#overboard*

[saynomorefic]

Let's take this overboard - saynomore

Chapter Four: Sparta on ao3

“Where do the artifacts go?” Simon asked, peering over the next ledge. All he could see were small, scattered rocks.  Nils paused, looking between them. “Have I thoroughly bored you with my rocks and dirt?”  Wille looked at Simon, brushing their shoulders together. “Not more than I already have, surely.”  He didn’t know what to say; something about the boys’ fixed gaze on Simon made him feel a bit queasy. He cleared his throat. “We went to the archaeology museum in Nafplio. Wille told me some things about Ancient Greece. You both know a lot.” They shared another look. “Yes, Wilhelm’s quite the scholar himself. Don't let him go too far with all that talk of love and war, though, that he seems so deeply interested in. The Greeks were mostly interested in survival. That, and dominance," Nils smirked, slapping Wille on the shoulder before clapping his hands together. “Now. Who’s hungry?

OR: the Mediterranean yacht AU

[acecroft]

Overboard (1987) dir. Garry Marshall

[fruitblr]

OVERBOARD 1987 | dir. Garry Marshall

[peach-pot]

perhaps one he… can’t reclaim

[elliot-amy]

bartender: what'll it be sir

me: uh sad kruss overboard tits out

bartender:

[horrorfemme1138]

Day 17: Overboard

[emiko-matsui]

Posting like it's 2019 Polygon. anyway my deepest sympathies to Brian David Gilbert

[snandtnurtle]

this is still probably one of my favorite images from a polygon video ever. absolute nonsense stick figure bullshit. "Mac and Cheese." what does it Mean. it's like an instillation in a modern art gallery. complete with quotation marks

[dailyflicks]

OVERBOARD (1987) dir. Garry Marshall

[rat-at-heart]

After four months of working the cruise ship, these three are waiting for just the right moment to banana split and take this baby to Cuba

[fey-ax]

What to play while we're waiting for touch starved Recommendations Part 2. :

“Creme de la Creme” and “Royal Affairs”

I'm putting both these together because they resemble each other so much.

Ceme de la crème is an interactive novel in which you play as a student at an exclusive private school for socialites.

It's a slice-of-life game in which you make friends and rivals, choose your club activities, and attend lessons.

A unique feature of this game is that you can choose not only the gender of your player character but every romanceable option you encounter.

I'm not quite sure how I feel about that. It is an interesting idea even if I'm not sure if it's a good one.

Some people have accused “Creme de la Creme” of being “Harry Potter with the serial numbers and magic filed off”, but it is my understanding that “ fancy boarding school” is an entire genre in itself. Harry Potter did not infect or invent it. So I can't say I agree.

“Royal Affairs” is a sequel of sorts made by the same creator. It is set in the same world as “Creme de la Creme” and is also about attending a prestigious school for rich kids, but with different characters and in a different school.

As interactive fiction, there is no art, music, or sound. And the presentation of the text isn't the most appealing. But if you can get on board with it then “Creme de la Creme” and “Royal Affairs” are a good time.

2. Forbidden Magic

This is an urban fantasy detective/ Police procedural story.

You play as a paranormal agent trying to catch a magical arsonist and solve a mystery.

It's cute. A cute little interactive fiction game.

I don't have a lot to say about it.

3. OVERBOAED!

Guys, I love this Game!

By far my favorite out of all my recommendations, but it is also a bit of a wild card.

While all my recommendations had a romantic subplot until now, I can not say the same about this game.

In Ovearboard you play as a femme fatal who just murdered her shitty husband and is trying to get away with it.

It is so much fun.

It made me think a little of the ace attorney, except that you don't play as the detective but as the suspect who keeps getting caught in their stupid lies. And you can't even be mad about it because you chose that dialogue option.

Getting away with murder isn't all that difficult. The real challenge is getting the insurance money. (Otherwise, what was the point of killing the shitty husband?)

That's when the game opens up.

All the charterers have secrets of sorts and many are not what they seem.

The presentation is also great! May interactive fiction games lack in that department. But here you have music, visuals, sound, the whole package!

[joanofart5]

Overboard Chapter 20!

New Chapter!

The boys are getting VERY close in this chapter y’all!

Chapter summary:

Azirphale is in Heaven. Crowley is going to hell.

Chapter excerpt:

Aziraphale had kissed him. He kissed him like he meant it. Like he wanted nothing more in this godforsaken world than Crowley’s lips on his. Then Crowley, lacking any fucking sense at all, had kissed him back. Thoroughly. 

He had kissed him so well and so fully, that Aziraphale had requested, begged even, to be taken home. The angel had even said he was going to show him how much he wanted… well, best not to think about the details just yet. But the fact remains that Aziraphale has… intentions. Of the sexual sort. In case that wasn’t clear. 

[caelichythcat]

for one shining moment, TEETH

[silvermaplealder]

So Edward Hermann is in the movie Overboard and I saw this little dance move of his and HAD to make a gif set. Please enjoy

[ohmy80s]

Goldie Hawn / Overboard (1987)

[elizabeethan]

Not With Haste

An Overboard Conclusion

Oh hi, where the hell did this come from? I'm wondering the same thing. in reality, @donteattheappleshook talked to me about oarfish maybe 2 years ago and I started writing something stupid. I always intended to finish it and post it for @the-darkdragonfly's birthday, but I never found it in me to complete it. Then tonight I found that stupid thing and I finished it. You never know when that funny little creativity bug might bite, I guess.

I've always wanted to write some form of conclusion for Overboard because it's one of my favorite things that I've written. I first published Overboard way back in May of 2021, and looking back, I've grown and learned a lot and there are things I would probably do differently if I started the story over again, but I can't see myself ever editing it because I love what I wrote. Would I rewrite it into a novel and really flesh out the story and the characters? A girlie can dream, never say never, you never know when the creativity bug might bite, etc.

I hope everyone here is well, I know I am for the most part, and I'll never stop being grateful for this little community that I found all those years ago. More than that, I'll never stop being grateful for the feeling of being able to come back after a time away. It's been fun to log back in to everything and pick up where I left off as if no time has passed. (It's been so long since I've done this so if the formatting is all messed up, I'm really sorry, but I barely knew what I was doing.)

Long story short, this story is finally complete. It's barely edited and it's not beta'd, so thank you for giving it a chance.

Rated T I think

~2300 words

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

~~~~

Even after sixteen years of marriage, Killian often finds himself wondering what on earth could possibly be going through his wife’s head. 

  The thoughts of wonderment and confusion strike him at the oddest of times, always in response to something she’s said or done and never with any sort of answer. The first time he knew he was in trouble was fifteen years ago, when he returned home from a trip to find she had adopted a rottweiler. Still, Ripple refuses to retire from her post as the Jones’ Harbor Tours’ mascot, and Emma often tries to convince him that it’s because she’s as stubborn as her father. 

  In truth, Emma Jones is the most stubborn person he has ever met in his life, a fact which will likely never be contested. 

  He finds himself confused so often that he can barely recount any examples of her free spirited nature. (She calls herself a wild child, although she often shouts at him whenever he uses the term in bed.) There was the time she impulsively began tearing up the tile flooring in the bathroom after watching three whole YouTube tutorials (her words), only to sob into his already sea-soaked sweater when she realized how physically taxing reflooring an entire room is without any experience, general tiling knowledge, materials, or help. Then there was the time she randomly asked him if he would still love her if she was a worm, and then became irrationally angry when he found himself unable to answer without first asking clarifying questions. And the incident when she questioned his loyalty to her when he refused to hunt down and kill the person who bumped into her parked car and drove off. He later discovered that the question came after she had finished some romance novel about the mafia. He chose not to dig any deeper into that one.

  All this to say: Killian’s wife is a free spirit, a wild child, a confusing, strange, barely-readable woman who stole his heart in one breath and has yet to give it back almost two decades later. 

  And, he has no idea what the bloody hell she’s talking about more than half the time. 

  He wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): have you ever see this??? In the wild??????

  Emma (Trophy Wife): Attached: 1 Image

  Killian: What are you doing?

  He shakes his head, as exasperated as he is filled with a warm sense of comfort, just like he always is whenever he sees the name she gave herself the moment their vows were exchanged pop onto his phone screen.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): they inhabit the atlantic ocean. *vomiting emoji*

  Killian: Stop watching National Geographic if it’s going to make you nauseous. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): that’s where you worked!!

  Killian: That’s also where we live.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): you never saw one in your sexy fisherman days? LOOK at that thing. 

  Killian quickly discovers that she’s referring to an Oarfish. They’re the longest known bonefish and inhabit very deep water, are rarely seen or caught alive, and are thought to be generally harmless. Still, he knows that these facts will not prevent his wife from overreacting, so he chooses not to bother. 

  Though she’s always hidden it well, Emma has a strange fear of creatures of the deep, as she often calls them. She’s told him that the tuna he used to pull onto the deck of his boat didn’t bother her– even though they were often almost twice her height in length and weighed upwards of 1,000 pounds– because they were no longer in the water. But the thought of running into one of those slimy bastards while swimming gives her panicky symptoms— her words. He hasn’t bothered to point out the absolute impossibility of her ever running into a giant bluefin tuna while swimming, either. After sixteen years of marriage, he’s learned which battles are better left unfought. 

  Of course, there are times when his correcting her drives her absolutely mad, often to the point of her feeling compelled to kiss him in order to shut him up, and he navigates those moments very carefully and with a smirk on his lips. 

  Killian: They aren’t known to be predatory.

  Emma (Trophy Wife) disliked “They aren’t known to be predatory.”

  Killian: Attached: 1 Image

  Killian: You see? They have small mouths and no teeth. Harmless.

  It’s unlike her to wait so long to reply, as she’s often glued to her phone at least when she’s mid conversation. But it’s almost a full two minutes that he finds himself standing in front of the display of pasta sauce, looking like a complete fool and blocking the path of an elderly woman, breath bated as he waits for a response from her. Bloody hell, he thinks to himself as he shakes his head. He’s known the woman for eighteen years and he still can hardly breathe in anticipation of whatever adorably inane thought leaves her mouth without any sort of filter. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): Attached: 1 Video

  Lovely. Even as he watches the attached video of her silently dry heaving, he’s desperately in love with her. He watches it again. 

  Her blonde hair has gone lighter over the years, streaks of white coloring through the gold in a way that makes her look somehow even more sexy and playful than when he first laid eyes on her. There are soft creases beside her eyes as she squeezes them shut, her mouth open and her tongue out as she pretends to be so violently offended by the image he sent her that it’s made her ill. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): expect consequences when you get home. even if you get the good mac and cheese. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): you KNOW how i feel about serpents and sea monsters. 

  Killian: I do. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): … and????

  Killian: I’m sorry for traumatizing you with my serpent. 

  Killian: And for how that just sounded. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): if you’re not home in 34 minutes i’m not touching your serpent for two whole days. 

  Killian: Well, now that I'm familiar with your gag reflex… 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): 33 minutes. 

  ~~~~

  Ripple is the oldest dog Killian has ever known. Her silver snout and eyebrows catch in the setting sun, and it’s painfully obvious from her gait how sore her joints are, but still, at his arrival home, she hurries her way towards him with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. 

  Their vet has told them that she’s the healthiest dog he’s treated in a while, considering her age, and Emma uses that as a point of pride for their perfect child. 

  “Hi, darling,” he says when she finally reaches him, her soft smile lighting up her face once he drops the reusable grocery bags in order to give her a scratch behind the ears. Killian’s getting up there in age, too, but he still manages to squat down to her level and kiss her nose. 

  The two of them make quite the pair while Killian struggles back into a standing position and then they both hobble towards the front door. His fishing career was lucrative and rewarding, but dammit if it didn’t lead to stiff joints that his wife pokes fun at. She’s never met a “my husband is older than me” joke she hasn’t loved. 

  “I’m glad you both made it,” she happily chortles from the kitchen, making him smile. He’s never smiled more widely than he does with Emma. 

  “The abuse I’m subjected to,” he mutters as he drops the bags on the floor for her to peruse. It’s a deal they made years ago; Killian does the shopping because the grocery store makes Emma too itchy, and she puts the groceries away in exchange. 

  She snorts when she pulls out the bag of goldfish, sending Killian a playful smirk. “Looks like a good haul.”

  “Aye, love. I thought you might enjoy a fishy treat after our conversation.”

  “Always so thoughtful,” she murmurs as she makes her way to him. The kitchen is small, but they’ve always had just enough space for the three of them. 

  “It’s a difficult cross to bear,” he nods, catching her wrist as soon as she’s close enough to pull towards him. “But anticipating your needs is one of the many responsibilities I take very seriously.”

  Emma’s hands land on his neck, fingers tangling with the silver hair at the back of his head while her thumbs trace along his jaw. She likes to call him a silver fox when she’s feeling playful. “My perfect husband,” she says softly, voice syrupy sweet in that way that still manages to get him excited. 

  “I couldn’t be a perfect husband without my perfect wife,” he answers, earning a beaming grin that he barely catches before her lips press to his. 

  It never ends. The way he wants her has been an inferno so intense since the day they met, and it hasn’t been snuffed out in all these years. The moment she’s near him, his blood starts to simmer, and once she touches him, kisses him like she is now, he’s a goner. 

  Her tongue is soft as it sweeps over the seam of his lips, lazily working to deepen the kiss they share. She kissed him with urgency, but not with haste, never rushing but always desperate. It’s enough to have him pushing her backwards, her lower back softly pressing against the counter before he lifts her onto it. Emma’s legs part seemingly without her even thinking about it, and before either of them have a chance to put the rotisserie chicken in the refrigerator, he wonders if he should just carry her to their room. Part of him has this never ending need to show her just how desperate he still is for her. 

  But then, she speaks. 

  “Wait,” she breathes, chest rising and falling rapidly as her warm breath fans over his mouth, her forehead still pressed to his and her fingers clinging to the collar of the light sweater he wears. 

  “Yes, love?” he asks, perfectly prepared to answer whatever silly question she likely has as long as he can have her after. 

  “About the oarfish…”

  He fights a groan. “I promise you, there is absolutely no chance of you ever seeing an oarfish for as long as you live.”

  “I know, I did plenty of research while you were gone.”

  He breathes out a soft laugh, his smile growing when she kisses it. “What’s wrong, then?”

  “Would you still love me if I was an oarfish?”

  His world stops for just a moment. Just a second, really, as he tries to right his mind and will a tiny bit of blood back to his brain so that he can answer this very unimportant and yet somehow very vital question correctly. 

  “If you were an oarfish,” he starts, hand sliding up from her hip to her ribs before finding her cheek, “then I would be an oarfish. And we would be married and have a pet… eel, perhaps. Named Ripple. And we would live in a tiny oarfish cottage and be happy and in love for as long as oarfish live.”

  Emma sighs, the softest smile on her perfect lips making him crazy as her arms wrap around his neck in one of his favorite hugs. 

  “I love you,” she whispers into his ear. He’ll never tire of this. Of the soft, almost unfathomable way that the love they have for one another strikes at the most random times. 

  “I love you, too, Swan. Always. No matter what species we are.”  

  “And I love you, no matter how much older you are than me.”

  He grabs her then, hoisting her against him to the best of his ability as her ankles cross at his back. “Disrespectful,” he murmurs, carrying her from the kitchen and happily forgetting about the frozen broccoli florets, not cuts she made him buy. 

  “You better teach me a lesson, then,” she taunts with a smirk, as if that isn’t exactly what she was after. 

  “Don’t act like that isn’t exactly what you want, love.”

  “Don’t act like you don’t get off on giving me exactly what I want.”

  To that, he just returns her smirk and offers a quick smack to her ass before dropping her onto the bed they share, because he knows she’s right. For the rest of his days, he’ll be happy, as long as he has his family. 

~~~~

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