Long-Boats

TONY TANGREDI AND CONNOR SSSSSOMETHING, MY BOYS,,,

i like to see theyre still wearing their Typical Clothing Styles- tango’s tshirt, shorts, sneakers, all casual. whiskey’s a preppier, nice-casual w/his hair all gelled and his polo shirts, long pants, dress/boat shoes?? whatever those are. i wonder how long he takes to get ready in the morning

im so glad to see them hanging out a. together, b. at the haus, and c. with bitty/getting cheered up by bitty!!! my boys/WHISKEY ESPECIALLY are bein social!!

Ko Lanta - Thailand

Ko Lanta is an island located in the Andaman see, off the coast of Southern Thailand. As with many other destinations in the Krabi province, Ko Lanta is known for its diving and white sandy beaches. Many of the resorts on the island are locally owned, and feature beachfront bungalows. The island is a great place to watch the sunrise and sunset. 

The culture on the island is a mix of Buddhist, Muslim, Thai, Chinese culture. The island is also home to the unique Chao Le people, who are known as “people of the sea”, who make most of their income from catching and selling seafood. They have managed to retain their own language, culture, and traditions in the face of booming commercialism in the area. 

Moana Starters!

Her heart has the greatest power ever known.
He was a warrior…
But you don’t go out there. It’s dangerous.
We share everything we make.
There’s more fish beyond the reef.
I should have burned those boats a long time ago!
You’re face to face with greatness and it’s strange. You don’t even know how you feel. It’s adorable!
It’s a beautiful cave, she’s gonna love it.
I’m going to love you.
Congratulations on being dead!
Teach me to sail.
You are gonna stay here with the other chicken.
Are you just trying to get me to talk about myself?
Take a hike, tiny.
Somehow, I was found by the Gods.
Why did you bring me here?
You have to choose someone else!
Do you know who you are?
I’ve got your back, Chosen One.
Let her come to me.

MERMAID!AU FIC REC

Coax the Cold by MediaWhore (86k)

England, 1897.

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

Purer Than The Water (like we were) by FeelsForBreakfast (33k)

Louis is a merman and Harry is a boy. The lake is a good place to fall in love. 

Louis wants the boy to wade deeper, deep enough that Louis can go under and wrap his fingers around his ankles for just a moment. Pull him under. Just touch skin, for a second.

Keep reading

Ben’s Fear

Growing up, it was common knowledge that my cousin was afraid of seaweed. Naturally, we terrorized him with it. Pieces in his bed, pieces in his shoes, and my favorite: pieces in his bathing suit. Every time, we were guaranteed a scream and a scramble as he tried to get the seaweed away from his delicate self.

Nothing, though, compared to what we’d do to him at the beach.

I’ll fully admit that we were bullies back then. We didn’t know what we did was wrong; we just thought it was funny. And since Ben laughed it off at the end, even if he’d cried while it was happening, we thought it was okay to continue. Kids will be kids, right?

I was the oldest, and therefore the biggest. Ben was always really skinny and small. I could manhandle him pretty effortlessly. I’d dunk him underwater, I’d toss him around; all that. But I’d also hold him still as my other cousins draped him with seaweed.

Oh, how he’d scream.

Keep reading

A Promise (A Maeve Fic) - ACOMAF and TOG Crossover

Okay, so this was a really interesting idea that I found on @greenfire2908art‘s blog. It gave me like a million ideas, so I decided to put as many as I could in here. Enjoy everyone! 

The throne room was dark. Shadowed, black walls curved sharply away from the ebon-stained tiles of the floor, tilting up and up and up to meet in a dome a hundred feet above. This should’ve opened up the room, dispelling any claustrophobic thoughts, but instead it made it seem as if there was no space at all, as if the walls were closing in and the floor collapsing. The lack of proper furniture and ornamentation only accentuated the crushing emptiness of the great hall, and any unfortunate visitor would feel like a deer in an open field. The current subject of this strange torture was sweating and wringing his hands nervously, his words stuttering and uneven.

Queen Maeve sat stiff-backed in her throne. She did not remember any other way to sit. Her bones were made of iron, same as her heart, and her backbone did not bend. The man continued his mumbling, and Maeve stared at him unblinkingly. His lips moved, but she could not hear.

Blood-red hands, plunging deep into a human chest.

“Me wife,” the farmer said. “She’s caught the flu and I’ve not a coin-”

A shrill wine, slowly, slowly building into a scream. Then many.

“Soon the kids’ll get it, too-”

“How many?” she said, not really wanting to know the answer even as she asked.

He swallowed, dark hair shifting as his throat bobbed. “Four-thousand.”

“So, you see, m'lady-Queen, that is-”

Her hands were wrapped around his neck, nails painted crimson looking like bloody claws as they gripped tighter.

“-to ask for help-”

Tighter, tighter. The fingers went white as they squeezed the life from her King. A wraith-like face laughed, taunting, skin pale and colorless but for her hair. The hair that seemed to grow brighter with every pool of blood spilled.

“O’ course, you don’t have t’-”

As those fingers went taut, a crack chased all other sound away, buried it in cotton. The silence made the noise that much louder.

“Rhysand!”

“My son, Queen. He-”

“That’s quite enough.” Maeve’s voice was calm, amenable even. It was a horrible contrast to the shrieking hum beneath her skin. She made a gesture to her guards, a single sweep of her left hand that had three full-blooded Fae males setting down spears in favor of sword or axe.

As they neared, the farmer seemed to come back to himself, glancing back at the approaching Fae. “What’s this?” he asked.

One of the males roughly pulled his hands behind his back. That was when the old farmer began thrashing.

“What is this?” he asked again, panic edging his voice. “Put me down!”

Maeve watched without speaking.

The second guard pushed the man to his knees, pressing against his shoulders to keep him from squirming away.

And the third, he snapped gloves onto his hands, to lessen the mess that came afterwards. He tested the edge of his blade on his thumb, found it satisfactory. The farmer screamed, twisting and turning, but the arms that held him were like iron bands. The third Fae hefted the sword and leaned back to give himself room.

“I’m innocent!” the farmer shouted. “I’m innocent!”

Maeve leaned forward then, a cruel light behind her eyes. “No one is,” she crooned.

“I’m inn-”

A rush of air, a geyser of blood, and the third male had eyes like granite as he wiped the farmer’s life from his blade and walked back to his place. The two Fae who’d been holding down the man did not speak as they took up their posts by the door, leaving a crumpled, headless body behind.

#

Mild irritation could be seen in the feathering of Maeve’s jaw. If she could have, she’d be drumming her fingers along the deep blue manchette of her armrest. One of the typical meetings again, complete with tittering court ninnies and pompous fools. Hundreds of kingdoms she’d conquered, and not one managed a decent court without its share of idiots. She’d gotten used to it, and usually the ordered murder of the courtier of her pick was enough to shut them up. But her guards were not currently present, out on a scouting mission in search of Aelin Galathynius.

A thrill ran through her blood at just the thought of the Queen’s name. She’d escaped the iron prison, somehow. One day, Maeve had pried opened the door and found it empty, naught a trace left but for a swirling series of marks, sketched out in blood. There had been no sign of the Queen since, but rumors spread quick, and Maeve heard the whispers of an army rising in the North.

A donkey’s laugh burst from one of the courtiers, bursting her bubble of calm. He was surprisingly ugly for a Fae, with a sloping brow and protruding nose, and his guffaw did nothing to help his predicament. Maeve’s eyes tightened, and she put just a bit more effort into ignoring them.

As her violet gaze drifted around the room, her thoughts burrowed deep into lost history. To a very different kind of promise.

“You will not die. Not now or ever. Not until the world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars.”

Those were the words that the gods had cursed at her, centuries ago, after the death of…everything.

“Your Majesty?”

Maeve flicked her eyes to the one who’d spoken her title.

Strangely, he did not balk. She’d have to break him in soon. “Your Majesty,” he said, green eyes bright and black hair waving, “Aelin Galathynius has been sighted.”

Maeve smiled.

#

No one knew Maeve’s secret, the one of the Queen Who Was Promised. Promised not just to Elena and her gods, but also to her. She did not fight for Erawan, not for pleasure, not for power or some darker purpose. No, she sought freedom. One that none could give her but Aelin Galathynius.

It was with cold anticipation squirming in her gut that Maeve watched, from the safety of a long-boat, her armada crawl forward to meet the approaching one. It was anxious suspense that gnawed at her stomach as she saw just how many men had been gathered under the same banner to kill. And it that was definitely fear that thrilled through her when she realized it was her they wanted to kill.

Another emotion bubbled to the surface, one that had been pushed down for a thousand years to keep her sane. It was excitement, joy, that turned into a burning relief. So long, and finally her dream approached. Her salvation came in the form of pikes and spears and longbows, warships slicing through the water. It came in the form of a golden-haired queen with eyes a blazing blue that would’ve been better replaced by the line of molten gold rimming the irises.

Terror coursed through her like never before. Of course, it did not show on her face, wouldn’t even if she’d wished it to. Maeve let a cruel smile split her face in half, throwing a hand in front of her. Her ship lurched forward, careening towards the opposite bank. Rows of archers stood along each and every of the ships’ railings, the ones at the head of the armada like tiny dots in the back of her vision.

“Fire,” she whispered, and it was black flames that licked at her fingers as the first volley of arrows clotted the grey sky. Shields emblazoned with a rising sun rose up to defend from the wicked-edged points, but still, faint shrieks could be heard from the lines of enemy men.

A trickle of shadow she sent, a calling, a beckoning. Immediately she was answered. A balmy wind slammed into their ranks, cutting and eddying through the sea breeze. Maeve looked up, and she met eyes of blue and gold, even from over a quarter mile away. Her raging emotions halted when she saw the prince of snow next to her. He stood taller and stronger than he ever had at her side, and through the severed bond, she could feel where his endless sorrow had been replaced by a strange king of fullness.

The hollow cave that had once housed her human heart was suddenly prominent. Once, she had been them. Happy and complete, with a wisdom that could only be gained through the acceptance of another into your life. Hatred raked its oily claws down her insides. Together, the Queen and her mate, a reminder of what had been lost, why she still wanted to kill them.

“I won’t let you.”

Maeve growled and whirled around, the shadows leaking from her in waves. Her eyes widened when she saw who the voice belonged to. A woman, with long, golden-brown hair flowing down her back and eyes like pale-blue ice. Her form was bright and shimmering, and the power that spilled from her was enough to rival that of Aelin.

“Long time no see, Mora,” Maeve snarled. “How’s the afterlife suiting you?”

Mora’s eyes tightened. “I won’t let you kill her,” she said.

“I know. That’s why you’ll have to go first.”

Quick as lightning, a needle-sharp thread of shadow shot out. Mora didn’t move as the shadow darted for her chest, merely twitched her lip. The shadow was swallowed by a cloud of ice.

Maeve bared her teeth. “Why are you here?”

Mora met her gaze evenly. “The gods have come to collect their Promise. I won’t let you kill her.”

No, and I wouldn’t even if you hadn’t threatened me.

“Of course,” Maeve said coolly. “But why are you here?”

“Because I asked her to be.”

The breath caught in her throat as she turned slowly to meet the hazel-brown eyes that she had not seen since her Mate’s death. “You,” she said, because she had no idea if she should speak in a familiar or formal manner, and the awe did not leak into her voice, even though it was there, thick and stifling.

Vaguely, she could hear the battle cries of her men, but she knew she was safe here, in the thick of her armada, for at least a few more minutes.

“Me,” Mab said, and a sad smile lined her eyes.

Salty tears spilled down her face, running through the blood that splattered her cheeks. She caressed the leathery membrane of the wing, brought it close to her chest. He was gone.

“Leave,” Maeve said bluntly, any good feeling lost as she realized a war raged around her. There was no time for distractions.

Mab flinched and took a step after Maeve’s retreating form. “I came to tell you something.”

Maeve paused.

“I came to say something He would’ve wanted you to remember.”

“Elain,” Mora ground out, and Maeve closed her eyes at that name.

Elain…

Mab ignored it, continuing, “He said he’d always love you. He would still love you, you know. Even with…with how you’ve turned out. And I-”

“Elain.”

“-I still love you. Nesta still loves you, even though she won’t admit it-”

Maeve turned just in time to see Mora strike Mab with an open palm. “Elain,” she said, and cold fire danced in her eyes. “I told you to stop. I told you-” Her eyes turned to Maeve, seething with hatred. “I do not love you, Maeve. I loved Feyre, and she’s been gone a long, long time.”

Gone, ever since her Mate’s death. When she’d felt that other line of the bond die, go taut and then snap, she’d erupted.

“He’s not breathing,” Mor whispered. “Shit. Azriel.” Her quiet sobs were muffled by the shadowsinger’s shirt, and he too let the tears fall.

They’d all been in a room together, and then he’d barged in, violet eyes wild.

“She’s here,” he breathed. “She’s here.” And when they all glanced at the doorway he’d come through, a shudder of fear passed through each of them. A woman with a plain face and blood-red hair, smirking.

“Hello, Rhysand,” she purred.

The attack came too quick to follow, and they were all frozen with shock anyway. When manicured nails had torn through his flesh, she had lunged. It was with half a thought that she killed Amerantha and rushed to her Mate’s side, the tears already stinging the back of her vision.

“Fuck,” Cassian swore, voice cracking. “Can’t someone do something?”

Slowly, they shook their heads.

Gone, gone, gone.

A scream was ripped from her throat, and the damper on her glamour fell. Wings extended, talons cut through flesh, and solid black filmed her eyes. She’d kill them. Kill them all. She’d burn the world.

And then she had.

Cassian. Mor. Azriel. Amren. All of them gone. Velaris, too. And so the gods had brought her before them, and they’d determined her fate. A curse, to live forever, until her Promise was born.

Hearing her name again brought immeasurable pain. She had learned to hide it behind a mask of porcelain skin and violet eyes, a wrath greater than that of her lover’s killer. And with each word against her, the steel of that mask thickened. “Leave,” the Queen of the Fae said, ice coating her words. “Before I lose my temper.”

In truth, she already had.

“Feyre,” Mab breathed. “You are good. You are kind. I see beneath your mask.”

The crackling of magic as the armada at last came upon the shore, and armored bodies heaved themselves into the shallow water. Maeve thought it cruel that fate decided to gift her sister with those same words as she had once told her Mate. It felt like a slap to the face. So it was with venom that she said,“We all start out good.” A cruel smirk. “But it doesn’t last long.”

The ship exploded into black mist.

#

Maeve let the madness show on her face as she crept up behind the Queen of Terrasen. There was none of the fear Maeve felt on her face, none mirrored in Aelin’s face.

“I’ve come to kill you,” Maeve announced, and the swirls of shadows thickened around her.

“Funny,” Aelin murmured. “I was about to say the same thing.”

And then she struck. Maeve dodged, quick as thunder, and Aelin whipped back into a battle stance. They fought long and hard, viciously trading blows. Their magic whipped out in time to the strikes of steel, up and over. Rowan did not make any move to help, she noticed, though his fists were clenched tight and his legs were tense, as if he was ready to jump in at his Queen’s first command. He glared at her with all the menace of four-hundred years of servitude.

Distracted for a moment, Maeve did not see the knife coming until the last second, and for the first time in a millennium, Maeve’s blood spilled. It flowed free and unabashed into the hard earth, hissing and popping like hot oil. The pain was nothing, a child’s hurt, but it still left her gasping. She hadn’t felt the ill of a wound in so long, that she found herself fascinated by the glossy beads dripping from the tear in her flesh, so like that deep scarlet hair.

Aelin had paused momentarily, watching curiously. She was still tense, on edge, but something had shifted in her. The hostility had lessened more to…wariness.

“Fireheart,” Rowan muttered, voice dripping with warning. “No.”

“But what if-” Aelin began, but then Maeve shook her head and was up again. The battle began anew, and she felt her strength flagging. Her well of magic was bone-dry, while Aelin continued to spew flames from her outstretched hand. She knew what was coming before it did. There was only a moment to quell that instinctual fear and replace it with the excitement, the possibility of-

The sword that plunged through her chest was burning-hot, and it rekindled something in that empty cavity where her heart should’ve been.

“I love you, Feyre.”

Aelin jerked the blade free, leaving Maeve gasping on her knees.

I’ll love you, forever and always.”

She fell to the ground as her strength failed to her, chest still heaving. Two words burst from her lips in an unintelligible gasp. Blood leaked through her fingers. Despite her lover’s protests, Aelin moved forward to crouch beside Maeve. Her eyes were cold, and no pity shown in them, but-

Aelin leaned in, the smell of crackling embers punching through the sweat and tears. “Say it again,” Aelin commanded.

Maeve breathed, “I’m sorry.

The Queen of Terrasen studied her for a long moment, gaze assessing, then gave a sharp nod. That was all, nothing more before standing up and turning away to face her own fate. There was nothing more to do, she supposed wryly, and a bit of her old spirit returned, the one that lay slumbering beneath the mask. At least she’d die with dignity, her name whispered for years after the crows had pecked her bones clean.

She missed her Mate. She could admit it with the knowledge she’d be gone in a few minutes. Cassian would’ve laughed himself hoarse if he knew she had gone celibate for so long. But the passion she’d once felt had died with a pair of violet eyes that her shapeshifting magic could never replicate.

As the blood gushed from her torso, the fear subsided, and finally, finally the overwhelming relief took over.

Maeve, Feyre Cursebreaker and High Lady of the Night Court, lay back, closed her eyes to the darkness, and felt the completion of a promise that had been prolonged for a thousand years.

Ah, peace…

anonymous asked:

I really love your imagines! Here's one: Old!Noctis and sassy s/o queen. During a council meeting, where s/o is absent, a foreinger ambassador rudely complain about the queen, pretending an apology by Noctis because she humiliate him after seeing him treating badly a young maid, suggesting Noctis to control his wife.

OMG SHORT DRABBLE TIME! :D This one’s gonna be fun~! This kinda strayed a little from the original request BUT it still holds the main concepts you mentioned :) Sir Luddenham belongs to me *HAHAHHAHA, Luddenham- it’s a place in Sydney somewhere and I’ve always wanted to name a dodgy OC after that suburb cos the name sounds so hilarious HAHAHA*

Tagging some pals: @blindbae, @itshaejinju, @asendioncosplay, @lady-asuka, @hypaalicious, @rubyphilomela, @cupnoodle-queen and @xalexanderxkozachenkox <3 :)

PERMALINK: https://themissimmortal.tumblr.com/post/160514770980/i-really-love-your-imagines-heres-one


Excuse you, Sir.

As King of Lucis, Noctis had to deal with a few rather difficult individuals. Sir Luddenham was one of those rather difficult people. In fact, if you were present in Council that afternoon, Noctis was sure you’d probably call him a ‘bag of dicks’. Noctis barely held in a snort of amusement at the thought of you calling the unpleasant council member juvenile names. Feeling Ignis nudge him from his right hand side, Noctis sat up a little straighter and pretended that he was actually interested in what Sir Luddenham had to say that day in Council.

Seriously though- what kind of a name was Luddenham?

It sounded made up and foreign.

Noctis quickly shook the irrelevant thought out of his head and zoned back in on Sir Luddenham’s concerns. Trying to refrain from rolling his eyes at the topic of the rather pudgy council man’s discourse, Noctis merely leaned forward and bore his deep blue eyes down at the older man with a neutral expression on his handsome face.

“Your Majesty, I apologise for my lack of tact, but I must raise this matter with you now, or forever hold it in my consciousness…” Noctis frowned and nodded, giving his silent assent to let the man go on with his complaint. What Noctis really wanted to say was ‘keep your pity party to yourself’- he probably would have said so if you were in attendance with him. You probably would have been the one to shut Sir Luddenham off yourself!

That would have been funny.

Keep reading

2

Someone probably already said this, but I watched it again and I think I finally figured out the meaning behind the “What a Catch Donnie” video.

Patrick starts out lonely, on his own little boat, longing for a friend. A little bird injures itself getting caught in a tangle of ropes on his boat. Patrick rescues it, nurses it and befriends it.

Then suddenly, he sees a massive shipwreck and steers his boat toward the survivors (i.e., Joe, Andy, Brendon, etc.). Like he does with the bird, Patrick rescues them, letting them join his boat. They all party and have fun, and Patrick is anything but lonely anymore.

So he works his way out of the crowd, finds the bird, and sets it free.

To me, it feels symbolic of perhaps Patrick’s legacy (perhaps Pete’s tribute to Patrick?) – how he starts out as this awkward, lonely but talented guy. But he has a big heart, and he spends time helping others (like in the video, helping the injured bird, helping other musicians). In time, the people he’s helped grow strong enough to find their own way, and like the bird, he sets them off to fly – a better person than who they were when they started.

And in turn, Patrick becomes a better person, too. No longer lonely, but happy, because he made someone else better.

So anyway I’m crying a lot now and I was planning to watch my favorite live version of “Save Rock and Roll” but nope this is enough emotion for one day.

2

AMSTERDAM, THE NETHERLANDS JUNE 6, 1964

“The following morning, The Beatles took an hour-long, glass-topped boat trip along Amsterdam’s canal system. Fans hung banners wishing Ringo a speedy recovery while those wanting a closer look actually dived into the water to swim to the boat, only to be roughly manhandled on board by Dutch police, which annoyed John Lennon in particular”. - From ‘Looking Through You’, and scanned by @thebeatlesforlife :)

Wife Of A King: Part 1

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Reader (f)

Warnings: sorcery, that’s the closest thing I believe, touch of angst

Author’s Note: I have been rewatching the Narnia movies and as it’s been since I was six, my emotions for Edmund rang true. I had fun writing this, and I hope you like it also :)

*********************************************

“We have castaways!” You hear the captain yell. It doesn’t really have any interest to you though, not until you her Caspian call out to Edmund. Donning a large grin, you stand and make your way to the young king.

“Well well well, look at you, young and handsome as ever.” You say to the boy before you.

Edmund squints at you while wiping water from his face. Sure, you’re attractive, but he doesn’t remember knowing anyone of your age in Narnia. “I can assure you I have always been handsome, Miss…?” Your eyebrow quirk as a fog starts at the base of your feet, “Oh, I don’t know whether to be flattered, or hurt,” Now the fog engulfs you completely, “You don’t even remember you own wife? Your queen?” When the heavy smoke disperses, you’re the same age as Edmund again.

Without even thinking, Edmund throws his arms around you, “The advantages of marrying a sorceress, my king. We never truly have to be apart.” Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you take a step back, “My king, I have missed you more than words can ever express.”

Before Edmund can reply, the other boy that entered Narnia with them is whining, “Wife? Edmund doesn’t even live in his own house! And of all the people, she’s a witch! A - a -” Releasing Edmund, you step towards the fool Lucy has called Eustace and with each step, you grow bigger, “Watch the next words that leave your mouth, boy. You are a relative to my husband, and no blood of mine.”

Eyes wide and chest heaving, Eustace fumbles about his words, “I was just going to say that you’re a perfect match for my cousin.” Going back to your form, you smirk at the frightened boy, “Good. Now run along.” You’re hoping to get back to your husband, but Lucy wraps you in a hug, giggling at your encounter with her cousin, “Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” Smiling, You hug her back, “As it is always to see you Lucy, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to spend some time with my king.”

For the rest of the afternoon, you and Edmund sit together and talk about how your lives have been since you’ve been separated.

“It’s so hard.” You say softly, your shoulder resting against Edmund’s as you stare out at the water, “For years and years, I got used to waking up everyday with my husband by my side. Then you left. I remember the morning after, when you never returned from Spare Oom, and I had forgotten.

"When you weren’t beside me, I figured you and Peter were outside, sparring. But when I got out there, I was met with Aslan. Everyday day after that, for just a moment, I would look for you beside me, then I would remember that you were gone. Then you came back, and for the entirety of your stay, we were fighting a war. I still haven’t gotten used to not seeing your face in the morning, and I hate our worlds for it.”

Edmund hears the sadness in your voice and takes your hand in his. He’s about to agree with you, but he notices the ring on your finger, “Your wedding ring. You still wear it?” He asks you incredulously. You place a kiss to his hand, “My king, I never take it off. Things of Narnia can not go to your world, so I was not surprised to see you don’t have yours.”

Just as he goes to say something, the captain yells across the ship, “Land ho!”

The lot of you row up to the dock in long boats, but when you go to step out of yours, Edmund holds you back, “Stay here, it might be dangerous.” Raising your eyebrow, you smirk at your king, “I don’t know if you recall, my husband, but I have fought and helped win plenty of wars by your side.”

At this, Edmund’s face grows gravely serious, “Y/N, I just got you back, I’m not going to put you at risk. For once in our marriage, can you please not stay by my side. I won’t ask you again, but just this once, please.” Nodding, you pull Edmund’s lips to yours, “Come back to me safely. I’m not there to protect you.” You say once the two of you part, your forehead pressed to his. Nodding against you, Ed gives you one more quick kiss and leaves you standing there in the long boat, holding his wedding band in your pocket.

What Are Friends For?

This was requested by an Anon! I know it’s short, but I still hope you all enjoy it! <3

Pairing: Gibbs x Reader

Word Count: 306

Warnings: none

It was a cold Spring night and you were laying down in bed.  You were trying to get some sleep before work tomorrow, but your thoughts were keeping you awake.  These thoughts weren’t pleasant ones either.  You knew you couldn’t be alone right now; you needed a friend.

You stopped outside of Gibbs’ house, padding up to the door.  You hoped he would still be awake at this time of night.  Then again, you couldn’t remember the last time he went to bed at a decent hour.

You entered his house, looking around for Gibbs.  Since he wasn’t upstairs, he had to be in his basement, yet again.  You liked the comfort of the Marine’s house.  It was like a second home to you.  You descended down his basement stairs.

Gibbs stepped away from his boat, emptying a glass and pouring you a drink.  “It’s pretty late [Y/N].  Something wrong,” Gibbs asked, sliding the glass towards you.

“I just didn’t wanna be alone tonight,” you shrugged.  “You know me…  Sometimes nights aren’t the greatest for me.”  You took a drink of bourbon, setting it down.

“Yeah I know,” Gibbs nodded, grabbing the sander beside him.  The Marine handed you the sander.  He taught you how to sand a boat a long time ago.  He knew you liked to distract yourself when you felt anxious.  “Did you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” you sighed.  “You don’t mind that I’m here, do you?”

“Nope,” Gibbs replied, returning to his boat.

“Thank you,” you smiled, glancing over at the Marine.  “It means a lot to me.”

“What are friends for?”  Gibbs hummed a soft tune as the two of you worked on the boat.

You liked that Gibbs would let you escape to his basement.  When your place was too much, his place was your safe haven.  


Tag List: @mija-novella@saranasai@trashforwinchesters@ivvitm1109@navycopconfessions@emilyymichelle@girl-next-door-writes@nanie5@flufy07@gabriels-trix@becauseflife@the-latina-trickster@moose-on-the-l00se@anamademedoit @theridiculouspanda@captain-amelia-bradley@holding-on-to-francis@massivelyunsteadyposter@haeminhee@lizbeth-loves-bobear@21-wolves@rayleyanns@silverwingedfox@myplaceofthingsilove@jez-zolnierz@pocketcow@mogaruke @mycuddlycorner

anonymous asked:

I have so many fic rec lists saved... But to heck with that, what are ur top Klance fanfics?

buckle up kids bc this is really fuckin long

ONESHOTS / COMPLETED

thread our way through a string of stars - Lance is an astrophysics student and Keith is looking for aliens. BOY HOWDY THIS IS A REALLY GOOD ONE it’s super long and slow build and really fuckin sweet

Nightmares - Lance has nightmares when he sleeps alone so he shares Keith’s bed…it’s adorable I read this one a lot hehe

you’re so sweet; will you be mine? - BAKERY AU where Lance is annoyed at the new bakery across from his and he and Keith communicate through trying to one-up each other with baked goods and they fall in love in the process. IT’S REEEALLY CUTE

Voltrain - petstore au!! pretty simple but it’s suuuper cute

how not to keep a diary - Lance’s diary entries talking abt starting college and meeting his new roommate (Keith) who he dislikes at first and then they become friiiiends (warning, this one has a bit of Keith/Shiro in it at one point if you’re not into that but it’s not too much)

pepsicola - canonverse, it’s just them slowly falling in love and it’s PERFECT I love this one a whole awful lot

I can’t help but to want - picks up right when s1 ends when everyone is seperated, Keith and Lance manage to connect their coms and their only contact for a long time is each other while they’re both stranded on different planets. it’s so cute my dudes I love it

Should I Stand Up On Fear - they’re at a beach and Keith has a big fear of deep water and Lance tries to make him so surfing with him. it’s super sweet and fun and the author is doing a sequeeeeeel I’m excite

so why don’t we fall - established relationship and Keith is nervous about hearing Lance say “I Love You” basically and it’s hecking cute…. (has a nsfw scene if you’re unchill w that)

Honey & Lemon - coffeeshop au and it’s adorable

Dewey Despicable - Lance spills coffee on someone’s (Keith’s) textbooks at the library & leaves before Keith gets back but he has to go back to the table bc he forgot something and Keith has left him an annoyed note so he writes one back and they just start leaving notes for each other bickering. it’s fuckin adorable dude

Kiss it Better - Keith is super terribly hurt in battle & nearly dies, Lance blames himself and is sad about it, but it’s all ok bc Keith lives and then they kiss and weh it’s just super cute. since Keith’s badly injured there’s description of the injury so if you’re squicked out by blood, just a warning for u. I reeeeally love this one…

take a chance - Lance makes video diaries of what goes on in the ship, then he gets captured after telling Keith he likes him and Keith didn’t get a chance to respond and Keith is upset bc Lance is gone (currently) and he still hasn’t told him and everything turns out ok in the end and it’s super cute and good

MULTI-CHAPTERED / IN-PROGRESS

And Action! - modern day au where Lance is an actor and Keith is fake dating him. Keith actually already has a boyfriend, and he’s told Lance that he’s ok with it but actually the bf has no idea UH OH… I have sooo much dread for the next chapter I think shit’s about to go down and the writing is really good and I am so invested in this fic omg

Of florists and tennis shoes - flowershop au where Lance keeps buying flowers to impress his not-yet-gf from Keith’s flowershop and they end up falling in loooooooove. The writing is super poetic and flowery and it’s so good I adore it??? In my top 3 klance fics definitely, there’s only one chap left to go and I still haven’t decided what scene to draw fanart for it I adore this fic so much <3 <3 <3

E O Mai - only 2 chaps so far but mermaid au where Keith illegally sells fish and one day ends up finding a dead (not dead) mermaid while out in his boat. long chapters and the writing is like, it rly makes you feel like you’re THERE?? like idk man it’s amazing and I’m always in the mood for mermaids so it’s perfect <3

Backhand - martial arts au!! That’s p much it but it’s so good and I love it. (this one has Keith crushing on Shiro–onesided, it’s not reciprocated–at first so if that squicks you out then maybe avoid it)

26 Kisses - this started out as a silly competition about who could sneak in more (platonic) kisses and then it turned into an Epic where the team is dying of a virus and Lance & Keith are the only ones so far who arent sick so they have to go find a cure and it gets INVOLVED, MAN. It’s really cute and fun it’s super worth reading

I bet you look good on the dance floor - dance au!! Basically everyone’s a street dancer (Lance Hunk & Pidge, and Shiro & Keith) and then Shiro gets injured and stops performing; flash forward to the future and Keith is teaching at Allura’s studio and Lance is taking lessons from him. I’m weak for dance aus and this one is really well written and good

On Thin Ice - skating au, Keith is a hockey player and the rest of the paladins + Allura are figure skaters!! and Lance teaches Keith to figure skate. Long chapters and rly good writing and just really FUN in general haha

The Lion’s Den - coffeeshop au kinda?? Everyone minus Keith works at a coffeeshop + Shiro also volunteers at a youth center, which is where he met Keith. Keith is trans and it’s abt him slowly becoming friends w the others and also trying to stop his involvement with the creepy gang called the GALRA…..OOOHH….it’s super good I love it