i will say roll tide for him

SEP: Sunsets

I wrote this based on the comic “SEP Days” that my friend @vapewraith drew - I love silly SEP and Crisis interactions between Gabriel and Jack so I loved this comic and really wanted to show how much Vape’s art and colors inspire me.

Thank you again, Vapewraith - thank you for nearly nine months of your wonderful Overwatch art!  ❤️  ❤️  ❤️

———

“Soldiers, line up here.”

There are tart groans and muttered whines as the SEP candidates shuffle to a stop and the group practically collapses against the walls and waist-high concrete barriers.  The exhaustion and aches are practically tangible in the air as the supersoldiers-in-training ease themselves into sitting or leaning or even lying positions - Number: 37 practically throws herself on the group even though it’s as miserably comfortable as sleeping on broken groundstone.  Number: 123 next to Gabriel rolls his shoulders, hissing every time the right one moves back too far, exactly where one of the rubber bullets had hit him earlier.  Number: 88 on the other side of Jack seats herself and then curls up into a ball, pulling the drawstrings on her hood to shut the world into what Jack assumes is blissful darkness.

They’re in one of the halls of the SEP facility - tucked away into a deep mountainside “somewhere out west,” the building is hard angles and brutal concrete and cut-steel, as soft as titanium and as gentle as the injections they get every morning and evening.  Yet even here, in “wherever’s-range,” there is still beauty: the massive windows, normally just cold, crystalline glass, are open to the sunset, bleeding colors across the land and sky, dripping into the hallway with the vibrancy of oil paints.  Reds smoke into bright, endless pinks, golds melt into bold, sunshine yellows, oranges shift into liquid amber, and at the edges of the atmosphere, velvet purples sigh into silky blues, tinting the more vivid colors and steeped clouds with the dusk of night and the emerging stars.

It’s a sight neither Gabriel nor Jack will ever get tired of -

No matter how exhausted they are.

“The doctors will see you shortly -” the SEP instructor starts to say, reappearing at the far end of the hallway, before he looks up from the papers on his clipboard and scowls at the group of crumbling supersoldiers, snapping, “Is that what you call ‘lining up?’”

“Maybe if y’all didn’t work us so damn hard,” Number: 141 growls, his voice climbing into a hoarse yell, “We’d still have the energy to fucking stand!” 

(The rest is under the cut!)

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Imagine Waking Up With Spock (a S'chn T'gai Spock x Reader ficlet)

For the anonie who requested more Spock love! My pleasure! This is only the first of two stories I have written for you.
This is mainly from reader POV, but there is a part or two that I HAD to add in Spock’s POV because I wanted to do a nod to the fact that Spock is more than meets the eye. This is pure fluff and sweet goodness, and my first time writing a Spock fic, so I hope everyone enjoys!
Characters: Spock & Reader
Warnings: none
Word count: 1083

Originally posted by bouncingbones

Originally posted by lovershub

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tetrisandwanderingowls replied to your post: tetrisandwanderingowls replied to your post: …

Honestly, that was pretty much what I was expecting from Steve. I’m interested in how the other Avengers would deal with the way he treated Tony. Would they call him out on being an insensitive dick about a teammate’s mental illness or would they not say anything because talking about mental illness is hard. Would Natasha beat him up extra hard when they next sparred (because she knows that Tony is a pure cinnamon roll who must be protected and avenged).

Probably a mixture of pushing and pulling that makes everyone stressed out to the point that Steve and Tony joining the group is like the shifting tide; Tony ebbs out of the group, and Steve ebbs in, and then Steve feels guilty and ebbs out, and Tony ebbs back in, back and forth like the world’s saddest seesaw.

Clint and Bruce have got their own mental illnesses to deal with, so their interactions are colored by that. I’m sure Clint worries ‘if he thinks Tony’s being difficult, what will he say about me on the days I can’t manage to get out of bed?’ Bruce probably just worries about the Hulk giving Steve a left hook. Sometimes Clint will tell Steve to lay off and sometimes he’s scared of having Steve’s poor attitude about mental health turned back on him. It’s a vicious cycle. And poor Thor doesn’t have any idea what’s going on when he’s there. I like to think that there are people on Asgard that we would consider mentally ill but are just considered normal people there. Like, this person we consider mentally or physically disabled is just considered a person who needs a little extra help or time to do things, and he doesn’t understand why it’s so hard for people to accommodate Tony.

Honestly, Natasha is only such great support because she got to know Tony undercover first. She couldn’t afford to piss off Pepper or upset Tony. And the more she observed Tony and the way he saw the world the more she realized he was, really, trying his best despite the fact that it is literally harder for him to function like a normal person. He’s done a lot to make life easier for himself–creating the holographic screens so he never has to touch paper, having JARVIS take notes so he never has to write with his shaky hands, blasting music so he doesn’t get distracted by the noise he makes. He tries very hard to be a functional human being and she’s decided that she can at least meet him halfway.

anonymous asked:

could you pretty please write something where youre best friends with harry and he finds out you have a crush on him from someone else?? xx

Hello, love! This is the first thing  that came to me. I could have run with it in a few directions, and could have done some smut, but chose to keep it clean and fluffy. I hope it fulfills at least a bit of what you were looking for. x. 

001. Camping

The camping trip had been going well until Jack – big-mouthed Jack, whom you’re not sure why Harry has hung onto when he’d stolen his girlfriend – had said, “Of course she thinks that, you tosser, she fancies you,” when all you’d said was no, you didn’t think Harry’s new tattoo was the stupidest one he had.

The stupidest one was the one on his big toe. (Big. Honestly.)

In retrospect, the two fingers you’d thrown up in the air at Jack had probably been a reason for the catcalls and Harry’s suddenly unwavering and curious stare at you over the bottle in his hand.

“What’s this?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrows.

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other lives and dimensions and finally a love poem

on ao3

It’s a Saturday morning, and they’re at the grocer’s. Isak has a list on his phone which he carefully checks off every time they pick up something for their cart. “What’s the point of going shopping if you don’t know what you’re shopping for?” Isak had pointed out last night as he’d checked their cupboards for gaps. “If you don’t have a list you’re bound to forget something, and then when you do need it you’ll regret not being organised enough to buy it in the first place!” Even had sighed dramatically, like he does every time Isak makes this very logical, very annoying argument. And now they’re both here with Isak’s list, like they are nearly every Saturday morning, because he and Isak are domestic as fuck and not at all boring, thank you, Magnus, who can’t even talk because when has he held down a girlfriend long enough to go grocery shopping with her? Answer: never. Which is a little harsh, but, whatever. Even loves their Thursday date nights, their Sunday morning sleep-ins, and God help him, he loves their Saturday shopping trips. Mostly because he loves Isak, but still, there’s something to be said for the feeling of accomplishment that comes from weekly grocery shopping for the apartment he lives in with his boyfriend of almost five years. Even smiles to himself, tucks the happiness inside of him, and pushes the cart to catch up to said boyfriend, who by now is almost half an aisle ahead of him.

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You Break Her Heart, I Break Your Foot.

Originally posted by penguinsweetest

REQUEST: could you do an Edward one where he finds out that the readers boyfriend is cheating on her behind her back? and maybe like he tells her and comforts her and idk. maybe he even gets revenge and kills the boyfriend or something? please please please! you are the best 

FANDOM: Edward Nygma [Gotham]

AUTHOR: MK (purityimagines)

TAGS: cheating, swearing, murder, riddles, Ed’s POV


Take away my first letter, and I still sound the same. Take away my last letter, I still sound the same. Even take away my letter in the middle, I will still sound the same. I am a five letter word. What am I?

Empty. Empty is the answer to the riddle. One of my dearest favourites from the book and at the top of my head. It is also a good word to describe how I felt with Y/N and her sweetheart. Empty. 

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Dex is half asleep when he remembers. “Do I owe you for the pizza?” He hears a rustle above him which he assumes is Nursey sitting up.

“No.” Nursey says. “Dude, no.”

Dex yawns. “You sure?”

“Do something nice for me when I need it,” Nursey says. “If paying me back matters so much to you.”

Dex rolls over. “Ok.” 

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Trapped Yet Loved

Summary: Pirates capture you for your mermaid tear and they’re going to hold you hostage, then when a certain sailor meets yours eyes, you start to get unknown feelings.

Genre - Romance

Phillip x Reader

Requested by Anon

Written by Admin Ashley

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

You were watching everything even before it started. You saw a large thing float overhead and observed how it created small waves from the sea. You were always the observant one; watching the fishes, watching the waves, well you were always watching everything. 

You’d been listening to people that were sailing by and learnt that the huge thing that floats on water was called a ship. You’d seen a lot of ships but you never knew the name of them. 

You thought they were fascinating. 

One calming night, you thought it would be a good idea to get a closer look. You swam quietly towards the small boat and heard chattering. You stopped and listened to them.

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sufxup-deactivated20170308  asked:

I remember a few years ago when Snuff came out I spent a solid amount of it internally rolling my eyes over how heavy handed it was. Like geez Terry, we all KNOW racism is bad Terry. You don't need to beat us over the head with it terry. 1

Bless my naive young heart, now look at where we are :’)             


Lots of people liked to say it was the Alzheimer’s making him clumsy but honestly to me, Snuff reads like someone staring out at the world and realizing they didn’t have enough time left to make it right.

He’s was a man on the shore watching the tide come in, the water rising, and instead of shouting for help, he looked out to us still in our boats and said “Hey, take care of each other, there’s still time for you to fix this!”

anonymous asked:

Hey are you still doing scenarios?? If not ignore this. I was wondering if you could do a RapMon scenario where you go to the beach with him and boys. (cuz I feel like he doesn't get a lot of lovin)

Swimming In Love

The sun was beating down on your scantily clad bodies, reflecting brightly off of the warm sand of the beach, squishing beneath your toes as you ran along the gritty surface. Waves were washing up onto the shore, the tide coming in further upon the white beach around you, rolling along with a dull roar. Many umbrellas and towels were stretched along, sunbathers holding their books lazily as small children ran along toward the cool blue of the ocean, screaming and giggling as the water enveloped their tiny bodies.

Diligently applying sunblock to your own ‘children’, you rolled your eyes at their impatience, they were all riled up to go and join those other giddy kids in the roaring ocean tide, squirming as you sprayed them with the SPF. Smiling, you shooed them with your hands, and without hesitation each of the six boys sped off toward the sea, screaming and laughing—it wasn’t as cute when it was young men in replace of children. However, they were like your own kids, so you found it just as adorable, albeit dorky, as you settled onto your beach towel, pulling a novel from your bag.

“Reading? Really? But, you can do that at home!” your boyfriend whined childishly, pouting his bottom lip cutely, and falling beside you on the small space left on your towel.

Chuckling, you slid your sunglasses up your nose, watching the silhouette of a woman walk by with her own small children, causing you to in-turn look after your own, who were splashing within the shallow tide of the clear sea, “Namjoon, I told you that I was not swimming today.”

Sighing, he rolled that golden head your way, moving his hat up and over his forehead, his face looking pitiful, “But, you always say that.”

“I know,” you smiled behind the pages of your book, shifting your position on the towel to allow him more space on the fluffy surface.

“Wait—Jagiya…do you know how to swim?” He asked with a crooked grin, his eyes turning into small, mischievous slits on his face, his hand cradling his chin so that he could peer down at you accusingly.

“Of course,” you fibbed, trying your best to conceal the truth behind a tight-lipped smile.

But, your boyfriend read right through your lie, plucking your paperback from your grasp and setting it back in your bag, pulling your sunglasses down and looking you in the eye, “Alright, if that’s true then come and take a dip with me,” he smirked triumphantly as dread flooded your eyes, your teeth sinking into your lip unpleasantly at the thought of jumping into that vast ocean that seemed to fold in on itself as it came ashore.

“Uhh, I’m ok here, actually. I am a little tired anyway, why don’t you go enjoy the water with the boys,” you nodded, sidling him off of the towel, laughing nervously.

“Ok, but you’re coming with me,” his smirk broadened as he suddenly pulled you up and away from the safety of your towel into his arms.

Struggling against his hold on you, less afraid of the fall to the sand below than the dive into the dauntingly deep sea, you hit the exposed skin of his chest with desperate hands, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears, “Namjoon, please! Put me down! Stop!”

You weren’t scared of many things: spiders, scary movies, bad hair days—none of those bothered you, but drowning, that scared the living poo out of you. Never had you ever learned to swim in your life because of this deep rooted phobia. You were the avid sunbather at the pool and beach, and that had become an increasingly easy transition after puberty because there was a strange change from girlhood to womanhood where ninety percent of females refused to swim—usually due to hair and makeup. You had cleverly used this to your advantage, but as a child it had been rather embarrassing and even traumatizing.

So, it was that you were held against your will—kicking and screaming—all the way to that deafening ocean, where Namjoon slowly immersed the two of you. Cursing him and threatening a break up, you saw the crowd on the beach and in the sea shoot looks your way at your inappropriate and obnoxious scene, covering the ears of the small children eyeing you curiously. Namjoon chuckled, and took you toward the other boys, who cheered his actions on, angering you further, “Don’t encourage him!” You roared, giving the orchestra of the ocean a run for its money, as you clung to your boyfriend’s chest cowardly.

Dipping your toes in just slightly, Namjoon smiled softly, cocking his chin to the side, “It’s not so bad, Jagiya. See?”

You appeared to be a cat in water, grimacing at him, “It is awful.”

“Come on, swim with us, Noona!” Jimin called out to you, splashing Jungkook and Taehyung playfully with salt water.

Gripping Namjoon’s shoulders even tighter, you blanched as he nodded at you and dipped you into the waves, “Go on. Swim. You can do this,” promising with his eyes and mouth, “I am right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Your nails were digging into the skin of his shoulder, making him cringe, but he continued to descend you into the water with him, nearly dipping you under completely, “Hold your breath, ok? Squeeze your nose. Just listen to your body, it knows what to do.”

And, just like that you felt the water cover you completely, surrounding you on all sides, pushing into your body, making you weightless as you paddled frantically, holding your breath and clenching your eyes closed. You were petrified, but you felt that familiar grasp on your waist, holding you comfortingly—safely—as you heard the rush of the  sea in your ears; the calmness of the great below. This isn’t so bad, you thought as you were held beneath the surface for another moment before you felt his hands pull you up for air.

Surfacing, you heard applause from the other boys, and saw a large grin plaster itself over your boyfriend’s face as his arms hugged you closely, “Told you you’d be fine.”

Glaring playfully, you splashed a large amount of water into his face without warning, making him gasp and then laugh boisterously, “You’re lucky I like you so much.”

“I know,” he smiled softly, showing off those dimples beside his mouth, “Thank you for swimming with me, Jagiya.”

Pressing his forehead to yours, he planted a small kiss upon your lips, which you sunk into immediately, twining your arms around his neck as you whispered, “Thanks for making me.”

Letting go of your waist, he grinned, “Now, it is time to swim on your own. Prove to yourself that you can.”

Kicking your legs, you paddled your arms, listening to your instincts and letting them override that slight panic elating within your chest, swimming toward his floating form. You were doing it—conquering your fear—swimming all by yourself, a thing you thought was impossible. Who knew, you really do learn something new every day?

Floating along together, you made your way to the other boys, and played in that vast ocean, no longer afraid of the deep blue, and instead, embracing its mystery. Grinning, you hugged your boyfriend, feeling lucky and blessed to have caught him. With him alongside you, you could do anything—be anything, all you needed was his strong, sure hands. 

Week of One-shots, Day 2

I received quite a few requests yesterday, so at random, here’s today’s one-shot.  Feel free to keep sending in requests…I can’t get to all of them this week, but that doesn’t mean I won’t ever do them!

Read Monday’s one-shot here.  I’ll add these to FF.net at some point this week as well, per request.

Enjoy!

Tuesday’s Prompt is from @startswithhope: Prompt: Canon Captain Swan Halloween….go!

Title: Ghosts and Ghouls

Rating: R (for risqué)

Emma straightens the collar of her red leather jacket, wondering if Killian will be disappointed with her costume choice (or lack there of, actually).  Halloween has never been a particular favorite holiday for her.  Growing up, she never had money for a costume and her foster homes weren’t always inclined to take her out trick or treating even if she’d had one. 

When she was older, the appeal of pretending to be something she wasn’t never sat well with her, especially because she worked so hard to be comfortable in her own skin.  Shirking that for a day was not appealing.  And now…

Well, now she really, really liked being Emma Swan and trying to be someone else, even for fun, wasn’t really her thing.

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seni-pi  asked:

Mermaid/man AU? Idk man that was really random i'm sorry ;;;

DONT’ APOLOGIZE I REALLY LIKED IT A LOT OMG

sorry this is awful and also I wrote this at 6 am ok and also i cut it off bc ???

why do i wait until im sleep deprived and cant form a sentence properly to do important things ???????????????


Beautiful.

He was beautiful, like a statue of a god.

He would play his instrument before sunset. Always a sad melody, drifting over the waves and to my ears. That’s what first caught my attention. How beautiful his music was.

Sad.

I’d never seen tears before. Never seen someone’s face twist, contort with hurt. It was maddening to watch. Maddening not to be able to go on land to comfort him. He wept in the shadow of a boulder at the edge of the surf. After an hour or so he’d quieted, a sniffle here and there. I watched him from my little rock, the waves brushing against my cheeks lazily.

Perceptive.

As he grew older he’d watch the people walking along the shoreline. He’d keep a close watch on the couples, boys and girls walking hand in hand, laughing, fanning their faces as if the salty sea breeze were going to make their faces sticky. 

Disgusting.

His eyes always seemed to linger on the boys a moment longer than the girls, and then he’d go back to doing whatever he’d been doing before the interruption - reading, drawing, writing…

He came less and less once his features shifted from round to sharp.

But his visits lasted longer.  

I was lonely then, so I’d been getting closer to the shore.

It was on a hot summer afternoon that he saw me.

His eyes had widened and he’d jumped up.

I didn’t know what to do.

I swam closer, slowly, staying in water deep enough to keep my tail hidden.

“Hello.” His voice rang out like a bell, beautiful and deep.

His hair had grown longer, hanging at his shoulders. Thick and wonderful.

I didn’t respond to him, I didn’t know how to respond to him. I’d never spoken to a human.

He looked down at his hands then, they were resting on his lap. I wanted to reach out and smooth the wrinkle that’d formed above his brows. He looked up then, and smirked.

“How do you like this weather?” He took one of his boots off, tossing it just out of reach of the tide.

I smiled, I liked it when the sun was high and hot. He took his other boot off, and started rolling up his trousers.

“Do you even understand what I’m saying?” He raised an eyebrow at me, to which I responded by pursing my lips. He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Ohh-kay, fish-boy, I guess this means I can trust you with a few secrets then.” He said fish-boy disdainfully, as if it was the worst thing he could think of to call me.

“Do you ever feel like, I dunno, isolated from your family?” I nodded. He cocked his head, “Oh yeah?” I just stare at him, “Well, is it because you don’t want to marry a girl?”

(in which snowbaz is reversed, simon is a wonderful fish-boy and baz is a gay princey boy)

omg but just think of it

Flashback to the 1994 pocket universe. Bonnie and Damon are lying on the hood of the Camaro, side by side, staring into the starry night sky.

Bonnie wonders if the entire universe is empty, or if it’s just Earth. Like are there innumerable empty planets revolving around each of those stars out there? 

“Wouldn’t that be terrible?” she asks. She used to look up at the night sky when they were back home and feel comforted to feel so small, to feel that all her pain and all her burdens were so meaningless in the scope of the vast possibility of an endless cosmos, she tells him. So wouldn’t it be awful if it was just the two of them now, completely alone out of all the worlds and all the stars and all the galaxies?

He doesn’t have an answer to that. Instead he turns to watch her, staring up at that sky. 

“Do you want to play truth or dare?”

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For allycat2246 - who was having a rough time. Keep your chin up, darling, smiles on. This too shall pass…

My favorite moments with him are usually spent in the water–the warm, salty ocean that spans for miles around. We’ll paddle a safe distance where we’ll appear no larger than animated dots to those by the shore–and Josh’ll say we’ll catch better waves the deeper out we go, and I’ll add some schtick about peeing freely without judgement. 

We recite these lines every time. 

And every time, these lines are bullshit. 

Our motives are neither to surf nor swim. 

Out there–we don’t think and we don’t question. We act. Josh pulls me into his lap and starts to rock my body with his. I press my forehead to him and move in tandem, the water lapping rhythmically against our backs.

We are weightless now. We are free. Our inhibitions have rolled out with the tide. It is just the two of us in our vast aquatic world, and I think, as our lips touch, that I would gladly stay there forever with him if I could. Our whispers and our words and our promises ripple all around us. 

I know the sea can keep our secrets. And perhaps one day, it will bring them back, like a message in a bottle, aching to be rediscovered. We’ll unravel the paper and we’ll read it out loud. Together.

I know exactly what it will say. 

This is it. 

Sending A Message

Our Lv. 4 party consisted of: 

Jake - LG Male Human Paladin 
Emiya - LN Male Human Magus (Me)
Kyra - CN Female Half-Elf Druid
Mordred - N Half-Elf Cavalier 

After a lengthy adventure in an underground sea cavern, our party managed to escape via a rowboat conjured up from one of those Major/Minor Wondrous Items (can’t remember which one it was) in order to escape the rising tide. 

So night comes, and we’re out there on the water facing the island’s cliff face when our DM asks us to make Perception checks. We roll, and we spot a figure standing atop of the cliff. Kain rolled well enough to determine that it was our mysterious patron that had sent us on our quest. We’d never seen the guy’s face, but his description and gait is exactly the same as prior meetings. 

Jake says that we should send him a message to tell him about our progress thus far. Kyra and I have exhausted our spells, and my familiar died in the caverns. Mordred comes up with the idea of shooting an arrow up the cliff face with a message tied to it. So with a small amount of trepidation, we wrote our message, calculated the arrow’s maximum range and flight path, and tied it to Mordred’s arrow. 

He sets the arrow to his longbow, draws the string back and rolls…

…a fucking 1. 

Panic ensues among the PCs, with plenty of shouting and expletives flying across the table. Then all of a sudden, the DM get’s this look in his eyes. If you’ve ever been a PC, then you know the look that I’m talking about. He then announces that he has two pieces of news to tell us, both good and bad.

The good news: the message made it. 

The bad news: it hit our patron. 

When we made it back to the island the next day, the DM took his sweet time detailing how the town was in full gossip. Apparently, the Elven King had shown up for his daily proclamation with his bandaged arm in a sling. 

MotherOfGod.jpeg across the fucking table. 

hijackboysroleplay

Jack fixed his uniform and fussed over his hair in the mirror a while longer after morning practice, until Aster finally rolled his eyes and tugged him out of the dressing room.

“Come on, we’ll be late for class.” He lectured. Jack rolled his eyes and smirked.

“Yeah yeah, we’ll be lectured for being five minutes late and then I’ll smile and say we were caught up at practice.” Jack chuckled. He slowed a bit as they neared the corner, pretending to get caught in the crowd despite the fact that people parted like the tides for them. His white teeth sunk into his soft lower lip as he eyed the brunette standing by his locker, shooting him a fleeting wink as they passed.

“Oh god, Jack.” Aster rolled his eyes. “You look like a dog in heat. … Wait, is that why you started wearing that damn skirt?”

“Of course not.” Jack scoffed, walking backwards to look at Aster. “I do not look like a dog in heat. That look made you jump me like a bunny.” He reminded. “And the skirt isn’t for him, it’s cause it makes me look hot. And pisses off the princepal to no end that he can’t stop me.” He added with a smirk. The cheerleader’s skirt brushed against his thighs as he slipped into class, sitting in his usual seat.

Finnick's Island
External image

Author: @xerxia31

Rating: M. No warnings unless you’re afraid of water…

Crossover Source: This might be the silliest thing I’ve ever written. Everlark, in the “Gilligan’s Island” universe. (If you’ve never seen this show it’s the cheesiest, campiest bit of 70’s era television, so bad it’s almost good. And by good I mean atrocious). I blame @peetabreadgirl for this, wholly and completely ;) And thanks to @burkygirl for stealing all of my commas…


“I’m really not sure about this,” I say, pulling the Subaru into a spot in the marina’s lot.

“It’ll be fine,” my girlfriend laughs. “It’s only a three-hour tour anyway. We’ll be back in time for dinner on the beach.” At that, I smile. Katniss has planned this entire trip for us to celebrate my 30th birthday and it’s been full of surprisingly sweet and romantic gestures - sunsets on the beach, trips to the art gallery, a real local luau instead of one of those touristy things.

The boat tour, however, is neither sweet nor romantic.

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kirstenmcduffie  asked:

clintnat + clint taking natasha on her first weekend beach trip where she was herself and not undercover

“Come on,” he says, suddenly, and turns off the highway, surprising her. “We’ve got a few days off. That was an easy mission. We’re not hurt, and we’re not tired, so we should do something with it.”

“Like what?” she asks, and he grins at her, and something about him seems lighter already, and there’s that now-familiar swoop in the pit of her stomach, the very unprofessional one, the one she hates, because it means roots, it means being known, it means wanting to stay. He seems lighter, and she feels heavier. She’d laugh, if it didn’t make her so inexplicably sad. 

“Like …” He casts around for an idea, glancing around at billboards as they drive past. She can almost see him writing them off as he looks away. Casino – just a money pit. Movie – why watch an action movie when you live in one? 

“Like that,” he says, and points to an ad for sunblock.

“You want to buy sunscreen?” she asks. He rolls his eyes. 

“No, I want to go to the beach.”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to say no. The beach means swimming, which she doesn’t really like, and it means sunburn, probably (she’s from Russia, the sun is not a friend) and it means most likely seeing him dripping wet, without a shirt on.

“Okay,” she says, surprising herself. “Let’s go.”

He punches the air with delight and steers them in the direction of the coast.

-

It takes them an hour to get there, shorter than it would have taken to just drive back to headquarters, but it’s strange; it doesn’t feel very long, not with the anticipation growing in her stomach, not with the look on his face. 

When they first step out onto the sand, he kicks off his shoes and runs for the water. The beach is quiet; it’s a Thursday, and everyone is at work, or in school, and here they are, still dressed in their undercover, suburban clothes, and Clint is laughing with his jeans rolled up, standing in the water up to his knees. 

She wades in up to her ankles, feeling the push and pull of the tide, feeling strong since she’s able to resist it.

“Hey,” Clint says, and she opens her eyes, squinting at him in the harsh sunlight.

He’s close enough for her to catch sight of the freckles on his nose, and it stuns her into silence. 

“Wanna look for shells?” he says, and he sounds giddy. “I haven’t been to the beach in so long.”

“I’ve never been,” she says, and he considers that, silence hanging in the air for so long she almost regrets saying it.

“Well,” he says, and sticks his hands in his pockets. “Guess we better make it as good as possible, huh?”

-

She sunburns her nose, and they get sand all over the car, but the whole way back to HQ, she can’t stop smiling.

send me a pairing + number for a minific!