
You answered him with another furious hiss.
“She most certainly isn’t,” Mary replied, glaring at him over her shoulder. “And you’re making everything worse.”
“She tried to claw my face off!”
“You were reaching for your sword!”
“It seemed the sensible thing to do!”
Mary pinched the bridge of her nose. “For heaven’s sake…”
You slowly backed toward the deeper end of the pool, never taking your eyes off Edward. Every movement was cautious, protective, like a wounded wildcat trying to decide whether to flee or fight.
Edward noticed your tail trembling.The wound was deeper than he’d first realized.His gaze flicked toward the dead Templar.
“What was that fool talking about?”
Mary’s expression darkened. “The Templars know about mermaids.”
Edward blinked. “…Mermaids.”
“Yes.”
“The stories.”
“Yes.”
“They’re real.”
“Edward!!.”
“No, forgive me.” He gestured helplessly toward you. “I simply wish to confirm I’m not suffering from sunstroke.”
You puffed out your cheeks dramatically.
Edward frowned. “…Did she just…”
Before he could finish, you darted forward with surprising speed.
Chomp.
Your sharp teeth clamped around his hand.
Edward let out a noise somewhere between a yelp and a curse. “Sodding—!”
You released him immediately and scooted backward several feet, glaring triumphantly.
“She bit me!”
Mary looked entirely unimpressed. “You threatened to kill her.”
“I had every reason to!”
“You drew your sword.”
“Because she’s got teeth!”
“You also have teeth.”
“I don’t bite strangers!”
You hissed again.
Edward pointed accusingly at you while rubbing the fresh bite mark. “See? She disagrees.”
Mary folded her arms. “I’d bite you too.”
Edward looked at her in disbelief. “You are both unreasonable.”
You made another annoyed chirping hiss and retreated farther from him.
Then Mary noticed something that immediately wiped the amusement from her face.
“Oh… no.”
Edward followed her gaze.
Your tail was changing.
The brilliant scales no longer glistened with water. Instead, they looked duller by the second as the tropical heat dried them.
The delicate translucent membrane surrounding your tail began peeling away in shimmering ribbons, drifting across the rocks like discarded silk.
“What is happening?” Edward asked.
“We have to get her back to the sea.” Mary was already kneeling beside you. “Now.”
You looked increasingly distressed, trying unsuccessfully to drag yourself toward the water. Your powerful tail no longer seemed willing to cooperate.
Edward frowned. “I thought she’d swim.”
“She can’t.”
“Why not?”
Mary looked at him as though he were hopeless as she rolled her eyes. “Because it’s drying.”
Edward looked back at you. “…And?”
“And when their tails dry…”
Before she could finish, the transformation continued.
The scales receded like water slipping away with the tide. The shimmering membrane dissolved into tiny glittering fragments that scattered on the breeze before vanishing altogether.
Edward’s jaw slowly dropped.
Where your tail had been only moments before……were unmistakably human legs.
He blinked.
Then blinked again.
“…I was not expecting that.”
Mary sighed dramatically. “They gain legs once their tails dry.”
Edward continued staring for another second before suddenly jerking his eyes toward the sky with all the speed of a man realizing something rather important.
“Oh.”
Mary gave him an exasperated look. “You’ve figured it out.”
“I have.”
“You’ve noticed she’s entirely naked.”
“Aye.” Edward immediately shrugged off his heavy assassin’s coat without another word and, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on a nearby tree, awkwardly stretched the garment toward you.
“There..”
You eyed him suspiciously.
Edward sigh, still refusing to look at you. "Take it."
After a hesitant moment, you snatched it from his hands with a quick hiss before wrapping it tightly around yourself.
Edward finally allowed himself to look back. “There. Better.”
You were now sitting awkwardly against a mossy stone, bundled inside a coat several sizes too large, looking deeply offended by the entire situation.
Mary smiled reassuringly. “Easy now. We just need to get you back to the ocean.”
Edward crossed his arms. “And how precisely do you propose we accomplish that?”
Mary looked directly at him. “You’ll carry her.”
Edward stared. “I’ll what?”
“You heard me.”
“You want me to carry something that can rip my throat out.”
Mary nodded. “Yes.”
Edward looked toward you.
You looked back and very slowly……you bared every one of your sharp teeth.
“No.”
Mary sighed. “Edward.”
“No.”
“Edward.”
“She literally just bit me.”
“You deserved it.”
“I rescued her!”
“You frightened her.”
“I killed the fellow stabbing her!”
“You also called her a beast.”
Edward opened his mouth, closed it. "Fair enough."
Mary smiled sweetly. “So…”
Edward groaned loud enough to startle birds from the surrounding trees before crouching down with all the enthusiasm of a man preparing to embrace his own execution.
“Fine. But if she bites me again, I’m dropping her.”
The moment he slid one arm beneath your knees and another behind your back, you immediately leaned forward.
Edward flinched. “Oh no.”
Your nose pressed against his shoulder.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh, here it comes.”
Instead of another bite, you sniffed him once.
Then twice.
After a thoughtful pause, you settled comfortably against his chest with a small contented chirr.
Mary burst into laughter so hard she had to lean against a tree.
Edward looked down in complete confusion. “…Why is she purring?”
“Because,” Mary managed between laughs, “I think she likes your coat.”
Edward stared at the impossible creature now happily wrapped in his assassin’s coat and entirely comfortable in his arms.
“…I preferred it when I thought mermaids were myths.”
Edward carried you through the dense jungle with all the enthusiasm of a man transporting a particularly temperamental barrel of gunpowder. Every few steps he muttered something under his breath that Mary wisely chose to ignore, though she caught the occasional “bloody impossible,” “biting fish woman,” and “this is why I preferred ordinary pirates.”
Wrapped securely in his assassin’s coat, you remained remarkably quiet. Whether it was because you were exhausted from the wound in your tail or because you were plotting creative ways to kill the man carrying you, Edward couldn’t quite decide.
“I can feel her staring at me,” he grumbled after several long minutes.
Mary didn’t even look up from the path she was clearing with her cutlass. “That’s because she is.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You threatened to kill her.”
“I’ve already admitted I may have been slightly hasty.”
“Slightly?”
Edward sighed dramatically. “I thought she was about to eat me.”
You made a low, offended chirping sound.
“There,” Edward pointed triumphantly. “She disagrees again.”
“Perhaps stop talking about eating her.”
“I never said I was eating her.”
Mary shot him a look.
“…That came out worse than intended.”
By the time they reached the secluded cove, the afternoon sun had begun dipping lower across the horizon. Gentle waves lapped against a weathered wooden dock that jutted into the crystal-blue water.
Mary smiled with obvious relief. “There we are. We just need to get her back to the water. She’ll gain her tail back.”
Edward looked from the ocean to you and back again. “So that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
He nodded once. “Excellent.”
Without another word, he walked to the very edge of the dock.
Mary’s eyes widened. “Edward…”Before she could finish the warning...
He promptly dumped you over the side.
There was a tremendous splash.
“EDWARD!”
For one horrifying second, there was nothing but ripples.
Edward dusted off his hands with complete satisfaction. “There.”
Mary stared at him in utter disbelief. “You could’ve been gentler!”
“I was gentle.”
“You tossed her into the sea!”
“It seemed efficient.”
The water erupted.
You shot to the surface with astonishing speed, your magnificent tail once more replacing the human legs that had been hidden beneath his coat moments before. Water cascaded from your scales as you glared up at him with enough fury to make seasoned sailors rethink their careers.
“I WILL RIP OUT YOUR THROAT, PIRATE!”
Edward froze, his mouth slowly fell open. “You…”He pointed at you with the same stunned expression he’d worn back in the jungle. “…You can speak?”
Your eyes narrowed. “Of course I can speak, you idiot!”
With a powerful flick of your tail, you slapped the water so hard that a wave crashed over the dock.
Edward barely had time to throw an arm over his face before he was completely drenched from boots to hair.
Mary burst into laughter.
You folded your arms triumphantly. “That was for throwing me!”
Edward blinked seawater out of his eyes. “I was helping!”
“You dropped me!”
“I returned you to your natural habitat!”
“You tossed me like spoiled cargo!”
“You’ve got a tail! I assumed you’d manage!”
You scoffed so dramatically that even Mary laughed harder. “You’re the worst pirate I have ever met.”
Edward straightened his soaked coat with as much dignity as a dripping man could muster.
“And yet you know I’m a pirate.”
Your brow furrowed for a heartbeat before realization dawned. “…That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It doesn’t,” Mary admitted between chuckles, “but he’s been waiting years to say something like that.”
Edward grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “It felt appropriate.”
You stared at him for a long, silent moment.Then you rolled your eyes so dramatically that even Mary was impressed.
“Humans are exhausting.”
With one final splash, this one suspiciously aimed directly at Edward’s face as you then dove beneath the waves.
A flash of shimmering scales disappeared into the deep, leaving only widening circles on the calm sea.
Edward wiped seawater from his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “…She has a remarkably good aim.”
Mary folded her arms with a satisfied smile. “Get used to it.”
He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘get used to it?’”
Mary simply walked past him toward the waiting rowboat. “Congratulations, Edward.”
He blinked. “For what?”
"I’ve got a feeling…" She looked back over her shoulder with an amused grin. “…that she’s going to make your life very, very difficult.”
As if summoned by the words, something beneath the dock yanked sharply on Edward’s boot.
He let out a startled yelp and stumbled onto one knee while your delighted laughter echoed from somewhere beneath the waves.
Mary laughed all the way back to the boat. Edward, dripping yet again, had the distinct feeling this would not be the last time the mermaid got the better of him.
“For the last goddamn time,” Bakugou bites out, swatting away the makeup brush that’s hovering dangerously close to his face. “I don’t need a goddamn PR manager.”
The stylist beside him lets out a sigh of defeat, but he pays her no mind, eyes fixed solely on you.
You raise a brow as someone jogs by behind him and makes a one minute signal with their pointer finger, a clipboard clasped to their chest.
Someone else sneaks in between the two of you, quickly clipping a microphone to Bakugou’s hero suit. He nearly growls.
Rolling your eyes, you step forward into his space, and you catch the slight tick of his jaw as you do so. “I don’t really care what you want, Katsuki. Your agency is paying me to keep you on a leash.”
He scoffs, adjusting one of his gloves. “You’d have to get a collar on me first.”
Smiling at him sweetly, you reach out and drag up the mask that’s covering his eyes so that it’s pushing back his hair instead. “Your ratings always go up when you do the headband thing with your mask, you know. You look good like this.”
His face screws up in a myriad of emotions, his mouth opening as if to keep arguing, but suddenly he’s being ushered out past the backstage curtain for his interview before he can say anything else.
And amongst the general cheering that accompanies him as he walks out, there’s a distinct sound from the fangirls in the crowd when they see he’s got his mask pushed up.
Bakugou’s eyes briefly meet yours again from where you’re standing just out of view between the gap in the curtains. You place your open hand at the base of your neck, miming a collar as you wink at him.
i cant believe that there's still gamergate STANK on games that women enjoy. NASTY misogyny residue. stardew valley is in fact a video game. animal crossing is also a video game. so are otome games and dating sims and twee little cozy games. sometimes a bitch doesnt wanna play bloodborne that shit's hard
guys who mainly play 2k and fortnite will still be like oh youre not a real gamer for having 1000 hours in stardew. mother fucker you're larping as a basketball player
I don't want my cellphone to have AI I want it to have 3 days of battery time. I don't want my computer to have AI preinstalled I want it to have seven usb ports and high ram at affordable price. I don't want my games to have AI built levels I want them to be so optimized I could run them on a nokia.
girl whose type is strictly caretakers but refuses to let herself be taken care of on the principles of being independent and trust issues so she runs away from it for a while before the caretakers coax her into it bit by bit until she's sooo soft and pliant and spoiled from it...
A scrapbook of my obsessions @notsochillnerd - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
