dry barrels

An Image of Summer Training

The rain cascades against my window, bellowing, “Stay in bed.” My eyes are only half open, like my drooping blinds. The promise of hilly autumn races is stronger than the promise of my sheets, though. I cast them aside and stumble to my trusty, twenty-dollar coffee pot. Four cups of water, four heaping scoops of coffee grounds. As the caffeine brews, I sit cross-legged on the carpet, watching the rain streak across the panes and eating handfuls of dry oats from the barrel (too lazy to actually cook the oatmeal this morning). After the coffee awakens my blood, I pull a sports bra and spandex out of the dryer, lace up my trainers, toss my hair into the messiest of ponytails, and depart for another morning of marvelous, mirthful miles. 

Roswell, NM (Sashea) - Stella

A/N: So this is going to be my final fic on AQ. I’ll still continue to post on ao3, so if you want to find my future stuff there I’ll be posting under artificialstella. What’s more fitting than my last fic being a lesbian au? Two friends on a road trip take a stop at the most infamous UFO hotspots in America. Shea wants to be happy, but there’s something weighing heavy on her mind.

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Submission - GoT Promptio AU

by @totentanz

Not sure if I am submitting this right, but I really liked that Game of Thrones AU snippet you wrote for Promptio week, and wrote you a fanfic of your fanfic, so to speak. Hope you like!

Prompto missed wine. The barrels of dry red and sweet white that had been provided as part of his dowry were drunk months ago, and the khalasra spent the time since then traversing the interior of the Great Grass Sea, far from any trading ports. While Prompto had learned to take pleasure in Dothraki cuisines - lamb roasted over hot coals and basted with honey, tender shoots of sweetgrass, simple unleavened bread shaped into flat discs - he could never quite overcome his dislike for the fermented mare’s milk that was so beloved by Gladio and his bloodriders. If one drank it in sufficient quantities, it could provide a pleasant sense of lightheadedness, but it lacked the subtle flavors and pleasant tartness of good wine.

He refilled his goblet and took a long sip, savoring the taste as it rolled across his tongue. The red wines served here in Qarth were heavier and sweeter than he preferred, but they were pleasant enough, and he intended to indulge while he had the chance.

Gladio watched him with an amused quirk of his lips. “You look as satisfied as a mare who’s found a good patch of dirt to roll in after a long day’s ride.”

Prompto scowled. It was horribly unfair. The khal was dressed in his customary leather riding trousers and boots, the intricate tattoos on his impressive chest left bare for everyone to look at, yet he managed to look as confident and powerful here in the ostentatious trappings of the Qartheen court as he did sitting astride his great red stallion. Prompto, on the other hand…in order to meet with the Spice King, Prompto had set aside his Dothraki garments in favor of silk trousers and a heavily embroidered tunic. They were clothes similar to the ones he’d always worn in the magister’s house in Pentos, but after his months spent with the Dothraki they left him feeling awkward and uncomfortable, like a child playing dress up rather than a khaleesi.

He could also feel the city itself bearing down upon him. Qarth’s famous walls might be a comfort to those born within them, but they left Prompto struggling to breathe. He wanted to leave. Only the Pureborn might be able to sell him an army, and Loqi had held such high hopes of returning to Westeros…

Prompto took another sip of wine and plucked at a loose thread in his tunic. “I’ve missed it, that’s all,” he snapped. “It’s a drink for civilized folk.”

A few months ago, the khal would have taken offense at his words. Now, his honey-gold eyes glimmered with understanding, and he reached out to pull Prompto toward him. Prompto resisted for a moment, then relented and let Gladio tug him close. He pressed his nose into the hollow of his khal’s throat and breathed in the scent of horse, smoke, and open spaces. He wanted to be out on the steppe now, galloping on his steed alongside Gladio, far away from the stifling air of the city.

“This city is no place for wild creatures,” said Gladio, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. “You belong under the open skies, not surrounded by city walls and chained to an iron chair.”

Throne,” corrected Prompto. “It’s a throne, and Loqi -”

Gladio snorted. “Your brother was a sheep. He would have been content to sit on his iron throne and be nothing more than a slave for all the other fine sheep he thought so much of. But you are no sheep.” 

He tilted his head up to the sky, and Prompto followed his gaze to where three dragons were perched at the top of the buildings that surrounded the palace courtyard. They were four months out of their shells and already the size of fully grown wolfhounds. His miraculous children, born out of the funeral pyre that had consumed the body of his prideful, foolish brother.

“You are a dragon, and a dragon can never be tamed.”

Prompto looked up at him from beneath his eyelashes. “You tried.”

Gladio roared with laughter. “More fool I. But I learned, did I not?” He leaned down and captured Prompto’s lips in a kiss that left him weak in the knees and gasping for air. “I learned,” he said again, pressing more kisses to the curve of Prompto’s ear, “that if you would capture the love of a wild creature, you cannot seek you trap it. You must be bold, and gentle, and provide it with a place where it can rest in safety. And perhaps if you are lucky, it will allow you to win its heart.” His fingers slipped beneath the slippery silk of Prompto’s tunic and caressed his bare skin, leaving Prompto shivering in their wake. 

“Moon of my life,” murmured Gladio, low and sensual, “have I been so blessed?”

Prompto sighed, and some of the tension flowed out of his body. “You are my sun and stars,” he answered, “and I will love no one else.” He traced one of the swirling lines of Gladio’s tattoo. “But the lords of Westeros…they killed my family and forced my brother and me into exile. And I cannot forgive that.”

“No,” agreed Gladio. “But your dragons grow larger with each passing day. There is no need for to trap yourself behind stone walls to gain an army of men.”

High above them, the dragons trilled their agreement. 

“And think of how poor the world would be if you hid yourself away in one of their castles of stone,” continued Gladio. “The sun and moon would hide themselves in grief because their light could no longer shine on your beauty. The wind would tear wildly across the steppe until it could once again caress your cheeks with gentleness.”

Prompto laughed. “Who would have thought the khal of khals would possess such a romantic soul?’

But Gladio didn’t laugh, and when he looked down at Prompto, his eyes were dark and serious.

“I know who you are,” he said. “Your dragons know. I only wish for you to know, as well.”

Prompto could say nothing to that. He looked back up at his dragons. They wanted to be away from this city of stone, wanted to stretch their wings and fly. He did, too.

“We’ll leave tomorrow,” said Gladio. “Go back to the Grass Sea, where we can breathe freely. Forget these city dwellers. They are nothing to you.”

Prompto nodded and closed his eyes, and leaned against his husband’s strong chest. High above him, three dragons spread their wings and filled the night with the sound of dragonsong.

Originally posted by vantablackemo

(Lhugy’s notes: Hello? George R. R. Martin, is that you?! 

HOLY COW! This is…. it was….and I…. moved to TEARS is what I am ;3; This is beautiful. I’m so in love with this story and your style of writing. And I’m SO HONORED you would send this to me!!! Thank you thank you thank you, I’ve read this five times now and it only keeps getting better!!! *swoons*)  

anonymous asked:

could i get an okuyasu, Jotaro, and josuke with an s/o who has a chronic illness and gets pain from it sometimes. i love these good boys thank u

- Okuyasu might need it explaining to him a little bit, which can be kind of draining for s/o. Once he realizes what it is and how it effects his s/o, though, he’ll be completely understanding - and probably feel awful that his s/o needed to explain to him. 
- He can’t stand seeing his s/o in pain, and will hover by their bedside and check whether they need anything, make sure they’ve remembered to eat and offer to carry them downstairs if they really need to. 
- If they need mobility aids or anything, he’s always ready to go and fetch them - or, on good days, let his s/o cling onto his arm and be his mobility aid themselves. 
- He’s a homebody at heart, so if his s/o is having one of their bad days and they’re at home he won’t think twice before settling into bed next to them and watching some bad movies or cuddling them until they fall asleep on his chest. 

- Jotaro nods as his s/o mentions it - it makes a lot of sense. He’s noticed how his s/o’s energy levels seem to dip, how they seem to be in pain a lot of the time, the medicines they take in the morning, and his natural curiosity had kicked in and he’d wanted to know why. 
- He actually takes quite a scientific approach to it in general, unusual for him when it’s nothing to do with sea creatures. If called out on this, he just shrugs; ‘I find you just as interesting as dolphins’, he says, voice quiet. 
- His care doesn’t come in quite the same way Okuyasu does. If s/o mentioned their throat was dry, Okuyasu would be barrelling downstairs to pour a glass of every drink in the house so his s/o can have their pick. 
- If Jotaro is told this, he raises one eyebrow and asks if he should get the glass of water or if they’re feeling up to trying. 
- He sometimes watches over them whilst they’re sleeping, wiping their hair from their forehead and smiling down at their peaceful expressions. 
- Has been known to use Star Platinum to carry his s/o downstairs on particularly bad days. 

- It kills Josuke that he can’t use Crazy Diamond to just fix whatever’s wrong with his s/o. At first, when s/o explains the problem, he’s incredibly excited that he can just use his stand and maybe fix things - even if his s/o and he don’t stay together, he’ll open up so many new paths for them! So when Crazy Diamond doesn’t work, he withdraws a little. 
- Guilt at building Crazy Diamond up and at not being able to ‘cure’ his s/o, Josuke throws himself headfirst into being the best boyfriend to a chronically ill s/o that he can be. 
- He makes sure they have everything they could ever want, bring games and books and watch movies, cuddle and reassures his s/o that he’ll love them no matter what and that their illness doesn’t change anything. 

brinumstudies  asked:

Hey what are your favorite pens??? And do you prefer ballpoint, gel, or fineliners???

Hi! I really like the 0.5 Hi Tec C, the 0.38 G2, and my 0.7 Acroball right now! I prefer ballpoint most of the time but I use gel if I want to make something pretty because it shows up in photos better haha ^_^

By the way I would NOT recommend the uni jetstream anymore I’ve had 2 refills in a row run dry with the barrels still full ;-;

Enslaved by Kings and Dragons - [Flashback #7- Whispers of a Palantir] - Thranduil and Cumbersmaug Fanfiction

Such sadness for one so young, it whispered in your mind. I can feel your heartbreak through your fingertips.

You stared deep into Cumber’s crystal, mesmerized. The beautiful, smoky sphere was perfectly smooth and warm to the touch. Sweet, hazy numbness tingled through your fingers and rolled through you like a shimmering mist. You welcomed it, letting it draw your pain from your heart like one would draw venom from a wound.

You had returned to Erebor utterly broken. Cumber never returned to Erebor at all. Night after night you curled up against his pillow and cried yourself to sleep, hating him with every beat of your aching heart, but loving him all the same. His covered crystal ball whispered to you from his shelf, offering you soothing words like mother calming an inconsolable child. It bade you to uncover it, so it could look at you, to share in your pain. Cumber had warned you not to touch the crystal ball. But he had abandoned you to tend the dragon alone, and you were desperately in need of a friend.

I can teach you the secrets to the hearts of men. Give you the power to raise them high or crush them beneath your feet. Open your heart to me, and I will open your mind.

So you opened yourself to the darkness, feeding it your pain until what was left of your heartbreak was a soft pang of regret. You grew accustomed to its gentle sifting of your memories, to the flash of emotions and thoughts that were not your own. Under the influence of the darkness, you became older. Wiser. You knew things, dark, wondrous things; of enchantments and magic, of pleasure and pain. You tasted desire of a different sort, a lust for power so great and all-consuming not even love could stand in its way.

In your numbness you found somber understanding. Cumber did what he did because he was never yours to love, and he made it clear the only way you would listen. You could not find it in yourself to hate him, nor could you blame him for carving out the boundaries between you. All you wanted now was his safe return.

Oh, he’ll return. By the full moon, he will have no choice.

The darkness was as cryptic as it was secretive, and it ignored you questions on how it was so certain. As the month neared its end and the night of the full moon drew near, it bade you to empty the barrels of wine deep in the cellar. You did not want to; you had never tempted the dragon’s wrath before, and Cumber was not around to save you. The darkness tasted your anxiety and swallowed it, leaving you numb and subdued. You did as it asked, uncorking the barrels and letting the wine gush into the sewers until the barrels were dry. And when the dreaded night of the month finally came, when Smuag loomed over you with his tail curled around the jeweled goblet, demanding that you fill the cup with wine and drink until oblivion, all you could do was stand there in frozen terror. The darkness quickly took over and spoke on your behalf.

“Rats have gotten to the barrels and chewed through the wood,” it/you lied smoothly. “We are out of wine. I could row to Laketown and buy more, and return in less than an hour.”

 You cowered behind a gold statue as Smaug roared and thumped its tail angrily. The dragon stormed about the treasure room in great agitation. Finally, it leaned down and glared at you.

“Go make yourself useful and find me some treasure. I tire of my collection.”

You stare at your master blankly. “…But it is night! All the Laketown jewelers will be at home counting their gems-”

“-I don’t care what time it is,” it growled. “Get out of my mountain. I don’t want you anywhere near Erebor tonight. I shall give you a night and a day to return with treasure. Should you fail to return by the next nightfall, I shall ignite your collar and reduce you to a pile ash.”

The darkness forces down the hysteria building in your chest. Worry not. Let me take you to treasure that would make Smaug green with envy.

And so you rowed to Mirkwood under the light of the full moon with a knapsack on your back. The darkness lead you to a secret cavern heavily guarded by elite elven guards. You begged the darkness to reconsider, but it paid you no heed, your despair only feeding its strength. It forced you to climb up a tree as it summoned a horde of spiders to distract the guards. The guards sprung into action the moment they heard the ominous chittering, their silver blades drawn. As the spiders descended upon them, you slipped into the cave unnoticed.

What Smaug possessed in gold, Thranduil possessed in jewels. Millions upon millions of diamonds, rubies, and sapphires glittered and gleamed in elaborate displays throughout the winding corridors of the cavern. Gems of pure starlight illuminated your path with scattered rays of rainbow and white. You walked through glittering labyrinth, pilfering only the smallest, least precious of the gems. But even the smallest rubies crackled with flame, the dullest opals flashed like the secrets of the universe.

You know nothing of treasure, child. Let me show you what is truly precious.

The darkness lead you deeper, until you found yourself in a hidden room with a tiny wooden box on a marble pedestal. Inside the box was a ring, a simple, sparkling emerald set in a carved wooden band. In the vague haze of memories that were not your own, you recognized the unfinished ring of power, the fourth elven ring secretly crafted by Celebrimbor.

The darkness hissed in disgust. The ring in the box was a fake.

We must hurry; Thranduil has sensed an intruder. His guards have abandoned the spiders and are returning.

You raced out of the cavern, crashing blindly through the trees towards your rowboat. But the guards were swift and silent, and they cornered you before you had the chance to hide the knapsack. You were dragged kicking into the halls of the Mirkwood King.

No words could describe how you felt the moment your eyes met. Thranduil was cold and beautiful; it was as if you were in the presence of a demi-god. He gazed down at you as if nothing in the world mattered now that he knew of your existence. The feverish glint in his eyes was his desire to possess; he meant to have you, dragon be damned.

The darkness shrank back in disgust; this had not been in its plans.

You went to him willingly, surrendering to his hunger as tinder to fire. From his lips you found truth; from the grasp of his hands, the gasp of his breath, you found belonging. He was your first,  and yet instinctively you knew him before he made you his own.  You responded to him as if you had been his for centuries, and he responded to your touch with breathless confusion and delight. It was not in his nature to so consumed, but night after night he came for you, lost and ravenous. He would devour you, filling you and making you whole and perfect until you drifted off in exhaustion. When he thought you were asleep, he would gather you in his arms and hold you tenderly as he dared not while you were awake. He whispered to you his hopes, his fears, his struggle with the madness and hypocrisy that was his actions. And you loved him for it, although he could never know.

With each passing day, with each tender moment you shared with your  king, the darkness within you writhed and seethed with vicious venom.

In my name, you will reduce everything he loves into ash. And when I have drained his woods dry, I shall leave you to his wrath. He will free your head from your miserable shoulders and leave your carcass out for the vultures. And then he will forget you, because in truth you are nothing but a meaningless diversion to his pathetic life.

It poisoned your thoughts with fear and guilt, and grew strong on your torment. And after a night of starlight, it now roils with renewed bloodlust and hatred. It taunts you with images of carnage and destruction, promsing to massacre every elf in Mirkwood, saving their king for last. In darkness it will bind him, and make him watch as it makes you carve out his heart with a knife. And as the light fades from his eyes, it will make you whisper your love to him over and over and over again.

You leave me no choice, it breathes as it relishes in your grief. You should never have been captured at all. 

[posted 3.27.14]

derplock221b  asked:

Septiplier 9? Maybe? If you're still doing these?? Eheh.

I am haha c: I hope this is okay. I wasn’t too sure where to go with this one. Prepare yourself for protective!Mark ;-;

- - -

Jack leans against the side of the car as he waits for Mark to finish up at work, watching people come and go from the building. He’d texted him and told him he was running a bit late and would take another ten minutes or so. He didn’t really mind, he could wait.

He’s parked around the back, and wonders what’s taking Mark so long. It’s nearing ten o’clock, and he was supposed to be done around nine twenty.

He looks up when he hears footsteps, expecting Mark. 

What he wasn’t expecting, was a hard punch to the gut. His phone falls from his hand and he gasps in pain, hunches over. He tries and fails to suck in air and his eyes water from the effort alone. The pain makes it so much worse. He coughs hard and scrambles for purchase on the car behind him, near to the point of sobbing. Another, and he’s wheezing with the effort to drag air into his burning lungs.

They’re coming like rain at this point, over and over again and Jack is sure he’s going to pass out before he can catch his breath. He’s slammed against the car, and he cries out without meaning to at the shock of pain that skitters up his spine. He’s gasping and wheezing and feels like he’s going to collapse if it weren’t for the arm across his neck.

“Stay quiet.” The man hisses, and he can only nod, afraid of the suspiciously shaped object in his pocket. It’s a very obvious, poorly concealed gun and he’s sure the man wasn’t afraid to use it. Rough hands shove their way into his pockets, groping him and searching for anything they could find. He hasn’t ever felt so violated. Tears well in his eyes and he tries not to give the man in front of him another reason to hurt him.

“I-I don’t-” His mouth goes dry when the barrel of the gun presses into his stomach.

“Shut the fuck up.”

It was nothing but a blur when the mugger was yanked backwards and there was the sound of the gun clattering to the ground. His vision was blurry and he felt like he was going to pass out. He wasn’t sure how he made it to the ground but he had his back to the car and his vision was swimming so badly he couldn’t make out anything but fuzzy shapes. He could hear a dull thud as something hit the car, and hoped to god it wasn’t Mark.

“Don’t you ever do that again!”

Jack blinked to clear his vision as best he could and looked up hazily to see Mark has the guy pressed to the car, very clearly enraged by what he’s walked into. As soon as he backs away, the man takes off at a sprint and doesn’t look back. Mark crouches by him with a worried expression as soon as he’s gone.

“How bad did he hurt you?” He questions, and runs a hand through Jack’s hair in an attempt to comfort him.

“N-not that bad, I don’t think. Just, take me home?” He asks, and Mark can’t agree any faster.

“Yeah of course. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I wish I could’ve gotten off of work quicker. I tried, I really did.” Mark is close to tears himself.

“S’ not your fault, Mark. I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you.”

“I’m not the one to be worried about right now.”

“He could have shot you, Mark.”

“He could’ve shot you too, Jack. But he didn’t. I’m not hurt, you are.”

Jack sighs, and admits defeat.

“I guess you have a point.”

When they get home, Jack peels his shirt off as slowly as possible, gasping in pain each time he moves the wrong way. He sees the dark, blossoming bruises scattered around his middle and chest and grimaces at how ugly they are. Even his neck is splotchy and dark. He’s sure his back is in a similar state, and he feels sore and achy throughout his whole body. His skin crawls with the feeling of unfamiliar hands on him and he shudders in disgust. He’s exhausted and his whole body aches and he knows he needs sleep.

Mark is right beside him, and he guides him to the bed with gentle hands.

“Cuddle?” Jack asks, and Mark couldn’t ever say no to him.

“Of course. C’mere.”

Nothing beats the feeling of being in Mark’s arms, and he feels immensely safer in them. He lets Mark run a hand through his hair and brush his fingers over his skin lovingly, it calms him and relaxes his tense muscles.

When Mark begins to hum, he smiles even through his sleepy haze. He’s always known how to make Jack feel better.

“Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Mark whispers, and Jack’s eyes flutter when he looks up at Mark sleepily.

“Okay,” He replies, and Mark presses a kiss to his forehead and rests his chin atop Jack’s head. Jack sighs in content, and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

Eeveelutions! Vaporeon and Sylveon are definitely in my top 5 favorite pokemon ever (with Ninetales, Zorark, and Florges). Theses were so fun to do!

Xtreme Wear - Tickled Pink

Insta Dry - Brisk Blue

Finger Paints - Black Expressionism

Insta Dry - Sizzlin’ Saffron

Insta Dry - Leapin’ Lilac

Apple Barrel acrylic paints


Using Abderhalden’s drying pistol as a sublimation chamber. 

A relative impure compound was placed in the inner barrel, and phosphorous pentoxide was placed at the end of the pistol as a drying agent. The barrel was evacuated and under the sample some acetonitrile was boiled to keep the sample at a constant temperature. 

After 3 day a small part of the sample evaporated and formed beautiful crystals at the wall of the glass (second pics). Probably they will be good and large enough for X ray diffraction to see that how they exactly look like. 

10 Piece Soy Wax Sampler Set - Choose any scent, plus free mini samples and a coupon book

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m an (almost!) divorced tart maker, living in a new city, with a new job, a lot of bills, therapy and a ridiculous divorce fee that I’m covering myself.

But I’m also a fan, and my passion (second job, and frequent monetary butt saver) is making tarts and perfume oils based on my (and your) favorite fandoms. That being said, I’s really like to ask your help with a fundrasier for myself. I’ve created 2 special choose your own sampler packs - (10 piece and 4 piece) You get the tarts (including a chance to get some exclusive, not-yet-released- fandom scents), free samples and a 12 month coupon book, plus a discount on shipping!

I’ve listed the fandom section below, please signal boost this if you can and stay shiny! rosemarygrace.etsy.com

Alpha Beta Oh-EM-GEE - (teen Wolf) Wild and untamed wilderness inside and out. Deep forest woods, old growth, green oakmoss, magical resins and a memory of smoke.

As You Wish - (The Princess Bride) Soft florals, apricots and vanilla blend with sandalwood, musk and dark chocolate. A perfect pairing of Princess and Pirate.

Can’t Take the Sky – (Firefly) Resins and Spices, an earthy blend of sandalwood and oakmoss, a hint of mandarin citrus and star dusted metal

Elementary, My Dear - (Sherlock) An unlikely pairing of mouthwatering Blood Orange and spicy, herbal Caraway. Underscored with swirls of vanilla, dark antiqued woods and a bit of mystery.

Friendly Ponies (My Little Ponies: Friendship is Magic) Sweet and Playful. Candy and fruity, sugary cereal with undertones of warm vanilla

Into the Labyrinth - (Labyrinth) Cool dark stone, moss and damp earth, with a bite of sweet, juicy peach. Magical and Dreamlike with a hint of goblin madness.

It all changes in the 21st Century - (Torchwood) Alien artifacts in an underground lair. Dark and mysterious woods, dust and vanilla notes, accented with strong black coffee and a hint of damp.

Mad Man with a Box - (Doctor Who) A strange and wonderful adventure. Undercurrents of aged oak barrel, with dry sage, amber, vanilla and delicate cherry blossoms

Out of the Deep - (Fin-Kin) The ocean’s depths hide many secrets. Mysterious and alluring blend of orris, musk and dark fern with top notes of sea salt, tidal spray and delicate white flowers.

Red Shirt – (Star Trek) Cool Citrus and Basil, exotic musks and a sense of adventure…with just a hint of phaser blasted ozone

Scary Sexy - (Supernatural) A supernatural blend of rock salt, demon blood and magical roots, resins and herbs. Melded with hotel soap, well worn leather and a hint of gasoline.

Underhill - (Lord of the Rings / The Hobbit) Rolling hills and deep forests. The scent of fresh grass, blooming flowers and green woods, offset with a subtle hint of sandalwood and citrus.

Wizard’s World- (Harry Potter) A fun magical scent with plum and peach potions, dragon’s blood and enchanted resins, with just a hint of spice and bewitched candies