it's one of those places that everyone should visit at least once in their life if possible :)

lokthaire  asked:

So I have a question if you're willing to divulge the information (and it's perfectly understandable if you don't wish to!), but a friend and I were having a discussion about reptiles and we got talking about Iguanas and although we were both youngish at the time you would see them EVERYWHERE cheap and being panned as these great animals (to ME Iguanas are a reptile for masochists) but anyways, this lead to us realizing that Tegu are starting to become the new iguana.. 1/2

2/2 they’re starting to become readily available, cheap, and have a cool factor to them. So if possible -and any larger reptile owner feel free to add to this! Would you be willing to tell of what your weekly, monthly, and yearly expenses as well as anything else that popped up that you didn’t expect just to show people that it’s not just a cool looking animal but a potentially and certainly expensive reptile to own? I understand this can be a personal topic and understand not wanting to share.

OH MY GOD I FEEL THE SAME WAY tegus really do not need to become the new iguanas. This is a fantastic question and I’m thrilled to answer it.

SO. Weekly expenses… don’t really work out because a lot of purchases are made in bulk (food, etc.) every month or couple of months, but here’s a basic overview of how much things cost the first year I had her. Well. If I’d done things ideally- remember, I was foolish and tried to free roam her. HAD I done things appropriately with a cage, here’s how much it would have been. As it was, I did end up spending more than this trying to make free roaming work. Which most of the time it absolutely does not and I’m glad I stopped when I did.

Enclosure- I spent about 130ish on the grow tent and another 60ish bucks in materials to fix it up. That is absolutely the cheapest tegu setup you can make, and it’s not ideal for everyone- most enclosures you should plan for the 600+ dollar range. A PVC cage from a place like BeegerBoxes runs about a grand. I buy two 60 dollar lightbulbs a year, plus another 11 for her halogens and 10 for her CHE. The four dome lights cost me about 60 in total. The substrate I use costs 66 bucks every time the entire thing gets changed out. The swimming pool was about 25 and her water dish was I wanna say like… 20? Her big fake log was 35 and… ok I have no idea how much that footstool she stole is, but the crinkle tube was about 10 bucks. 

Total initial setup cost: 527 (in nearly ALL cases it will be more, I just lucked out with the grow tent idea.)

Then there’s vet checks! I needed a carrier, and the one I liked best (has a harness clip, comfy fleece pad, and places for heat packs if necessary) ran me about 35. I spent about 80 a visit and she goes at least once a year.  But wait! She hurt her lip! Add another 200 in followup visits and medication! I keep a few hundred bucks in an emergency savings account for vet visits. That’s non-negotiable. I put that aside in the first year I had her- it’s sitting pretty at 400 plus interest. 

By the end of the first few months, I’d spent about $832. Factoring in the savings account, that’s $1232. That’s not even including Juju OR the nonessentials. All the extra stuff? That cost more.

Then the food. I have some receipts for this- in the first year alone, Kaiju ate about 60 dollars’ worth of rats, about 100 dollars’ worth of reptilinks, and god only knows how much fruits, veggies, fish, and other stuff I could get at the grocery store. Let’s call the annual food bill 240? I might be lowballing that. So by the end of the first year, that puts her at like… $1492. Almost fifteen hundred dollars in the first year alone. Over twelve months, that works out to about $124 a month. Putting that in perspective: that’s about the cost of two additional Comcast bills. It’s like paying for two extra internet connections from a company that sees price gouging as a way of life. Can you afford two extra Comcast bills an entire month for a year? If no, then probably don’t get a tegu.

Now, that does peter down over the years- I don’t start from scratch every summer. But I do change out that bedding four times a year (or more if she doesn’t brumate), and I do buy two new MVBs every year- those are the 60 dollar lightbulbs. And she still eats probably about 300 dollars of food a year. She also gets an annual wellness visit. So that makes the minimum yearly cost about $764 (the ASPCA averages small dogs to be about $580 per year, to put that in perspective) and that’s again not counting extra stuff I buy to make her life more interesting. That’s about $64 a month… which is almost one additional Comcast bill. Can you afford an additional Comcast bill every month for the next 10+ years? Tegus are not cheap pets to maintain; to have a good quality of life, they need some seriously good care. There’s ways to do it cheaper, but if you’re impulse-buying a big reptile, you very likely do not have the know-how to do safely! You can certainly breed and grow much of your own food- that’ll help save money- but that also has initial startup costs, and requires the time and space that a lot of people just don’t have. I’m not saying they aren’t amazing pets- I mean, Juju’s the best thing to ever happen to me- but I am saying that they’re a commitment that shouldn’t be undertaken lightly.

And THEN there’s another monthly cost: Energy bills. Mine are included in my rent so I don’t actually know how much that is. So I can’t be much help there, unfortunately!  But that can get really expensive.

TL,DR: First year? Two extra Comcast bills per month. Rest of her life? One extra Comcast bill per month. If you can’t commit to that, then don’t get a tegu.

I Don’t Wanna Live Forever (We Do What We Do Part Two)

A/N: I need to learn to never say never, because I was certain I wasn’t going to do a part two to this, but then I heard this song and well, here we are.  This one shot takes place two years after the events in Versace on the Floor, but you don’t have to read that one to understand this one.  

She lives in England.  He lives in the US.  It could never work–could it? Rucas.

Rated: T

The song is “I Don’t Wanna Live Forever” by Zayn and Taylor Swift

Word Count: 9,093

The bar was dark, dingy, and smelled exactly like sewer water.  It was a place no self-respecting human being would ever frequent—which is what made it perfect for him.  He wasn’t self-respecting.  He wasn’t anything.  No, that’s not true.  He was a man.  He was a man who had the world at his feet, or so he thought, until everything got turned upside down.

He stared at the glass in his hands.  He rarely drank, but over the last few weeks, he had grown more and more fond of the amber substance he swirled around the spotted glass.  He was fairly certain that the glass hadn’t been washed before he was served his double, but he didn’t care.  It didn’t matter.  None of it mattered.  Not anymore.

Why?  Because two weeks ago the love of his life told him that they shouldn’t talk anymore.

But it was more complicated than that.

Keep reading

Happy March 4th!

Happy March 4th, y’all! On this day in 2005, Rose Tyler met the Doctor.

Originally posted by runnslp

To celebrate, I spent the morning introducing @sandalhat101, who’d never seen Doctor Who, to the fandom. We watched the first three episodes! It was great to go back and relive the olden days. ((One day she shall know my pain…)) I mean, what? :P

In addition, I’d like to share a bit of something I’ve been working on. It’s a JE fixit fic in which Rose was the one who was pregnant on the beach, instead of Jackie. She gives birth to a boy, who’s nearly eight years old when the stars start going out. It’s Mickey who does the dimension hopping instead of Rose, since she has a child to think of, and he finds the Doctor immediately following the events of Midnight. Mickey gives the hopper to the Doctor, who then gets recalled to Pete’s world, which is where the excerpt begins. I hope you like it!

WIP Excerpt (2531 words)

He materialized on an empty, quiet street. Actually, materialize was too kind a word for the way he burst into being, feeling physically shredded on a level to match his mental disorganization. It felt apt, in a way, allowing his physiology to go to pieces, unable to keep himself from stumbling to his knees on the pavement. Even though his superior time senses prevented him from being sick like Mickey, he took a moment, crumpled there on the stone, to just be. Here, in Rose’s universe, no entity, no companions, no TARDIS. He’d taken Rose’s instructions to never let himself be alone. She’d been right, as she usually was, but after all these years he was so tired of running. Of putting on the performance, always being all right, never letting himself feel what he felt for fear of giving into madness. Safe in the knowledge that Rose was here, somewhere, the Doctor finally allowed himself to shatter.

“Are you okay, Mister?” The quiet, cautious voice of a child broke into the miasma of his consciousness, and quite right, too. Here he was, going to pieces on a perfectly respectable suburban sidewalk, while Rose needed him. He wondered how much the child had seen – if he’d seen a man appear out of seemingly thin air and then collapse into a shuddering heap. He was being remarkably calm if so.

He let out a shaking laugh. It was easier to pull himself back together with the child’s presence at his shoulder, and he was appropriately grateful. “No. No, I’m really not all right.” There was a sort of subtle triumph in saying the words at last. He drew in great gasps of air, trying to bring himself back under control.

“Do you need a Doctor?”

He almost misses it, the subtle capitalization the child’s tone lends the term, but the next words don’t leave any room for doubt. “My dad’s a doctor, we-l-l properly speaking he’s the Doctor, but I’ve found other people who want you to call them doctor get cross when you imply there’s only one proper Doctor. Mum says the Doctor helps everyone, though, so he’d help you too, or would do if there was one in this universe. There’s so many different universes, with different versions of people, but not the Doctor, he’s a Time Lord, you see, and his ego is so big it can’t be divided up among different bits of him around different universes. That’s how Mum explained it to me, anyway.” A sniff. “As if I didn’t understand the concept of multidimensional nontransferrence.”

His mind was spinning worse than it had been when he popped out of the Void – he heard every word the child said and it all added up to perfectly rational English sentences (especially the last bit about multidimensional nontransferrence, which he thought was inspired), but at the same time it didn’t make any sense because it was impossible.


He didn’t realize he’d spoken the query aloud until the impossible voice continued, “oh, it’s all quite simple really. You see, Mum told me all the Time Lords had gone, and that they were the ones who used to keep an eye on all the different dimensions. It wasn’t that much of a stretch to infer that they must all have had to stay in one place, the prime universe, if you will, because if there were multiple versions of themselves running about keeping an eye on things separately then they would keep stepping on each other and mucking everything up. Mustn’t cross the streams and all that. I guess that’s why Mum keeps insisting we watch that one movie with the ghosts over and over.”

The unbroken stream of words faded into silence as the child seemed to become lost in thought for a moment, and the Doctor took the time to try to come to terms with what had just happened. In the space of less than twenty-four hours, he’d visited a leisure planet orbiting an Xtonic star, had his mind invaded by a malevolent mystery entity, discovered that Void travel was not only possible, but feasible, been presented with the prospect of finally being reunited with Rose after so long, and nothing, nothing, about all of it has shocked him more than being schooled in basic M-theory by a child. A child who spoke of the Doctor and Time Lords as facts. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the boy, was quite incapable of motion at all, in fact, because he’d just managed to convince himself that it all might be true but with this encounter all that hard-won certainty was slipping away.

“Hey, are you okay? Sorry, there I go again, Mum’s always saying I’ve got this gob from someone but she won’t tell me who. It does seem to have a mind of its own though, because here I am babbling on when you might need a doctor. So do you want me to get you one? A doctor that is. If you need the proper Doctor you’re out of luck, I’m afraid, because I can’t go get my… Dad?

The child put his hand on the Doctor’s shoulder and the Doctor turned his head to look at him in the same instant. A charge, like an electrostatic current but ten times more potent, jumped between them, but the Doctor barely felt it. Didn’t need to feel it. Slumped on his knees so that he was looking up into the face of this extraordinary boy, he felt his hearts lodge themselves in his throat.

He has her eyes.

That single thought knocked every other one out of his head – given the state of his mind right then, not the feat it could have been but nevertheless impressive. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d drowned in those honey chocolate eyes and there they were: staring out at him from the face of a six year old boy.

He was so drunk on the sight of those eyes it took him a moment to realize that the face they were set in had the same bone structure he saw in the mirror every day.

What.” The word was hardly a puff of air. His gaze drifted up to discover hair sticking out at all angles like his did when he’s been running his hands through it, except that it was…


“Yup!” Apparently unperturbed, the boy rocked back on his heels slightly, even popping the ‘p’ and leaving the Doctor to wonder absurdly if the tick was somehow a genetic trait or if Rose had picked it up and passed it along, because that’s the sort of thing one did when the world has been turned upside down. “Mum said she laughed herself sick when she saw, but I don’t remember, being so young at the time and all. I’m not sure what exactly is so funny about recessive alleles but apparently they’re supposed to keep me from being rude? Or at least that’s what she says when I’m being rude. Allegedly. Most of the time I think she’s just being sensitive.”

The Doctor let out a stuttered breath which was the closest he could get to laughter without bursting into tears. This had the potential to be the most fantastic thing ever to have happened in his life (well, with the exception of one or two other notable instances) and he was in absolutely no condition to properly appreciate it.

The boy next to him was practically vibrating with excitement and the Doctor could only admire his restraint in the face of his own obvious discomfort. Once his emotions were working properly again through the haze currently clouding his brain, he knew he would be harbouring quite a towering state of rage against the entity who had stolen what should have been, not just one, but two joyous meetings. Instead, he climbed unsteadily to his feet, trying his level best to keep it as much together in front of the child who could only be (he can’t believe he’s admitting it, even to himself) his son - if the nascent bond that had just tried to jump between them through four layers of clothing was anything to go by.

He wished fiercely that he could give the boy the attention he deserved, all the more so since he had apparently missed quite a large portion of his childhood (and oh, how his hearts ached at that thought,) but his miniature double didn’t seem disappointed. On the contrary, he was grinning up at the Doctor as though he personally had hung the sun and stars. The hearts that had been squeezed to nothing in his chest did awkward flip flops. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder instead, feeling again the jolt of the bond that tried to connect even so far from their telepathic centers, and looked seriously into the eyes that he so adored.

“You know… who I am, then?” he asked, unsure of how to broach such a massively emotional topic.

“'Course I do! Mum knew you’d come back someday, wanted me to know everything about you so I’d be ready when you did – or if we figured a way back first. Not one to sit around and do nothing, Mum.”

The Doctor felt a small, but genuine smile cross his face for the first time in a very long time. “No, certainly not,” he agreed.

“I mean, obviously, she was counting on being the first one to see you so she could explain… well, us,” his son said, scratching the back of his head absently, the Doctor watching his every movement in rapt fascination. “I’m making a mess of things, I know I am, but you’re not mad, are you? At Mum? For not telling you?” Somehow, the chipper, talkative genius he’d just been interacting with had vanished, leaving a boy looking very young and uncertain indeed.

The Doctor had pulled him into his arms before he was consciously aware of the action. “No. Nonononononono,” he breathed, over and over into his son’s (ginger) hair. “Never. Not ever. You are brilliant and perfect and so is your mother, and I could never be mad at either of you. Not really.” A thrill ran through him as he said the words your mother knowing they applied to his own son. His Rose.

“Dad?” the child asked, pulling away the slightest fraction necessary to look up at him, an uncertain, heartsbreakingly hopeful smile on his face, a universe of questions contained within the three-letter word. The Doctor’s own hearts attempted to occupy too little and too much space simultaneously, convulsing in a desperate emotion he’d never felt in all his 900 years.

“Yes,” he replied, pulling his son tighter, answering at least some of them. “Yeah. I’m your dad.” It was one of the hardest sentences he’d ever had to say, his voice faltering halfway through. What right did he have to claim anything of the sort, having only just dropped into his life? But the child let out a happy sob, the sound of which embedded itself into the Doctor’s chest, and clutched himself closer to his waist. Both of them were trembling as they embraced in the quiet street. The child’s hands kept clenching and unclenching in the folds of his suit jacket, under his overcoat. They stayed that way for a long time, the Doctor inhaling the scent of young boy that was somehow still unique to his son, all honey and bruised grass and wind and sunlight, until he felt like it was safe to relinquish, just a little, the death grip he’d been keeping on his sanity. It served to throw into sharp relief, however, just how tenuous that control really was, and he knew he needed to make it to Rose before he completely broke down. He bit back a curse. It wasn’t fair to the child to leave him like this, but neither was it fair to keep him on the hook for his emotional wellbeing.

“What’s your name?” the Doctor asked, all the while railing at the universe for making it necessary for him to have to ask this question of his own son.

“Oh! Uhm…” A slightly muffled cough came from the vicinity of his navel and the boy pulled back to look up into his face. “I’m called Connor.”

“Connor.” The name of his son. He savoured it in his mouth, tasting out the sounds. “It’s, oh, so very nice to finally meet you, Connor.” He could feel tears starting in his eyes, and might have lost the battle with them were it not for the sight of the same in his son’s eyes. Despite his trauma, it was somehow the easiest thing in the world to be strong for both of them. Connor’s mouth tipped up in a watery smile.

“You too, Dad. You too.”

The Doctor’s hearts stuttered in his chest, and he bent to his son’s eye level. “Is it all right if I ask where your mum is right now, Connor?”

This time his son’s grin was decidedly cheeky as he gave his father one final squeeze and let go, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “I’m impressed, Dad. It took you a whole fifteen minutes to ask about Mum. Were you shooting for some sort of record?”

The Doctor’s hands found his own pockets, his posture mirroring his son’s as he studied him. “I’m always impressive, me. Also, never predictable if I can help it. More fun that way.”

Connor sucked in a breath through his teeth, his tongue poking between them slightly. “Dad, that was where you were supposed to say that I’m just that brilliant and engrossing.”

The Doctor winced playfully, but his eyes were serious as he caught his son’s gaze. “Is that so? I guess I’m just rusty at this whole fatherhood thing.” And if that isn’t the understatement of the millennium… “You’ll have to be a bit patient with your old man, yeah?”

Connor nodded solemnly, wrapping his arms around his father again, an embrace which the Doctor returned wholeheartedly. “'Course, Dad. Always.” When he pulled back, he had a box in his hand, which he then offered to the Doctor.

“What’s this?” he asked curiously.

“It’s for Mum,” Connor replied. “It’s why I’m not with her right now. Apple tea. I bring her some every year, on the anniversary of… well…”

The Doctor looked about himself, taking in the early spring scent of the air. “Do you mean to tell me it’s the fourth of March today?”

“Got it in one, Dad. Mum said you were good.” The Doctor winked at him, and then sobered. Apple tea. Every year, the scent of apples, and Rose, alone with her memories the same way he’d been, without her. No more. He let out a long breath, holding out his free hand towards his son.

“Well then, Connor Tyler, let’s not keep your mum waiting!”

A Fraction of Your Smile

Donut Siblings return! Even more specifically, General Martha makes her return! 

Martha got an alien sword for like five seconds in Here Comes the General, and as we all know, those have a tendency to result in alien babies. So when @goodluckdetective asked for one of the sisters and a baby, I saw my chance and took it. (For the Charlie verse fans, don’t worry; Locus still manages to get Charlie somehow. I would not deny the world Charlie.) 

Prompts are still open!

Pairings: Gen, implied Tuckington

Warnings: Non-consensual pregnancy. 


Martha has long since given up on being able to predict the course of her life. She joins the army after her brother dies, only for her brother to show up nearly a decade later, alive, well, and using a different name. She spends her whole life looking up to him, only to find out he let them all think he was dead for years, and that he shot her little brother. She thinks she’s fighting a war for the right reasons, but it’s all a joke. She thinks she’s just a grunt in the army, but she ends up a general.

She thinks she’ll get to go home, when the war is done, but there’s the awful truth of politics. She can’t leave Kimball alone to deal with all of this.

She thinks she’ll die in Armonia, in the heart of a nuclear explosion, but Carolina is close by with her speed boost and drags her out just in time, barely making it to the Pelican before the words “too late” can pass her lips, but not before apologies and requests to Wash make themselves known.

Keep reading


Characters: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 7,227

Genre: Angst

April 12th

Dear Jimin,

It’s been a while. You must be pretty surprised to hear from me, especially considering how much time has passed. Honestly, I’m a bit surprised myself. It’s been almost six years since we last spoke. I never took the time to realize how long it has been since I left. Recalling the past almost seems like I’m talking about another world at this point, so I’ll just focus on what’s currently happening.

Rather than continuing small talk, I’ll just save you the trouble and get straight to the point. I know I haven’t contacted you once after what happened those six years back, so why am I writing to you now?

Well, I’m back in Seoul.

I know those are probably the last words you would ever want to hear from me, but I’m here, at least for a short while. I’m not sure how long I’m planning to stay, since I do have to get back to my responsibilities overseas. I just figured that while I’m back, I should at least try to fix the damage I caused.

It’s honestly taking all of my willpower not to crumple this paper up and forget I ever thought about doing this. I would have never imagined that I would even try reaching out to you again, let alone using such a traditional and outdated method. I know letters are a bit cliché, but I was always told that writing down my thoughts was the best way to get them out. Plus, you know how lousy I am with any form of human interaction, at least when it comes to more sensitive situations.

Not to mention, I can do this all in the comfort of my lovely, 2-star hotel room, so I’d say this is a pretty acceptable form of communication.

Jimin, I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve done, but I hope that you’ll at least hear me out. Needless to say, I have a lot of explaining to do, six years’ worth of thoughts and actions I have yet to go over, so you can expect some more of these letters soon.

Keep reading

Joanna I of Castile as portrayed in fiction:

As the midwife set my newborn child in my arms, I thought without doubt she was my most beautiful—a perfect infant in every way, down to the fuzz of reddish curls on her still-soft crown, her milky skin, and her languid amber-tinted eyes. She did not fuss; rather, she was content to lie cradled beside me, as if her abrupt entrance into the world had left her unaffected.

I kept her with me until Fernando tiptoed into my chamber to stand at the foot of the bed, regarding me with a quizzical air.

“Rumor is you’ll not surrender her to the wet nurse. The ladies are scandalized. They think you’ll nurse her yourself.”

“She’s not hungry yet.’ I peeled back the edge of fleece swathing her face. “Look: she’s fast asleep. She’s been like this since they gave her to me. She’s so at ease, it’s almost unnatural. Have you ever seen a newborn so quiet?”

He came around the bed to gaze at her. “Her hair is red, like my mother’s.”

“Then we must call her Juana,” I said, “in honor of your mother.” I craned over to kiss her warm forehead, upon which life had yet to inscribe any lessons.

“Infanta Juana,” echoed Fernando and he smiled. “Yes, it suits her.”

Juana was a vigorous child with a mass of coppery curls and a temper to match, as Beatriz often teased. My friend had delivered a healthy boy whom she and her husband adored. They had christened him Andrés, after his father, but with the distraction of having to care for her new babe, Beatriz had indulged Juana’s whims. My second daughter dis „played early talent when it came to languages and music, but she was rebellious as far as her daily regimen was concerned, far too much so for a three-year-old.

I had a stern discussion with her about her unseemly penchant for throwing off her slippers to wade barefoot in the garden ponds. “Infantas should not behave thus,” I informed her when she pertly replied that her feet swelled in the heat. “Decorum at all times is essential.”

Juana pouted and proceeded to do exactly as she had been doing, so I decided to take her with me on a long overdue visit to Arévalo to see my mother. I reasoned that time alone with me, away from the distractions of court, would instill in her a modicum of behavior. To my disconcertion, she proved entirely unmanageable during the two-day trip, leaping up on the litter cushions to peer out the window at the passing meseta, and pointing and chattering excitedly about everything she saw, from the swooping eagles that stalked the plains to the crumbled watch-towers pockmarking the barren ridges. I watched her with bemusement, thinking of the fables I’d heard about changelings. Of course „uch tales were nonsense; but though she resembled Fernando in her coloring and disposition, there were moments when she caught my regard with those penetrating eyes of hers and suddenly she would seem years older than she was, as if another being dwelled in her skin.

She quieted down once we reached Arévalo, however. The isolation of the castle under its brooding sky seemed to affect her, and she stared, wide-eyed but silent, at the old servants moving like ghosts about the halls, treating her with the stiff discomfort of those who’d lived for years without ever seeing a child. I tried to reassure her that there was nothing to fear, that this had once been my home, but she only brightened when one of the castle dogs, descendants of my brother’s beloved Alarcón, snuffled up beside her. She had a way with animals, just as Alfonso had had.

She displayed an unexpected reticence at the sight of my mother, ensconced in the faded splendor of her apartments, which she now refused to leave. Dressed in the antiquated fashions of her brief tenure as queen, so gaunt her wrists poked like bones from her frayed sleeves, my mother peered at Juana for a seemingly endless moment before she crooked a finger at her, motioning her forward. Juana refused to budge. I felt her hand clasp at my skirts, resisting my murmured urge that she go and kiss her grandmother.

Then my mother whispered, “Tan desgraciada. So beautiful and so unfortunate, like me.”

Juana gave a frightened gasp; even at her age she understood the tenor of this pronouncement, uttered with the eerie assurance of a prophecy.

“Mama, please,” I said. “You mustn’t say such things. She’s only a child.”

“So was I, once.” My mother’s watery eyes turned distant. “So were you. Youth is no protection; in the end, life scars us all.”

When she practiced it aloud, Juana would peer at her suspiciously. Once, she blurted, “You act as if you’re looking forward to leaving Spain,” then she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“That’s my girl,” chuckled Fernando. “A Spaniard to her core, she is.” He swung Juana into his arms; as she squealed and pulled off his cap, revealing his now near-bald pate, I resisted a frown. He favored her too much. He even had a nickname for her, “Madrecita,” because she reminded him of his late mother. I’d told him countless times she must not grow up thinking she was more privileged than our other daughters, for she too must one day take her assigned place in the world, but Fernando would just chuck her chin and say, “My Madrecita will be an envoy for Spain no matter where she goes, eh?” And Juana’s emphatic “Sí, Papa!” did not reassure me, either. At this rate, Fernando would spoil her so much she would think no prince worthy of her, nor capable of living up to her father.

Inés and Beatriz were watching my children: Catalina snug in a cradle while Juana rocked her; María playing with her dolls; Isabel quietly reading from the psalms with Juan. As often happens in families the closest in age were not the closest in affection: While Isabel and Juan had grown close, Juana gravitated to Catalina. María seemed unaffected by her surroundings; at three years of age, she was so placid she astonished her attendants, who declared they’d never cared for a less troublesome child.

I ordered everyone to refuse to entertain any talk of convents, even if it made Isabel feel comforted. Everyone complied, but Juana, in characteristic fashion, goaded Isabel mercilessly. At eleven years of age, my second daughter was unwilling to concede any weakness in herself, much less in others.

“You look like a crow,” Juana remarked as we sat in my pavilion after dinner one evening, the warm wind flowing through the tent’s open flaps. Outside a thousand campfires glittered on Granada’s vega like fallen stars as our men settled in for the night. “Always in black and moping about; it’s unseemly. After all, you were married less than a year. You can’t possibly have loved him that much.”

Isabel stiffened on her stool, the altar cloth we embroidered between us tightening in her fingers. “And who are you to judge? What do you know of love or loss, spoiled selfish child that you are?”

“I might be spoiled,” retorted Juana, “but at least I know I’d never love anyone so much that I’d forget myself.”

I paused. “Is that smoke I smell …?” I started to say, as Juana leapt to her feet, tossing her hopelessly tangled yarns to the floor and rushing to the pavilion entrance. She gasped. “Mama, look! The camp is on fire!”

Pandemonium broke out. As the duennas and other ladies raced to the back of the pavilion to gather sleeping Catalina and María from their beds, I hurried with my older daughters outside. To my horror, I beheld flames leaping like nimble devils from tent to tent, incinerating the velvets and silks and brocades, consuming everything within their path in minutes. All around us courtiers and soldiers were shouting; horses whinnied in terror and tore loose from their tethers, galloping about in panic as the dogs bayed. I didn’t know where to turn; the smoke was already so thick I could barely draw in a breath. Suddenly, the marquis of Cádiz materialized out of nowhere, smut on his face and his clothes. “Majestad, come quickly!”

“Where are my husband and son?” I cried as he led us around the burning encampment, toward a nearby hill that offered protection.

“They are safe,” he said. “The fire started in my tent, where they slept, but they got out in time. The king’s hounds started barking the moment they saw the flames.”

“Gracias a Dios.” I clutched Catalina to me. In the eerie interplay of fire and darkness, I caught sight of Juana’s face. She was pale and wide-eyed; her mouth ajar in an expression I could only describe as exultant, as if the catastrophe had been staged for her amusement. I was appalled. Did she have no fear, no sense of the destruction and loss happening around us?

As if she read my thoughts, Isabel said quietly, “She doesn’t care. She thinks it’s a game. She has no respect for anything.”

I hushed her. With Catalina in my arms and María held by Beatriz, we reached the hill’s summit, which offered a terrible view of the conflagration. Fernando came running out of the darkness, his loyal hounds at his heels. I glimpsed our son, Juan, nearby, still in his nightshirt, his sword in its jeweled scabbard gripped in his hand. He’d recently been knighted in honor of his thirteenth year and refused to be separated from his weapon, even while in bed. At the sight of him, his white-gold hair tangled, his face blackened by soot but otherwise unharmed, tears of relief sprang to my eyes.

Juana plunged into Fernando’s embrace. Encircling her with his arm, he drew the rest of us close and we turned to watch our great cloth city, proof of our vanity and the whimsical folly of fate, burn entirely to the ground.

All the quotes describing childhood of Joanna (in six different scenes) come from: C. W. Gortner. „The Queen’s Vow”.

Day 5 Prompt: Private work affair / Public scandal

[for @rocketangelweek]

Summary: According to Overwatch regulation 42-5.1, “While fraternization is allowed within the ranks, relationships of a romantic nature are highly discouraged and can be cited as grounds for dismissal”. Unfortunately, a certain delirious soldier recovering from surgery can only recall one thing, and it sure as hell isn’t the Overwatch regulations book.

Notes: In which Fareeha “Stick-in-the-Mud” Amari turns into an embarrassing mess under the influence of painkillers and Angela has to deal with the consequences. I thought of this like a day ago and literally erased like half of prompt I already had done to write it, but it’s been my favorite to work on by far.

Four hours. Four consecutive hours of surgery. While it wasn’t the longest operation of Angela’s life by far, it still took its toll. She cursed her patient aloud for her tight-lipped nature, removing her gloves, cap and mask before shedding her gown in order to strip down to her scrubs. All items were unceremoniously scattered across the floor before Angela collapsed into the chair beside the hospital bed.

Fareeha would definitely have to pay her back for the mess they were in, that much was certain.

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Barry Allen Imagine - Don’t Blame Yourself (Part Two)

Author’s Note: Huge thank you to everyone who have shown so much appreciation and love for this piece. It is truly humbling to know it has gotten s much love as it had. That being said, here is part two. Not a lot of Barry x Reader interactions, but there is a reason for that which hopefully (fingers crossed) becomes apparent as you read it. There should be a total of three parts to conclude the story but it might go longer..

Anyways, enough of my blabbering and here’s onto the story!

P.S. Here’s Part One for those who haven’t read it yet.

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anonymous asked:

♔? (Pairing obvious) ;P

♔: Finding the other wearing their clothes

There was something metaphorical about the emptiness of the arching corridors in the S’chn T’Gai abode. It was so still, so quiet—so different from the kind of peace Jim had grown accustomed to from being in space.

On the Enterprise, there had always been sound: low hums, chimes, and beeps, chatter and a constant presence of background noise. But it’d become so much more personal than generic mechanical feedback after a certain point. Once the promises were made and the ancient words spoken, Jim found himself rife with harmonious impressions–thoughts that both were and were not his own, conversations he would perceive with his mind instead of his ears.

It was comforting, had become part of him.

A person could easily grow accustomed to being surrounded by noise, he learned…could even discover pleasure in its company. And for one who had embraced it and reveled in subsequent contentment for years, losing the companionship of sound would feel as miserable as the sudden loss of something utterly vital.

…or someone.

It wasn’t the first time silence had threatened Jim. Even after he’d accepted promotion and damned himself to a life of being grounded on Earth, he’d done what he could to help his situation. At home and in the office, the environmental system had always been ordered to play white noise on the lowest setting so he could close his eyes, wrap himself in it, and feel whole again.

And when that beloved voice frequented Jim’s mind no more, he’d talk to himself. Each night while lying in a bed much too big for one, he sent an unspoken love letter along silver skeins and threads. His mind softly whispered words that would never be received over a bond linking him to someone who no longer wanted him. But just knowing that Spock was somewhere safe and alive—and possibly happy—was enough to lull Jim to sleep, despite how his heart ached.

Now, however, none of these old comforts could lessen the pain of his wounds and the only sound Jim heard was that of his own footsteps. They gently tapped against polished faux wooden floorboards, echoing throughout grandiose hallways filled with luxurious Vulcan decor. This wasn’t his house; he couldn’t command the computer to play background noise and disrupt the environment everyone else was used to.

That was the least of his worries, however. The bond Jim carried with him was no longer their bond, but a torn and broken road in his mind which led to a void.

It led to nowhere at all. And that’s exactly where Jim was going, himself.

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Wonwoo Crossing 🌺

a/n: I’m not sure if you guys can see it, but just imagine Wonwoo playing Animal Crossing (New Leaf)

Originally posted by ftwonwoo

Wonwoo x Animal Crossing New Leaf headcanon :))

  • names himself Wonwow; gives himself the “original” character face because he was only answering the starting questions honestly
  • names his town Twilight Town (possible kingdom hearts fan??)
  • the town hall is to the left of his town, and Reese’s recycling shop is to the right
  • the river cuts the town in half horizontally
  • places his house next to the town hall and constantly checks up on Isabelle
  • definitely puts in the “keep town beautiful” ordinance
  • is a massive hoarder !!!
  • the first couple of months, his house is filled with plants and unnecessary furniture (like a storybook, or a giant chess piece)
  • has more furniture than he needs??? the main room has a bunk bed that he doesn’t have the heart to let go….
  • once he gets the second story to the museum, one of the rooms is dedicated to just plants :))
  • he visits the plants everyday and speaks to them one by one
  • the same goes with the flowers around his town; waters all 500 of them every day <3
  • when he shakes the trees for coins or the two special furniture, he lets the bees sting him
  • forgives them immediately after; applies medicine that he always carries around (for emergencies!)
  • another room on the second floor of the museum is filled with cute animals he finds
  • that includes: snails, beetles, an angel fish (yknow the see through one omg), a squid, SEAWEED
  • his character always holds a balloon; alternates between the bunny shaped one and the heart shaped one :’))
  • is still up at like 1 in the morning trying to catch beetles in order to pay off his dEBT
  • always manages to scare the golden stags…
  • sometimes goes on the international server and meets cool people
  • probably writes their names down and hopes he sees them again :D
  • sometimes he sees people talking about seventeen and hits them with:
  • “carat, lucky in my life <3″ (he really puts that heart there too, awww)
  • picks up dandelions and blows them after whispering his wish
  • he looks around his shared room before he makes a wish so the members don’t tease him the next day (awwww)
  • when there’s a meteor shower, he makes wishes too!
  • writes letters to his villagers AT LEAST twice a month
  • always adds a heart at the end (<3)
  • eventually gets rid of the majority of his things
  • his house is nO LONGER CLUTTERED
  • he doesn’t actually get rid of his things though
  • he forces Mingyu and Hoshi to get the game too, and gave them his stuff as “gifts”
  • this boy really can’t let go of anything (like me lol)
  • builds the Roost Cafe as soon as it’s available as a public works project
  • memorizes all of his villager’s coffee orders
  • sells the coffee beans Brewster gives him (he feels reALLY GUILTY THOUGH)
  • one day he receives the cafe uniform as is so touched???
  • he sets his ds down for 10 minutes, his hand clutching his heart
  • changes into that outfit whenever he works at the cafe
  • his dream villagers are characters that he thought were cute or would be a great addition to his town!
  • includes (but not in a specific order): Merengue, Beau, Coco, Kid Cat, Zucker, Lolly, Marshal, Fauna, Ankha, and Genji~
  • (Hoshi fell in love with Genji <3)
  • loves his current villagers all the same though!
  • doesn’t have the heart to let go of moving villagers!!
  • even if he doesn’t like them or they aren’t his dream villagers, he always debates whether he should let them go or not… 
  • after 8 months of playing, he finally has all hIS DREAM VILLAGERS!!
  • he adores them all, but never forgets his past villagers (he really misses Curt and Rolf…. </3)
  • lowkey thinks Coco has a crush on him… (he secretly loves it… <3)
  • never misses a villager’s birthday
  • “Merengue’s birthday is coming up, omg what do I get her???!?”
  • when his villagers invite him over, he always accepts and stays at their house for at least an hour so he doesn’t feel rude (WHAT A SWEET BOY)
  • since his town is now considered perfect, he’s able to build the big flower clock!
  • he places it right in the center of his town :)
  • his score at the Happy Home Academy is always SUPER HIGH
  • strongly believes in the Feng Shui approach
  • probably has half a billion bells in his ABD in 6 months….
  • his goal is to create all of the flower hybrids
  • is SUPER close to getting the gold roses
  • doesn’t want to disable his “keep town beautiful” ordinance so his flowers could wilt though…. ㅠㅠ
  • eventually caves in and NOW HAS GOLD ROSES
  • always participates in the tourneys (bug catching or fishing)
  • always places first….
  • collects mushrooms during mushroom season
  • definitely creates fairy rings (Woozi appreciates it winkwink)
  • refuses to run around his town AT ALL TIMES
  • he doesn’t want to accidentally trample over a flower and destroy it!!!
  • doesn’t like Mingyu and Hoshi visiting anymore
  •  >:((
  • they’re constantly running and just
  • “What was that hyung? Step on your flowers??”
  • Mingyu is just constantly trying Wonwoo smh
  • although~~ he sets up paths in between rows of flowers so he can have natural worn down paths (due to grass wear yknow? ^^)
  • brings his 3ds eveRYWHERE
  • “oh, we’re having a break? time to check on Mary and the gang”
  • Mary is his favorite flower… she’s a golden rose right in front of his house
  • has a lot of respect for the working npc’s like Isabelle, Nook, Reese, etc.
  • posts on the town board (thingy) every week like
  • “have a good week everyone! be safe always and talk to me! also no running!! -from Mayor Wow”
  • yea, his nickname is Mayor Wow lol
  • his house mirrors an actual house
  • the back room is a kitchen, the second floor is a bedroom, the main room is the living room, the side rooms are probably like a game room and a guest room
  • his basement is filled with all his awards from the tourneys smh (I’m jealous)
  • Mingyu LOVES his kitchen
  • it’s so wonderfully laid out omg
  • Mingyu just wants to live with Wonwoo now
  • Mingyu finally gives up knowing he can’t live with Wonwoo
  • but claims the kitchen is his whenever they visit Mayor Wow’s town
  • absolutely HATES Gracie’s Fashion Checks
  • but does them anyway so he could finally upgrade to the T&T Emporium
  • his character wears those circle glasses, a totoro sweater, and like normal jeans and shoes
  • simple yet dashing might I include
  • at first leaves his hair brown (the standard hair color when you start the game)
  • then over time does all sorts of colors like he starts his hair dye experience with black cause thats what his hair color is and then shifts to like red, and then auburn, and even light purple!
  • he’s tried all of the hair colors~~
  • his favorite and current hair color is deep ocean :)
  • absolutely loves seeing the leaves on the trees change colors
  • likes the cherry blossoms the most
  • he also loves the winter <3
  • he always stays up late to see the aurora
  • walks around his town admiring the decorated pine trees~
  • he swears its not an obsession!!
  • but here he is, playing animal crossing at 3 in the morning when his schedule starts at 8
  • eventually convinces all the members to get the game too!
  • every Saturday they have an animal crossing day, and alternates visiting each other’s towns :)
  • Mayor Wonwow brought everyone together :))
  • awwww, imagine playing with him *dreamy sigh*

a/n: This was so looooong, but where are my animal crossing and kpop fans at??!? I can just see Wonwoo rolled up in a blanket playing this ^^ (lowkey his town already sounds better than mine and i’ve been playing for a year OTL) hope you all enjoyed~!



There was nothing worse than being in the one place you promised yourself you would never see again.

But here I was again, surrounded by inmates. To anyone who knows what it’s like in here, it’s pure hell in its most basic form. No matter how many times one has seen the insides of this place, there will never be a time of comfort or joy. You will never get used to this and no one honestly should. I folded my hands together and waited impatiently. The sound of the guards and inmates’ heavy footsteps along with the sounds of cuffs pierced my eardrums. Nothing could really make me nervous nor would I ever fear anything that I could easily change or work to my benefit. But just waiting was beginning to drain me and annoy the hell out of me. I had no patience. Never had and probably never will.

These past months have been… bearable. Things can’t always go 100% my way but I have to be okay with that. I was alive, my nephew was straight, my family, who consisted mostly of the guys, were all great and my dick was always in some tight ass pussy. Of course there has been a few minor setbacks here and there but I work through all of them, like I always do. Between setting my life straight and getting Austin to have some stability it didn’t seem like he had before, I’ve been doing a lot of things. There wasn’t a day when I wasn’t occupied with something. I was sacrificing a lot, just to gain overall satisfaction so I was hoping all of this was worth it.

A shove to my side easily snapped me out of my thoughts and I mugged Caiden momentarily before switching my gaze to the opened door, bringing in one inmate in particular. A small smile graced my face as I sat up, stood and waited for the cuffs to be released from him. “Brozay!” I said loudly, making sure that everyone in the room heard my obnoxious voice. It earned a few looks from the correctional officers but I easily shrugged it off. With a chuckle, he continued to make his way towards us, stopping only a mere few feet away and raising his arms so the guard could release the cuff from around his slim wrist. In seconds, daps, hugs and greetings were spread among us three and it soon followed with us being seated down at the steel table.

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