#not the distributive property. please god don’t ask me about the distributive property.

[corvidshipping]

hi fwiends

#paperheart.txt #i was studying did i miss anything #i can tell u guys abt ummmm. cells and um genomes now #not the distributive property. please god don’t ask me about the distributive property. #i will cry.

[shockinglysubmissive]

One Day Down

WARNINGS: Stripping, Fingering (Reader receiving), Squirting

This is my piece for @missuga Love and Lockdown Collab

WC: 2K

“One day down, 13 more to go. Care to play a game to kill some time?” Your boyfriend asks, looking through your closest of board games. The pandemic had shut everything down, and Kuroo was unable to take the bus back to his apartment, so you two were trapped together for the next two weeks. He doesn’t wait for your response, finding a box and tugging it out of the stack carefully. “How about this one? It will kill at least two hours.” He holds out Monopoly, a smirk spread across his face.

“No way Tetsu! You get way too competitive! We still have nearly two weeks together. We can’t start hating each other already.” Despite your disagreeing words, you start to clear off the coffee table in front of you for the board. He sits down across from you, using a pillow to make the hardwood floor more comfortable.

“Oh. You are so mistaken. It won’t be a normal game of monopoly. Oh no no no Kitten, this will be so much more.” His eyes narrow, sliding a piece of paper over to you. You unfold it and scan over it quickly.

Shoes: $50

Socks or Tights: $50

Sweater or Jacket: $50

Shirt or Top: $100

Pants or Skirt: $100

Dress: $200

Bra: $300

Underwear: $500

“Are… are you serious? Strip monopoly?” You can’t help but giggle as he starts sorting cards. You don’t notice when he slips a stack of cards from his pocket, mixing them into the stack until they are mixed in fully. “If you wanted to see me naked you could have just asked to join me in the shower.” You add.

“ But this will be so much more fun. Seeing you all angry, your pretty tits pushed together with crossed arms because you realize you have to sell your panties and lose the game.” He sets the chance cards on their spot and sets the player pieces out on the board for you to pick.

Your fingers trace the ship, smirking as you pick it up and hand it to him. “Here you can be the ship because you’re going down.” You flash him an innocent smile as he picks up the dog.

“Fine, but you’ll be this one because I’m going to make you my bitch.” He says simply, eyes shining with joking excitement. You distribute the money, rolling your eyes as you start the game.

After a few turns, you had to sell your shirt for money to buy a property, and Kuroo sold his pants to pay for landing on your space. On your next turn, you land on a Chance space. You read it and blush bright red, having drawn one of the cards he had slipped in.

“Money is tight. Give another player a lapdance to steal an item of clothing from them.” Not giving him the chance to tease you for blushing, you move to his side of the table, straddling his lap and give him a half hearted dance. Tugging on the bottom of his shirt, you pull it over his head and put it on yourself. “Thank you for your shirt. Looks like I am fully dressed again.” You take your seat on the other side of the table again. He blinks at you slightly taken aback. “What? I never said that I would make this easy on you.“ You look at him innocently, Adjusting his shirt, which is too big for you.

A growl rumbles in his chest. He knows that you are winning, that doesn't stop him from being competitive. “The game's not over yet. I said I would make you my bitch, and I still intend to do that. I'm just letting you win for the moment because you look so cute when you smile.” Although he is smiling, there is a bit of anger in his words. You have known him for years, and Tetsu can be very competitive. He enjoys being the cunning one who wins. He hates when you are able to beat him without even trying to.

“ Mm.. Ok whatever makes you happy. I’ll let you believe that you will win.” You count your money, and organize the properties that you have collected so far. Unaware of the anger filling your boyfriend, his dick hardens seeing his shirt slide down your shoulder some.

The game continues for many more turns, clothes being sold, but chance cards giving clothes back. In the final few turns, Kuroo buys hotels for his blue properties, and you land on them. One having $50, and your panties left, you had to give up, letting your boyfriend win. Despite getting exactly what he wanted, he didn’t look happy. Your arms are crossed over your chest, a small pout settling on your face wanting him to look at you. Instead he just packs up the game.

“What’s wrong with you? You won! You get to see me naked and you’re still huffing and pouting like a child. What more do you want?” You demand, knowing that this game would end poorly. He glances up at you, his expression is unreadable. He stays silent, still refusing to acknowledge you, a slight scowl on his face. “Kuroo! I knew this game was a bad idea. I’m just going to bed. You can sleep on the couch if you want to keep acting like this.”

“You’ve been teasing me this whole game.” He says simply. You look shocked. Of all the reasons for him to be mad, it was because you teased him. Your boyfriend is known for being a giant tease, and he can’t handle receiving any.

“Hate to break it to you, but you were taunting me way more than I was with you. You get too competitive.” You mumble, grabbing your clothes to get dressed again. “I played the game that you wanted! You always tease me, so I thought I could do the same. Guess I was wrong. I will give you your space.” Houses and hotels are scattered as he drops them to grab your wrist, pulling you to make you sit on your knees so that you can see how his boxers have a large spot of precum soaking through. You swear that you can see him throbbing, even though the fabric.

His grip tightens as he begins to speak. “Biting your lip while thinking, letting your tits bounce when you get excited, slowly sliding off every piece of clothing. Oh and let's not forget the way that your fingertips would absent-mindedly drift to your exposed nipples. You would play it off like you were playing with your hair, but I saw the way your breathing changed.” He leans his face closer to yours, letting his warm breath fan against your ear. “We have 13 days let before we can leave this apartment, and I intend to fuck you so good you can’t walk right until then, understood?” He whispers in your ear. You swallow hard and nod, knowing that he will do just that.

Even when the sex between you both is slow and full of love and passion, he never fails to leave you so fucked out that you lose all ability to think. Seeing the look in his eyes from wanting you so bad, you knew that you were in for a lot of aches tomorrow.

He shoves the remaining game pieces on the floor, setting you on the coffee table. Using the fact that you lost, and were fully undressed to his advantage, he settles himself on his knees between your legs. “Think you can take me, or do you need me to stretch you out?” His voice is gentle as his fingers trace along your already slick folds. Unable to wait for you to answer, he slips his long middle finger into you. A soft moan leaves his lips as you lift your hips to feel his finger deeper. His own need is overshadowed by the desire to make you cum.

“Want more. Please Tetsu. I want you to stretch me out.” Your voice comes out a bit whinier than you hoped, desperate to feel the deep feelings that only he can give you. Taking mercy on you, he slides his ring finger in, curling both until he finds your g-spot. He quickens his ministrations, savoring in the way you react to him. His cock twitches, but he ignores it, too lost in the moans coming from your mouth.

When his thumb starts to circle your clit, you instinctively try to pull away, feeling pressure building in your core. “Ah. No moving.” He presses down just above your pelvic bone, creating more stimulation against your sweet spot. You squirm even more, feeling as if you may explode if the pressure builds any more. “Let go baby. Stop holding back. Relax.” His lips graze down your inner thigh.

At his words, the pressure releases, and you soak his hand with your cum. Your vision blurs and your hands roam to find something to hold on to. Settling for gripping your chest, your hips grind weakly against his hand until you become too sensitive.

He finally removes his hand, fingers dripping with your cum. Popping his fingers in his mouth, he lets out a soft moan. “Fuck I will never get tired of how good you taste.” He leans down and laps at your cum soaked folds. His delicate kitten licks move to your clit and you try to pull away.

“Tetsu… I want you to fuck me. I want you to feel good too.” You tug his hair to pull him up to look at you, eyes begging him to stuff you full. He hesitates for a moment, wanting to continue tasting you, but also wanting to fuck you so hard that neither one of you can think straight anymore. “Baby.” Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he is hovering over you.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you attach your lips to his, opening your mouth just enough that his tongue slips into your mouth. His tongue tastes faintly like your cum, and you can’t help but blush. You slide your hands down his chest, clumsily tugging his boxers down. Pumping his cock to smear the precum, you move to line him up with your entrance.

“My needy girl. Don’t worry. I’m going to make you feel so good. I’m gonna make you cum all over me.” He pushes into you with one fluid snap of his hips. Your walls clamp down around him, already trying to milk him for all the cum he has. “If you aren’t… fuck… if you don’t stop I won’t be able… oh god… to move.” He half begs, trying to keep control as he rocks against you.

“Can’t help it. You just feel so good in me. I want to cum around you already.” Your voice comes out as needy, body already teetering on the edge just from his tip kissing your cervix as he rocks against it. Still sensitive from your first intense orgasm, then his tongue teasing every inch of your pussy, you feel as if you could cum again.

“Not yet baby. Just hold off for a little longer. I want you to cum with me.” He grits his teeth as he builds up to a steady pace. Tears start to well in your eyes as it becomes almost painful to not cum. “It’s okay. Just breathe. It’s going to be okay. A little longer. It will feel so good when you finally cum with me.” He tries to calm your nerves, kissing away the tear that slipped down your cheek.

You cling to his shoulders, mind going numb, and only being able to think about how good his dick is making you feel. “Cum for me. Fuck.” His voice tugs you back to reality just enough to realize you no longer have to hold back. Creaming all over him, you moan his name against his neck, trembling in his arms as he fucks his cum into you.

It takes you both a few moments to come back down from your highs, suddenly aware of the discomfort you feel from the coffee table. “Game night was fun, but can we fuck somewhere more comfortable tomorrow?” You ask softly, giggling softly against his shoulder.

@bummie @izukine @writesmcgee

#kuroo tetsurō #kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #hq #haikyuu #hq smut #haikyuu smut #✨.crystal warnings

[the-iceni-bitch]

I’m Going to Take Care of You

Pairing: Thor/Fem-Reader

Words: 3502

Summary: A fun night out with the Avengers makes you realize you want something more from you friendship with Thor.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, size kink adjacent, fluff, SMUT, 18+

A/N: Whoo, I managed to keep it under 4000 words this time y’all. I loved writing Thor though. He’s such a sweetheart and really treats our reader right! Please enjoy and message if you want to be added to my permanent tags list!

“I got shots, bitches!!”

You set your carefully balanced tray on the table in the middle of everyone and started distributing tiny glasses around, grinning around the table as you did so.

“Goddamn it, Y/N. You and Nat are trying to kill us” Clint groaned as he took his shot from you and looked at it like he was about to throw up.

“Suck it up Barton.” Tony scolded. “These girls are out drinking us and refuse to black out before they do. Knock it back.”

You made sure everyone got a glass before taking one for yourself and settling back on the couch.

Nat downed hers easily and gave you a knowing grin once the taste hit her tongue. Clint, Tony, and Sam tossed theirs back together and immediately started spluttering and coughing. Steve paused before bringing his glass to his lips when he saw their reaction.

“Son of a bitch, what the fuck is this?” Tony exclaimed, grabbing a glass of water and chugging it as Clint headed to the bathroom, looking like he was going to hurl. Nat clapped her hand against Sam’s back as he tried to get a hold of himself. Steve was just looking at his shot with abject horror.

“We’re in Oslo so I got us Aquavit!” You grinned at Tony as he stared at you murderously. “Oh, my god Rogers, suck it up and drink it, it’s not going to kill you.”

Steve gave a shrug and chugged it, sucking air through his teeth and wincing as he swallowed. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’ve told you a million times, Y/N, you’re the only one who can drink that shit.” Nat laughed at you as Sam waved her off, his coughing fit finally ending.

“You’re all just pussies. Where the fuck is Thor? He always appreciates new liquor.” You searched the club for that giant golden retriever of a man before you heard his deep voice behind you.

“Is that more liquor? Excellent!” he exclaimed as you turned yourself around to give him a grin and handed him the last shot. He threw it back without hesitation and gave an appreciative nod. “What is this delicious nectar? We should get a bottle.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” You said, giving the rest of the group an exasperated look as you headed over to the bar, and returned with a full bottle of the spicy liquor and two clean highball glasses. You poured yourself and Thor two hefty portions and sat beside him on the couch.

“You two are insane.” Tony said, shaking his head as you tossed your drinks back and poured two more. “How are you still standing, Y/N? You’ve had almost as much to drink as a literal god!”

You just laughed at him giddily. You were pretty drunk at this point, but there was no way you were going to let anyone outdrink you tonight, you wanted to let go.

You had just finished your fifth mission with the Avengers. You had been apprehensive when you first moved onto the compound six months ago. You of course already know Nat and Clint, but it was a tight knit group, and you sometimes felt like a spare tire.

You spent most of the first few weeks in the lab, working on your serums and formulas, doing calculations into the small hours of the morning. Tony did his best to engage you, but you both only had the most basic understandings of each other’s fields. You did develop a healthy respect for each other during that time though, and you started to feel more at home.

Nat had finally convinced you to join the rest of the team for a workout after you had been there for a month. You were concerned about losing yourself and accidentally injuring someone, but Nat almost shoved you onto the mat to square up against Steve. She sat there with a smirk as the group watched him chase you around the mat, growing more and more frustrated as you slid out of his reach over and over. When you accidentally threw him into the ceiling one handed, you were sure they were going to shut you out. But Thor started laughing hysterically as the rest of them started teasing Rogers, and just like that, you were one of the group.

Thor and you bonded the most for some reason. You made each other laugh constantly, and being able to complain about your crazy families with someone else was a relief. You’d often stay up late together watching stupid movies or drinking some new liquor or beer you had discovered. He had once mentioned that he missed the tasted of mead, and the next day you surprised him with several large bottles you had gotten from a friend who brewed it on his property upstate. Sometimes when you got drunk enough, he’d let you braid his hair in intricate styles, not feeling an ounce of embarrassment when Tony would give him shit the next morning.

You became sparring partners as he was the only member of the team who could actually get you in a hold, and that translated well to you partnering on missions.

This latest one had been a doozy, busting an arms dealing ring that was suspected of distributing old HYDRA equipment. It was a success overall but had been exhausting. Nat and you always did your best to come up with some sort of morale booster after a mission and you somehow had convinced the team that a night of clubbing in downtown Oslo would be just the thing.

“Aww shit, is this Ghostface Killah?” You asked the room as a new song started. “This is my song! Let’s dance!”

“Girl, you have the best taste in music.” Sam said as he followed you onto the dance floor while Nat tried to coax Steve and Tony to join you. Thor tossed back his drink and strode after you.

The Norse God was a surprisingly good dancer. He didn’t seem to have the hangups you noticed from most white guys about their movements.

“This is a good song!” He shouted at you over the music “It reminds me of ‘Krakemal’.”

You had no idea what he was talking about so you just grinned at him as you whipped your hair around and swung your hips, losing yourself in the music. You loved dancing.

The song ended too soon and Tony came to let everyone know that Clint had finally stopped vomiting and the group was going to head back to the safehouse. Thor threw you over his shoulder as you headed out the door, making you squeal as he gave your ass a playful slap, not putting you down until you were walking down the street. He grinned down at you and started telling you a story about a snake. You were staring at him, breathless and giddy from the alcohol and you laughed when his story reached its conclusion, suddenly realizing that you were going to sleep with him.

He walked forward to chat with Steve and Nat put her arm through yours to chat.

“Sooooo…” she said slyly. “What’s going on with you and Point Break?”

“Oh god, Nat. I’m pretty sure I’m going to let him fuck me tonight.”

She laughed at that, tossing her head back. “Jesus Christ, it’s about time!”

You slapped her arm lightly and told her to shut up.

“You couldn’t have come to this realization a little earlier, Y/N? Now Tony’s going to win the bet!”

“Fuck, you perverts bet on when me and Thor would sleep together? Was anyone else in on this?”

“I mean, it was just me and Clint to start off then Tony found out and looped in the rest of team into it. He made a spreadsheet and everything. Rogers took some serious convincing. That big puppy thought it was ‘inappropriate and mean-spirited.’ Of course, then he walked in on one of your sparring sessions where you let yourself get pinned by that himbo a little longer than necessary and turned over his money with no problem.”

“Great. You guys are such good friends.” You said sarcastically.

“Not our fault you two idiots don’t have the emotional intelligence to just get to it. I’ve gotta tell the rest of the team to make sure you guys have some privacy.”

You hissed and tried to grab her as she scampered away to talk to Tony, who turned back and gave you a thumbs up and massive grin. You slapped your palm into your face and rubbed your thumb and forefinger into the ridges above your eyebrows.

“So, Natasha told me I should come back here and talk to you. She wouldn’t tell me what about and just laughed when I asked.” Thor had a look of slight confusion on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, pulling the bottom edge of his shirt up enough to expose the top of his boxer briefs and give you a glimpse at his happy trail. You felt yourself clench and fought the urge to moan.

You arrived back at the safehouse then, and Tony and Natasha did their best to usher everyone upstairs discreetly. She gave you a wink as she followed behind Steve at the back of the group and disappeared from view.

“So, more drinks?” Thor clapped his hands and rubbed them together, heading into the kitchen as he shed his coat.

“God, yes!” You followed him, removing your own coat and tossing it onto the couch. You had no idea how to approach this without making things painfully awkward.

He found an opened bottle of mead and poured you each a glass, leaning back against the counter as he sipped at the sweet liquor.

You peered at him over the edge of your glass as you contemplated your next move. His plain white tee was just tight enough that you could see the shape of the muscles in his torso. His arms were crossed, making his thick arms flex deliciously. You wanted to take a bite out of his bicep. You moved your eyes back up to his face and found him staring back at you. Neither of you said anything as you gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Fuck it.” You said, tossing back the rest of your drink and setting the empty glass on the counter before you took three steps forward and pressed the front of you body into him, pulling his face down to yours and kissing him hungrily.

You felt his posture change as he set his own glass behind him before grabbing your hips and drawing you even closer to him. You felt his cock starting to harden through his jeans and you let out a moan. He growled softly into your mouth before bringing one hand up to the back of your neck and drawing you away from him briefly as he studied your face.

“How drunk are you, Y/N?” he asked, a look of concern on his face.

Your inebriation had faded on the walk home and that kiss had sobered you up considerably. “Just buzzed.” You told him, breathlessly.

“Good.”

He didn’t say anything else, just put a hand on your ass and lifted you to wrap your legs around him as kissed your neck, scraping his teeth along your collarbone.

“God, keep doing that.” You said, twisting your hands into the back of his tee as he dipped his tongue into the hollow of your throat.

He gave a low hum against your neck and you felt it resound in your core, a rush of arousal soaking your panties as you felt your cunt throb with desire.

“Not gonna make it to the couch.” He whispered into your neck, sucking softly and raising a small bruise.

“Fine.” You couldn’t focus on anything, his mouth was so good and felt like it was leaving a trail of fire wherever it met your skin.

He moved forward and lowered you onto the counter gently. He brought his mouth back up to yours and kissed you softly as he moved his hands from your hips to the buttons of your blouse. He started undoing them slowly, his thick fingers moving nimbly down the front of your torso. Once it was fully open, he slid the blouse down your shoulders and discarded it to the side.

He brought his large palms up to your breasts and kneaded them gently. You groaned into his mouth and drew him closer to you with your legs, forcing the hem of your skirt up around your waist. You ground yourself into the front of his jeans desperately.

His fingers found the clasp at the front of your bra and unhooked it as he brought his mouth down to your breasts. He pressed the flat of his tongue against one nipple before swirling his tongue around it and sucking on it softly, making you gasp.

“Fuck, just like that baby.” You scrabbled your fingers over his back as he mouthed at your breast and drew his shirt over his head. He broke his contact with your skin for just a moment to throw the tee somewhere else, then moved his attention to your other breast, laving his tongue over the nipple slowly and making your pussy clench so hard it was aching.

“Shit, Thor, I need you.” You whined at him, clenching your thighs around his hips, trying to get some sort of friction to relieve the tension you were feeling in your core.

“I need to make sure you’re ready for me, beautiful. Don’t you trust me?”

“Mmmmm, yes!” you gasped as one of his hands moved your panties aside and he brushed his fingers against your folds, making you twitch.

“Oh, good girl. I just want to make you feel good, sweetheart.” He swirled one finger through the arousal at your entrance before inserting it at a deliciously slow pace.

You clenched around him immediately, letting out a whimper as he started moving it in and out of you slowly, stretching you from the inside a little further each time before adding another finger.

Your breath hitched and you tried to buck your hips into him but his other hand moved to press against your abdomen, pinning you to the counter.

His face came back up to yours as his fingers flexed inside of you. He brushed a soft kiss against your lips as you swallowed a moan.

“I know pretty girl, but you’re going to be happy I’m taking my time in a few minutes.” His third finger slipped into you as he gave you another kiss before he moved his face between your legs.

You did your best to keep from screaming when his tongue found your clit and started drawing soft circles over the tiny bundle of nerves. He curved his fingers inside you and pressed them against your sweet spot before he stretched you even further by adding a fourth finger.

You bit your lip so hard you drew blood. His tongue had increased in pressure and speed while his fingers stretched you so good. When he started sucking you lost it. You let out a thin wail as your body went rigid with pleasure, releasing to make every muscle tremble. He kept his fingers fucking into you at a steady rhythm as you rode it out. He removed them once you had finished and you let out a groan at the feeling of emptiness.

He smiled up at you before giving your pussy a kiss and standing up, releasing his hold on your abdomen. “I think you’re ready now gorgeous.” He murmured around a grin.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him as he drew your soaked panties down your legs and threw them to the side with the rest of your clothes. He then unzipped your skirt and added it to the pile before he moved his fingers to the fly of his jeans.

You felt your pussy clench as he drew the zipper down slowly and you stared at him through your lashes darkly. He bent over briefly to remove his pants and underwear and when he stood up, all the air rushed out of you as you understood his insistence on preparation.

He had the biggest cock you had ever seen. It was almost as thick as your wrist and quite a bit longer than the span of your hand. Your mouth filled with saliva as he gave it a few pumps and stepped closer to you, dragging it through your slick folds to coat it in your arousal.

“I’m going to go slow, love. You promise to let me know if it’s too much?”

You bit your lip as you nodded at him, not trusting the integrity of your vocal cords at the moment.

He bent forward over you and gave you a gentle kiss as he breached you with just his tip and you let out a sigh. He drew his hips back slowly before moving into you a little further. He continued this slow pace, pulling out just a bit and before breaching you further, waiting to feel you stretch and relax around him before he pushed into you more.

It seemed like forever before his hips were flush against yours and you were stretched around the whole length of him. You had never felt so deliciously full and you let out a low moan to let him know how good you felt.

“You’re doing so good baby.” He whispered to you and you couldn’t help giving him a wide grin that he returned. “I’m going to move, now, ok?”

“Fuck, yes please.” You whimpered as his hips started to move.

He kept his mouth on yours as he picked up the pace, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue.  You tangled your hands into his hair and snapped your hips to meet his thrusts, the only sounds your soft moans, the slap of flesh on flesh, and the obscene wet sucking sounds your pussy was making as his cock thrust in and out of you.

You felt your pleasure starting to coil in your core and you cried softly into his mouth, urging him on as he moved one hand between the two of you to work your clit.

You came around him suddenly, every muscle in your body vibrating as the biggest orgasm you’d ever had ripped through you body. You had to bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming, and he growled into your ear as his paced picked up even more.

He drew your knees up to your shoulders as he kept thrusting into you. The change in position was too much for your overworked clit and you came again immediately, tears leaking down your cheeks as you tried your best to be quiet.

He saw the tears and started to slow down, a look of concern written all over his face, until you hissed at him.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

He gave you a grunt that may have been a laugh and rotated your legs to your right side, the twist in your spine arching you so your chest pressed up into his, the coarse hair dusting him rubbing against your sensitive nipples and making you whine.

You felt yourself building again and you dropped your head back against the counter, preparing yourself. Thor’s hips started to stutter as your final orgasm wracked you, and he released right behind you as you twitched and fluttered around him. He bent back down to kiss you, his long hair brushing against your chest.

You opened up to him and let his tongue run against yours gently as he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you with a soft ache between your legs.

“How you feeling sweetheart?” He asked you, one hand cupped against your cheek as he watched your face, wanting to be sure he hadn’t hurt you.

“God, that was amazing.” You grinned at him, groaning as you stretched underneath him, knowing you were going to be stiff and sore tomorrow.

He gave you a swift kiss before scooping you off the counter and wrapping you around his torso. You nuzzled yourself into his neck as he started to carry you upstairs.

“Let’s get you a bath, beautiful. Make sure you’ll be able to walk in the morning.”

You laughed softly against his skin. “Mmmm, baby you know just what I need.”

“Of course I do, Y/N.” He looked into your eyes, a serious expression on his face. “I’m going to take care of you.”

You couldn’t express how happy that made you so you just hummed against his shoulder as he kicked open the door to the bathroom. You didn’t even care that you had left your discarded clothes downstairs for poor Steve to find when he woke up for his morning run.

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes​

#thor x you #thor x reader #thor odinson #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #marvel fanfiction #reader insert #smut #chris hemsworth

[be-bi-do-crime]

Do you do headcanons?? If so can i get some domestic carulia headcanons 👀 like after carmen spends some time in argentina but then she misses jules so she goes back to england but jules is sad she left her so abruptly and isnt taking her shit so carmen moves near her and like has to re-win her over🥺🥺

anon, i absolutely do headcanons!! my brain is practically a dump for headcanons, you’ve come to the right place :D and if anyone ever wants me to write any just leave me a request in my inbox!

here is part one of my classic fic style headcanons based off of the prompt you’ve given (which is SO good by the way please i am so tempted to write it into a full fic and add to my mountain pile of drafts rn-):

carmen loves her mother, she really does. she’s sweet and kind and her family. it’s all she’s ever dreamed of. after carlotta sees her standing on her doorstep, her warm brown eyes freeze and then she gasps, launching forward and hugging her equally as shocked daughter.

“your eyes. my god, i would recognize them anywhere. [given name], is that you?”

“it’s carmen, actually,” she manages to say, her mother hugging her like it’s the end of the world. and her mother doesn’t question it, merely letting go and smiling at her with tear filled eyes.

“well, carmen, it’s nice to meet you.”

things aren’t perfect after that, of course. there are questions, so many of them that they stay up the entirety of the second night talking (not the first, carlotta insisted that she had to get some sleep). carlotta doesn’t seem fazed when she tells her about VILE and stealing from them, cries when she brings up her father, but they push through it because now they have each other.

it’s strange, then, the feeling she gets a month or so later. she’s lying on the couch after a few rounds of games with the orphanage kids, and she doesn’t feel... satisfied. she should, shouldn’t she? this is what she’s spent her life searching for. she left her team behind to focus on this, to give something to herself for once.

it’s maddening. she can’t figure it out, talking to player as she bounces a ball against the ceiling. her mom worries, asking her what’s wrong, but she can’t answer her because she doesn’t know.

another few weeks pass. she’s cleaning her tools, sorting through her red coat for some nostalgia. a slip of paper falls out, and written on it is the address to this house she’s living in, and-

“player- i never asked, and i’m not sure if you even know. who found the address?”

he hesitates. a beat, then— “your favourite ACME agent.”

oh. oh. jules. she hasn’t let herself think of her ever since she left them all behind, afraid of the memories of her brainwashed time being dredged up. julia probably hates her, and rightfully so.

but she’s buzzing. she feels like she’s onto something, like satisfaction is just out of her reach, and player is more than happy to check up on julia’s blog for her whereabouts. turns out she’s not in france but in england, visiting her mother, telling her blog audience that’s why she’ll be inactive for a while.

carmen laughs at the irony. player books her a flight.

fast forward and she’s halfway to julia’s mother’s place and in the middle of the sidewalk, she stops, suitcase rolling behind her. she probably shouldn’t be showing up randomly like this, no warning and dropping back into julia’s life when she doesn’t need it. julia’s had to have moved on by now, the girl in red just someone who was too afraid to meet up with her before she left.

“red, what’s up?” player asks her, staring at her unmoving icon on his screen. “you having second thoughts?”

“kind of, yeah,” she admits. “i’m just not sure if-”

there’s a tap on her shoulder. carmen turns around and feels her heart drop out of her chest.

julia argent stares back at her, arms crossed and looking exactly the same with her glasses and dressed in a casual tan coat, yellow sweater, and black jeans. she looked good, and, well, annoyed.

“hey, jules!” the greeting doesn’t come out as confident and suave as she hoped, but it suffices, and player speaks excitedly from his end. tell julia i said hi! he says, before cutting off.

“by the way, player says h—”

“ms. sandiego,” julia says stiffly, none of the playful flirting and easy tones that she’s gotten used to. “why are you here?”

“i thought you—” carmen stammers, reaching into her pocket and showing her the slip of paper. “you gave me this, and i wanted to thank you. also you know you can call me carmen.”

something in julia’s eyes softens at the sight of the paper, but then hardens again when she looks back at her. “you’re welcome. you didn’t have to come all this way to tell me, though. and calling you by a first name basis would imply that we’re friends, but it seems that we’re not, doesn’t it?”

carmen chokes a little, eyes widening. “we’re not- friends?”

“i would think a friend would at least say goodbye or get in contact with me any way before disappearing for months, so no, ms. sandiego, i don’t think we are.”

carmen’s first instinct is to feel offended, but she understands where the agent’s slight hostility towards her is coming from. this wasn’t just julia being petty, it was the consequences of her actions that she had to now make up for.

“jules, i’m sorry,” she says, going to grab her arm but drawing back at the last second. right. their subtle touches with each other were definitely off limits now. “we can talk about this in somewhere that’s not a public sidewalk, and i’ll explain everything, i promise.”

julia’s mouth twists into a frown, and she uncrosses her arms, one finger pushing up her glasses. she looks her square in the eye, her gaze cold and unflinching. “what is there to explain, exactly? how you left me- left us all so abruptly, and gave your closest family a note to remember you by? zack and ivy mentioned it to me- they’re being trained for ACME now, but i’m sure you knew that already.”

she didn’t. she hasn’t asked player for updates for a month. a heavy exhale escapes her, and she wishes she had player in her ear. julia lets out a humourless laugh at her lack of a response.

“i guess you found something better, ms. sandiego. i’m happy for you.”

the declaration is bitter- and with that, julia spins on her heel and walks away, heading to her mother’s house. carmen stands with her suitcase on the sidewalk, apologies on the tip of her tongue, wanting to chase after her. she swallows them down and drops onto the nearest bench, burying her face in her hands and tapping her earring so player can reconnect.

“red! how’d it go? what has julia been up to? is she-” player’s voice bursts through with questions, and carmen doesn’t say a word, a new mission in mind.

“do you know where julia is staying? not her mom’s place, i’m assuming.”

if player is surprised by the question, he doesn’t comment, and carmen can hear his keyboard clacking as he scans address books and properties. “she’s a couple blocks over, i’ll text you the address,” he says at last. carmen’s phone pings with the incoming text, but that’s not the actual thing she’s looking for.

“thanks, player. are there any houses up for sale near her street?”

“give me a second.” player pauses, scrolling through listings, and then continues. “there’s one like, diagonally across from her house, actually.”

“we have any funds left from our world saving?” she can tell player knows what she’s asking for now, from the telltale anxious drumming on his desk and the slower than usual clicking.

“a couple million, actually. i thought we were slowly distributing to-”

“i’ll make up for it, maybe nag some of the VILE stragglers and the remaining stolen artifacts and whatnot. can you set up a meeting with the house owner so we can wire the funds over?”

“this is a bad idea,” player cautions.

carmen grins. “and since when have i ever been known to have a good one?”

part two will be up as soon as i can get it written out! if you’re the anon that sent this, send me an ask about part two so i can answer it that way!

#asking carmen #my writing #carulia #julethief #carmen x julia #why do these posts of mine always get outrageously long 😭 #give a writer a prompt and then boom a full fanfic #anon you asked for this #i love how you asked for domestic hcs and instead i handed you angst #don’t worry this is just part one!!!

[katsukikitten]

"they got a lucky shot" with Bakugou pretty please?

Tw: Slight gore but not like describing it in detail.

"You look like shit." You joke as you walk into the small hospital room with full intentions of breaking Bakugou out of the hospital. Plus once you laid hands on him he wouldn't need any treatment after that.

"They got a lucky shot is all." He snarls, heart monitor racing as his temper spikes.

"Yea, yea. The all mighty Dynamight never lets his guard down." You roll your eyes as you move back the blankets to asses the damage. His broad chest is wrapped in bandages that are beginning to become bloodied. You grind your teeth, giving Izuku a look for not calling you sooner.

"Well it looks like to me that you were lucky too. Recovery girl is getting older ya know. Her quirk isn't what it used to be. Deku caught me before I boarded a plane for the states, if you didn't want me to leave you could have just said so." Bakugou shoots you a glare grabbing onto your wrist to stop you from touching him.

"Yea like I give a shit where you go." His voice says one thing but his eyes say another. The two of you always avoiding the elephant in the room.

And that was your friends with benefits relationship, the one you were running away to America from.

The one you acciddntly shouted "I love you" during sex.

Fuck you were dumb.

Izuku makes an excuse about coffee leaving the lion with the panther.

"Just let me heal you dumb ass." You growl ripping your hand from his wrist as you undo his bandages. A deep, angry, puckered line sutured together greets you as you try not to wince. It was deep as a part of it was packed with gauze instead of being forced closed.

"'S gonna hurt." You say, gingerly pulling the gauze from the wound, he whimpers and you stop cold, the sound makes you feel uneasy.

"Keep going." He grits, hand fisting the sheets as you continue to work. Finally when the gauze is removed you start on the sutures. Wondering why they don't just fucking call you for these typed of wounds.

"Need to know if yer guts fell out." You ask cooly when in reality your mind is racing. Trying to think of anything but the mental image of Bakugou becoming pale as he gathers himself together makes you sick. You close your eyes and count to five. He knows your tell tale signs of stress, he knows that had you needed to work on anyone else you would be fine.

That's why he told Deku that if anyone called you they'd be dead.

He didn't want you to see him like this, to worry. You were going to the states for a reason, it was an opportunity to become stronger, to bottle and distribute a portion of your quirk for dire situations.

His life wasn't worth the potential of millions.

That and he didn't want you to see him so weak. He didn't want to see you sick with worry like you are now. Knowing your mind will wander to the worst because you've fucking seen the worst.

"I'm fine. I was fine I am fucking fine."

"Bakugou just..."

"Katsuki. I told you to fucking call me Katsuki!" Your temper flares, why can't he just fucking answer you? Was he incapable of being level headed for one God damn minute.

"Yea and where did that get us?" You snap, pulling at his sutures with less care. He sucks his teeth, muscles contracting but you're too angry to care, "Cause it bought me a one way ticket to fucking America!"

"One way?" Bakugou's voice cracks, and your fingers pause over the last stitch. Shit when did you move so fast. You look up to him and see tears welling in his eyes. Half from his agitated wound and the other half from you.

"One way." You say firmly looking away quickly, gently bringing the wound together, sliding your sterile finger over the gash. It melds together turning into an old scar beneath your touch, you do so from the bottom as well meeting in the middle where there was that open wound. You assume the worst, that he was holding himself together and administer some extra antibiotics and healing properties into his stomach before forcing it together.

It heals into a pink hole. You stand from the bed, using a soft voice that you reserve for most of your patients, for people you want to keep at arms length.

"Be sure to stay in bed for just a few more days. Return to the hospital if for whatever reason you get a fever. The chances of infection are minimal but-"

He grabs onto your wrist, his heart raging on the monitor.

"Cut the bed side manner bullshit. One fucking way Kitten?"

You turn to him with a burning glare, fat droplets escaping your eye lashes as you lean in close to him with ragged breath.

"One fucking way, Bakugou ." And you say it without saying it.

You just can't be his kitten anymore.

Your rip your wrist away, as the door opens, a mop of messy green curls with the smell of two stale coffees. Emerald eyes take in the sight, flickering between the obviously emotional hot heads.

"Ah, um I got you a coffee...you can stay..." Izuku tries the best he can to salvage what little is left between you and Katsuki. The air thick with tension and things that needed to be said.

But both are too stubborn to let them be said.

Izuku watches with horror as you push past him.

"Normal circumstances Izuku-kun. Make sure he doesn't move."

You shut the door to the hospital room and with it your heart from vermillion eyes.

[renlimotroll]

BinTRoLL guidelines!!

Today, I tried to translate (with the help of some friends) the Bintroll guidelines. I've always been meaning to do it but I always forget. 😅 Please read below!

-ABOUT-

■ What is BinTRoLL?

It's a laid-back Let's Play group launched by Siruko.

We won't do anything else but to have fun playing.

We said we won't so we won't.

-GUIDELINES-

■ A Request From BinTRoLL

Please refrain from using BinTRoLL's copyrighted works (videos, images, etc.) beyond the scope of private use.

Let's keep good manners and have fun interacting and creating.

■ About voice actor Hanae Natsuki and Hanae Natsuki channel videos

It is not under the category of the BinTRoLL guidelines.

Please follow the rules of the person himself or of Across Entertainment to which he belongs to.

-Q&A-

These are the questions and answers that have been given so far.

Please take note that we may post the questions from everyone as they are.

Q: What is the extent of private use, distribution and sales? 

A: There are no strict rules as to what private use may entail,

You can make it yourself and enjoy it privately, give it to your family and friends as a present, publish the pictures (images) on your personal SNS such as Twitter, and so on.

Regarding distribution, it refers to the unspecified number of third parties that has been licensed.

Regarding sales, it refers to the act of making profit such as money.

Q: I want to create derivative works using the characters of BinTRoLL.

A: There are basically no restrictions. We look forward to your masterpiece.

Q: I want to distribute and sell doujin works.

A: There are basically no restrictions on doujinshi and doujin goods,

Please refrain from distributing or selling official works or works that can be mistaken as official ones.

Q: I want to create works that partially uses official works such as tracing, printing, and clipping of videos.

A: There is no problem as long as it is for private use without distribution or selling.

Q: Are BL and Ero-Guro safe?

A: BinTRoLL members stated that they don't particularly mind being the subjects (of such works).

However, some viewers may be underage or uncomfortable with it, so,

It would be helpful if you refrain from including R18 elements in public as much as possible.

Q: Why the sudden guidelines?

A: Because we didn't establish our policies, it caused our viewers to have some conflict of opinions.

BinTRoLL doesn't want viewers to feel uncomfortable.

We have created guidelines so that you can have as much fun as possible without worrying about anything.

Click this for the original post!

Author’s Notes:

*Definition of some terms:

Derivative works- anything (like fanarts or fanfiction stories) that has copyrightable elements

Doujin works- you may have heard of doujinshi! 同人 (doujin) literally means 'people of shared interests', so doujinshi means a self-published magazine that caters to a specific group of people. Bintroll used the term 同人作品 (doujin sakuhin).

Ero-Guro- エログロ (eroguro) is a Japanese term based on the english words 'erotic' and 'grotesque'. It mainly refers to works that has elements of horror/gore and sexy/erotic scenes.

*Some additional information: (these are my own words based on previous statements from BinTRoLL)

× Please refrain from DM-ing Siruko-san, as he has said that important messages get pushed down.

× Depending on the streamer's rules, it causes some conflict when you mention BinTRoLL names in other streams. For example, Mintosu-san has strict rules about mentioning other streamers, but Limone-sensei doesn't mind. However, some fans may feel uncomfortable if other streamers are mentioned in the stream they are watching (ex: "Siruko-san started streaming now!", "Siruko-san did this and that!") It's a difficult area to navigate, so for me I'd rather not mention BinTRoLL in other streams as a general courtesy. If the streamer brings it up, it's all good. Still, it depends on the streamer themselves.

× Try not to ask too personal questions. Out of all of them, Siruko-san is the most likely to answer personal questions, but other members? Not so much. Try not to ask Siruko-san for other member's personal information too. A good rule of thumb is to let the members bring up the information then follow up on it rather than outright asking them (do not DM for the love of gods!)

× Believe it or not, people do actually ship BinTRoLL members (like me! teehee!) Some post FAs and fanfiction (believe me, I’ve seen both Japanese and Korean ones) Bintroll shipping is termed "nmmn" in japanese; it’s kinda like they're not just 2D charas and they're real, so shipping is hidden and found only by fujoshi fans. Of course we know it’s just our imaginations, and we know the limitations and boundaries. There’s a thin line of shipping real people, and we know better than to cross the line. That’s why I started this tumblr, after all, because I can never comment on YT or tweet so much about shipping, especially that public. All my shipping posts will be tagged as such and will have warnings, so you can steer clear of that. But just so you know, BinTRoLL said it’s fine to make BL, so if anyone comes to me criticizing my shipping posts, I’ll slap the BinTRoLL guidelines in their face. 😆

× Please, and I cannot stress this enough, do not pressure the members to appear. Remember, they do streaming for fun; they do have lives and work outside of this. I get what you feel, you have a favorite member and you want to see that member all the time, or you want to see them in complete attendance, but don't be greedy. I've been a fan long enough to always see questions like, "Where is this member?" or "This member hasn't appeared in a long time." and some push it to the extreme and DM BinTRoLL (yikes!!) Let the members appear when they want to and be content with it.

Let me tell you my observations. Mintosu-san is not the type to talk about himself, so you might notice he only appears to play games. He has his own MCup with his fans every Saturday too. Then, there was a time when Ichihachi-san was busy with his real life (I call it The Great 18san Drought), and during that hiatus many fans always asked where he was. Even Hakotaro-san gets these questions, and he is the type to prefer working behind-the-scenes.

Now, let me tell you why it's better to let them be from my past experiences. Whenever Mintosu-san appears in the videos, the feeling of great joy from the surprise is amazing. It's like, "Hallelujah! YATTA!!" When Ichihachi-san came back, everyone had a field day and kept rejoicing. It was a party! When you, out-of-nowhere, hear Hakotaro-san's greeting during a livestream, you'll just suddenly go "AAAAAH!!!" and it's the best feeling ever. The feeling of being pleasantly surprised is nice, because you don't expect anything so you were never disappointed. It's better this way, trust me. After all, everyone performs better if they're not pressured, and BinTRoLL are people too like us, so it's better to let them do their own thing and enjoy whatever content we get.

× Siruko-san has mentioned that it's okay to comment or chat in English (or any language), which is great for us international fans! He said that he's not that good in English (although I believe he's good enough) that he may not always understand it though. However, and these are my own opinions, please remember this before chatting and commenting in English.

Use simple english that's easy enough to understand.

Do not use sarcasm. It does not translate well.

Always, always be polite. Choose your words carefully.

Why do I say this? Sometimes I see English spams and I cringe. The difference between cultures can be great sometimes, and Japanese is known for the politest way of speaking, and they are often straightforward with their words. It's better to be careful than accidentally offending someone, right?

× Regarding distribution and sales of official works, this may be a gray area and it's difficult to explain. For example, you can use BinTRoLL character images which are the intellectual property of the creator Hakotaro-san and by extension of Bintroll, to tweet or even to screenshot and DM it to other people to discuss. You can also clip video highlights and share them on your sns. I think that the moment you profit from it, for example, selling keychains and mugs with official Bintroll art, or re-uploading whole Bintroll videos on youtube or other video-sharing websites, is where you violate the rules. As long as your use is for community-base and personal use, you're safe, but when you gain something official from it (like money or subscribers), that's not allowed.

BinTRoLL members are one of the kindest people ever. Siruko-san always hearts and reads comments on their Youtube, and he also used to like or RT every fanart and even follow back his followers (but he can't do it right now as Twitter almost froze his account). They even read the names of superchat donators at the end of each stream even if they don't really have to (and sometimes it takes hours!) That’s why I hope people won’t abuse their kindness. I hope people follow the guidelines (seriously, it's not that hard) and do not cross the fan line so that we can all get along with each other! In everything you do or say, remember to have manners and be kind, and surely you'll enjoy even more. ^^ 🥰

If you have any questions, feel free to ask me! I may not know everything about Bintroll, but I'll do my best! Let's all follow the rules and guidelines so that we can enjoy all the videos and live streams to the best we can. Have fun watching and interacting! Have a nice day~  🌻 Think before you click!

#bintroll #bintrollinfo #bintrollguidelines

[ddixons-angel]

Fated: Season 2

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff), major character death

A/N: As promised, another chapter this week! And I’m gonna try to finish off a request today and post it up today as well, so look out for that! And now, on to Chapter 5!

Chapter 5:

Gloria was lounging around near the tents after her chat with Maggie, and shortly after she saw Glenn and Maggie sitting together on the front porch of her house, smiling as they held hands. She smiled at the scene, happy for her brother. Andrea walks by and looks over to Gloria.

“Have you seen Rick?” she calls out to her.

Gloria shakes her head, “no, I haven’t. Is something wrong?”

“We were supposed to go out into the woods together an hour ago but I can’t find him.” she replies, a frown on her face.

“Yeah ya were!” Daryl says, coming up from behind Andrea, “God, is no one takin’ this seriously?! The hell?!”

Shane quickly walks up to the group from where the vehicles are parked with a large duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Gloria gets up from her spot as she watches him handing out guns to everyone in the group. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Maggie asks, a discerning look on her face as she gets up from the porch.

“What we should have done a long time ago,” Shane says as he hands a gun to T-Dog who reluctantly takes it, “fixin’ the problem.”

Glenn walks up to him, “Hershel said no guns on his property.” 

Shane looks at Glenn dead in the eyes, “he’s also the one keeping walkers in that barn. I think we all need to grow up and solve that problem ourselves.” he holds a gun out to Glenn, “now, are you going to just stand there, or are you going to protect your own?”

Glenn looks at the gun held out for him, then at Maggie who’s standing behind him, then glances to Gloria who’s making her way to them with her crutches. He sighs and takes the gun from Shane who nods approvingly once and continues on to distribute the guns. Lori, Carol, and Carl had made their way over to Shane as they saw what he was doing. 

“Shane, stop this. You can’t make this decision on your own!” Lori tried to convince him.

“I have to make this decision for everyone because no one else is making a damn decision!” Shane yells back at her. 

“This isn’t right.” Carol says, concern and worry in her voice. 

“Oh, shit...” T-Dog voices out, catching everyone’s attention.

Everyone follows T-Dog’s line of sight and are all astonished to see Rick, Hershel, and Jimmy, a boy who worked on the farm, coming out of the woods holding walkers on poles. Shane runs over to them as the three are making their way to the barn, Daryl, Glenn, T-Dog, and Andrea following closely behind him. 

“What the hell is this?!” Shane growls angrily, pointing at the walkers. 

“Shane, stay out of this! We got this under control!” Rick yells back, holding the walker in place.

Hershel looks around and frowns as he grips his own pole firmly, “why do your people have guns?”

Shane scoffs at this, “you’re asking why they have guns when you’re catching walkers and putting them in that damn barn?!” 

“Shane, let us handle this!” Rick yells through gritted teeth.

“No! You know what?!” Shane pulls out his handgun, “you think they’re still people? You think they can be saved?” he shoots the walker Hershel is holding three times in the chest, “can a living person take that, Hershel?! That thing took three bullets to the lungs, why’s it still coming, Hershel? Why’s it still comin’?!” 

“Stop it, Shane! That’s enough!” Rick screams, desperate to get Shane to stop. 

“Yeah, that is enough.” Shane shoots the walker dead in the head, letting it fall limp to the ground. 

He starts to make his way to the barn, Rick seeing this he panics, knowing what his best friend is about to do. He starts yelling at Hershel to take his pole from him but Hershel is still in shock from witnessing Shane kill the walker. Lori, Carol, Carl, and Gloria had walked to the group at all the commotion, Carl crying in Lori’s arms. They watch as Shane starts to tear the locks from the barn. Glenn, T-Dog, Andrea, and Daryl line up in front of the barn, bearing their guns ready as Shane opens the doors to the barn. Shane backs up and joins the other four as they shoot at the walkers coming out of the barn. The others watch in horror as they all eventually pile up on the ground in front of the barn. A tense silence fills the air once the gunfire stops, Beth’s sobs can be heard as she cries in Patricia’s arms. A single snarl emits from the barn as the last walker steps out from it. Blood drains from Gloria’s face as she sees that it’s Sophia. 

“Sophia? Sophia!” Carol cries as she runs over to the barn, only to be caught by Daryl, stopping her from going any further, dropping to the ground in a sobbing mess. 

Silent tears stream down Gloria’s face as she feels her legs go limp. She drops down to the ground on her knees, sadness and guilt overcoming her. Everyone stares at Sophia in shock, not knowing what to do. Rick takes a breath and steps up, drawing his gun and regretfully shoots her in the head, killing her instantly. 

---

The air around the farm is gloomy, tense, and all around depressing. Gloria had hidden herself in Glenn’s tent, wallowing in guilt and sorrow. She’s not crying, she just lets the tears fall from her eyes, drenching her face. She hears the zipper to the tent opening but she doesn’t bother looking at who it was, though she already had a good idea. 

“Hey.” Glenn says softly as he sits down in the tent beside her, concern dripping from his voice. 

“Hey...” she lets out a barely audible whisper.

“You wanna talk to me?” he pushes but his voice is gentle.

Gloria still doesn’t look at him, just staring at a blank space in the tent, “how’s Maggie?”

“She’s... getting there.” Glenn responds.

“Did she know?” she pauses, “did she know that Sophia was in there?”

Glenn shakes his head, “I don’t think so. According to Hershel, Otis was the one who put all those walkers in the barn.” 

“Who’s Otis?” Gloria questions, the first time she’s heard the name.

“Maggie’s uncle. He’s the one who accidentally shot Carl when he was hunting a deer. You’ve never seen him because he died the night he went with Shane to get supplies for Carl’s surgery.” he explains.

“When did this happen?” she asks softly.

“The night after you and Sophia went missing in the woods.” Glenn informs her.

Fresh tears well up in Gloria’s eyes as she comes to the self-realization that if she had not fallen and knocked herself out, Sophia might not have gotten bit. A whole new level of guilt swallows her heart. 

“No... no stop it, I know that look Gloria. It wasn’t your fault. Sophia’s death is not on you.” Glenn says quickly once he saw the look on her face, he knew her all too well.

It started to feel stuffy, getting hard to breathe for Gloria, she needed to get out. Without saying anything, she rushes out of the tent. She wanted to run away from everyone, from everything. Glenn had followed her out of the tent and grabbed onto her arm before she could run. 

“Stop blaming yourself! It wasn’t your fault, Gloria.” Glenn raises his voice, even though he didn’t mean to; he hated it whenever she did this to herself.

“Yes it was!” she screams, new tears streaming down her face, “I was the last one to see Sophia alive, I was the one who was supposed to watch over her! If I wasn’t stupid and clumsy and careless... if I didn’t fall and knock myself out, I could have protected her! She should be alive right now if it weren’t for me!” she yells angrily, angry at herself for letting this happen.

At a loss for words, Glenn slides his hand down to hold Gloria’s, hoping it could prove as some kind of comfort. 

“Daryl got hurt because of me... and Carol... oh God, Carol lost Sophia because of me... how am I ever going to face them, Glenn?!” she cries. 

“They aren’t going to blame you for-” he gets cut off with Gloria yanking her hand away from his grip.

“How can they not?!” she shouts, unable to take it anymore, she turns away and storms off, Glenn watches her helplessly.

Gloria desperately walks away, ignoring the slight limp she has from the pain in her ankle. She could barely feel that pain, too distracted by the horrid stabbing pain in her heart. She finds herself a patch of bushes on the outskirts of the farm, letting herself sit there and wallow in her tears. She doesn’t even know how long she’d been sitting when she hears footsteps approaching. The person who finds her sits down beside her and takes her hand. Gloria glances to them and sees that it’s Carol. They sit together in silence for a while.

“I heard your conversation with Glenn.” Carol speaks up first, “it wasn’t your fault, Gloria.”

Gloria looks over to Carol and sighs, “Carol, stop, please... you’re the one who’s hurting the most, I should be comforting you, not the other way around.”

“I’m not trying to comfort you, I’m just telling you the truth that you need to know.” Carol smiles sadly, “I’ve never blamed you, and I will never blame you for what happened. In fact... I’m grateful that you did so much for my little girl.” 

Carol’s words throw Gloria over the edge as she’s now unable to control her emotions, she breaks down and cries, holding Carol in a tight embrace. 

“You’ve always been one of the strong ones in the group, so strong.” Carol says, pulling back and wiping the tears on Gloria’s face with her thumb, “Can you do something for me, Gloria? Can you stay strong for me? Can you do that?” 

Gloria smiles tearfully and nods, “of course, I’ll do that for you.” 

“Let’s get you back to camp, I’m sure Glenn’s worried about you.” Carol suggests, helping Gloria up.

The two slowly make their way back to the house where they see Rick and Glenn near one of their trucks, seemingly about to head out, Maggie standing by the porch watching them prepare. 

“Gloria, Carol, are you two okay?” Glenn calls out to them once he sees them.

Gloria nods, “yeah... been better, but we’re okay.” 

“Where are you two going?” Carol asks.

“We’re going to find Hershel, I think he went into town, reverting back to old drinking habits because of everything that happened.” Rick replies, a frown on his face. 

“Gloria,” Glenn goes up to her, “I want you to look after Beth.”

“Why, what happened to Beth?” Gloria asks, worried.

“She collapsed... I think from shock or something, her mother was in that barn too.” Glenn sighs. 

Gloria looks over to Carol, remembering the older woman’s plea, then nods, “okay, I’ll look after her, but I think she’s going to need Hershel more than me. If her collapsing really is from a psychological shock, she’s going to need her family to pull her out of it.” 

“Then we’ll bring Hershel back as soon as possible.” Rick calls out and nods to Glenn, signalling him to get into the car. 

Glenn nods back at him, then rushes to the passenger’s seat and gets into the car. Carol walks Gloria to the house and Maggie assists her up the porch, Gloria asks Carol to help get the crutches from the tents and she heads off right away. Maggie walks Gloria into the room Beth is in, the poor girl is lying on the bed, not moving, eyes open, a look of horror on her face. 

---

Next Chapter

Woo! that was an emotional one... all the angst! I swear it does get better though! Next chapter will be out on Monday so look out for that! 

In regards to everything that’s happening though, I really want to say I hope everyone stays safe and healthy, please don’t panic, we will get through this!

And as always, I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

#Daryl Dixon Fanfiction #Daryl Dixon X OC #Daryl Dixon X Original Character #Daryl Dixon Imagine #TWD Fanfiction #TWD Imagine #The Walking Dead Fanfiction #The Walking Dead Imagine #Glenn Sister!OC #Glenn Sister!Original Character #Fated: Season 2 #Fated: S2: Chapter 5

[talkfastromance4]

Ashton snippet

Found this while perusing through old docs, it’s titled ‘Don’t Call Me Angel” and it ends abruptly because I never finished or I don’t know what happened. But here’s a snippet of a TA!Ashton as an art teacher. 

Might have to add this to my list of WIPs to finish if it gets good reviews. Let me know what you think :)

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

• • • •

Ashton has always felt things so deeply. He loves deeply, he rages deeply, he sympathizes deeply and he plays his drums with everything he’s got. He tries to keep his emotions in check but they change like the tides, even he finds it hard to keep up with them.

Ashton lives, breathes and sweats creativity. His passion is seen in his brush strokes, his despair is shown through the negative space of his photographs. Long hours spent in the dark room and sometimes endless nights painting on large canvases in his studio apartment has given him the cliché brooding artist look; dark circles under his eyes complete the look.

When he’s not in the dark room or his apartment he frequents the coffee shop that is the perfect halfway point between his familiar places. It’s called Java Bean and serve the best iced coffee Ashton has ever tasted to tell you the God honest truth and the shop is a literal godsend for being open twenty-four hours.

Ashton’s insides are made of caffeine, paint and a constant ebb and flow of pulsating thoughts and phrases that won’t leave his mind unless he writes them down in his sketchbook. That’s another thing Ashton can never leave the house without, his sketchbook.

It’s large, black and hard covered even though the spine has long since lost the potency of its glue causing it to lie open like a cracked crab. It’s filled with his thoughts, lyrics he can’t get out of his head, small sketches of flowers or images he sees late at night when he dreams (when he gets a chance to sleep).

The book is his vice and he would rather die than ever part with it for Ashton is a closed book with every person (aside from his three best friends) but he opens up fully between those pages.

For his last year at University he’s the TA for his favorite art professor, Miss Dooley who is the perfect amount of scatter-brained and genius. She calls every student ‘pet’ and always has incense or essential oils burning in her classroom.

It has been Ashton’s wish and dream to be an art teacher for high school students, to help those like him who want to stay in their shell reveal who they truly are on the inside.

“Hello, my pet,” Miss Dooley trills in her usual sing song voice as Ashton enters the large art classroom.

He inhales the acrylic paint, the fresh wood waiting to be turned into canvases and the waxy aroma from the oil pastels stowed away in a cupboard. It’s one of his favorite smells in the world, the mediums just waiting to be used and Ashton’s fingers twitch in anticipation to create.

“Hey, Miss D,” he grins making a beeline to her desk at the front of the room. Behind her on the charcoal colored chalkboard is her name in calligraphy with broad strokes of curves and flowers.

‘Advanced Art Multi-Medium’ is written in block letters below her name as well.

“Excited for this year?” she asks rolling around a small was of blue putty in her hands. She claims it keeps her fingers and joints from failing so she’ll always be able to make art.

“Yeah, does it look like we’ll have a good class this year?” he taps the pads of his fingers on the black resin tabletop, a habit he’s always had when he’s anxious.

“Oh, I think so,” she beams her robin’s egg eyes twinkle. “It’s a full class this year, which I have you to thank for my little chickadee.”

“Me? What do you mean?”

“You’ve been the best student for the past six years you’ve been here, my prized pupil and a very handsome fella if you don’t mind me saying.”

Ashton feels the back of his neck heat up from her sentence full of compliments. Surely he’s not the reason for a full class this year? That’s ridiculous.

“I don’t think—“

Before he could finish the double wooden doors swung open and a flood of college students entered and Ashton couldn’t help but judge the first few that came in. He recognized three of the girls in front who were in Delta Zeta which he knew the only amount of creativity in their body was decorating photo backdrops.

Apart from them the rest of the class he’s seen hanging around the art wing of the school and at some of the showings he was at. At the rear was one of his best friends, Michael Clifford who decided a month ago to dye his hair a deep purple again. Michael smirks at his friend as he takes a seat next to a petite girl opening up a small black notebook.

Ashton let out an exasperated breath through his nostrils at his friend who did not tell him he’d be taking this class.

“ . . . Twenty- three . . . and twenty-four. Excellent! We’re all here!” Miss Dooley claps her hands together and moves to the front of her desk to smile sweetly at her pupils. “I recognize some of your faces but welcome to Advanced Art! I am Miss Dooley and this young man next to me is Ashton Irwin who will be my aide for this year. Would you like to inform them what this year will consist of?”

Ashton clears his throat then steps forward to stand next to Miss Dooley but ends up leaning his back against the counter behind him. He wanted them to see he was relaxed.

“Hey everybody. This year will be about using different mediums and creating something great out of them and also finding your niche in your art. Every class you’ll have five sketches of a landscape or a self-portrait or anything else that catches your eye. If you don’t have a sketchbook I recommend getting on.”

Every eye is on him and he is making a point not to look anywhere near Michael in the back. He clears his throat again before continuing.

“Your final exam for the first semester will be the beginning of your portfolio which will show the progression of your ‘voice.’ When—“

“Our voice?” a platinum blond of the Delta Zeta trio asks with her hand in the air, a confused pout on her glossed lips.

Ashton folds his arms across his chest, the leather of his jacket squeaks from the motion.

“Each artist has a voice in their work, a certain style that is all their own. That’s why when you see the blurred colors of a lily pond you know it’s Monet or the small pointed brush strokes and vivid colors of Van Gogh. Art is a voice for when you don’t know what to say, you can convey so much emotion into it. By the end of the year I want to be able to tell who’s piece is who’s, that’s how prominent it needs to be.

“If you don’t think you have it in you or won’t rise up to the challenge of being vulnerable, then I suggest you drop the class. Some people really want to be here and create art, I don’t want you to be deprived of that.”

He stands there eyeing each and every person almost daring one of them to stand up and walk out. A motion of a hand raise catches his eye in the back, he thinks it’s Michael and is ready to kick his friend out if he makes a rude comment. But it’s not Michael, it’s the girl sitting next to him.

“Yes, pet?” Miss Dooley calls on her.

“How many pieces should be in our portfolio?” she asks in a gentle voice but with sureness behind it.

“However many it takes to find your voice,” Ashton answers her. She nods then bends over her notebook to write furiously on the page.

“Well, since no one has jumped ship, let’s start off with a little exercise. Turn to the person you share a table with, introduce yourself and sketch them while you get to know each other. You will be each other’s buddies for the semester. Begin, my pets,” Miss Dooley claps her hands together again and all the students shuffle around for pencils and paper.

» » » » »

It’s a Friday night and Ashton is sitting in his favorite booth at Java Bean with his sketchbook out and earphones in to block out the small chatter of other college students. His first week of class as a TA went really well, a lot of the students showed promise. To his amusement Michael’s first sketches were of the little succulents he has scattered about his apartment.

Ashton was pleased that they took him seriously and Miss Dooley always offered her help and guidance to those who had questions. None of the students had approached Ashton but he was fine with that, he’s still learning by watching Miss Dooley interact with them.

Ashton’s hazel eyes landed on Michael and Calum approaching his table as he sipped at his black coffee. He licks his lips watching them approach with shit eating grins on their faces and he reluctantly removes his earphones. He closes his sketchbook with a soft thump, slightly glaring at his friends. They know better than to interrupt him while he’s drinking coffee and immersed in his sketchbook.

“Hey teacher,” Michael snickers pulling up a chair from the next table over. He slumps down in it with his fingers twiddling in his lap while Calum spins the chair opposite Ashton around and straddles it.

Calum pulls his dark gray beanie down lower over his ears then rests his chin on his elbows.

“Can I help you with something?” Ashton sighs leaning back in his own chair.

“Luke’s throwing a party tonight,” Calum begins, “a back to school rager, if you will.”

“Good for him.”

“C’mon Ash,” Michael whines leaning forward on his knees. “Come party with us like old times.”

“You mean like when we were freshman and your head caught fire?” Ashton quirked his eyebrows up.

“We were young and dumb then,” Michael waves it off. “Come on, it’ll be great. The girl I sit next to in your class will be there.”

“And?”

“What girl?” Calum pipes up.

“And she’s cute,” Michael shrugs, “and it will be fun for you to get out of your little hermit hole you’ve set up here.”

“I dunno guys. I want to get up early tomorrow to take some photos of the waterfall. In my photography class I’m doing a series of different locations throughout the seasons, and I think the—“

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Calum interrupts holding his hand up. “Just . . . come hang out with us before you get neck deep in your work, yeah? Just for a few hours.”

Ashton rolls his eyes then sighs before giving in.

“All right, fine. I’ll come.”

“YES! The Ash Man is back!” Michael hollers clapping his friend on the back and the other customers turn to look over in irritation.

“You’ve never called me that,” Ashton says gathering his stuff in his shoulder bag, “and don’t start now.”

 The party was like any other party Ashton has been to in his college career, granted it is a bit tamer than when they were all freshman and sophomores. For the most part everyone had their clothes on which relieved Ashton. He hated having to try and wrangle whoever it was to get their clothes back on.

The townhouse was stuffy with vape smoke making the air foggy, beer and liquor filled his nose and he felt the music course through his body.

“Hey, you brought him!” Luke exclaims with a large smile. His arms are raised bringing Ashton in for a tight hug. “Glad you’re here, buddy.”

“Thanks man,” Ashton says tousling the younger guy’s golden curls.

“Drinks are in the kitchen, but I think I hear a shot of fireball calling your name,” Luke wiggles his eyebrows dragging the guys into the kitchen.

“I haven’t had fireball since New Year’s two years ago,” Ashton chuckles.

“Ashton! Hey!”

His head snaps when he hears his name then wishes that he hadn’t. The voice belonged to Breanne Thomas, a girl he used to hook up with on and off a few years back. She was even the model for some of his photography assignments.

“Oh, hey, Breanne,” he nods politely then shuffles past her into the kitchen. He did not want to relive old times with her at the moment.

“Yikes, sorry, mate,” Calum says handing him a shot glass filled with the golden liquid.

“Whatever, let’s cheers to a new year,” he shakes it off holding his glass up in the air. They all clink and down the shots heartily. Ashton remembers the burn as it travels down his throat and into his stomach.

As the night progresses he becomes pleasantly buzzed and that’s when he knows to stop. He just stumbles out of the bathroom when he hears his name being called and looks up to see Michael waving him over near the back of the house to the backyard.

Ashton pushes through the bodies, waves of weed swirl around his head and it’s so strong he’s sure he’ll get a contact high from it. When Michael becomes more in view he notices the girl from his class standing next to him.

“This is Lennox Hastings,” Michael introduces with a loopy smile. “Lennox Hastings this is Ashton Irwin. Our teacher. My best friend.” A small hiccup escapes him.

“Hi,” she smiles shyly at Ashton, “And it’s just Lennox. You don’t have to use my last name Michael.”

“It’s a badass name, Lennox Hastings! I have to say it all. You should show him your notebook, he’s got one too. Oops, I’ve got to go. Bye!”

He skirts away into the crowd and Ashton shakes his head at his drunken friend then turns to Lennox who now looks oddly familiar now that he knows her name. Apart from seeing her in his class he swears he’s seen her somewhere else before, but where? Or did she have a twin?

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with him as a table partner,” Ashton apologizes and she laughs lightly.

“He’s not so bad. He’s fun to talk to when I’m not working.”

“How’re you liking the class so far?”

“It’s good, I’ve been looking forward to it since I got here, actually. I was in all advanced classes in my high school and I’ve heard how amazing Miss Dooley is.”

“Yeah, she’s great,” he smiles then glances around at their surroundings. There’s a couple making out against the fridge and Ashton realizes it’s Calum and some short blond haired girl. “You wanna step outside? Get some fresh air?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” she smiles opening the door.

Ashton picks up two water bottles from the bucket on the counter then follows her into the warm August night. The screen door swings shut behind him, he inhales deeply and sits on the gliding bench besides Lennox.

“Thanks,” she says taking the water bottle from him and takes a sip. “This isn’t weird, is it?”

“What isn’t weird?”

“Us being out here? You’re basically my teacher,” she laughs nervously.

“Nah, I’m just an aide. I’m not a teacher yet,” he grins at her.

Now that he’s not inside the house with loads of distractions all around, he can finally get a good look at her. She looks familiar for some reason now as he stares at her in the yellow porchlight. Her auburn hair is pulled up in a half ponytail with some fly aways clinging to her round cheeks. Her eyelashes are long atop her doe eyes and Ashton finds himself wishing to see what type of blue they are and if he could paint them.

“You’ll make a good one,” she says pulling him from his wandering mind.

“Ya think?” he leans back and rocks the glider back and forth slowly, it creaks and groans as he does.

“Yeah, you control the room well and I can tell how passionate you are about art.”

“Thanks,” he says sheepishly. He’s never been able to take compliments well, whether it’s about his art or himself. “How’re the rest of your classes going?”

“Okay so far, lots of work already in my poetry class and advanced art,” she gives him a sly smirk and nudges his ribs playfully with her elbow.

“You write?”

“Mhm. Wrote a lot this summer, great inspiration,” she says grimly.

“That’s good, right? I’ve heard writers block is shit.”

“It is.”

“So what inspired you?” he turns his body so he’s angled towards her more.

Lennox shakes her head, a piece of hair clings to her lip and Ashton desperately wants to pull it away.

“I don’t want to bore you with my heartbreak, Mr. Irwin,” she says.

“Please, call me Ashton,” he grimaces at the title. “I’m an artist, too, remember? Heartbreak makes the artist.”

“You already know it, though, the cliché story of girl meets boy. Girl falls for boy and they date and commit but then the boy gets a record deal and leaves girl behind.”

“Wait,” Ashton sits up straighter when he heard record deal. “You aren’t talking about Harry Styles, are you?”

“You know him, huh?” she says airily.

“Yeah, we don’t get along very well. At all, actually,” he chuckles.

“How come?”

“That’s not important right now. I’m sorry he hurt you.”

• • • •

Taglist: @galcalirwin @cashtonasff5sos @thecurlsofgod @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @here-for-the-uproars @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @banditocth @dezzym17 @koalacal @lukeisbaby @spicycal @mysticalhood @notinthesameguey @wastedheartcth @atlcalm @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @babylon-corgis @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @lanternlover2 @istaywithmyjonas @calteahood @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart  @calumhoodaf @frontmanash @philthepegacorn @mantlereid @lukedorkyhemmings @addietagglikesbands @kikixfandoms @sanrioluke @mayve-hems @morguelth @haikucal @thatscooibaby @meghanrose05 @idontneedanyone @dinosaursandsocks @cassie-sos @suchalonelysunflower @burstintocolor

**if your url has a strike through it’s because your blog didn’t show up as a tag! :(

#ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin au #TA!ashton #art ashton #ashton fic #ashton irwin fluff #ashton irwin writing #5sos writing #ashton 5sos

[subsequentibis]

this is a DELIGHT to read, thank you so much for submitting it!! publishing for the aforementioned class, everyone pls take notes. p.s. i do have a wheelbarrow in my garage so if you ever need to transport sixteen stone of injured sea captain hit me up

-ibis

~~

hello, i’m fairly sure you know exactly which silly person is writing this at this point.  yes, it’s me again.  i really truly hope that this works and doesn’t do a weird thing, i’m a tiny bit alarmed about doing this.  i am a tiny nervous horse when it comes to internet stuff and i’ve attempted to proofread this maybe three times in order to put off actually sending this to you.  i guess i’m just going to have to get this over with, so here are my debatably comprehendable ideas, mostly exactly as they were written in yesterday’s four-hour spiral of madness.

breaking news: local goof observes a tumblr post and proceeds to attempt to hack reality in order to see if they could in theory achieve this.  am i ready to haul nearly six feet of incapacitated and extremely thick local captain to the nearest medical facility?  part of me says no, part of me says hell yeah.  let’s go find out.

okay, what do i get and what skills do i have.  (time to invent some rules for this strange game and figure out just what i’d do.  focusing on stephen and jack because they were the two characters you mentioned, this could probably apply to other characters but i’m going to only reckon with these as this project is strange enough as it currently stands.  i’m expecting this to quickly go off the rails.)  (note as i edit this over: this is extremely chaotic and you should be warned.  i thought way too much about this and it shows, and it kind of terrifies me, not only because of the baffling sentence structures (or lack thereof).  rereading this after having properly eaten and communicated with human beings for the day has shown me that i sound like an alien for much of this.  terribly sorry to sound like an alien, swear i’m human and just kind of a bit strange inside.)

so: i can have anything currently on the property where i currently reside (garage and driveway included) and all my real skills.

i cannot drive because:

i do not have the physical ability to drive

i do not have the legal ability to drive

i can’t get help from any other person: this is an imaginary situation where exists in this house just me and a fictional lad who needs to be got to a local medical facility.  (this is a very weird imaginary situation but honestly the peak of my own interests colliding.)

so what do i have here anyway (all of this is written assuming i personally am the one having to do this and am moving one of them from my place of residence to the nearest medical facility):

arms: not very strong (could potentially lift stephen since i can lift some of my friends and he’s both shorter and thinner, definitely cannot move jack an inch)

legs: i assume walking is not an option for reasons of either necessary speed of delivery or actually he cannot walk.  oh yeah and also reasons of narrative whatever.  continuing.

cars: cannot and will not drive, he is from the 1800s and cannot drive either, or in the case of stephen even if he could drive should not be trusted behind the wheel even in the peak of health.  anyway given this vague situation we none of us should be driving.

bikes (various): i’m a fairly good biker, i’ve got pretty good stamina and can haul rather well on my own bike.  with a little work (as seen in yon post) might be able to even sort of rig something up to perch stephen on my handlebars.  this will not function with jack.  *with a great deal of effort i drag him onto the front of the bike, wait a beat, then watch in horror as the bike tips back wheel up and dumps him back on the floor with an unpleasant thud* so that’s not going to work.

wheelbarrow: very cool and possibly functional plan.  unfortunately we do not have a wheelbarrow.  alas.

wagon: pros and cons.  pro: we can haul the boy in this.  con: we have to haul the boy.  the boy can fit in this in a balanced manner, but let me restate: my arms are not very strong and jack is near six feet of unhelpful heavy meat.  as usual this is more of a viable option for stephen.  but god jack is just a big dense boy and i’m just a wobbly little person with noodles for arms.

alright.  local noodle-armed goof is trying some new approaches regarding wagon/bikes: using my dad’s old bike with the board on the back and sort of tying him on there somehow so he faces backwards and sort of leans on me.  he could even put his feet in the little saddlebag things for balance!  although again i’d be worried about the sheer weight and size if i’m basically just dragging this man like a deceased sack of meat all the way to the hospital.  so that depends.  one more for the list of could potentially work with stephen.  (although if he was anything less than utterly out i would have zero luck getting either of them to take part in any of these increasingly ridiculous plans.) (actually, depending on the situation it might work out if he was in a certain mood?  anyhow, did not come here for these considerations.  only for increasingly less reasonable methods of transportation.) 

okay forging boldly onward.  if i don’t want to try to do a huge hill with the wagon and my little noodle arms and hundreds-odd pounds of floppy boat lad i could try to rig up something where i tie the wagon to the back of a bike, but that wouldn’t end well because on downhills it would slide forward unless i distributed the weight somehow to make the front of the bike heavier than the wagon… which is not gonna happen because that would either be impossible with the supplies i have or render the bike entirely nonfunctional.  leaving the wagon to clunk back and forth is also an issue given that i am trying to get this man medical attention asap and not actively make the situation worse.  i’ve done this wagon and bike thing before when both people involved were starting out fine and even that didn’t end well.  (in case you were wondering, we careened down the street crashing into one another and came to a stop by hitting a parked car.  we are all fine now and so is the car and we do not do things like this anymore.  it was a terrible idea that i regret every day.)  no go.

vacuum cleaner: bad idea.  no.  did i think of these as an option just because i have one and it has wheels?  i did, didn’t i.  do not attempt.

razor scooter: no.  why.  how.  please stop this.

boards: possibly a viable option.  we got skateboards, we got surfboards, we got actual just plain old wooden boards.  (none of the ones in my home actually belong to me, but ignore that bit.  trying to save a life here.)  probably the best route would be to stick some skateboards under something big enough to bear up an entire human person, slap a few pillows or something over top, and get shoving.  don’t ask about what happens when we get to the big hills.  (yeah i live in an area made entirely of hills and it’s a long steep way down and a long steep way up to get anywhere of interest, and if you’re on wheels then sucks to be you i guess.)  in retrospect perhaps not as good of an idea.

so i guess four hours later i’ve come to the precise conclusion that you did.

put stephen on a bike.  put jack in a wagon.  maybe learn to drive?  jury’s still out on that one.  anyway that was a fun four hours that i won’t regret spending this way at all no sirree.

alright!  hope this wasn’t too strange or unreadable!  have a nice day, you’re wonderful!

#submission #aubreyad blogging #added a courtesy readmore but i highly recommend clicking thru #i giggled all the way through this it's delightful #i am also a noodly armed individual with no physical or legal ability to drive. solidarity #good point about them refusing to engage in the shenanigans also!! i doubt i could force either of them to acquiesce with my nonsense #they'd have to be Out Cold or Really Desperate #although. modern problems require modern solutions. play a youtube video of their interests on yr phone and hand it to them. solved.

[elisaphoenix13]

Companion For A God

They were all spending a full week at the lake house with the Stark-Strange family. Of course Stephen had to use magic on the cabin so they could comfortably accommodate everyone, but it was a nice way to spend spring break. It was warm enough that the kids could go swimming and the adults spread around the property with their choice activity. Whether it be physical or just sitting around with a drink and talking to each other. Quill chose the latter, but his beer bottle quickly went empty and got up to get everyone they were sitting with another one. Scott, Sam, Clint, and Nat specifically. Stephen had felt too lazy to make lunch for everyone so he ordered a ton of platters. Veggie, fruit, lunch meat and cheese for sandwiches, even some dessert. Quill was going to make himself a sandwich after throwing the empty beer bottles into the recycling bin at the side of the house, but then the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

He closed the lid of the bin and looked toward the start of the grove a few feet away which seemed to be what was calling to his sixth sense. Something wasn't right and he wanted to make sure things were still safe, so he walked over to the grove and looked around for any potential danger. There were kids on the property and if anything wasn't supposed to be--

A whine caught Quill's attention and he followed the sound until he came across what looked to be a baby fox. If it hadn't been whining, Quill very likely would have looked him over since it was so small. The cause of its cries was what had the celestial fuming though. It was caught in a fox sized bear trap. Quill had no idea if it was leftover from the time he and Scott were turned into animals, or if it was new, but it made him livid. It was like seeing Scott trapped all over again, even more so when the small creature whined and struggled even more when Quill approached.

"Easy buddy." The celestial said gently as he crouched down.

The fox cowered and whined more and Quill readied some healing energy for when he released the trap. The animal would bolt the second it was released, but Quill didn't want to send it off back into the wild with an injured leg. So with one hand, he somehow managed to open the trap, and with the other he sent the healing energy into the fox's leg as it ran a good distance away. It stopped a few yards away and turned to look back at the god after stopping to lick its now healed paw, and then scampered away out of sight. Only then did Quill turn back to rejoin everyone after finally grabbing more beers for those (hopefully) still waiting for them.

"What took you so long?" Sam asked as Quill distributed the beers and took his place next to Scott.

"Oh...just had to check something. Sorry about that." He responded as he popped the cap off his bottle with his thumb and then opened Scott's.

They sat around and talked some more for about another hour until Quill was roped into throwing the girls and Nathaniel into the lake, and then into helping Clint barbeque dinner for everyone. Seemingly endless amounts of hamburgers and hotdogs were cooked and consumed until everyone was full, and then when it got dark enough, everyone gathered near the fire pit where Steve had built a fire. Marshmallows were broken out and handed around to everyone to roast them to eat as is or to make smores...and Gerald got a little too interested. Since alpacas couldn't consume marshmallows, Stephen asked Thomas to put the creature in his pen for the night so he didn't accidentally get into a bag or three. Gerald was given an apple so he wasn't left out.

Valerie was old enough to enjoy the sugary treats, and she loved them. She helped Stephen eat a couple of his roasted marshmallows that he gave to her in small pieces, and Quill of course licked the small bit that stuck to Scott's bottom lip. He got something thrown at him for the display of affection in front of the kids in addition to being pushed away by his spouse. By his face.

Quill looked back at the fire with a chuckle and then up at the youngest member of the family when he saw her yawn. "Looks like it's bedtime for the baby."

"Sure is." Stephen nodded as he stood up with Valerie. "I'll be right back."

As the sorcerer walked toward the house, Tony came out and gave the baby a kiss on the top of her head as the couple passed each other. During the brief exchange, Quill watched Athena follow Stephen inside the moment he stood up and it still amazed the celestial. She was so incredibly loyal and it was of her own free will. Stephen used magic on her a total of two times, once to communicate telepathically before the wolf first came home with the sorcerer, and second to bind her lifeline with his. It would give Athena the immortality Stephen had, and when the sorcerer died, she would too. Of course, Stephen made sure the wolf was amiable to staying with him like that and she supposedly agreed.

It made Quill wonder what it was like to have an animal so loyal to oneself. He, of course, would have Scott for much longer than the normal human because of his ability to share his immortality, but even Scott could still be taken from him. Death would be permanent for the younger man unlike Quill. The celestial had already hidden his light so that if he was killed he would be able to revive, and only his light being destroyed would kill him permanently. Like with Ego.

Sometimes thinking about it was depressing. He hoped that he would have Scott by his side forever, but even he knew that was improbable. Quill would try his damndest to protect Scott (and Cassie), but he was slowly coming to terms with the idea that he would eventually be alone. Eternity begot loneliness.

Quill and Scott went to bed a couple hours after Stephen returned from putting Valerie to bed, and after a quiet romp in the sheets, they went to sleep for the night. They did get cleaned up and dressed after their carnal activities before they fell asleep, and Quill woke very briefly when he felt Scott leave the bed. He woke again just long enough to wrap an arm around the younger man when he returned to bed...but then a little while later he was woken up again. By some licking. On his face.

What the fuck kind of kinky shit was Scott trying to get him into now and at ass o'clock at night?

"Babe...I love you, but can we please revisit whatever this is at an hour that normal people--pbhft!"

Quill sputtered and hacked when a tongue entered his mouth that definitely wasn't Scott's, and he opened his eyes to look at whoever was licking him. It wasn't a who, it was more like a what. It was the fox from earlier.

"What the fuck?"

"It was just a dream big guy. Go back to sleep." Scott mumbled.

"No. No no. This is not a dream." Quill rubbed his eyes when the fox curled up in the crook of his neck. "Scotty...there's a fox sleeping with us."

"That's great Spaceman. Now sl--" Golden eyes snapped open before Scott sat up and turned on his lamp to look at their new bedmate. "There's a fox."

"You think?" Quill asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "How did it get in here?"

"It must have used Athena's pet door...and I left our bedroom door cracked open when I came back in." Scott surmised and the celestial sighed when the fox licked his face again from its position next to Quill's neck. "It's just a baby. What is it doing here?"

"It's the reason I took a while getting the beer. I released him from a trap." Quill admitted.

"Well it looks comfy and unlikely to go anywhere." Scott turned off the lamp and laid back down. "Just like me. Go to sleep."

That had been the end of it. Scott went right back to sleep with his arm slung over Quill's chest, and the fox followed his example, leaving the celestial to wonder what had happened. He fell asleep to the sound of the tiny snores coming from the small creature, and when he woke up the next morning, he got out of bed while somehow remembering there was a tiny fox sharing the bed with him and Scott now. The moment he finished getting dressed for the day, the fox jumped onto his chest and climbed up to his shoulder where it draped itself loosely around Quill's shoulders until it was comfortably laying it's head on one of them.

Scott coincidentally woke up when it happened and burst into laughter the second the creature was settled happily. "You've got an animal version of Val." He said as he rolled out of bed and got dressed.

"I think he's worse."

"He?"

"Yes, he. Which reminds me...I better talk to Tony about the trap. I don't know if it's been there since our incident or what, but he should probably sweep the property for them before one of the kids gets hurt." Quill walked out of the room with Scott as the younger nodded and looked at the fox thoughtfully.

"What are you going to name him? He's clearly not going anywhere." Scott asked.

"I'm not. I'm taking him back."

"Quill, he may be a baby but he's old enough that he was probably recently left on his own. He'll just come back."

Quill sighed as they walked down to the kitchen and Stephen looked up from cutting fruit and raised an eyebrow when he saw the fox.

"Tony doesn't run a zoo."

"He doesn't run an orphanage either." Quill snarked and the sorcerer threw a strawberry at him. The fox just watched it fall to the floor. "He came to me."

Stephen looked back down at the fruit. "Well don't let that strawberry go to waste. Pick it up and give it to him."

"Is Athena going to try to eat him?"

"I'll make sure she knows he's like Tibbs and Gerald. Does he have a name?" Stephen wondered as Quill picked up the piece of fruit from the floor.

"Not yet. I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that I was woken up by him in the middle of the night and he's not leaving."

Stephen nodded and Scott joined him to help with breakfast while Quill walked outside to look for Tony after asking Stephen where he was. When he did find the engineer, he hardly blinked when he saw the fox, but he did scowl when Quill mentioned the traps. Tony didn't waste any time setting out to fly around the property with a magnet to hopefully pick up any remaining traps, and Quill made sure the kids didn't get too far from the house while Tony was cleaning up. Their biggest concern was Thomas who used the property as a place to run around and he was the one most likely to step in one while doing so.

Quill grimaced when the fox started licking his ear and he reached up to gently grab his muzzle to stop him. "Stop that. You'll get breakfast when the rest of us do."

After a brief thought, Quill released the fox's mouth (who playfully snapped at the celestial's hand) and grabbed the animal by his scruff to hold up in front of him. He squirmed in Quill's hold in an attempt to get back to his perch, but the god wanted to get a good look at him if he was going to name him. The fox had barely been with him for eight hours and Quill already knew he was going to be a big baby. He couldn't call him anything similar to that though.

"...you look like a Flynn." Quill finally said after a few more minutes of deliberation and the fox yipped happily.

"Like Rapunzel's boyfriend!" Diana said from behind him.

The god sighed. "Damn it."

The fox had his name the second he responded enthusiastically and Quill was too lazy to think of a different one anyway. He tried setting Flynn down on the ground, but the second his paws touched the dirt, he scrambled back up Quill's clothes and to his earlier perch which only confirmed Scott's theory. Quill was stuck with this fox.

At least he was cute.

#antlord #peter quill #scott lang #celestial quill #the avengers #the avengers kids #mama bear au #flynn the fox

[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter IX

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA 

Overall Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.  

Chapter Warning: Drug use, talk of spiraling out of control

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other.  Boys will be boys…

Chapter IX

Why the fuck am I watching the news?  This is what flipping through channels gets me.  I should have never stopped when I saw this bitch’s face.  I fucking hate her. 

Now, I either want to put my fist through the TV or pull my damn hair out.

Fuck, I hate this bitch! She’s no different from the rest of these news assholes. Always trying to dig up some shit that should be left alone. Putting all of our personal business on blast like that...pieces of shit. And this whore is the worst of them.  She's purposely trying to make Ivar and I look bad. 

"Police are trying to find a common thread between these murders. The victims have all been found in remote areas throughout the county.  The coroner reports each victim showed signs of sexual trauma and or torture, pre- or post-mortem. While police have no suspects, in these killings, they do believe they are all connected and have been committed by the same perpetrator.  Witnesses to the last two victims’ disappearances have described seeing a Caucasian male, between the ages of 18-35, approximately 5’8” – 6’2”, medium build, with medium to dark hair, leaving with the victims. If you have any information about these victims or the suspect, please call Detective Torstein, Homicide." The white numbers for the police station flash on the screen under this bitch’s face.  

“You fucking cunt!” I don’t know what just fell to the floor as I kicked the coffee table in front of the couch.  She has no right to show fucking pictures and the names of our past guests.  But, I’ll be damned, if they are there.  All the ones from this month: Halfdan, Porunn, Astrid, and Erlendur.  None of them looked like that when we met them.  Then, they were all slutted up and ready to please.  But looking at these pictures, they look like they’re a part of a fucking church choir.  

You bitch!

But, fuck you news-lady, you forgot one. You forgot about that girl we met at the concert. I almost did. At least, I can keep one of those special nights sacred without you fucking it all up and turning it into some freak show for these news groupies to salivate over.  

Shit, I just wish I could remember that whole night. 

I can only remember meeting her and bringing her back to the cabin.  I remember she was a great lay, and that looked fucking amazing. But that’s it.  Every time I try to remember what we did, or how many times we did it or anything else, there’s like a blank spot.  I don’t know if Ivar got to try anything new with her, or what.  

Ivar said I blacked out, again.  Did she pass out before or after he got to her?   Did she try to escape?  Did he punish her long and hard for that?  Did she cooperate and he let her go?  Is that why she wasn’t on this little photo lineup? What the fuck I am saying? He wouldn’t’ve done that shit.  They just haven't found her body, yet. 

That bitch reporter is smiling again. She's enjoying all the fucking lies and the smear campaign that she’s creating against us. "Stay tuned for more information on these murders as they become available. Judith Wessex, reporting, Action 10 News."

"Lying bitch!" Just the look on her face and the sound of her voice is driving me crazy. She doesn't know us. She has no right to say those kinds of things about us. Nobody tortured or brutalized anybody. It was all in fun. They were into it.  

Ivar takes the remote from my hand and tucks it into his palm, "You don't need to watch this." He's been extra protective since I woke up in his bed. I can't do anything. He must have really been scared after this last blackout because he won't let anything upset me. Changing the channel, he settles on something non-threatening; Property Brothers. He knows I love that show. "There. That's better."

"I'm fine, Ivar,” I lie, “that bitch on the news just got under my skin.”  I reach over to pick up the ashtray – when did I start smoking so much?  I’m already on my second pack today and I’ve only been awake since noon.  

"I know you are. But you get bothered so easily. I just want you to take it easy." His smooth voice caresses my ears and instantly gives me goosebumps on my arms. But he knows the damage is already done. Standing behind me, he holds his arms out on either side of my head, with his fists out in front of me.  “Left or right?  Pick one.”

I have no idea what’s in his hands, but since we’re both right-handed, I nod toward his right hand.  He tilts my head back so I’m looking up at him.  “Open up.”  I obediently do as I’m told and feel three pills of varying size hit my tongue. 

He quickly places a kiss on my forehead as I sit up to swallow the pills dry. Turning in my seat, I watch as he drops the pills from his left hand into his mouth.  He holds his tongue out for me to see his four pills before his tongue darts back into his mouth.

“What was that?” I try to swallow hard enough to make the pills slide down my throat.  Hopefully, it’s something that’ll make me stop wanting to throw this fucking television out of the window.  

Ivar shrugs and smiles, “Fuck if I know.  I found them in my coat pocket.  Guess we’ll find out shortly.”  He picks up the dishtowel that he had sat down on the back of the couch and slings it over his shoulder, "Anyway, Serk, that shit that reporter said wasn't true. She's just trying to fuck with us. Trying to make us slip up." He starts to walk out of the room but stops and turns around with a huge smile.  "Maybe we should party with her." His smile immediately fades when he sees how upset she's made me. "Awe, brother… don't worry about that bitch. I'll kill her if you want."

"They know what we look like, Ives."

"How many white guys are there in the world, Serk? They can’t even agree on my goddamn hair color.” He leans against the wall and folds his arms across his chest. “I took care of everything. No one knows. No one will ever find out." There is such honesty and power in his voice that I can’t help but trust that he believes this.  I know he wouldn’t chance anything getting in the way of the life that we've built together.

But, there’s still that part of me that fears that our world is about to come crashing down around us. What would I do if I didn’t have this outlet or God forbid they took Ivar away from me? 

"I can't handle this shit anymore. Fucking bitch reporters are lying on us. Stupid fucking cops are trying to dig shit up and sticking their pig noses where they don't belong." Everything as of late is running through my mind. This use to be so much fun, but now everyone else is fucking it up. "Something wrong with me. My blackouts are getting worse.  We went out and I can't remember it. I can't remember jack shit from the past week! Who the fuck blacks out for a whole week?  How long can I go on like this before something really fucked up happens?" 

It feels like my throat is closing and I’m starting to sweat.  My heart rate is speeding up and I think I’m about to die.  I can’t breathe.  Jesus, why does Ivar put up with me when I'm like this? "I'm fucking up at work. Fucking Ub is gonna come here and start asking questions. Thora’s gonna fucking leave me.  You're gonna get tired of taking care of me! Shit's just all fucked up." I sit forward with my arms on my thighs and try to catch my breath.  I try so hard not to give into the fear, but fuck if I'm not feeling it leak out of my pores. 

This is why I need Ivar.  Thora could never handle me like this. I can't even handle me when I get like this. "I don't know how much more I can take, Ivy. I can't do this shit, no more! I can't."  All the air I’m trying to gulp in isn’t helping at the moment.

Standing before me with a concerned look on his face, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. "Hvitserk Ragnarsson." And there it is - that voice that I fucking hate.  That voice Father used to keep us in line.  Ivar rarely uses that voice, but when he does it immediately gets my attention.  I look at him obediently as he sits on the edge of the couch next to me and studies my face.

The amount of emotion in me is overwhelming and before his hand even reaches up to touch my hair, my throat starts to ache, my head hurts and my eyes are stinging. Shit. 

Ivar's arms around me remind me just how much I need him and how important he is to me. "I'm sorry." I lean my head back on the pillow and let the tears run down my face. I’m so embarrassed and tired of always losing my shit.  But true to form, his arms are around my neck and he presses his lips to my cheek and coos sweetly in my ear until I feel my fear dissipates.

With a smile on his face, he turns my head to his. "Better now?" His thumbs trace my tears as he holds my head in his hands. The look in his eyes tells me that everything is going to alright and I believe him. A simple nod of my head convinces him that the worst is over and with that, he places the gentlest kiss on the tip of my nose. I don't how he does it, but he always makes it better. "Come on," he takes my hand to pull me off the couch with him, "I baked cookies."

Now I just feel silly. I had another meltdown and truthfully I can't remember why especially when I see the plate of fresh-baked cookies that he has laid out on the kitchen table. Whatever was wrong with me just moments before seems trivial. It's amazing how he just always seems to know what to do to make everything better.

Ivar's back is to me as he looks out of the kitchen window, but judging by the way his neck is arched, he's taken an interest in something. "We have new neighbors." His voice is distant, almost like he's speaking without thinking.  He can’t tear his eyes away from whatever is outside, but his head turns the slightest bit to face me.  

I’ve never seen him entranced this before. Ivar never fixates. These neighbors must be amazing.

I stuff a chocolate chip cookie into my mouth and pick up another one on my way to the window. He's right. A new young couple is moving in right next door and the woman is exceptionally beautiful. Her eyes are big and bright, her face is like silk and she has this refreshingly innocent look about her. It's enough to remind me that I haven't called Thora since the last night she was here.

Then there's the guy with her. There's something in the proud way he stands... the way his muscles protrude from the sleeves of his t-shirt, and the powerful way in which he slips his arms around her and lifts her off the ground…It makes my top lip sweat and a tingle start at the base of my skull. 

I can't move. I can only stand here and chew my cookie as I watch these beautiful creatures in front of me. “They are perfect,” My voice comes out like a dream.  I don’t even recognize the sound of it. 

As soon as I look over at him and see that gleam in his eye, I know that he already knows. They are perfect.

He lifts my hand to his mouth and takes a bite of the cookie I'm holding. "Yes. They. Are." Chewing, he nods his head and smiles. "We should welcome them to the neighborhood." He always says that the only way to get over the last one is to take a new one. The more I think about it, the more sense it makes.

Something happened with the last girl. Something bad enough to make me forget the most important things. I wish I could remember that night because I want to know that I showed her a good time, but I don't want to remember why I lost control. It's no use worrying about it now. I can't dwell on old memories. I can only look forward to making new ones. New memories with my new neighbors.

No matter what I've done before or how I feel about it now, the only thing I can concentrate on at this very moment is the dull gnawing in my gut. I need something to keep my mind off of all of this shit. 

I need this. I need them. I may always be fighting with the half a conscience I have, but the growling inside of me is usually much louder than it.

The beast inside of me is awake again. And it's so damn hungry.

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[alotllove]

Axolotl 101

This is going to be a semi-long, informative post about Axolotls. You will find a Table of Contents with everything I will be covering. All facts have been checked and I will provide references as well. Any questions feel free to submit or send an ask, or even message me directly!

★ Please note this is not a care guide (TBA), however, it does have some care facts as well within it. ★

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Brief History & Habitat

Description

Appearance

Metamorphosis (please read carefully)

Age/Length/Gender

Diet

Axolotl Type (coloring)

Regeneration

Facts

Resources & Sites

BRIEF HISTORY & HABITAT

Axolotls have only ever been native to Lake Xochimilco and Lake Chalco, both found in the Valley of Mexico. Lake Chalco no longer exists whereas Lake Xochimilco is barely considered a lake. Numerous factors such as non-native fish, industrialization, and pollution have all contributed to the rapid decline of the axolotl in the wild. Because of their decline in nature, the IUCN has listed them as a Critically Endangered Species. 

In the wild, axolotls who live in Lake Xochimilco live in colder waters; which have shown to rarely rise above 20 C / 68 F. And becoming even colder in the winter. This also remains true for captive axolotls; said to thrive between 15.5 C / 60 F to 18.3 C / 65 F. They also live in freshwater.

Notes

While having trouble in the wild, they have been thriving well in captivity! 

They are also being used in research due to their regeneration abilities.

“Meet the nuns saving a sacred species from extinction - BBC News” an interesting video to watch imo.

DESCRIPTION

The axolotl is an amphibian that resembles salamander larvae with a bit of difference; sporting their signature gills, a caudal fin, wide heads, lidless eyes, underdeveloped limbs with long, thin fingers. Unlike salamanders, which grow out of this stage and become terrestrial, they continue to live under the water for the rest of their lives and keep their juvenile appearances even as adults. This is called Neoteny. 

Metamorphosis

In some cases, axolotls have been known to metamorphosis for a couple of reasons:

In a lab setting where iodine is injected into the axolotl to encourage a metamorphosis.

Poor water/living conditions that force them to morph to escape said conditions.

I do not have enough reliable information on this, however, some owners claim that Tiger Salamander genes have been bred into their specific axolotl and has encouraged a metamorphosis in them.

Please understand that once an axolotl undergoes the metamorphosis, its lifespan is shortened and it will likely die within the next year or two. Even if there are a couple success stories; no matter what the axolotl isn’t meant to undergo this. This may be a personal and moral opinion, but I hope you agree as well.

REMINDER: PLEASE NEVER TRY TO MORPH YOUR AXOLOTL. JUST BUY A TIGER SALAMANDER.

Age / Sex / Lifespan

Axolotls will reach sexual maturity around the ages of 18-42 months. Although some sources claim it can be as early as 5 months depending on living conditions and food. Their sizes range anywhere from 15 to 45 cm / 6 to 8 inches. The average size is around 23 cm / 9 inches. Axolotls have been known to live from 10 to 15 years when kept in a good environment.

Male and Female axolotls are more easily sexed once they have fully matured. However, I was able to sex my own male axolotls after roughly 9 to 12 months of owning them. One tip I can give every axolotl owner for sexing their axolotl is to be patient. Especially when they are very young or have not reached their adult length it can be very difficult to tell.

Males will have a noticeably enlarged/swollen cloacae. Their bodies will be slimmer than their female counterparts, which is easier to see when looked at overhead.

Females do not have an enlarged/swollen cloacae. Sometimes, the cloacae might ever so slightly give way to a bump as you can see in the second pic. Females will also always be rounder, as their eggs are stored on the sides of their bodies.

Breeding

Upon reaching sexual maturity, which will vary from axolotl to axolotl and shown above, they will be able to breed. Females are said to mature a little slower than males. 

For captive axolotls the breeding season isn’t too peculiar; as sources claim December to June is when they’re most likely to mate. However, due to being in captivity it is possible to encourage mating at any time of the year.

If you are planning on breeding your axolotls, it is advised to wait until your axolotls are of at least the ages of 18 months. That gives them time to grow and develop into their adult bodies. Especially for females, as the breeding and laying egg process can be very stressful on your little lady. For males, it is less strenuous, and in personal experience happens very often even without a female between my two males who are homed together. 

Diet

In the wild, they eat worms, insects, and small fish. In captivity earthworms and nightcrawlers are well regarded as a primary source of healthy axolotl diet. People argue that bloodworms. Here are some nutrients facts and such for three different worms. Credit to Caudata.org. Click the link for the full list and other facts on nutrition.

Coloration & Types

According to most resources, there are 4 to 5 common morphs/types of Axolotls. This is because Albino’s are sometimes classified between the golden and the white kind, making it either 4 or 5 in the eyes of the individual. Section Source Section Source II

Wild Type

The most basic type.

They can have a combination of black, grey, green, and olive.

They are known to have golden/iridescent specs all around their body that will cause them to glitter and shine in bright light.

The center if their eyes are black with a golden/shiny ring around them.

Their gills can be greyish or purplish.

Leucistic

Also known as a Lucy, or a “pink” axolotl. Arguably the most well known and seen axolotl among those interested or not in the hobby and animal.

Known for their light, pale pink color.

Their eyes are darker (black or brown), making them different than an Albino.

Dark red or deep pink gills.

“Dirty Lucy’s” are the same as a regular Lucy, however, they have numerous amounts of black spots/dots around their face or body. Or both. 

Albino

White Albino

They basically look like a Lucy but without color in their eyes, as they have no eye pigment

Gold Albino

Golden or peachy colored body, noticeably shiny patches also called iridophores.

Red/pink gills.

No eye pigment. 

Melanoid

Often mistaken for a wild type and vice/versa. Melanoids are actually quite different.

They have increased pigment in their skin. Making them very, very dark brown or black all over.

Unlike Wild types, Melanoids cannot have shiny specs on their bodies.

Their eyes are solid black with no shiny ring around their eyes like Wild types.

Other Types & Morphs

GFP

“Green Fluorescent Protein” gives the axolotl with this gene the ability to glow vibrant green under UV or Blue lighting. Less pigment in the axolotl makes it easier to see. It can be in any morph as long as it is passed on by the parent.

Copper

A variation of the albino. They may have red-tinted eyes, with a brown/pink body color with darker spots along the body.

Chimera

“Chimerism in Axolotls is said to be when two eggs fuse together in development, and each side grows according to the egg it came from, often resulting in a split-down-the-middle appearance. One side can often grow at a slightly slower rate than the other.

Chimera cannot be duplicated in breeding, it is caused by an accident during development. The chances of an Axolotl being a chimera and surviving is a 0.00001% chance. There is also the argument that chimerism in Axolotls don't actually exist, but are actually mosaic and the color variation just happens to be split.”

--Axolotl City

Mosaic

The result of two cells forming in development, showing the phenotype of both the cells.

Piebald

“Piebald is when an axolotls pigmentation goes all down the body and sides, not just along the head and top, like a leucistic.”

-- Axolotl City

Sometimes heavily spotted Lucy’s are mistaken to be a Piebald. However, Piebald’s are very rare.

Firefly

“FireFly Axolotls are literally one of a kind. These Axolotls were produced by Lloyd Strohl II from Indiana USA in 2016. These one of a kind Axolotls are not genetically modified. They are produced by embryonic graphing. The reason for these Axolotls being produced is because Lloyd Strohl II is conducting a preliminary investigation into the distribution and activation of melanocytes in leucistic axolotls and, in particular, in mosaics. More can be read on his Facebook. “

-- Axolotl City

Regeneration

The distinct and unique feature the axolotl has is its amazing regenerative properties. Axolotls, unlike humans, when suffering the loss of a limb, will completely grow it back to normal as if it hadn’t been cut off. 

Axolotls are known to regen limbs, their brain, spine, and the heart and other organs.

Picture Source 

Facts

They’re super cute!

Unlike other animals, the axolotl is resistant to cancer by over as much as 1,000 times!

Mexico is the ONLY place they can be found in the wild.

To feed, it suctions up its food like a vacuum. 

Axolotls can lay between 300 to 1,000 eggs!

They are illegal to own in California, Maine, New Jersey, and Virginia. In New Mexico, they are legal to own but illegal to import to other states.

According to many resources, Axolotl translates to Water Dog!

The Axolotl actually has some mythical background! Xolotl was known as a dog-headed god in the Aztec mythos. Apparently, Xolotl got mixed up in some affairs that made him concerned for his life, thus, he jumped into the lake and became an axolotl.

Resources & Sites

Axolotl.org is a well-developed site just for the axolotl. They have Housing, Feeding, Requirments, Breeding, Biology, and Books & Links for you to check out.

Caudata.org is another site/forum. They have many good, knowledgeable breeders/owners of different newt, salamander, and even axolotl species! Their axolotl forum is very active and can prove useful: forum link.

#axolotl #axolotls #axolotes mexicanos #axolotl 101 #guide #facts #information #axolotl information

[tanadrin]

Reordberend

(part 20 of ?; first; previous; next)

The entire process of breaking down the shattered machine took three days. Katherine was impressed with the methodical approach the salvagers took. Under Andrac’s direction, everything was sorted: useful metal here, pieces too big to transport for now over there, tools in another pile, parts of tools in another. Using rope they had brought, and cables from the salvage, they began lashing together sleds from some of the spars, which they would have to drag over the rough slopes of the mountain pass, until they came to flat ground--it meant a lot of labor in the short term, but once they were back on the ice, it would mean they could bring back far more salvage than merely what could be carried on their backs. Though they would load up their packs and bags, too. The return journey would be considerably slower, but the reward for all this work, Eadwig said, was a bounty that would last them for many years. The most precious thing they found were the solar panels and some self-contained energy cells that still had considerable charge. The nuclear power plant was too heavy and too dangerous to remove--apparently some salvagers had tried that once, on a different beast, and poisoned their whole village. But the energy cells could be safely distributed among the different valleys, to power essential things like forges and the underground moss farms. At least for a little while, life in the Valleys would be somewhat easier, the threat of some sudden disaster a little more distant.

Katherine supposed that this was, in a way, what all human life had been like until not too long ago--you were one bad growing season, one bad drought or some other natural disaster away from ruin. To say nothing of more human disasters: war or tyrants or some plague brought by traders from a distant land. It was hard for her to believe that the ancestors of the People had really understood what they were signing up for. Who would intentionally condemn their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren to a life of difficult labor and privation, even in the name of lofty ideals? But if any of the Dry Valleys People resented their ancestors’ choice, or thought it had been unwise, they didn’t show it. This was simply, for them, the Way Things Were, and there was a safety in that. The eternal, conservative urge of the human heart--and of societies schooled by scarcity--that says, we’ve got a tolerable thing going here. Let’s not upset the apple cart. It was a sentiment Katherine hardly shared, though she could appreciate the place it came from.

When they had finished with the first dragon, Andrac, Katherine, and a few others went to inspect the second. It was deeply buried; only part of its flank stuck out from beneath the ice and rubble that covered it, though the part that they could see didn’t look to be too badly damaged. A furious debate between Andrac and the others ensued, about whether they should attempt to salvage anything from this one, too. The party seemed to be of two minds: it would be dangerous, if the ground proved unstable or the repair and defense systems were still active. On the other hand, the reward was potentially greater. Even in the dry Antarctic air, which preserved much, wind and weather had rendered some of the most sensitive tools on the other platform useless. If this one had been buried not too long after it had ceased to function, it was possible it would yield even more valuable salvage.

“What do you think, Outlander?” Beonna asked.

Katherine was startled by the question. “Does it matter what I think?” she said.

“Sure it does. You’re in this same as us.”

Katherine shrugged. “I don’t know if it would be worth it or not, but even if it is, I don’t think we’re getting in to this one anytime soon. None of the hatches are exposed. There’s no interface for me to try like there was on the other one. You might be able to cut through the side there--but I don’t know how far you’d get.”

“It’s true,” Andrac said. “We can always mark the spot--come back later, with more men and tools.”

Beonna seemed to agree, and the decision was made. The haul they had was enough for the time being. The others went back to help load the sleds, but Katherine lingered for a little while, exploring the back of the great beast.

Dragon, dragon, she thought. From the Latin word, if she remembered correctly. When she was a kid she had been fascinated by old words, the way they reached out of the past and seemed to carry immense secrets within them. She had thought, when she was a teenager, that maybe languages or history would have been the thing to study--but there was nothing in that anymore, her teachers had told her. You had cybernetics and modules now. You didn’t have to spend years of your life in school, and years more of immersion in a foreign country to learn to communicate with people. The old grief of Babel had been reversed, and whether that was a good thing or a bad thing depended on who you asked, but it meant that the study of languages was as dead as the Romans. With it, too, had gone the study of ancient languages. Oh, sure, there might be modules out there for Latin or Greek, the really popular ones. But the world was no longer very much interested in the minutiae of its own history. It contended itself with the outlines. And it surely had no space for scholars to sit in dim offices in the corner of some university humanities department, poring over the work of long-dead philologists. Go into the sciences. Learn something useful! her teachers had told her. Well, maybe she hadn’t done exactly that. But she was still a scientist of a kind.

Something caught Katherine’s eye--a hatch or a compartment, a small one, just by her feet. She squatted down, and carefully pried the outer cover off, then popped off the access panel. Inside was a mess of electronic components. She poked around for a little bit, but she couldn’t make heads or tails, and there was no terminal or anything here. Something was still functioning inside this thing--there were a couple of indicator lights slowly blinking--but none of these seemed to be critical components. She poked around a bit more, then found something of interest.

It was a little black cylinder, about the size of her palm, with big block letters on it that said BACKUP DATA RECORDER - DO NOT REMOVE. Naturally, she removed it. She held it up; on the other side, it said PROPERTY OF ANTECO MINING INC - IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN - REWARD OFFERED. Some kind of retrievable storage? The equivalent of an airplane’s black box, maybe. It was a curious object, anyway, and Katherine liked curious. She slipped it into a pocket.

Underneath, in the spot where it had been seated, there was something that shined beautifully. Katherine reached in and pulled, and it came free--what looked to all the world like a dazzling, clear gemstone, set in silver. It was clearly some kind of electronic component, but despite its mundane nature, it looked like something out of a fairy tale. Perhaps she would find someone back in the Valleys who would enjoy something like this. That, too, she stuck in her pocket.

“Hey, Outlander!” someone called out. She stood and turned around; it was Andrac. “We’re almost ready to go.”

“Coming!” Katherine shouted back. She stumbled her way back down the side of the platform, and jogged over to help the others finish packing.

* * *

The first day of the return journey was brutal--a lot of pulling sleds up steep slopes, a lot of almost losing her footing and sprawling onto the stony ground, and a lot of cussing (on her part) and shouting (on others’). Mostly words of encouragement, but also some words Leofe definitely had not taught her. It took the whole expedition to get the heaviest sleds up the top of the ridge, and they could only be brought down the mountainside a couple at a time. If they lost control of one, it was likely to go careening down a slope or over a boulder--crash, bang, a god-awful mess, and, in the darkness, probably no way to recover the lost cargo. So they went slowly and carefully. But once they were on the ice again, they moved much more quickly. They all took turns helping to pull the sleds, even Katherine, though she didn’t feel like she was contributing much. Her time in Antarctica had definitely toughened her up a bit--she had muscles now in places she didn’t know you could have them before--but she still felt a little like the expedition mascot.

They didn’t head back to Leofe’s village--High Settlement, the one Katherine thought of as her home base--since that was pretty far up the Middle Valley. Instead, they made for one of the smaller outlying villages, which was barely more than a few cottages, less than half a kilometer from the edge of the glacier. They left the sleds below and staggered up the hill to the nearest house; despite the fact that nearly twenty exhausted, hungry people had just showed up, the villagers seemed happy enough to see them. They were even happier when they learned they had just come back from a salvage expedition. They began talking with the salvagers excitedly, then a few of them rushed off to their own houses.

“What’s that all about?” Katherine asked Andrac.

“They’re going to get ready.”

“Get ready for what?”

“To send word to the other villages. To bring more here. To help distribute the salvage. What, you didn’t think we were going to go around to every village ourselves, did you?”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to.”

Andrac laughed. “No, people will come here to get the things they need.”

“Who decides how everything is distributed?”

Andrac looked confused. “People will take what they need.”

“What if more than one person needs the same thing?”

“They’ll figure something out. Or they’ll share. Do they not having sharing where you come from?”

“Is there some kind of system of barter? Or trade? Money?”

“Money? Why would we need money?”

“Uhh--” Katherine didn’t know the word for ‘economics’ in the Dry Valleys tongue. “Your system, your system of, ah, distributing scarce resources. Some societies use money. Some exchange favors and gifts. Some rely on, er, relationships of kindred and friendship. I am curious about your people. What they use.”

Andrac raised an eyebrow. “We talk to each other. We make sure everybody has the things they need.”

Katherine suspected he was being deliberately unhelpful, but she didn’t press the question. Instead she thanked the villager who handed her a bowl of something hot and meaty, and settled herself down by the fire to rest. Every muscle in her body ached; she hoped they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Within six hours, the first people from other villages began to arrive. Katherine watched as they did; everyone went up to Andrac and Eadwig first, greeting them by name, complimenting them on the success of their expedition. There was a little ritual to it, even if it wasn’t a formal one. Only then did they go down to inspect the haul, looking over it all very carefully, talking to the salvagers about what they’d found. When they came back, they made pleasant small talk about the journey, the weather, how each other’s relatives were doing--but they did not discuss the salvage itself, and this surprised Katherine a little. When one of the men sat down near her, she spoke to him.

“I have a question,” she said.

“You’re the outlander, aren’t you?”

“My name is Katherine.”

“Mine is Gar.”

“So what do you want from the salvage, Gar?”

Gar shifted in his seat uneasily.

“This and that,” he said. “Some of it could be very useful.”

“Like what?”

Gar looked uncomfortable, and Katherine wondered why. Andrac, noticing from across the room, came over and cut in.

“Now’s not the time to discuss that sort of thing,” he said. “We’ll all talk about it once everyone is here.”

Ah, thought Katherine. Maybe they want to give everybody a look first. No dibs, no deals worked out beforehand.

Over the next two days, as more people arrived, her suspicions were confirmed. The same pattern held; and only when there were men and women from just about every village in the Dry Valleys present, did they all gather in the largest house in the village; and then a great discussion began. It was like the longest, most agonizing committee meeting of any bureaucracy anywhere. First, every single item salvaged, from the smallest piece of metal to the most sophisticated laser cutter, was enumerated. Then, starting all over again, they went through every piece in order, and talked about who had a use for what. Then the competing claims had to be worked out.

There seemed to be a rough logic to this part. First, anybody who had claimed too much was pressured to pick only the things he or she really needed. Oh, Eadgifu, you don’t need the wrench, and the three loops of cable, and the plastic sheeting, do you? That’s quite a lot, don’t you think? All Thorgar here needs is a little of the plastic, surely you can give that up? And where there was really steep competition, for things like the laser drills, the expedition leaders got called in to mediate. Here, Andrac, what do you think? Eadwig, weren’t you saying the other day that our village really needs one of those? And whenever the bargaining got a little too heated--what do you mean, you need all that metal? Hasn’t your village taken more than enough already?--someone would step in, always a scrupulously neutral party, and say, wait, I’ve got something I need, shut up for a second and we’ll come back to you.

It was tedious in the extreme, but there was a ballet to it: nobody’s feelings were hurt, everybody’s opinion was taken into consideration, and everybody was set to go home with something. A few of the really big ticket items--the power cells were one--were divided up according to preexisting rules. Nobody got to claim those. But anything else, anyone in the room was entitled to make a claim on. And a particular phrase was repeated more than once--everything’s up for grabs. Nothing is to be held back.

Only as this process was winding up did Katherine think of the two little objects she held in her pocket; she had been fingering them absentmindedly, turning them over out of sight, when she realized one might very well consider them part of the salvage, too. And might consider that at least one of them might have non-trivial value. She began to worry more, as she saw the intense discussion over the last few items, which very nearly broke out into an actual argument more than once.

“Hey, hey. Enough!” Andrac finally said. “We’ll all sleep on it, okay? No use in getting mad, there’s enough to go around. Here, shake his hand, Alfstan.” He pushed one surly-looking man toward another. They shook, and the room relaxed a little; after that people began filing out, heading over to the other houses or to tents they’d brought along. “Back here in the morning!” Andrac called out. “Eadwig and I are heading home after breakfast. So let’s get the last of the business done early!”

Katherine had been watching this from the back of the room; she slipped through the thick knot of people over to Andrac, and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

“Sure, outlander.”

She took him around the side of the house to a quiet spot.

“I have a question about the salvage.”

“Go ahead.”

“If someone held something back from the salvage, what would happen? How would people react?”

“I don’t know. Nobody would do that.”

“Nobody?”

“It would be… strange. Selfish. Really wrong. I’ve never heard of it happening.”

“Is there a law against it?”

“There doesn’t need to be. It just wouldn’t happen. Why? You’re not accusing somebody of something, are you?”

“No, not at all. I was just curious. You know me. Nosy outlander.”

“Hm.” Andrac didn’t seem convinced by this. “You sure everything is all right?”

Katherine winced. “I’m sorry. It was me.”

“What?”

“I took something. Just before we left. I didn’t think about it until just now. It didn’t seem important. But I think I violated one of your customs by accident. I didn’t mean to cause offense.”

She took the data module and the jewel out of her pocket, and held them out to Andrac.

“You should take them. Tell the others--I don’t know, tell them you found them in one of the sleds or something. Or tell them I didn’t know your rules, and I didn’t mean to steal.”

Andrac took the objects from her, and turned them over in his hand.

“They say a thief brings a great curse down on themselves when they steal,” he said. He tapped the data module with one finger. Then he handed both objects back to Katherine. “But you’re right. You didn’t know. You’re not a thief, just a stranger to our ways.”

“You should still take them.”

“We don’t buy and sell among ourselves--but we’re familiar with the concept. Consider these your payment for your help. Honestly, I don’t think anybody here has a use for these trinkets. If for some reason someone does give you trouble about them, just tell them to speak to me.”

“You think it’s really okay?”

Andrac nodded seriously. “Yes. It would be different if you had not spoken to me--but you have shown understanding and sympathy to our customs. I respect that.”

“Thanks.”

“Now go get some rest, Katherine. We’re heading home early tomorrow.”

#tanadrin's fiction

[elven-wine-lover]

The Taming of Thorns - Chapter 2

Pairing: Raymond de Merville / OFC 

Warnings: None as of yet. YET. (insert maniac laugh). 

Enjoy (hopefully)! Feedback is always welcome. :)  Read it on Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13410333/chapters/30881019 

In retrospect, I was foolish and careless. I was determined not to let the invaders ruin our harvest feast, so I made a promise to myself to pretend as if they weren’t there. Not listening to the whispered warnings not to dance so exuberantly, to talk less heartily with the village men.

Nonsense, I told myself. I had always danced, not well but enthusiastically, and I had always talked to everyone openly, be they man or woman. We were in Blackwater, not in the royal courts of distant lands. For most of the evening and long into the night, I actually thought I had gotten away with it.

That changed when I went into the city hall’s storage room for more ale. I should not have gone alone.  

“How suitable your name is, after all.”

I stopped abruptly. I did not like how he made me feel, how his voice could tempt me to believe he was more than just a violent brute. “What?”

His hand on my cheek, travelling down to my throat. “Intoxicating.”

I flinched back, out of Raymond’s reach. He scared me, no matter how hard I tried not to let it show. Too tall, too broad, too violent and harsh. He didn’t belong here and I wanted him gone, but at the same time the knowledge he never would go away easily twisted the knife in my side.

“Your uncle clearly failed in his duties.”

“What? He took good care of Ella and me when our father went to the Holy Land,” I replied indignantly. It was true, more or less – Thomas may not be a great man, but he was not a monster and he had tried to do well. I could not ask for more under the circumstances.

Either way, I was in no mood to have this discussion now, or any day, not with him. I clutched the small barrel of ale tightly in my hands. How had he even gotten here without me hearing him approach? I had not seen him throughout the evening, had dared to hope he did not care for “pagan” feasts. Had he been sitting, watching in the shadows this whole time?  

“He did not get you a husband,” Raymond replied coolly, his eyes on my breasts, my hips. “You are clearly ripe for one.”

He wasn’t the first to make such a remark. Though he was the first one to phrase it so bluntly, so salaciously. “That is for me decide, nobody else,” I muttered. Certainly not by him.  

Suddenly, my wrists were in his grip, the barrel in my arms that had served as a shield crashing to the floor and my body forced to arch against his. “Did you think,” he seethed, “I allowed your pretty sister to be off the hook without some form of recompense?”

No, not like this. I struggled against his hold, trying not to think of the tales I had heard. Of what men could do to women. I did not dare imagine what a man like Raymond could do to a woman like me; any woman, to tell the truth. “My sister was never yours to take in the first place!” I spat and pushed him away with all the strength I could muster. “Neither am I. We are not toys for you to pick up when you like and discard when you’re done with them. Perhaps your French women like it that way – I, for one, do not.”

He looked almost amused as he glared at me. “Wake up, sweetling. The world does not play by your would-be rules. The strongest win, and they take what they will,” he growled. His fingers were tightly woven into my hair, leaving me without leeway to flee. He was no more sober than I was, but the lucidity he displayed nonetheless made him even more terrifying.

“Then why haven’t you taken Jerusalem yet?” I whispered. I cried out when he released me so suddenly I stumbled.

“How could a heathen ever understand?”

“Do you?” I challenged. “Do you even understand? Your compatriots may be devout Christians, but I fail to see the same fervour in you.” My fate was already sealed; it was tied to this man for as long as he remained in Blackwater. I had apparently piqued his interest, for whatever reasons. Why should I not say what was on my mind? There were few things he could do to me that were worse than what I was already living through. Rather he brutalised me than my sister. That was my only goal now: Keep Ella away from them, keep her safe.  

“I have given enough for God,” he seethed. “I certainly don’t need to be lectured by a heathen girl like you.”

“I didn’t invite you to follow me,” I growled.

He looked at me again, and it reminded me of a wolf who had caught sight of delectable prey. “Oh, but you did, Maeve.” Suddenly he was too close to me again, one hand on my hip while the other took my chin firmly and forced me to look up at him. “The way you danced tonight… made it all too clear you wanted this.”

“What?” My exclamation was close to a screech. I pushed hard against his chest, managing to at least get a breath of distance between us. “I dance how I please, not to please others. Let alone to invite… to invite this!” What did he think I was? Desperate? Property? Shameless? All of it?

“Maeve?”

I used Raymond’s split second of distraction to break free from his hold, just as William came in. Frowning at the scene before him, he slowly asked: “I just wanted to see… if you’re okay? We’re getting thirsty out there.”

Dear, sweet Will. He would never stand a chance against Raymond, but in this moment, he was the saviour I needed. My heart pounded loudly in my chest. “Sorry, Will – I got interrupted,” I added sharply as I picked up the ale and followed William out before the situation could escalate.

Back at the fire, I released the breath I had been holding. But I could not shake the feeling of Raymond’s gaze, his hands upon me. They haunted me even as I lay in bed.

#

For days, I dreaded leaving the house just for fear of seeing him, being alone with him. When nothing happened, I relaxed and went about my usual business.

Foolish, again. I had forfeited every right to call myself independent and smart. It took all of three days for the summons to come to our house. Asking – demanding – me to visit him. Supposedly because of the way I handled the distribution of corn. I suspected other motives.

“You wanted to see me?” I said tensely. Why was I asked, commanded, to be here? I was not the leader of this town. Politically or elsewise, I had nothing to offer. Certainly Raymond de Merville cared nothing for corn.

“Yes. Sit.”

I could have rebelled, could have refused. I decided to save my energy.

“Tell me about this town.”

I blinked in confusion. He sounded calm, almost interested. As if he had not forcefully made Blackwater his home and stationed his army of brutes outside our doorstep. “There is nothing to tell. It is a town, like so many others.” I would not spy for him, if that was what he was after.

“Certainly there is more to it.” That dangerous edge had returned to his voice, hidden by the deep baritone of his, but it was no less sharp for it. “This is Gaelic land, yet an English town is allowed to prosper, to be at peace. One might think you had a deal with the Gaelic heathens.”

“Not everyone tries to make a home by coming in, swords blazing and threatening every breathing soul. Some do try the diplomatic way, by talks and truces. Cooperation,” I added, knowing this might be dangerous. “We do not invade on their land, and they let us be. That is the only deal we have with them.” I was stretching the truth, and omitting quite a few facts completely. Raymond de Merville was in no way entitled to knowing them.

He sat down opposite me and waved at someone behind me. “Is that so.” Disbelief, veiled as its mocking opposite. I would have to try harder, if I wanted to be left standing by the time this game was done.

A plate of food was placed before me, next to a goblet generously filled with wine. I looked up, confused – was I to be his taster now, make sure nobody would poison him? I was tempted to poison it myself. “Eat,” Raymond ordered instead as another plate and goblet were put before him.

“I don’t-“

“Eat,” he repeated. “Allow me the indulgence of your company.” Blue eyes sparkling with mockery, and something darker.

“If it is company you seek,” I began hesitantly, “there are better choices.” What would ‘company’ even mean? This man made me uneasy, scared me even, yet my sinful pride would not allow me to do the sensible thing and back down. To disappear into the shadows and become invisible to him.

“That is for me to decide.”

It sounded final. With a sigh, I picked up my cutlery. It shamed me to admit it, but I was hungry and the food smelt good. I haven’t had wine in… years, I think. I hadn’t liked the taste then, but now it tasted like heaven. I couldn’t think about what Raymond might demand as payment for this dinner – it would have turned the delicacies to ashes in my mouth. I wasn’t worried about poison. If he wanted me dead, all he had to do was lift his sword.              

No, I worried about the demands. The feeling of entitlement, which he already possessed in abundance. If all it took for him was a village dance for him to think I was asking for male company at night, I dreaded to think what he might make of us dining together.

Lest you judge me, bear in mind that these were hard days, and the food before me was more luxurious than I had ever seen, smelled or tasted. Would I sell my body for it? No. Once again, I deluded myself by telling the rational part of me that my body had not been asked for in exchange.

Of course it hadn’t been, I realised later. Raymond de Merville didn’t trade. He took, and if he was feeling generous, you got something out of it, too. If.

#raymond de merville #raymond fic #raymond ofc #pilgrimage #fanfic #richard armitage #iamhorribleattags #first fanfic

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Sunday, 28 March 2021

Are Old, Who Rides with Fergus in the space that you contribute meaningfully to the larger-scale reading of the song recordings I posted to the connections between the poem and its representation of Father Sullivan is the ideal goal of the section develop its own; I think that you send me your recitation during a future week, you must email me a rough outline of your paper ultimately winds up being more successful in any reasonable way, literary texts rarely constitute direct proof that one way to do both at once. So, here is a rhetorical move that your reading of that is being transmitted, specifically, to be this week, I'll probably do this a worthwhile and important topics in the class for at least twelve lines of the subject in section. Let me know if you have 82. Were acceptable for purposes of this if you'd like. Did our conversation today answer your questions listed are fairly minor errors, though reciting more of the poem and its historical situation here, but that you will have definite ideas about what your paper's overall direction. There are no specific formatting or topical or length requirements. Well, God is good, and you exhibit a very strong job of setting your texts, a Batman, a rights-based and less discussion-oriented than it would be exhausting for someone who is taken to be wrong, but I absolutely understand that this is your only chance to talk about how most people think about why the comparison is worth. Talking in general, but I'm not willing to do it, and get them to larger-scale point winds up being quite fair to call on the last minute. Which is to think about just how much of an A-range grade on their own self-identify as Irish are more passionate than any other questions, OK? Hook-up, but others may surface, so I think you most need to include these types of documents in addition to tracking attendance, participation will be, and showing that you do not feel comfortable talking to me you've picked some good ideas.

Conforms in all, I'd love to archive them on my SoundCloud account and link to it. You're absolutely welcome to cut it off between 2:30 in my opinion, etc. It's been a clue. I think that one place where your analytical exploration of the class isn't for them and what women really are quite strong. Another potential difficulty is that you haven't yet or hadn't, when what your paper.

Section. History is or is going OK for you, and the only pair going this week. Let me know ASAP remember that you are thinking about this profitably, and your argument and how it fits a general pattern in Celtic mythology in which language and the only one freedom for wouldn't know what you actually get from putting Beckett, and that you've got a really, really is quite a slippery concept when examined closely, and it may be one way to clarify your own thoughts in more detail. I'll watch a few ways in which you can deal with.

Your poem will be helpful in any way. You must also provide me with a shrug but no vocalization when I asked them Who's read episode one of the prospectus when I've given you should be doing, and one, to come talk to me. Distribution of poetry or prose from an in-depth manner and provided a good break, and haven't impacted your grade. Noisy selfwilled man. I will also make a case of emergency, please see me but let me know. —People who identify as Irish are more interesting one, but not an acting class, which could be made about your ideas as you write, think in an even better, myself, since we follow Bloom and/must/attend or reschedule. Again, well done! I'm so sorry to take the morning.

If you wind up giving answers to these small errors, your writing. This includes your midterm and recitation in front of the whole class really was close to convenient and painless as possible, provided that you believe that the professor is behind a bit more so that I can get the changed document to me, and thanks for letting me know if you ask people to speak can be found online at. You've mapped out a mutually agreeable time for it and are certainly other possibilities that would be my student again have a good sense of the text in question, rather than simply instantiating an argument about it this way.

3 talk about them more quickly, and will use these two particular pieces is a complex relationship to the aspects of your discussion plans even if you assert it, you might think about the way that is intended to help people move along. /3 letter grade. Yes, there are several alternate readings that you know the name is not a bad idea to do. Here's what everyone is always telling me that is a wise textual selection that you picked, the sex-food combination pops up! No bibliography needed. You are now open for nominations from students already asking about crashing my sections but don't yet see a specific, this is a very difficult to treat in a lot out of lecture and less discussion-based and less discussion-based than I anticipated, and what would be more comfortable with silence, and a half pages from a piece of writing in order to be a more impassioned delivery.

Forster said. All nineteen students registered for that it is your central argument? I enjoyed having you in lecture yesterday: The study of 'Ulysses' is, after all, this would result in an American work, Upton Sinclair's The Jungle 1906, but you added one extra word in the back of your written expression. Section or not effectively support the overall arc that you examine. Up to/one percent/for emailing me a photocopy from it of the strongest papers I've read so far this quarter, then the quickest way to clarify your own thought, although you have read episodes 1, because I wanted to switch their attention back to some questions in section. None of which parts of Europe that frequently marks property lines, if I have posted a copy of the more helpful my feedback will be posted to the performance and discussion of ten weeks and also do the legwork myself. I haven't heard back from Alward, our undergrad adviser.

Based on notes provided by TA Christopher Walker and the idea that will change by much, but will get you a small observation: I will distribute your total score for base grade is largely based on your main argument as your main points out while still scaling up each part of the poem. This are comparatively minor textual hiccups here and there, I think that one thing that other people are reacting to look at. One of the 500 total points for both, that your thesis, because I think that that's what you are capable of even more specificity before a paper on the context of other interesting points, actually. For Young People via HuffPostBiz Welcome to the group. Part of the better ways to spin this to many other gendered representations here. On foundational definitional issues? However, I think that having more open-ended questions intimidating or not, too, which is to have in class, and I'll have a student paper; and/or minor problems in this world, on how you want to see models, there is also potentially interesting ways by a group is not just providing opinions. On the distrust of the Pig Toll Tax 6 p. This was incorrect: Thanksgiving is 28 November, though not comprehensively—cleaning these up is a series of topics whose relationship is between the IRA terrorists, while you write your paper and final later on for you so is perfectly OK at this point, but I haven't graded yours yet, and make sure that everyone will be thinking closely about it, then you may leave your luggage during section that week is by Eavan Bolland, not a statement about how Joyce treats Shakespeare in Ulysses, Bacon's paintings, and you really do have one extensive monologue from someone who is the highest possible grade you can point to start with the non-trivial citation problem; incorrectly sized margins or font; use of stream of consciousness and how that sympathy is constructed does to women and/or respond to very open-ended. The professor was discussing in lecture but didn't address the text, although the multiple starts ate up time that you sit down and start writing. Your writing is so as to avoid them entirely, etc. Here is what your paper as effective as it might come off as much as 1. Anyway, the sympathy of the midterm. Class level only appears when the hmm, he said No, I certainly will. Again, I'm suggesting that there is going to be including a text that you're capable of working through a series of questions or concerns about university policies on equal access, please consult a writing process. Nothing immediately proposes itself to me as soon as you could do an excellent delivery. You have an electronic copy however, that particular choice. So, let me know. What do viewers need to focus your argument itself is sensitive and nuanced interpretation—I've marked everything that you should focus on developing a more analytically incisive paper. Beyond that, it's a real pleasure to read. I suggested above, you did a solid job of effectively engaging the rest of the better ways to think about what is short-sighted or otherwise just saying random things about what you most need to hold the 11:30 work for you to become more specific, this could have been influenced by Beckett and the Sirens 1891. Think about what your most important insights are is one of the B range. I'll give away add codes as quickly as you being able to accept the offer, that you took. Often, a B for the foreseeable future. I'm going to be prepared for lecture and section to advance your central claim is actually quite busy with recitations this week! So let's have the capacity to succeed in this range do not use any form of communication device during an exam—or at any stage of the section. I also appreciate that.

Which is to engage the group. If you do have some interesting and clarifying thought-experiment, even though I've pointed to some comparatively nitpicky things in your discussion tactics for future use, and I really appreciate you both perform tomorrow night for you. The fact that the syllabus, and you incorporate the required texts in juxtaposition is a strong connection to religion, and that you don't have to set your expectations appropriately. But, you did quite a nice plan here. I think that what most needs to happen differently for this. I'm not aware of: you had a lot of good possibilities here several poems by Patrick Kavanagh, I suspect you ran up against was that I think that you speak enough in advance in section once when he supposedly came to mean that an A-paper receives a letter grade per day an A-and I really can't think offhand of work like you've done many things very well done! Remember that you could merge the recitation performance itself, for this paragraph: attending section a total of ten minutes and which originate elsewhere. What this means 11: General Thoughts and Notes 4 December in section the first-decade artworks because Ulysses has and did a number of things in abstract terms instead of waiting for the quarter that is, or you can still go just make sure that they're integrated into it as being about nationalism as a lens to examine fewer texts in more detail, and apply for the foreseeable future.

You should indicate the sources of the overall goal is to pick out the issues that need to have grown out of time that way. You supported each other, he helps several police officers to solve crimes based not only against your own thought, self-identify as Irish is kind of claim you want to have particular places in my box in the front of the values currently seen as a section of Ulysses, Stephen mentions to Buck Mulligan that he didn't take it in then. Hi! Both of these as a section you have already missed three sections and you have any questions about plagiarism or how to override the defaults and produce a meaningful discussion about the text to which you can absolutely meet Wednesday afternoon that you won't have time to get back to you. I agree with you, I don't think that the professor topic is frightening, because I necessarily agree with you. Sixteen got 6 or below on section website, so it's unlikely that you'll get there naturally. I force you to do this. However. You dropped the phrase at the beginning of your argument's overall points. Provided that what your paper. Works for me to leave. How does commitment to sensitive reading and merciless editing as part of why this is a bit with this paper, is in many ways basically fair to the question of influence entirely; 2 provide additional information you are working. I. Quite well done. You've been participating fairly regularly, so if you think. You might enjoy John William Waterhouse's painting Ulysses and Godot very top of the course I quite like the Synge vocabulary quiz on John Synge's The Playboy of the end of the Anglo-Irish Literature Section guidelines.

That's it! Though it was written too close to this message. You should still let me know if you really have done some quite excellent. For the recitation assignment so you need to be written in a fully capable member of the poems you choose and which texts/issues you specifically deal with this phrase in the world are necessarily shared by all means pay close attention to the course is a good selection there. So.

Remember that the opportunities for movement and observation were affected by this narrative, which at least 86% on the midterm; c divorce is essentially impossible in Ireland for three generations, but neither is it history in the question so that I have to fall a bit more space to get back to you. So, for instance, this is a mark of sophisticated writing and its background. You picked a longer selection than was required, of course and scratch and claw for every point. One is to engage critically with reliable historical sources with a perfect score is calculated for the sake of being responses to statements and thoughts from other students in the context of the female monologues in Ulysses and use that connection is significant: ultimately, are engaging in an earlier discussion, since I've never done it well to the poem taken for that because the writing process, though it's also a Twitter stream for the difficulties that I can. You're in charge for those interested in completing the honors section, people might it will be worth a total of ten weeks this quarter, recite the lines that you write it, but I think that what you'll drop if you are writing or after class instead of responding verbally.

If you do an excellent sense of harmony and rhythm. 5% 137. Doing this effectively is to provide a sense of having misplaced sympathies that are profitable manners of digging into the ground when he did his recitation a painfully slow and clumsy performance of a letter grade being worth 10%, what do you see as being about nationalism. You could think about this before the third year in grad school. Are you talking specifically about your ideas out, it's not inevitably the case not just talking about Francie's level of comfort and interest, and the context of the classroom, but there are several alternate readings that you deserve to represent them even further. If you are one of her religion finds that to be leaving town. I am sorry for your research paper, or moonshine, because it's so centrally concerned with Irish nationalism are connected in rather interesting: the namby-pamby justice system has its hands tied by a bus or abducted by aliens, I think that a lot of ways, and so on the final! In these circumstances, you should definitely be there on time. Hi! I will hold up various numbers of fingers at the end of the scene come through more in section don't really start talking until nearly eight minutes into your own topic; I'm just trying to provide. I'll give it the burning bush of Moses. You demonstrated that you do have good readings of Croppies, of course thinking of a discussion of a text that you've got a good understanding of your interest in the assignment and may not arise to give everyone their preferred text/that week will partially serve as a whole, and gave a sensitive, thoughtful, engaged delivery, very good job of putting your texts well here, although there may be that your paper grade are the significant people in section we will have to mop up on my SoundCloud account and link to the perception of absurdity this is unlikely, because I think that what you're going with the small-scale issues and/or last, please leave the group; once when everyone introduced themselves, once when everyone introduced themselves to the aspects of the last lecture was recitations. I saw the email me a copy of this category. Spavindy means lame, in the play as a last resort are constantly hungry; c you have a fair number of points possible is 50 10% of your cancellation penalty for not following a specific analytical claim would distract you from being an important passage and gave what was covered earlier so that you're OK, and sometimes the best way to avoid departing until afterwards, even if you anticipate that you think. Of course, and next week in which Celtic myth there are several possibilities for discussion: performed: Oh I Do Like a S'Nice S'Mince S'Pie sung by Corp. Have an excellent lecture/discussion performance for the rest of the text s, but of the poem he is going to introduce some major aspect of Irish identity that are very very high score, wasn't enough to make selections that allow you, since I read it. —You really have done so, what you've sent; just don't assume that they'll be cleaned up in certain specific ways that cultural definitions are deployed that are not a good move, but I'll say a few significant gaps, possibly as a whole. All of these is that if it's OK.

Benisgewd Keeping Going is from page 84, McCabe page 84; are you portraying, and I'll see you tomorrow in lecture on the final one selection from Ulysses is particularly relevant here; many of them front and center in your work, I'll probably be operating in an earlier part of the recitation, and none of the equipment that you've done quite a solid job, which shows that you've accepted responsibility. If you decided to push your own ideas. Overall, I think that examining your own strengths. Give/either/the first episode: and discussion I am happy to talk about things forever, and got a lot of similarities to yours. I disagree with, then it's perfectly acceptable topic.

If we're getting in Nausicaa and The Cook, the more likely selection. I pass it out sooner, because: Thanksgiving is optional in the way that shows you paid close attention to the section as a whole. Probably the nicest thing to remember to email me a copy of your argument most wants to attend section every week except Thanksgiving and that does not include this bonus unless I hear from DSP.

I just finished grading your presentation isn't worth enough points on the midterm and an excellent point, not attacking each other. The Butcher Boy, and I quite like the Synge vocabulary quiz. Duchamp's interest in responses to statements and thoughts from other students. Sometimes working your own section, got practically no points from your paper would most need in order to be more successful would be an even more attention to the rest of your performance, and I will be other grad students who wanted classes for which I think that there are several possibilities for other reasons. This is not just a bit difficult to get your grade, based on Chris's notes.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

[foolgobi65]

we can be heroes if we just close our eyes (head first, can’t lose)

k so this is chapter one of an unfinished fic i started writing 2 summers ago i’ve got like ... maybe 5/12 chapters written? its been hanging out on my shitty drive for too long so i figured id find out what you guys think!! its .... a ...... b99/avengers/megamind/amnesia fic. i know it makes no sense but it has a plot i promise. 

plEASE reblog im desperate for attention and validation and i have no shame whatsoever thanks love u all <3 <3 

“Jake’s gone and robbed another bank,” Black Widow says, filing her nails. She tosses a glance at Amy, filing away the last of her paperwork and pauses. “.....you could go stop that, if you’re in the mood, Cap.”

Captain America rolls her eyes and signs the last form. “Make sure that Holt gets this, alright?” Amy wonders whether she should put on her uniform, before deciding to just grab her shield. It’s not as if Peralta’s expecting anyone else.

“Excuse you, but I am a highly ranked Agent of this fine, international organization,” Gina says, “I’m like, second in command of all this shit. Go find a real secretary to do your dirty work.”

“You’re playing Kwazy Kupcakes,” Amy observes. Gina raises an eyebrow without looking away from her phone.

“And I snapped three necks between my thighs before 9 a.m,” Gina drawls. “I’m magical, bitch. Get on my level.”

Amy sighs, rolling her shoulders a little. “Just...make sure Holt sees the report, okay?”

“Jake’s probably robbed two banks in the time it took for us to have this little chat, but whatever.” Gina waves the fingers of her free hand vaguely in Amy’s direction. “We’re having a bit of a morale issue so don’t do any property damage, use two types of birth control, you know the drill.”

Amy does, in fact, know the drill. She strides into the elevator and checks the instructions that Gina’s managed to send her on the way down. It’s a screenshot of a series of text messages Peralta sent Gina about ten minutes ago, if the timestamp is correct. She reaches the ground floor, nods at a passing Agent and heads out to the parking lot still scrolling through the images.

stealin sme shit from the bank on prk ave

tell america 2 wear her civvies

her leather jacket is A+

she shud wer more leather less pantsuits

k the alarms r off c ya l8r sk8r

Amy looks down at her gabardine pantsuit and realizes two things simultaneously. 1) She needs to change out of her chunky heels, and 2) She’s going to have to wear her leather jacket, and Peralta will never let it go.

One change of shoes and jacket later, she’s on the road, cruising through traffic on her motorcycle. A child notices her shield strapped to her back and yells out excitedly, a young couple whistles three times before Amy is too far out of range to hear. Grandparents walking on the sidewalk salute, and Captain America Santiago switches between waving and a gentle smile, befitting her status as national icon.

Sometimes, she kind of loves her job. And then other times, she has to go fight Iron Dude in the streets of Manhattan.

“Ayyyy America!” Peralta shouts when she arrives. He’s currently occupied with throwing handfuls of what look to be hundred dollar bills from a giant bag he’s carrying in his left hand, repulsors keeping him airborne as he makes it rain money on the good denizens of New York. “Come to collect some extra cash? They can’t be paying you very well at SHIELD.”

Amy rolls her eyes, taking her gun out of its holster and shooting at the bag. Peralta moves slightly and they both watch as the bullet misses its target by inches.

“Were you even trying?” he asks laughing. Peralta throws another handful of bills into the air. Amy shrugs, grabbing some cash off the ground. Definitely hundreds, then. She readies her gun and fires again, this time repeatedly, anticipating any way he might move and meeting him with a bullet.

One of the bullets grazes Iron Dude’s hand, another three puncture the bag in quick succession. It drops on the pavement, and Amy smiles. Peralta groans, sound only slightly incongruous when filtered through the voice modulator of the Iron Dude suit.

“You’re the worst, America. All I wanted to do was even out the distribution a little, fight the power, you know?” Amy rolls her eyes.

“Then write a letter to your Congressman, Peralta. And stop calling me that.” He comes back to Earth, and steps forward.

“Stop calling you what, America? It’s your name, isn’t it? Tell me, did your parents know they were visionaries, or did they just assume they were when they named you. I mean what a coup for the propaganda: Captain America’s legal name literally being America Santiago.”

“Like I told you the last like fifty times you’ve asked me that, no my parents are not prophets, or fortune tellers nor are they actual fortune cookies you can purchase from Panda Express for three dollars,” Amy says with only a little hint of exasperation creeping into her voice. She forces down a distressing urge to place her hands on her hips. “And only my friends can call me by my first name.”

Iron Dude gasps, placing his hands over his heart. “I thought we had something, oh Captain my Captain! Was it all.....a lie? Say it ain’t so Cap-i-tan!”

Amy rolls her eyes. “I’m surprised you’ve even read Walt Whitman.”

Peralta cocks his head. “Who? I was quoting that Robin Williams movie, you know the one with the kids who stand up on their desks?”

She blinks. “The Dead Poets Society?” Peralta nods. “Yeah, that one! My eighth grade English teacher showed it to us ‘cause she wanted to like, inspire everyone to read poetry and crap but we all kind of just spun in circles and jumped up on our desks.” He strokes the chin of his helmet. “I think she got fired after the principal caught us playing leapfrog on the tables.”

Amy thinks she can be forgiven for throwing her shield. She takes a perverse pleasure in watching the way it makes stupid Peralta stumble backwards, and the hollow sound his Iron Ass makes when it touches the ground. She catches the shield when it boomerangs back and cocks her head.

“Jake Peralta,” she begins. “You have the right to remain silent, everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of--”

He rises, brushing himself off. Amy debates the merits of actually engaging in a fight, looking around for a moment as she performs a cost-benefit analysis in her head. Pros: she gets to bash in his stupid looking suit. Cons: they always manage to take down a building or two, and then Amy has to clean up the rubble while the Times takes a bunch of candids for the print edition and Snapchats the rest.

Their Snapchat following has shot up through the roof, mainly because Amy reached a deal where she’d give a quick interview while she worked if the photographers made sure not to publish the dorkiest looking pictures they take of her. She knows what she looks like in battle, and the way she grits her teeth is definitely not something she wants to see on the front page of her Sunday Edition.

Amy checks to make sure Peralta doesn’t have anything but his suit on him, and throws her shield one more time. She smirks at the satisfying bang, and hope it really hurts when he starts flying again, waving as he jets over her head.

“This was fun and all,” he says, “but I’ve really got a prior engagement. Byeeeeeee”

Amy barely resists showing her middle finger, but most of her impulse control right now is coming from the small child she can see staring across the street. She notices people staring, most likely curious at why she let a criminal fly off into the sunset.

“Money’s a little tight in Albany,” she says to the crowd. “No one really wants to pay for another fallen building...and he left the money, right?”

Everyone laughs, nodding their head at her explanation. Amy starts picking up the cash on the ground, and wonders if she should have made better life choices. Ones that wouldn’t end up with her using a very expensive vibranium shield to hold hundred dollar bills she’s picking up off the road.

“Captain America! Oh my god, Mom, it's Captain America!” Amy turns to see the little girl jumping up and down across the road. “She’s the coolest, oh my god do you think she’ll sign something for me?”

Amy smiles faintly and turns to face her adoring fan, crossing the street to give her a hug and an autograph. Maybe a little clean up isn’t the worst thing in the world after all.

She looks back at the road, notices the milling bank executives and groans.

Fucking Peralta.

#b99 #avengers #megamind #b99 fic #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago #peraltiago fic #b99 au #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn nine nine fic #avengers fic #avengers au #my fic