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Love Begins
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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EXPECTATIONS
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Not today Justin
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@nymphadoraromanoff
...hi?
Heyy, if you want to read some fics made by a person who is still stuck in 2012 go here. I don't take prompts here (I take prompts on @millywidow ), but I'll still love to talk to y'all, so pop into my as box :).
Have a nice day.
https://www.imago-images.de/sp/1029354008
Cute :)
The pure joy and happiness Pernille exudes after her first goal is balm for the soul 🥹
Jessie learned from the best
Ever think about how much getting Alpine probably helped Bucky’s hypervigilance?
Because, when you live alone every sound is another heavily armed tac team about to strike, but when you have a cat every sound is your little furry asshole getting into something they shouldn’t.
(Early Shield Days)
“Shit.” Clint skids down the rooftop, ducking under bullets pinging off the shingles. He shoots a grappling arrow and swings toward the next building, tucking and rolling on the ground and coming to a stop around the corner. He spots the bright red hair, crouched down low behind a car. She’s pinned. “Widow, tossing a smoke bomb. Be ready.”
“Got it.”
He pulls one from his waist pack and tosses it her way. Immediately the alley fills with purple smoke. She darts out from her hiding space, running towards him. Time slows down. Her body twists, falling sideways in the smoke as a bullet tears into her side. She chokes back a scream. Immediately, he’s on his feet. He manages to grab her and yank her around the side of another building. She hunches over, a hand clasped over the wound. Her dark suit is slippery with blood.
“Go. You have to go.”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“I’m not worth it. I’ll slow you down.”
“Shut up,” he mumbles, gathering her in his arms. She whimpers in pain. “Okay, I got you,” he says, softer this time. “Keep your head down.”
He pulls his hood up over his face as he makes his way quickly through the streets, zigzagging in the darkness. It’s important to put distance behind them, but he can’t spare too much time without addressing her injury. Finally he comes across a warehouse that seems suitable.
“Hey. I gotta set you down, okay? Can you stand?” She hums noncommittally, face pale and sweaty as he sets her on her feet. One hand grips onto his shoulder. He pulls a lock pick from his pocket and makes quick work of the door. His eyes scan the empty room. It will do.
“B-Barton..”
He catches her before she hits the ground.
XXXXX
She blinks her eyes open slowly. A hot, searing pain pulses through her abdomen, but the rest of her is freezing. Her fingers shake as she fumbles for the knife strapped to her thigh. It’s gone.
“Hey, relax. You’re alright. It’s me.”
Grey eyes come into view above her. The med kit lays by his side, contents splayed out, and she drops her head back on something soft. His jacket.
“Fuck,” she whispers.
“Yeah. Sorry. I was hoping you would stay out for this part. The bullet is still in there. I have to get it out.” He hesitates. “I don’t have-“
“Just do it.”
Quietly, he slips on a pair of gloves and picks up a long set of tweezers. Her breath quickens as he pushes up her shirt, peeling it away from her skin. He curses. Her eyes dart towards him as he starts to unbuckle his belt and he freezes, reading the fear in her gaze.
“You’re going to want something to bite down on,” he says apologetically. She nods and takes it between her teeth. The first touch of the tweezers is ice, and fire, and pain, all at once. She squeezes her eyes shut. It doesn’t help. Nausea pushes up in her throat and she fights it back. “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he whispers, one thumb rubbing soothing circles against her skin. The leather is bitter in her mouth. She chokes back a sob. The tweezers dig under her skin. He’s tearing her apart and it’s not his fault. Please make it stop.
XXXXX
Firelight dances over her eyelids. She breathes in slowly, a dull ache and pinching in her side. Stitches, probably, under a thick wad of bandages. Someone brushes her hair away from her cheek. “Clint,” she mumbles.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
It takes enormous effort to open her eyes. He’s resettled her on a some sort of cushion, an emergency blanket between her and the fabric. His jacket is over her shoulders and she pulls it closer. It smells like him. She doesn’t want to analyze this at the moment.
Despite the fire burning a few feet away, she can’t seem to stop the shivering running through her bones. A fever, probably, which likely means infection.
“Take these.” He helps her swallow two pills and wash them down with water. “Extraction isn’t until tomorrow. I got in touch with Coulson. We have to lay low in the city for a few hours.”
“What time is it?”
“Little after one in the morning.” He passes her a protein bar. She manages two tiny bites before wrapping it back up. His face is dirty and exhausted, a smear of dried blood on his right cheek. Her blood.
“Is he going to be mad?”
“Coulson? No, why would he be?”
“Cuz we failed. I failed,” she corrects. He looks at her for a long time.
“No, Natasha. You got hurt. That’s not a failure.” Her lack of response indicates that she believes otherwise. “That’s not how it works here. Shield doesn’t punish you for getting hurt. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Why did you come back for me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” The response is so honest, so genuine, that she doesn’t know what to say. It hadn’t even occurred to him to leave her. She takes the chance and moves a little bit closer. Her hair barely brushes his knee where he sits beside her.
“I’m tired,” she says instead. He sets a hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, fingers rubbing gently to ease the tension there.
“Sleep.”
8 porn bots in three days.....
today i offer you: Magdalena “Golden Retriever energy” Eriksson
🥰 Magda & Pernille 🥰 16.10.22 2 goals for Pernille (Everton Vs Chelsea)
↝ツ‘∾⋞ NATASHA ROMANOFF in BLACK WIDOW ⋞∾‘ツ↝ icons, psd by @artsluna
You can add me to the list as well.
Zeciras story 12.01.2023
Let’s just all go back to 2012, before joss whedon ruined Clintasha and we all were going crazy with fan fiction about Budapest.
I turn 30 next month so here’s what I learned in my 20s:
—don’t work for startups, they’re always one ‘innovative idea’ away adding ‘sell your kidneys on the black market’ to your job description.
—keeping a collection of basic OTC medicine on you will save your life one day. I recommend Advil, Imodium, and TUMS.
—those little single-use glasses cleaning wipes are 1000% worth the money
—overly self-depreciating jokes just make people uncomfortable, wean yourself off of them
—you can buy dehydrated mini marshmallows in bulk online and they’re a godsend for hot cocoa
—people don’t care if you have fidget toys on your desk they just want to play with them
—try to go to bed BEFORE the existential ennui kicks in
Also drink water and eat a plant
This is all GREAT. I turned 40 last week, so permit me to add what I learned in my 30s:
keep on not working for startups
sometimes there comes a point where the thing (fandom, hobby, friendship, romantic relationship) you loved no longer brings you joy. And that's okay. Try to mourn the loss, take joy in the memories, and don't burn any bridges in case ten years go by and you find yourself back in that fandom/hobby/relationship again
it turns out that (ugh) moderate regular exercise is (spit) good for you. The sooner you make it part of your life, the easier it'll be
related: if you throw yourself into a new exercise regime too hard and too fast, without stopping to rest or consider whether a particular move is good for you ... well, shoulder injuries are painful and consults with orthopedic surgeons are expensive
knees are bastards too
don't even get me started on ankles
there may come a time when your digestive system is too fragile for ibuprofin. I'm sorry
one day you're gonna wake up and realise you no longer give any fucks about some things that used to bother you
on the other hand, you might be alarmed to realise what you still give a fuck about
never get down on the floor without an exit strategy for getting back up
I turn 50 this year. what I have learned in my 40s:
"loving yourself" is less of a feeling and more of an action. you can start doing it any time and it will make your life better and better as you go on
this will happen incrementally - be patient
along those lines, if you haven't started making an active effort to quit shit-talking yourself, suck it up and do it
no, shut up. do it. "but it's haaaaard!" don't care. do it.
whether you like it or not, you are mortal and you need to go to the doctor for an annual checkup
stretch regularly - your future self will thank you
at some point you will encounter people much younger than you arguing passionately and incorrectly about history you personally remember and experienced
this will be infuriating and annoying
otoh, most other things just... will not matter to you as much
at some point you will shift from wanting to go out to being like "eh" and deciding to stay in. this is okay.
you will have absolutely no idea what The Youth are talking about and you will not care
but if you keep your mind open to new ideas you'll never be irrelevant
your company still doesn't love you - don't give them more than they pay you for
get a fucking hobby, especially a hobby that involves physically creating/handling something and/or moving your body in physical space. it will do you more good than you can imagine
I am now 60 so let me tell you what I’ve learned (in addition to all that above, which is true).
Never stop learning. I’ve just spent nearly 3 years learning to speak Welsh. Next might be Italian. Do puzzles. Learning and doing puzzles keeps your mind active.
You will notice that with every decade, the field in which you grow your fucks to give becomes more and more barren.
Say what you want. Dress how you want. Decorate your space how you want. Life is short and you might as well be happy.
Some things won’t bother you at all anymore (see point three). Some new things will bother you a LOT, particularly rude drivers and anti-homeless architecture. There’s not a lot you can do, but if you can do something, do it. Run for county commission. Sit in in town meetings. Speak up.
Realize you can’t use your body in ways you used to, nor neglect your body the way you used to. Still, Move and Do.
Eat good food. Take your meds.
Travel if you have the opportunity and means. It’s not too late to take a hike or stare at the ocean and feel small. Don’t go to a different culture and expect them to act like you. Watch how life works for them and learn something.
Your mind will not be able to conceive how old you are. Surely it’s impossible for all the things that have happened to you to have happened. Surely you didn’t have your first job 40 years ago. This is hard to reconcile; sometimes you just have to sit with it.
That thing about having a hobby? OMG do it. It will take you through times of loneliness. Creativity makes one feel alive. Do your hobby even if you’re bad at it, and quit judging yourself.
If you have a Someone, love them. Laugh with them. Maybe 20 years from now you’ll still be doing it but maybe one of you won’t be that lucky
Have sex if you have a partner. It still feels good, your body works and it isn’t gross. Remember that STDs are high among retirees, newly widowed who never thought of using condoms back in the 70s. Have fun but don’t be stupid.
If you had kids, realize that you won’t hear from them very often, even if you were a decent parent and had good relationships with them. They are adults now and adulting is HARD. It takes all one’s time and energy. If you’re lucky though they’ll ask your opinion or advice.
Keep up with technology if you can. Don’t be That Grandma who can’t work the remote.
Your Earnings Statement matters. Make some $$ so you won’t be destitute in your old age.
Ima say this one again: Have fun but don’t be stupid
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my 2023 moodboard
i want to annoy the shit out of u (lovingly)
