you hit me with an axe one time

Joseph: donnovan, meet me on my island at 5 o'clock. Pack my battle axe and my poetry and be prepared to abandon your religion




Craig: running is a fun way to clear up last nights bad choices! I had cheese cake!

robert: i wanna hit you in the face as hard as i can, i dont wanna do that

Hugo: principal morris, one of the second graders is on fire and i dont think he’s gunna make it this time.


Requested by @amralimedeano I apologize beforehand since I’m pretty sure this was not what you wanted. I honest to god wasn’t expecting a modern day request lol but I tried my best. Also, I’m trying something new so the GIFs can be found throughout the story. Tell me if you like it or not because it might be a little much :) 

Master List

You narrow your eyes at the door as you hear a knock. You were not expecting anyone tonight. You put your book and move to open the door. What you see makes your heart stop for a bit.

There in front of you are thirteen dwarves. Thirteen dwarves and a freaking hobbit. 

Originally posted by middleearth2asgard

Of course you knew what dwarves and hobbits were. You read the books and saw all of the movies, but you did not expect to see them here in front of you and you did not expect them to be of normal height.

“Good evening lass. I was wondering if you could tell us where we are?” Balin asks. 

Originally posted by fililionheart

Oh how you loved the dwarf. You very bitter when you found out he died. VERY bitter.

“Earth. You’re not in middle earth, but regular earth. Its a more technologically advanced middle earth. Here why don’t you come inside?” you ask and he nods. You make way for the 13 dwarves as they come stomping into your house.

It took you a few hours, but you fully explained where they were.

“Excuse me, miss y/n. What’s this?” you hear Ori ask. 

Originally posted by poewdameron

You turn to find him holding your computer upside down. He looks like he’s about to drop it so you quickly make your way over to him. “That my dear scribe is a computer. A very expensive one,” you say as the other dwarves settle down in front of your fire place.

“What is a computer?” he asks and you sigh, trying to think of an explanation for it but you can’t. “Well, it’s almost like a book but easier I suppose. Kili don’t touch that!” you exclaim, putting the laptop down and moving over to Kili who had some how turned on the stove and was now trying to stick his finger in it. You slap it away.

“What is it miss y/n?” Kili asks. 

Originally posted by kililoveshisprincess

“A stove. It’s like a campfire, but more compact,” you say.

“Fili, get your head out of there,” you scold yet again as you see the blonde dwarf sticking his head in your microwave.

Originally posted by shirleysalas8

“Ms. y/n. What is this?” Dori asks and you sigh turning to look at what he’s holding. It’s your phone.

“It’s a cell phone. You can send messages and pictures to other people far away. It’s kind of like sending a raven but you don’t talk into a bird,” you explain.

You look into the fridge to look for something to make for dinner, but whatever was in there was not enough for 15 people. You sigh when you realize you need to go shopping.

“Alright. I’m going out for a bit. You lot stay here and don’t touch anything,” you announce, grabbing your keys.

“Can we come with?” Bofur asks excitedly. “What?” you ask. “Can we come with you?” Fili responds. You look around and sigh. “Alright, but only four of you can come. That’s the most I can carry,” you say, “also. Follow me upstairs. We need to change your clothing. You are not going out looking like that.”

With that, Bofur, Fili, Kili and Ori follow you upstairs. You had some extra clothes your brothers left behind and you were pretty sure they were all the same size as the dwarves.

You throw them all jeans and t-shirts and leave them to get changed. You go to your bedroom to grab your wallet and go downstairs to wait for the dwarves.

Ori comes down wearing an ugly christmas sweater and you laugh. He matches completely. Kili comes down with a Harry Potter hoodie that you did not remember giving him.

“I really liked this instead,” he says as you open your mouth. You roll your eyes as Fili comes down in a tight red dress shirt and Bofur with a white dress shirt. “Ready girls,” you ask and they nod.

“Do. Not. Touch. Anything,” you growl out and the five of you leave. You were pretty sure they were going to burn the house down.

You end up taking an hour to get your shopping done. Of course you had the most curious dwarves with you so that was the main problem. Plus there were many girls surrounding you. You basically had to beat them off with a stick.

You pull into your drive way and everything seems relatively okay, but as soon as you walk inside that changes. The television is knocked to the ground with an ax in it, the ceiling fan was missing a part, and the microwave was on the ground.

You thought that the knuckeheaded dwarves were with you. Apparently, you were wrong.

“Can someone please explain to me what happened?” you ask, handing the groceries over to Kili and Fili.

“Well this thing started talking and I thought it was someone trying to kill us,” Dwalin says, pointing to the television. 

Originally posted by captain-flint

That would explain the ax then. One of them probably sat on the remote.

“And the fan?” you ask. This time it’s Thorin who answers you. 

“Well, I hit some type of switch and it start rotating and I thought it was coming toward me so I shot it with an arrow,” he explains, rubbing the back of his neck.

Originally posted by tinysofia

 You let out a deep sigh.

“And the microwave?” you ask pointing to the broken appliance. You look at the dwarves and they all point to Bilbo. You look at him in shock. You did not expect him to break anything. If anything he and Balin seemed like the most responsible one.

“Ah yes. It seems like I pressed a button and then it startled me when it started beeping and I seemed to have hit it off the counter?” he asks.

Originally posted by acebarduil

You close your eyes breathing in deeply. They were going to be the death of you. Granted, they seemed hella cute while doing so.

Imagine If Fantasy Was Realistic in Its Fighting

Imagine, for a moment, how interesting a fantasy was if it was realistic in fighting. I’m certainly not suggesting that the fantasy would be ruined. Instead, it would need to display tactics that real people needed to deal with:

- Orcs would swing their weapons at normal speed. 

- Meaning that heroes and their companions wouldn’t have time to throw the ax at that one orc who has taken over ten seconds to bring their own weapon down on the hero.

- Meaning that the hero would be hit.

- Wounds would actually mean something in stories. Not simply, “Owie, feel bad for me for three chapters.” A loss of blood would actually mean something.

- People, even heroes, would die from wounds.

-  And death WOULD occur. 

- Wounds would have long-term consequences.

- “Why am I lame?” “Halfelfoot, you almost lost the entire leg.  We literally sewed it back on you. You can’t walk on it. Ever.”

- Arrows would be real. They would tear through flesh and bone and kill the target like they’ve been designed to do.

- Not simply be snapped off as if it was a twig.

- Spinning in battle would be stupid.

- “Yes, here, let me expose my back to you because I want to get more momentum on my weapon but actually can’t because I’ll be hit before I can spin completely around.”

- Fighting even two people would be risky because, no matter your skill, as long as the other two fighters are competent, they know they can incapacitate you as long as the other has you preoccupied.

- Therefore, being chased by “NO MORE THAN 100 GOBLINS” wouldn’t be so flippant. Instead, it would be, “Oh no, 100 creatures are armed with weapons, are competent with them, and just a pair of them can kill you, and then another pair can kill me. We now have to fight 50 a piece.” 

- Yes. The goblins would win.

- Spears would actually be used because they have an advantage in length. 7 feet, to be exact. And they can stab right through someone, if struck in the right place.

- Armor couldn’t be cut through. If armor was so easily bested, no one would waste precious metal in making it. Mail armor was almost impossible to cut (but more susceptible to thrusting). Plate armor CANNOT be cut. Ever. It has been designed to deflect every single blow.

- Helmets would be worn. If you don’t wear a helmet, I’ll see you tomorrow with an arrow, blade, or spear through your skull. 

- Civilians who had never fought with a blade before would die.

- “Yes, I’ll flail my sword around like a bat when I don’t understand anything about fighting and then am pit against someone who has been fighting for years and not expect to be run through.”

- Orcs and other enemies do not swing at the blade. They swing at the person. Someone who has not been trained to dodge or deflect, or doesn’t wear armor, WILL be killed.

- Shields would actually be a thing.

I’m certainly not saying that any fantasy that doesn’t have these features aren’t good. They are. But a more realistic fantasy might be very interesting to see.

She thought her ish was was super hot fie (part 2)

“What’s up Melvin” is how Tiff answered the phone.
“Ain’t Nothing Tiff” you know how you can hear in a persons voice when they’re aggrivated or don’t want to be bothered? Yeah I was getting that vibe it’s quater. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, have you recovered?” Shots we’re being fired already.
“Ha you got joke huh?” I said trying not to get in my feelings.
“And you ain’t got no stroke.” Man no mercy, some of ya’ll women be cold blooded as hell, I mean playing no games when it come to it… Shit
“Listen about that, I had a situation miss lady.”
“ I mean you wasn’t ready obviously.”
“I mean yes and no right. I was ready for you no doubt but there was a complication that came about.”
“Oh so you was Sleep on my pussy aye… ain’t think I had that sauce huh.” I was tryna hold back my laughter, she was really on this high ass horse.
“So listen right, the food we ate fucked my stomach all the way up. Like as soon as you laid up under me my shit went 0 to 100 real quick, I mean real quick shot out to Drake. Naw but for real like I was surprised you didn’t hear all the rumbling.”
“Uh huh right” man shawty was playing me to the left real hard.
“I’m so dead ass right now folk, the last few days I been beating myself up about it. Like I was even glad u answered my call and shit. But, I had to be honest with you because it was killing me. A nigga really vibe you and i’ll be damn if I leave you with that bitter taste in your mouth.”
“Hmph so what you saying Melvin?”
“I’m saying let me make it up to you, show you what a nigga really all about.”
“Ummmm I don’t know, you sure the pink panther just ain’t your kryptonite?”
“Hell she very well could be but I wanna know for sure.” I played it modest but I knew if give the chance her ass was gon get his work.
“Well what’s good for tonight I got 5 minutes for you” she said in true ass hole form. I was going to let her gloat and have her moment fir when provided with the opportunity I was going to ravish her little ass and she ain’t even know it. So she gave me a time of around 8 or so to get my five minutes in.
Best believe so the rest of the day I was brainstorming like a mother fucker like how imma put it in her life. In my head like “she done tried a nigga set.” No sir I ant gonna let shit ride at all. Any man will tell going in to hype leads to a quick night but I couldn’t contain myself, she really had me on some show up and show out shit. So around 7 I resulted to an old trick my cousin put me on to. He said “bruh if you goin in too anxious you gon cum quick, so thats why I always rub one out before I hit s chick the first time.” Damn right I took back to high school days, Tiffany Ambrose was gon get that dick tonight… I showered up, Oh if you ain’t know, Axe bodywash is the truth. Threw on some b-ball shorts and a v-neck. sprinkled some Polo Red and made my way over to my opponents residence.
I pull up a quater til 8 l, I sit in he whip for a few minutes just thinking else where. Never did I feel I had so much to prove in a sexual aspect. Shawty pulled my card though, not just out the sleeve it was in bout out the book as well. I couldn’t let that ride, no way Jose. I finally hop out the car and head to the door bottled water in hand. She came to door in some b-ball shorts too and a beater, no bra on and the thangs we’re sitting pretty. We sat there for about 15 seconds just looking eachother up and down.
“You got five for sweetie?” I said a low and slow and shit.
“Yeah I got that for you” she said with a smirk.
I stepped in the door grabbed her waist and hoisted her up until our lips met. Her legs wrapped around me, I pushed the door shut behind me. I turned and pushed her up against the door as passion oozed from my lips to hers a from hers to mine. I let up a little pressure so I could slide her shorts down. I was playing no games with her ass. I slid her up the door and dropped my shoulders under her thighs kissing each slowly to Military cadence (left,left,left right,left). I could feel her trembling as I neared flower.
I was poised to make her beg for me to to change her. I didn’t go straight for her pussy, after kissing her thighs I moved to the crease wherE the pelvis and thigh meet. I could tell she was getting anxious her movements became more heavy and seemed to be less controlled. Furthermore I felt the puddle on my shirt getting bigger by the second. I finally put my lips on hers and she grabbed the back of head something serious. She as already cumming boatloads. The melodic sounds of her oohs and ahhs were music to my ears, when she wasn’t clinching her thighs around them. She loosened her grip and I let her down slowly.
She looked up at me with this look as if I told her fish don’t swim… “I think I went over my time limit.” I grabbed for the door nob and my hand was knocked aside.
“Nigga we decided to to give you an extension.”

nothing is lost, only changed

This takes place right after the scene in 02x07 “Faith” where Claire and Jamie agree to return to Scotland 


Jamie’s head had lay in Claire’s lap for some time now - still kneeling before her, his face pressed against her belly, hands tightly gripping her hips, tears soaking the fabric of her gown as she gently rubbed the back of his neck.

So many times she had held him so and he had marveled at the miracle that was - that still was - their daughter. He had never seen her - and had no other way to mourn her.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” The tears were gone from Claire’s voice, and he raised his head, eyes bleary from exhaustion and emotion.

“I think I ruined your dress.”

Her lips curved in a small, tentative smile. “It doesn’t matter. Come.”

He eased back and slowly rose, groaning at the strain and pull of his cramped muscles. Then extended one hand to help Claire rise. She rested her palm in his, and as he pulled her up he brought her knuckles to his lips. And held them there, eyes locked on hers. Watching her. Worshiping her.

She squeezed his fingers and finally he released, heart so full as she led him to their bedroom, helped him sit on the bed, and quickly departed to ask Suzette for a basin of hot water.

Jamie sat in the quiet voluptuousness of the master bedroom, seeing everything as if for the first time.

The heavy draperies. The paintings on the walls. The silver candlestick holders. Claire’s blue dressing gown sloppily thrown over one chair.

This wasn’t his room. This wasn’t his life.

He shifted his feet. His heel felt something solid under the bed. So he knelt, lifted the silk sheet, and saw the box.

The apostle spoons.

His heart clenched, fresh tears welling.

Oh, Claire. Oh, God, Claire.

With trembling hands he gently lifted the box and sank to the bed, carefully opening it on the bedspread.

Twelve spoons to feed a bairn that would never come.

He was no longer angry - no longer vengeful. Because those emotions could so easily mask the one emotion he so desperately did not want to feel.


He had lost so much - so many people - in his life. But why did this loss crack his heart wide open?

The bed sank in front of him. He blinked, looked up, and saw Claire, so heartbreakingly beautiful.

“I couldn’t bear to look at them,” she whispered.

He swallowed. “Aye.” He found what he had been looking for, and gently lifted it from the box.

“I want to leave this for her, when we go visit.” His voice sounded like it was a thousand miles away.

Her fingers were cold as she took the spoon. She squinted at the apostle on top - and Jamie watched her chin tremble.

“How can you transform so much pain into something so…so *sweet*?”

“Because I love you, *mo graidh*. You give me strength to feel what I’m too cowardly to feel on my own.”

He closed the box, gently took the spoon from her hand, and edged closer to her on the bed, framing her face between his hands.

When had she gotten so thin? So pale? He could see almost every vein, every capillary, blood racing beneath her alabaster skin.

“Do ye feel me giving you my strength, Claire?”

She nodded.

“And do ye feel yerself giving your strength to me, then?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I do.”

A beat. She held his eyes, refusing to blink through the tears - terrified to sever this precious connection.

“This is how we will survive. We are neither of us whole, alone. It’s too much for one person - ”

“But not for two.”

He smiled slowly, sadly, tracing the curve of her lip with his thumb.

“I love you more than anything. You know that, aye?”


She kissed his finger. He bent his forehead to hers. Sharing breath.


When she had finally composed herself, Claire squeezed his hand, rose, and quietly stepped over to her vanity. She pushed away the pots of cosmetics and other fripperies Louise had bestowed on her right after their arrival, gently picked up a handkerchief, and carefully returned to Jamie’s side.

Carefully she lay the folded handkerchief on Jamie’s knee, and pulled back one end.

A beam of light pierced through the window, illuminating strands of impossibly fine copper-colored hair.

Jamie’s heart leapt to his throat, afraid to breathe.

“Mother Hildegarde thought we’d like to have this - it’s most of the hair she was born with. In my time we’d have taken prints of the baby’s hands and feet, but the nuns didn’t have anything for that.”

He touched the unbelievable softness with the tip of one finger. “This is hers?”

Claire nodded, afraid to meet his eyes for fear of losing herself anew in her grief. “Yes. I don’t know what to do with it - but I can’t part with it. I look at it every day - it’s part of her. Part of her that we can always have with us.”

Jamie gently, reverently, folded the handkerchief and took both of Claire’s hands in his.

“Look at me, please.”

She did, afraid to see pain - but elated to see joy.

“Thank you for the gift of our daughter. The most loved little girl who ever lived.”

“But - ”

“Dinna disagree wi’ me. She was alive. She *is* alive, here, with us now. We canna ever lose her, as long as you and I love her, and remember her.”

Feeling. So much feeling. Sorrow? Guilt? Joy?


Suddenly the strength left her body, and she took solace in Jamie’s outstretched arms.


He relaxed his back against her front, tilting his head as she scraped the razor over his chin.

“Don’t move - I don’t want to nick your skin in any way. I just got you back - and I don’t feel like mending any new scratches.”

She pulled away the razor in time for a laugh to rumble through the freshly-shaved column of his throat.

“Hold still,” she hissed.

For a split second they were back - there was no pain, no grief, no overwhelming sense of *loss* - not while he tried valiantly to keep from moving and she focused diligently on her work.

“When was the last time you had a beard like this?”

He paused, waiting for the razor to complete another sweep down his throat.

“Probably that winter when I lived rough - raiding cattle. Afore I was hit on the heid wi’ that axe.”

She repositioned his head and squinted in the pale midday light filtering through the heavy curtains of their bedroom. His whiskers were so fair that it was hard to see without the direct sunlight.

“But I certainly didna have a pretty lass such as yerself to help me tidy up,” he continued, worming one hand in the general direction of her hip. She gracefully darted away from his touch and scraped away at a patch she had missed right on the edge of his jawline.

She smoothed more lather onto the side of his cheek. “I certainly hope not. I don’t mind the scruff - but you look. I don’t know. *Wild* with it.”

He waited for her to scrape away the final bits, then rub his face with a damp towel.

“All done,” she said softly. “Now I want to look at you.”

He dropped the towel and turned to face her, skin stinging a bit in the cool air.

“There’s my Highlander,” she whispered, raising one hand to twine in his unruly curls.

“Your servant, madam,” he replied.

Dolorous Edd Appreciation Post.

I will write no meta or add any commentary. I will just compile quotes from the unappreciated wonder known as Dolorous Edd. Enjoy.

Jon was paired with dour Eddison Tollett, a squire grey of hair and thin as a pike, whom the other brothers called Dolorous Edd. “Bad enough when the dead come walking,” he said to Jon as they crossed the village, “Now the Old Bear wants them talking as well? No good will come of that, I’ll warrant. And who’s to say the bones wouldn’t lie? Why should death make a man truthful, or even clever? The dead are likely dull fellows, full of tedious complaints-the ground’s too cold, my gravestone should be larger, why does he get more worms than I do…”

A Clash of Kings.

Keep reading

More Than Friends

Imagine being best friends with Thorin and having Dwalin play matchmaker.

“Oh, we are not having this argument again,” You shoved Thorin’s shoulder as you sat beside him on the upturned log, “Did we not settle this last time…and the time before?”

“You cheated,” Thorin shook his head, “As you always do.”

“No, no,” You looked to Dwalin on your other side, “You were there. Did I cheat?”

“Not exactly,” Dwalin answered evasively, not giving the confident response you had hoped for.

“Not exactly,” Thorin asserted with a grin, “Which means yes, you did.”

“Don’t you begin this again,” You quirked your brow, “Do you really have such a want to be humiliated in front of your own company?”

“I won’t be the one so shamed this time,” He argued as he reached for the ax on his other side.

“Fine,” You stood and grabbed your own ax from behind the log, “You asked for it.”

Keep reading

The party is faced with a chimera after going through long mental puzzles for almost three hours real time.

DM: You’re faced with your final challenge, the Chimera.

Me (Dragonborn Paladin): Finally! Something I can hit with my axe! I’ve had enough of this mental nonsense!

Warlock (to the Druid): Remind me again why she’s captain of a battalion in the military?

Me: *rolls nat 20 to chop off one of the heads*

DM: Are you fucking kidding me?! You just chucked it for half it’s HP!

Druid (to the Warlock): That’s why. She’s really good at hitting things with her axe. Atta girl Captain!

Blind Dates

Length: Long

Submitted by:

I’ve never liked getting set up by friends. The majority of blind dates I’ve been on have ended horribly, mostly because we didn’t connect at all. That, or the guy turned out to be a creep. 

But this last time I begrudgingly agreed to be set up, things turned out to be… surprisingly great. His name is Matt and I can tell you he is certainly handsome, smart and has an amazing sense of humor. We’ve been out on a couple of dates and he never ceases to surprise me. Tonight wouldn’t be an exception, as he invited me to this fancy new blackout restaurant in the area: Shadow Elitiste.

I know, I know, it sounds pretentious and dumb. But I trust Matt, and I’m sure he won’t disappoint me now. I can’t lie and say I’m not thrilled, I’ve never done anything like this!

I asked a couple friends if they knew about it and most said they’d heard the name before, but nothing else. That’s the strange thing about this place, no one really knew much about it. Out of sheer curiosity, I googled it and was a little disappointed. Their website is very vague, only containing the place’s name, an address, phone number and a very brief description. All over a black background. The owner is anonymous, not even mentioned in the few articles about this new restaurant. The big mystery surrounding the place is subject to great controversy among the locals, apparently. I’m not too worried though.

I also don’t worry about wearing too much make up or putting on the fanciest clothes, because it’ll be dark anyways. But I still want to look nice because I like impressing him, too. He picks me up at seven, greeting me with a beautiful bouquet of pink carnations and hydrangeas. He remembered these are my favorite! Boy, am I a lucky girl!

My hands are shaking a little by the time we’re in his car and on the way. I’m just so excited! Matt notices and grabs one of my hands, kissing it once before setting it back on my lap. 

I expected the place to be in a nice part of town, seeing how popular it is. But no, it’s in a more isolated area, where there seem to be things abandoned factories and warehouses. I’m not disappointed, in the very least. Perhaps just a little scared. I feel as if a thousand butterflies are fluttering in my stomach.

Matt grabs my hand once more and leads me inside. It’s not very extravagant, like I expected. There’s a small waiting room to our left, illuminated by a fancy crystal chandelier. The air smells musty and like accumulated dust. Weird. Isn’t this place brand new? There are massive Victorian drapes over the windows, not letting light in or out. Other than that, there’s only a front desk, black like the walls around us. Behind it, a bald, foreign looking man sits reading “The Lair of the White Worm”. Interesting book choice. 

We approach him and Matt leans over to whisper to him about our reservation. It’s as if talking would break the eerie enchantment of the place. The man nods, excusing himself in an equally silent tone to step into a room nearby. He doesn’t seem very talkative anyway.

Matt remains silent and I don’t know what to say, so I do the same. The man returns after a couple minutes, wearing what I guess are night vision goggles. He offers us his hands and I hesitate for a second before taking one of them. It’s surprisingly cold. I tremble slightly, though I’m not quite sure why. Maybe it’s because I’m thrilled, or scared of not knowing what comes next. 

Matt gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s gonna be alright. We’re gonna have a great time, you’ll see.” He says, patting my arm. I smile back, but it feels a little forced. Still, I don’t want him to worry about me, so I put on a brave face.

The man moves back a heavy black curtain and steps into thick, uninviting darkness. I swallow hard, closing my eyes even if it won’t make a difference. Our steps echo down what I assume is a long corridor. None of us says anything, but it’s not fully silent. I can hear pleasant classical music faintly in the distance. I let myself relax ever so slightly. But as soon as I sigh a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, pain explodes in the back of my head and I fall forward.

God knows how long later, I wake up. It didn’t really hit me that I had been unconscious. The darkness was all the same. I groan, feeling groggy and weak. I notice my head is pounding, not only because of pain but because there’s an incredible pressure built up in it. My vision is a little blurry and I can’t really focus on anything. It’s hard for me to breathe, but I can still manage to do it through my nose. 

It takes me a moment or two to realize why my head feels like it’ll burst: I’m hanging upside down. But only one of my legs is tied to the ceiling, while the other hangs freely to the side, exposing me. Cold air bites at my skin and I notice that I am fully naked and covered in goosebumps. 

Thrashing lightly in a futile attempt to free myself, the rope burns my ankle and I whimper. With the little dignity I have left, I close my legs, trying to cover at least a part of myself. My hands are tied behind my back and held up with another rope tied to the one that holds my ankle.

I feel mostly numb, perhaps because it’s practically freezing wherever I’m in. My vision is starting to clear up and I can see things hanging around me. Huh? Is this a meat locker? I can see pork and… And… Is that a woman!? S-she’s headless! I let out a scream, but it sounds muffled as it barely escapes my throat. There’s something stuffed in my mouth and I can barely make a sound. I can’t even cough. I thrash, more violently this time, but again I accomplish nothing. In my panicked frenzy, I suddenly remember Matt.

Is he okay? Is he tied up and unconscious in another room like this one, awaiting a horrible fate?

My mind spins, I can’t think clearly. Something dangles right in front of me. It smells foul. Upon closer inspection, I notice it’s an intestine…. It moves every time I thrash. Is it… is it mine? Is that why I’m so numb?

The heavy door to the meat locker opens, revealing two familiar figures. Matt steps in, followed by the man from the reception. The man looks somber, while Matt is grinning like a madman. Realization sinks in and it’s heavier than a pile of rocks: He did this… Or well, he got the man do to it for him. But it was his plan. He kneels in front of me and I jerk slightly, wanting to get away from him. He chuckles darkly. 

“You did a great job with the incision Xander. She’s barely even bleeding.” He says, inspecting my body like I’m a slab of meat. Ah, so it was mine after all.

“All from years of practice, Sir.” Xander answers, his tone uninterested. His whole demeanor is cool, almost bored.

Matt’s blue eyes flick down to mine. “And you are not in pain, now are you Josefine?” his fingers dig past my lips and tug at what clogs my mouth. I feel it sliding up my throat and out of my mouth slowly, giving me more space to breathe. An entire rag is fisted in his hand. I cough frantically, a coppery taste in my mouth.

The most cliché question comes out of my mouth, but I’m genuinely curious, “W-why are you doing this?” My voice is hoarse, as if I hadn’t used it in a long time.

Matt’s grin never falters. “Remembered that time I told you you looked so good I could eat you up?” He asks, rubbing my chin lightly. “Well, I was being literal.”

He pats my jaw, licking those lips that I had kissed plenty of times before. I feel disgusted at him and at myself. “You should be honored. Me and a dozen other people will get to relish in the delicious taste of your flesh.” He says, which makes a shiver run down my spine. “I’m picky, you know. I don’t bring just any woman here.”

“Only the finest.” Adds Xander, as if emphasizing his boss’ point.

“Why do you think the restaurant is so popular?” Matt arches a brow. “No one can see what they’re eating in the dark. It’s the taste that matters, and I offer my costumers the best.”

I roll my eyes, spitting at Matt. There’s some blood mixed with my saliva. Matt wipes it away with a disgusted look on his face. Standing up, he clasps his hands in front of him. “You know, mama did teach me some manners. I don’t usually play with my food as much as I did with you. I think it’s time that I stop.” Like a good predator – right before closing in on the prey – he flashes his sharp canines once more before looking at Xander over his shoulder. “Get the axe, Xander. Let’s hear this little piggy squeal.”

“No!” I yell writhing and thrashing about wildly. I feel like I’m going to break something from how I’m contorting. Xander comes back in and hits me with the butt of the axe square in the nose. Pain flares up across my face as I feel the bone crack, blood spewing out of my nostrils.

“Well, you know I’m not one to dirty my hands, so I am off.” Matt says, turning around to leave the room. “Don’t worry, my dear Josefine, I’ll make sure to enjoy every bite.”

I spit some more blood at the floor as he leaves. Xander looks unimpressed, like he’d seen this behavior many times before. “This won’t hurt…. If I get a clean cut, that is.” For the first time, he smiles broadly. Is it the angle, or is his mouth just enormous? His teeth are yellowing and slightly crooked. It’s terrifying.

And so, the butcher swings down one last time, his weapon plunging into my neck. For a wild second, the world spins in a circle before it goes black.

Credits to:


Warnings: none

Words: 847

Summary/Imagine: Imagine Dwalin carrying you on his back, a human, and saying that you are lighter than his axes + Imagine refusing to hit Dwalin while sparring.

Gender: neutral

Sweat dripped down your back, soaking your tunic as you maneuvered around Dwalin. His shoulders were tense, muscled arms rippling in the morning light as his fists tightened around his axes. Though you were looking to improve on sword fighting, he insisted that he fought with his axes. You had rolled your eyes when he said that your enemy wouldn’t put down his weapon to pick up a sword when fighting you, so you needed to get ready to face anything. He was right, of course, but those axes were far too intimidating…

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anonymous asked:

So Denmark you and Norway have been together along time. That's amazing. Has anyone tried to hit on Norge? Other nations ? (I doubt they could) Same for Sweden . Has anyone tried to get a date with Finland?

Denmark: of course they have! Norway’s one hot piece of man after all. Like me.

Norway: *snorts*

Denmark: France has tried it a few times- naturally- as well as Prussia and a few others. They never got far though. Especially when they saw my axe, haha!

Sweden: Estonia tried once… along with a few others who I won’t mention *pointed glare at Russia*, but they didn’t get far.

Day 12

I was tagged by @ricks-tight-n-right-brown-shirt :) Enjoy!



“Michonne. What are you doing?”


“What does it-”


“look like I’m doing?”

Michonne yanked the axe out of the tree trunk and turned to glare at Rick.

“You’re swinging that axe like it was a sword,” Rick observed with a raised eyebrow.

Michonne resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him.

“You’ve never chopped down a tree before, have you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

She sighed, “Is it that obvious?”

“Yeaah,” his accent drew the word out.

He was barely able to contain a smirk.

You’ve been doing that more and more these days, teasing me… Michonne thought to herself…Two can play this game!

“Well it’s not my fault I’ve never had to do this before,” Michonne brushed her dreadlocks back over her shoulder, adding, “You know I’m a city girl, right?”

That did it. Rick burst out laughing at the absurdity of her assertion. Michonne laughed too, because seeing Rick happy warmed her heart.

“But seriously, how did you do that one so fast?” she asked when their laughter died down.

They’d been working for the same amount of time but Rick’s tree, maybe eight inches in diameter, already lay on the ground, all the large branches broken off.

“First you want to cut a wedge shape on one side, like this,” Rick explained, using his hands to demonstrate.

Rick stood back and gestured for her to try again.

Michonne looked at him and then back at her target. She took a deep breath, lifted the heavy axe, and swung it halfheartedly. The blade made a nice THUNK when it hit the tree but bounced ineffectively off to the side. She hung her head in defeat.

It worked like a charm.  

“May I?” Rick held out his hand and Michonne passed him the axe.

“Start with your hands apart, like this,” he hefted the axe to demonstrate the proper technique, “and then as you swing, move your right hand down a little bit so you get more force.”

The blade sliced through the air and WHAM! bit into the tree trunk. Rick pulled it free and glanced back at Michonne expectantly.

She frowned in concentration, saying, “Show me one more time.”

Rick, full of pride that there was finally something he was better at than Michonne, obliged.

He swung the axe with his full strength, pausing only to instruct, “A couple more like this…then start to come in at an angle to make the wedge, like this…”

Michonne stuck her hands in her pockets and stood back to watch. I was right, brown is a good color for him…she thought as she admired the way his new brown shirt clung to his body in the summer heat. And the way his curls fell into his face when he moved.

Michonne turned when she heard someone approaching. Rick stopped too, alert for walkers, but relaxed when he saw it was only Daryl and Abraham. They were working together to carry an armload of logs.

“You really are hopeless, aren’t you?” Daryl muttered.

“Huh?” Rick was confused.

Abraham chuckled. Michonne glared at Daryl.

“What?” Rick asked, still perplexed.

Daryl shook his head in amusement, “Brother, she’s Tom Sawyer-ing you. You know that, right?”

“Daryl, shut up!” Michonne smacked him on the shoulder as he and Abe walked by.

Rick did that thing where he looked at the ground, almost bashfully, and then looked up at Michonne again, tilting his head curiously, “Is that what you’re doing? Tricking me into doing your work for you?”

Damn! Caught me red handed. Michonne couldn’t deny the accusation, so she pulled her very best puppy-eyes please-don’t-be-mad-at-me smile.

“I’ll just, uh, I’ll go ahead and carry this one back to the truck,” she said, walking over to pick up the tree Rick had already cut.

Rick shook his head in mock exasperation. He laughed a little bit to himself and lifted the axe again. There was still work to do before the day was over.


I’m tagging …. @blacklitchick for Day 13!