sloped beach

Words: 1218

“You’re standing up for that idiot, then? Well, you can join him!” With a startled cry, Ford was grabbed and hauled outside, being flung onto the hard, cold pavement and landing next to his brother. He barely had time to sit up before a large, heavy duffel bag was thrown at him, knocking him onto his back and sending his glasses flying from his face. Both twins flinched as the door to the house was slammed shut in their faces.

“Oh yeah? Good riddance!” Stan shouted, getting to his feet and shaking an angry fist at the door. “We don’t need you anyway! Right Ford?!”

Stan waited a moment, but got no response. He turned around to find his brother sitting on the ground, tears running down his face. “Ford…?”

“W-we’re h-homeless…” Ford whimpered, choking back a sob. “We’ve got nowhere to go… that’s it…”

Stan frowned, kneeling down beside his brother. “Hey, it’s… it’s gonna be okay, alright? We’ve got the car, the boat and… and each other. That’s all we really need, right?”

Ford sniffed and rubbed his eyes, pushing his glasses up to his forehead. “W-what about school…? I’ve got exams coming up. All m-my books are in our bedroom.”

Stanley squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “We’ll work something out bro, alright? C’mon, let’s get in the car and off the dirty ground.” He helped Ford to his feet, frowning as he noticed his brother’s scraped and bloody palms. He grabbed both duffel bags and unlocked his car, tossing the bags into the trunk. Ford slid into the passenger’s seat while Stan got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Stan turned the car around and headed up the street towards the beach.

They drove in silence. Ford leaned his head against the cold glass of the window, staring out at the street that was no longer his home. Tears continued to trickle down his face. Stan looked over at him, resting one hand on his shoulder gently. Ford turned his head to look at his brother. Stan grinned at him, prompting a weak smile from Ford. Stan pulled to a stop at the parking lot by the beach. By this time of the evening, it was deserted. There was no one on the beach and no cars in the parking lot.

Stan turned the engine off and got out, letting the cool evening breeze flow through his hair. Ford was hesitant to get out of the car, still leaning against the window. Stan tapped on the glass, getting Ford’s attention. He gestured for his brother to join him as he leaned against the hood of the car, staring out at the inky blackness hovering over the ocean, the sun setting behind them. Ford got out the car and sat on the hood beside his brother, his hands around his arms. It was cold.

Stan cast him a glance. “You okay bud?”

“‘M cold, Stanley.” Ford sniffled. “I want to go home.”

Stan sighed. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t broken your project, neither of us would be in this mess.”

Ford swallowed. He wasn’t going to deny the fact it was true. “Pa overreacted. It’s his fault we’re out here.”

“He was right though,” Stan ran a hand through his hair, avoiding his brother’s look. “I’m a screwup. I ruined everything for both of us. I never meant for you to get kicked out, I swear. I could handle it if it was just me, but you too? Nah, he’s gone too damn far.”

Ford stayed silent for a moment, before he voiced the biggest concern either of them had. “What’s gonna happen now? Where will we sleep? What are we gonna do about food?”

Stan laid back on the hood of the car, looking up at the sky. Stars began to break through the darkness. “We’ll figure something out. We could always sleep on the boat. It’s watertight now and it’ll shelter us from wind and rain.”

“It’ll be cold, though.” Ford frowned. “I doubt Pa packed any warm winter clothing in those bags. The most we’ve probably got is one blanket between us.”

“Then we can make do, even if it means we have to wear every bit of clothing we own.” Stan said, sitting up straight again. He clapped Ford on the shoulder. “Come on, if we park the car inside that cave and then sleep inside it, we shouldn’t be at risk of getting robbed while we sleep.”

Ford nodded, sluggishly getting off the hood of the car and sitting in the passenger seat again. Stan got in and started the car again. He drove the car down the slope onto the beach. He drove along the sand until they reached the cave. They had already calculated that the high tide never got within reach of the cave, so the car would be safe from water damage or being blocked in by the ocean. They’d excavated the cave enough to get the boat out, so there was no doubt the car would fit inside too. Stan brought the car to a halt on the smooth rocks inside the cave, out of reach of the high tide, and turned the engine off, getting out.

Ford stepped out the car and went to collect the bags from the trunk. He started rummaging through them, looking for some warm clothes and a blanket. All he could find was one thin camping blanket and a sweatshirt each. He tossed one to Stan as he pulled the other over his head. It was dark by now and the temperature had dropped by a fair bit, especially since they were right by the sea. Ford found a lunchbox in each bag, packed full of biscuits and canned goods along with a can opener, two plates, some cutlery and a small gas cooker. He found a large bag of camping supplies in the trunk of the car, along with some money.  Ford couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Their mother had to have packed it, almost predicting her sons were going to need it.

Ford’s stomach growled, but he left the food in the trunk. He brought the blanket out and shut the trunk of the car. “This is all I found.”

Stan sighed. “It’ll have to do. What other choice do we have?”

Ford chewed his lip. Stan opened the door to the car and began adjusting the seats, tilting them all the way back to form a makeshift bed. He grabbed the duffel bags from the trunk and wedged them between the two seats to fill the gap between them. Ford laid down on one seat while Stan took the other. The younger twin pulled the blanket up over them, making sure the car doors were shut properly.

Ford could feel himself starting to shiver as the cold crept in. He was startled to feel Stan pull him into a hug. “You’re shaking like a leaf, Sixer,” he murmured into Ford’s ear.

“It’s freezing, Stanley!” Ford muttered back, but he was grateful for the extra warmth from Stan’s body. He curled up, his own arms sliding around his brother. Eventually, sharing body heat, the twins managed to drift off, temporarily dismissing the concerns of what the future had in store for them.



Filbrick needs to stop being such an ass to his kids

Watering Hole (WenDip NSFW) (WIP?)

After reading the amazing story Infinitesimal Infinite by @ticknart, I had the urge to write some wendip. Total garbage, little over 4k words, nowhere near the emotional intensity of @ticknart ’s contribution, but here it is.

Watering Hole

Wendy/Dipper NSFW.

The side trail Dipper and Wendy had taken - overgrown to the point of being barely recognizable as a path - soon widened out to a patch of scrubgrass, and then to a gentle slope of sandy beach.  The pond was just big enough for the wind to whip up inch-high waves, which lazily lapped roots of trees which zigzagged into the water.

Wendy grinned and stretched out her hands, as if offering the scene itself to Dipper.

“Pretty cool, huh?” she said.

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[A somewhat continuation of this.]

They leave the town behind. The name is circled on the map with a music note scribbled off to the side in black marker.

Coran sits in the passenger seat with tanned skin and lighter pockets, his spare bills and change left with the folk duo from before. Allura, having danced back there with both Shiro and Lance to her heart’s content, smiles in between Hunk and Pidge, eyes closed in peaceful sleep. Hunk has a new collection of recipes in his lap, the pages flapping against the breeze as the car races down the highway. Pidge stares out the window with a quiet gaze, occasionally stopping to push her glasses up her nose. In the rear-view mirror, from the driver’s seat, Lance can’t see her expression. 

Shiro and Keith make it to the ocean first, their black jeep parked neatly at the end of some unkempt oceanfront parking lot. Near the stairs leading down to the ocean, Keith rolls his eyes when they all stumble out of the SUV, Allura with stretched arms and Hunk leaning against the vehicle while Coran digs around in the trunk. Lance turns off the vehicle, glad to be rid of that top 40′s station and its repetitive loop (along with Coran’s occasional question about what some non-Altean word meant.) Shiro’s ahead, standing on the beach near the ocean. 

The sun is beginning to set, and both Shiro and the sand are cast in a golden glow. Lance has a perfect opportunity before him to make a jab at Keith, more than perfect, but he lets it pass and lets him look on at Shiro with that silly expression he’s seen more than once. He’ll dunk him in the ocean later to fill his quota.

Pidge slips out of the SUV and fixes her glasses again, one strap of her tank-top slipping down her shoulders. She’s sunburnt, slightly so. Lance steps up beside her after locking the car and counts the freckles along the length of her shoulders, losing track when they become star patterns. They’re left behind as Coran trots by, picnic basket and blankets in tow, with Hunk a pace slower carrying the cooler swinging in his grip. Allura is smiling, laughing at something Keith is saying, and Lance watches their footsteps lead down the slope of the beach.

“So, half-pint, we planning on joining the others sometime today?”

There’s a snort at his left. He feels proud. “Eventually.”

Lance shoves his hands in the pockets of his swim trunks and steps off to the side, curling around to partially block her field of vision. She takes it like a champ, raising an eyebrow at him like she’s supposed to be impressed. Clearly, obviously, but that should be a given - he’ll let it slide this time.

“I’ll give you a four out of ten for the sarcastic tone, but c’mon, Pidge,” he grins and she looks up at him, fully, hands crossed over her chest, lip bitten between her teeth. “We both know you could’ve added one of those clearly flattering pet names of yours that you have for me onto the end of that.”

Pidge pushes by him and stands near the steps, the toes of her feet along the edge of the wooden stairs. Her tank-top is striped in green and white and the white glows like gold, and the breeze, slightly salty, tosses her unkempt hair around in an uneven flow. There’s cars in the distance behind them, driving along the roads - some honk, and one particular car is blaring hardcore metal music through their speakers as they pass. Their team is ahead, relaxing along the sand. Allura’s splashing Coran at every chance and the reflection of the water picks up the sunlight with every errant droplet. Hunk’s standing by Keith and Keith is watching Shiro draw lions along the length of the shoreline. Pidge’s hands are clenched at her sides.

Lance steps up and stands beside her, bumping his arm into her shoulder. She sighs after a second and leans into him.

“This is nice, but,” she trails off. Her voice is something he’s admired ever since they fell into the whole ‘Defenders of the Universe’ role: colorful and vibrant, even if its chipped along the edges like worn paint. He knows what she’s talking about.

I miss home.

He leans back into her and lets their sides press flush to one another. She’s warm even if her skin is a little rough, a little bumpy along the length of her arms. He’d tell her only if faced at the end of her bayard, only then, but he likes the feeling. Lance knows where she’s looking at, who she’s watching; Keith is with Shiro, adding extra details to their artwork. Lance bites down a curse, a shout, when a mustache is drawn on his lion and Pidge, at his side, grabs his hand and turns her face in his arm, giggling.

Their fingers curls in a unsymmetrical pattern, her entire hand wrapping around his three middle fingers. His thumb rubs over any part of her hand he can reach and when she squeezes his fingers once, twice, he laughs out loud. It echoes before it’s drowned out by the crashing of the waves and a shrill shriek from Coran. Pidge is still giggling, lips pressed against his elbow.

He breathes in the salt of the air and feels like he’s done something right.

Into The Void (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Originally posted by byrneing

Prompt: I really love your stories you have good writing skills. Could I request something? Maybe a Story in which the Reader is the Sister from Pietro and after he died she lost herself and Bucky hates it to see her this Way. It could be based on the Song Take me Home from Jess Glynne. I hope this makes Sense. Thaank you 😘

A/N: Thank you to the lovely @vanixdi for requesting this prompt! I hope you enjoy. Apologies for getting kind of philosophical on this one. 

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Classical Black-figure Octopus Jug, Greek or Sicilian, c. Late 5th Century BC

Both the shape and decoration of this charming little vase are unusual and exact parallels are wanting. The octopus became a favorite subject of ancient Greek artists, who utilized its unusual biological form and symmetrical anatomy as a decorative device, perfectly adaptable to the curving surfaces of jugs such as this. They were popular motifs in the decorative repertory of Minoan and Mycenaean vase-painters, who developed what is known as the Marine Style. In addition, the creature is represented on gold foil relief ornaments from Grave Circle A at Mycenae.

In ancient Greek literature, the octopus makes its first appearance in The Odyssey when Odysseus, shipwrecked and clinging to a rock, is compared to one: “Just as when an octopus is pulled from its lair, closely packed pebbles are held against its suckers, so pieces of skin from his strong hands were scraped off against the rocks; and the great wave covered him.”

Descriptive references and accurate depictions of the octopus in literature and art, such as that painted on this vase, suggest that poets and artists must have had a first-hand knowledge about the appearance and behavior of this marine invertebrate. In antiquity, as today, the Mediterranean was a nearly tideless sea, and its gently sloping, rocky and pebbly beaches would have made it possible to observe the animal in shallow water. The octopus was a favorite food of the ancients, the best fishing grounds for it being located off the coasts of Thasos and Caria. It was admired for its sweet taste and was additionally thought to be an aphrodisiac.

Algy flew back to the big beach, where the waves rolled in with great enthusiasm, tossing the seaweed and shells around on the sand to create ever-changing patterns. The beach sloped very gently here, and Algy loved to sit near the water, waiting for the waves to come and tickle his toes as the tide rolled in. Sometimes an unusually big wave caught him by surprise and he got a great deal wetter than he intended, but it was all part of the fun :)

How To Keep The Entire Family Entertained in Dubai

Contrary to popular belief, Dubai is not just a destination for couples and groups of friends looking to live it up in some of the world’s plushest hotels. With Dubai’s excellent safety record, hotels that cater for every price bracket and sunshine all year round, Dubai is an ideal destination for the whole family. Here’s our top picks of things to do with the whole family.

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“Think like a queen. A queen is not afraid to fail. Failure is another steppingstone to greatness.” ~Oprah Winfrey

✿ Circinus

Words: 2,446
Rating: Teen
Relationships: Sciles

More of The Signal Fire Series

It’s a coincidence that Scott comes off the beach when the moving truck is in the driveway, but the movers haven’t started. There’s a cluster of them, presumably waiting for the new renters to arrive and give them directions. Scott pauses and leans against the wooden rail that frames the dirt slope down to the beach and watches intently.

The house has been empty for a couple of months, but its positioning is perfect. It’s the last house in the row that stands guard over the private beach. Originally, Stiles crashed the beach for shits and giggles, but the far end behind this particular house stays deserted for the most part. The neighbors never venture down here because there’s nowhere to go, beach bumping up against an unruly tangle of trees and bushes that went unkept for so long they’re establishing their own jungle.

The previous renters were swingers who bought copious amounts of weed off them for their parties. Scott always threw in more, in exchange for using their deck when they surfed. Once they left, Scott and Stiles kept using it to stash their boards and bud while they went out, and to sun dry after surfing. Now, they might be losing that to whoever the new residents are.

The movers are shifting around impatiently, chattering in Spanish:

Why isn’t he here yet?”

Why are you so impatient? This is the only job this morning.”

He was the one who said he was going to meet us this early!”

Scott calls Allison’s phone and makes her wake Stiles up from where he’s passed out on her couch. She doesn’t sound happy, but she does it, there’s muffled noises and presumably a scuffle before Stiles’ sleep-deep voice crackles over the speaker.

“It isn’t even nine. What the fuck, Scott?”

“Emergency. Ish,” Scott says. One of the movers is on the phone with someone while the others idle. “Someone’s moving into the house.”

The house?” Stiles asks, still sounding asleep. There’s a good chance he won’t remember this later. It’s likely he’s only been asleep for 3 hours.

“Yes, the house.”

“Well, what do they look like?” Stiles asks, yawn breaking over the call. “I mean, if they have green hair and piercings like the last ones, then maybe we can arrange something.”

As he says that, a sports car comes roaring into the driveway. It’s sleek and black, which is hopeful. Rich, devil-may-care perhaps. Usually rich people get bored and want drugs every once in a while.

The guy who steps out is older, short hair, severe looking features behind square frames, a scowl on his face. He’s gorgeous in a way that most people aren’t, a way that makes Scott’s mouth dry.

“Dude,” Scott says, into the phone.


“So hot,” outrageously hot. 

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Summary: Kat is a Capitol fashion designer with a secret past. In the wake of a high-profile engagement, she returns to her home in District 12 to confront her ghosts. There she discovers that, while you can take the girl out of the Seam, you can never really take the Seam out of the girl.

Based off the movie Sweet Home Alabama
Rated Teen for language
Contains quotes from The Hunger Games and Sweet Home Alabama

On AO3

Written for the Movies in the Month of May challenge at everlarkianarchives

Part 1 of ?

Banner by me, yours truly

Many thanks to my dear friend and beta extraordinaire myusernamehere

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The gale had passed for the time being, and the world was calmer for a while. Algy perched on a seaweed-covered rock and watched the constantly changing pattern of the quietened waves swirling smoothly on the sand around him. In this very gently sloping area of the beach, the water was rarely very deep, so it remained semi-transparent, providing some beautiful sea colours in the right light.

Algy would like to dedicate this video to all his friends who need a calming, soothing influence in their lives just now xoxo

[Algy apologises for the wind noise on the soundtrack - it may be calm, but it’s not that calm!]

Can any video experts out there - tvoom perhaps? - tell Algy’s assistant why all her videos appear much darker once they are loaded to Tumblr than they do when the same videos are simply played on her computer, on the same screen? So far, all attempts to compensate for this have failed.

U.S. Marines of the 5th Marine Division inch their way up the black sand slope on Red Beach No. 1 toward Surbachi Yama as the smoke of the battle drifts about them during the first day of the battle of Iwo Jima, February 19, 1945. The men of the 4th Marine Division are seen rushing out of their landing craft during the first day of the battle of Iwo Jima, 19 Feb 1945; note LVT burning in right center. Today marks the 71st anniversary of one of the bloodiest and most famous battles in United States Marine Corps history. Photo by: Dreyfuss. (Marine Corps)

Marines of the 5th Division inch their way up a slope on Red Beach No. 1 toward Surbachi Yama as the smoke of the battle drifts about them. Iwo Jima, February 19, 1945.

The month-long Battle of Iwo Jima began seventy years ago on February 19, 1945, as U.S. Marine Corps and U.S. Navy forces invaded the volcanic island to dislodge its Japanese defenders.

More on the 70th Anniversary of the Battle of Iwo Jima →


Los Angeles. The Venice of America was founded by tobacco millionaire Abbot Kinney as a resort town, 14 miles outside of Los Angeles, in 1905.

When Venice of America opened on July 4, 1905, Kinney had dug several miles of canals to drain the marshes for his residential area, built a 1,200-foot (370 m)-long pleasure pier with an auditorium, ship restaurant, and dance hall, constructed a hot salt-water plunge, and built a block-long arcaded business street with Venetian architecture. Tourists, mostly arriving on the “Red Cars” of the Pacific Electric Railway from Los Angeles and Santa Monica, then rode Venice’s miniature railroad and gondolas to tour the town. But the biggest attraction was Venice’s mile-long gently sloping beach. Cottages and housekeeping tents were available for rent.