feet that have been boiled in feet

(Fun fact: When boiling water is introduced to freezing temperatures, it instantly evaporates and turns into mist). 

“Whose bright idea was it to bring the girl who spews lava to a cave made of ice!?”

Read on AO3: Link

- Reflection

“Y-You did it again.”

At the abrupt (and rather vague accusation) Ava glanced aside at her companion as they meandered through the ice caves and frowned in response. “Did what?”

Odin briefly cast her a glance before returning his attention forward. “Y-You always look away… when you see your reflection in something.” They turned a corner and the pathway became narrower as they shifted to walking single-file with Odin in the lead.

Ava glared at the back of his head following the comment, deciding not to dignify it with a response as she instead attempted to focus on getting through this accursed underground labyrinth. The temperature was far below freezing and even though she was wearing several layers of gear and had molten lava flowing through her veins, each inhale sent an involuntary sharp chill into her burning lungs. 

She felt as if she was being slowly frozen internally.

They made it through the narrow portion of the cave and entered a wider area where the ceiling was hidden beneath rows of thick ice stalactites hanging down. Odin paused for a moment to look up at their glistening sharp points whilst she meanwhile strode past him and went ahead.

When he caught up with her, he persisted on.

“I br-brought it up because… I’ve noticed you’ve only done that s-since you transformed.” He stepped into pace beside her as he observed her face without subtlety in trying to read her expression.

“Now who’s the pervert spying on other people?” The floor beneath her feet sizzled with each footstep.

He scoffed. “D-Don’t flatter yourself… and you’re avoiding t-the subject.”

“It’s none of your business.” Her skin shone brighter, ice within close proximity melting away.

“I-Is it because you look more like her?”

She spun on her feet and glowered at him. “I said butt out!”

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Stuck with you

@misty0311: this is my first prompt on this account and I hope you like it. Let me know what you think

Anon: “B and C aren’t speaking to each other so the deliquents decide to lock them inside the drop ship until they forgive each other… They confess their feeling towards each other”

Bellamy and Clarke were fighting, to most of the delinquents it wasn’t something out of the ordinary, they always fought. From subtle comments to each other to screaming through the hallways, making sure to everyone another big dispute has risen between the two. But this time, this time it was different, Jasper could feel it.

The fight started, to everybody else, when the shouting matches had stated, mainly jabs at one and each other and their different leadership skills but Clarke, in anger shouted to Bellamy, “YOU’RE A MONSTER!”


Everyone held their breath, Clarke was crying, tears streaming down her face, Bellamy’s face lacked any emotion, keeping it blank, not giving anything off. The blonde ran off, to which, both Monty and Raven ran after her, to comfort her and get an explanation. While that happened, Bellamy stood there, finally allowing a glimpse of emotion to show, his eyes shown with tears, but none o his cheeks. He sauntered back to his room and Miller went after him, posture held straight, ignoring all the looks sent their ways. Jasper followed.

When both pairs asked their respected leaders, they both shut all of the down.

Raven and Monty had sided with Clarke evidently, and Jasper and Miller with Bellamy, though all four tried to get them to talk to each other, begged both of them to explain the new found distance in their relationship, but both stood their ground, each time answering with a angered and exhausted no.

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when i was like 12 i was first introduced to crocs when i visited a friend in wisconsin for her bat mitzvah and when we stopped by her house for a bit before the occasion, one of her older relatives was showing his crocs and his kids’ crocs off and proceeded to tell me they were made out of cabbage and if there ever was an emergency you could boil them and eat them and i haven’t trusted anyone since that day


I now live in Madagascar.

A Day in the Life of a Peace Corps Trainee

About 4 weeks ago, 42 American strangers met in Philadelphia then spent the next 72 hours sleepily-awake, while traveling across the world to this giant African Island in the Indian Ocean. It has been a crazy and exhilarating whirlwind ever since then.

Right now we are in Pre-Service Training. We will be in Mantasoa, at the Peace Corps Training Center, for three months before we begin our 2 years of service at our relative sites. PST is a fast-paced mumbo-jumble of immersion and trainings, but all of the trainees are still close together, so we can escape to America-land and share jokes and stories with each other. I’d say we are “half-integrating” at the moment. We are slowly easing ourselves into life in a whole other world.

Each Peace Corps Trainee is currently living with a host family in one of two villages near the training center. Our days are filled with Malagasy lessons, general Peace Corps lessons, sessions about our specialties: health or agriculture (mine is health), classes about how to not get diarrhea, and well… lots of rice.

My host family has a spacious white house on a hill overlooking a small lake. They have a few animals: chickens, a cow, and a pregnant pig!

I can’t wait to meet the cute little piglets soon! I am going to try to adopt one, or all of them and save them from becoming dinner one day. It will be my own personal “Charlotte’s Web” Pig Protection Project. (This idea might need some revision).

There is a small store attached to the house and many neighbors stop by throughout the day to stock up on little things they might need like phone credit, beans, bread, or candy.

My host mom is a great cook and a really hard worker. She and my host dad spend everyday caring for their animals and crops, managing the store, and keeping the house in order. I also live with a 14 year old host brother, Jimmy, who is very good at speaking English and tutoring me in Malagasy. I have two more wonderful host siblings, José and Charlene, but they currently live in the capital, Antananarivo, where they are studying at a University.

They are all so kind and extremely helpful at exposing me to the Malagasy way of life.

Here is what almost everyday looks like for me:
At around 4 am, through closed wooden shutters, I can hear roosters cock-a-doodle-dooing about, neighbors singing, and the scraping sounds outside of my host family beginning work for the day.

I groggily look up at the ceiling and my mosquito net, say to myself “hmmm, I’m glad no one expects me to go feed a cow” and I fall asleep for two more hours.

I am later awoken by a soft knock on the door and my host brother’s voice “sakofo” (mealtime). After a sweet breakfast of rice, peanut butter, pancakes, coffee, and bananas, skillfully cooked by my host mom over charcoal, I begin my morning routine.

I head back to my room to collect my plastic purple bucket and towel. I leave the towel in the Ladosy which is an outdoor hut where I will take my shower. I cross past the family’s cow, through high grass that is still dewy from the nightly rain, and open a wooden door to another small hut covering a water well.

After pulling up two buckets worth of cold water from at least 20 feet below, I drag my bucket back into the house and into the kitchen to add some rano mafana (hot water) boiled over charcoal by my Neny (host mom).

After adding some chlorine to the water, I put the bucket in the Ladosy while I visit the outhouse: “Kabone.” The Kabone is the poop hole I bet you have been oh-so-curious about. The wooden floor has two slats on either side of the hole that indicate where to put your feet while you squat and release your morning coffee.

I have been using a Kabone for a while now, but I still dread it. I am totally afraid of slipping and falling in. I don’t know why I’m so paranoid, it’s only a stew of everyone’s bubbling poop 12 feet below…

one wrong move…

After surviving the Kabone yet again, and celebrating my regulatory digestion (I was off for the first week), I head to the Ladosy hut to wash myself with lukewarm water from my purple bucket.

Once I am clean, I also must fetch my drinking water from the well. I put it in my filter and then add in some diluted bleach to kill any nasty organisms that the filter didn’t get. I haven’t had diarrhea yet, so I think I’ve gotten the hang of it!

There is so much work that goes into every piece of the morning from brushing my teeth to just taking a “shower.” I find my morning activities quite meditative. It is nice to take so much care for every part of a routine that used to be so simple. Back in the states, everything was handed to me on a marble or porcelain platter with two knobs- hot or cold.

It is definitely nice to have my Neny doing half of my chores for me at the moment. Once I move to my permanent village after training, I will have to heat my own water and breakfast every morning. Whomp wommmmppp.

After my shower, I get dressed, sweep my room, and prepare for 4 hours of Malagasy language lessons. Luckily our small language group meets at my house so I can dawdle until everyone arrives.

By noon class is over, my brain is fried, and Neny is almost done cooking lunch.

The family and I eat a meal of rice with the sides of usually beans and a vegetable salad. I really enjoy the meals at my house.

Malagasy people eat a lot of rice. It is their main dish for every meal -always- but my Neny likes to cook more than just rice. At least while I’m around. So I eat plenty of vegetables. I loooooove vegetables. The meals are always delicious. (But I’m not allowed to talk about this to the other trainees who are only fed rice by their families. They are jealous…and probably irritable because they are only eating rice).

After lunch I rest for a bit, then walk around the neighbourhood on my way to our afternoon training courses at a community center.

Sometimes our classes are just health volunteers, and sometimes the agriculture volunteers are there as well. I really enjoy afternoon classes because all of the other trainees are really cool and we always have a lot of fun together. It’s incredulously comforting to have a support system of people all about the same age, going through similar experiences.

During our break halfway through class, we walk around the village and buy snacks from the many shops that line the main road. The snacks are usually just stale and processed cookies and crackers, but sometimes I buy bananas which are absolutely delicious here.

Once class is over at 5pm, I like to walk around town for a bit with other trainees, chatting and exploring before I head home in a race against the dark.

Generally, Malagasy people do not spend time outside past dark for many reasons, so once night falls the day is typically over. They are the opposite of many Americans. In the states we get chores done at night, but here chores are done with the sun. The Malagasy rise with the dawn and finish their days at sunset.

Dinner is usually over at our house around 8pm and I study for a bit, then take my malaria pills, roll down my mosquito net to encase my bed like the gossamer of a Princess’s elegant chambers, and fall asleep to loud rain pounding on the tin roof.

Right now it is summer and it always rains at night, and sometimes during the days as well. It is so green and gorgeous here! But the roads can get quite muddy and it is hard to get around during a storm.

So there you have it, a day in the life of a Peace Corps Trainee in Madagascar.

I am absolutely loving it so far. I am learning so much and I am constantly surrounded by wonderful company whether it be fellow trainees or my host family. I know I will have to learn to be on my own again soon, but for now, having a nice support system around while adjusting to a life with spotty electricity, rare Internet, no running water, and a new language is beyond helpful.

anonymous asked:

Imagine Clint trying to teach Bucky archery.

“Okay, now move your feet…”

“Like this?” Bucky smirked above Clint’s head.

“No, no,” Clint bent down and grabbed Bucky’s knee, adjusting his entire leg.  "Feel that? Keep your feet right there.“

"Oh, I feel it.”  Feet planted, the assassin dipped his elbow just slightly.  ”Am I ready now?”

“Yeah- what, no.  Lift,” Clint reached around and grabbed his elbow, straightening it patiently.  Bucky could practically hear the other man’s blood boiling.  They had been at it for over an hour.  As soon as Clint adjusted his elbow, he slipped his hand further down the grip.

“What the fuck, Barnes, it’s like you’re doing this on purpose.”

“Blame HYDRA for wiping my memory so many times.  It must have fucked with my hand-eye coordination.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what’s happening.”  The master archer stepped close to Bucky and reached his arm around to grab the bow over Bucky’s hand.  Then, he reached with the other hand to grab the bowstring.  Together, they drew the arrow back.

“You smell good,” Bucky said, completely non-nonchalant, discreetly slipping his fingers from the bowstring.

With a sigh larger than Russia, Clint loosened the bowstring and reached down to grab Bucky’s living hand.  The assassin shifted his hand in just the right way to get a little unintentional caress.

“Okay, show me how to pull it back again.”

Clint stepped in, chest nearly pressed to Bucky’s back and shoulders as he adjusted both of them to hold and pull at the same time.  

“Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?” he murmured playfully to the archer.

“That’s for later.”

The moment of silence between them at that moment was enough for Bucky to twitch the bow just hard enough to send the arrow flying wide over the top of the target.  Perfect, it was actually perfect.

“You made me miss,” Bucky whined.  He slapped Clint playfully on the ass before jogging off to retrieve the arrow.  "Here, let me show you how it’s done.“

Red faced, Clint crossed his arms and watched Bucky expertly nock an arrow, draw, and shoot a bulls eye.  His jaw dropped.  

"Here,” said Bucky with a truly devious grin, “let me give you some pointers.  And then I believe you owe me a drink.”