Against-the-Tide

A Book Recommendation

Against the Tide  by @foleypdx  

So I read this actual rollercoaster of a book about two weeks ago. I was not okay. But that’s because this story is fucking amazing. You ever read one of those stories that just seems to propel you through the pages? 

Well, if not, strap in. If you have, you know what I’m talking about, you can prep yourself. Below are my thoughts on this incredible book that I highly recommend. (It’s even got lesbians, so like, read it, you’ll love it)

Keep reading

the signs as suburban haunts

ARIES: flattened paper boats scattered like the remains of a murdered animal along a dried up river, rundown motels with their blasted neon signs and smashed-in windows, pink streamers from some neighborhood child’s birthday party shuffling across the street like bright tumbleweed, a train rattling off into the breathless night & the trace remnants of a week old bonfire found in the middle of nowhere. 

TAURUS: chipped paint, shattered shot glasses lying across an abandoned pool table missing a few billiard balls, flyers rustling like autumn leaves against the tempestuous tides of the wind, advertising concerts & magic shows that took place in 2005, the sillage of old perfume clogging up the air, still thick as the scent of blood or wildflowers.

GEMINI: the corpse of a cigarette that hasn’t touched a mouth in months, a dilapidated playground where lost souls come out to play, threadbare curtains ripped like the wings of a dissected bird, strange red-brown stains across the hotel bedsheets, a gate grown weary with new-forming foliage & age, whining erroneously whenever maneuvered. 

CANCER: an empty casket, coffee rim imprints across hardwood tables, an old, tattered shoe lying haphazardly on the side of the road, a junkyard littered with ancient cars still soggy with stories, a pick-up with a broken windshield, a cadillac with a massacred paint job, someone’s motorcycle with blood staining the front tire, an askew portrait with eyes that follow you around the room.

LEO: a carnival horse with one eye scratched out, a daycare centre that shut down years ago, plagued with the colorful ghosts of children’s drawings still tacked to the crumbling walls, a spiral staircase that seems to shift direction when nobody’s paying attention, crunched up beer cans rolling across an empty rooftop & lichen kissing the concrete. 

VIRGO: the supermarket, flickering & eerie at night like the shadows unearthed beneath troubled eyes, owls stirring in between the murmuring trees, a single upturned grave in a cemetery that isn’t supposed to be notorious for hauntings, an old fountain still glistening with pennies that are no longer considered currency, a collapsed bottle of wine running the tiles red.

LIBRA: handprints imprinted onto fogged-up windows, red rooms crowded with developing photographs of people whose faces you recognize but cannot quite place, broken doll heads, a necklace that erupted into a sea of pearls, a deflated blow up kiddie pool collecting parched grass and critters, a busted arcade game & the laughter of people long gone still trapped inside the walls.

SCORPIO: books with grimacing yellow pages, someone attempting to sell you a cursed object on etsy, a leaky shower-head, a clock that’s stuck in time, a torn, unravelled couch sitting deserted in someone’s front lawn, candy stores that proclaim sales on expired sweets & ruddy patches of farmland. 

SAGITTARIUS: basements stacked with unwanted toys, a box of thin-mints, footsteps reverberating around the house when it’s 2 AM and you’re home alone, a burned down lemonade stand, that weird alien light in the third window of your neighbor’s house that never seems to get turned off, a certain rattling coming from the kitchen.

CAPRICORN: rain pummeling against damp ceilings, clothes ripped off the washing line, an empty aquarium, obscure little thrift stores that sell leather jackets from the eighties, gas station lights flirting with you from the distance, the alley where they say the vagabonds roam their night countries, sniffing up and dressing down and slitting the throats of angels.

AQUARIUS: those tiny coffee shops that fill you with nostalgia for places you’ll never visit, ‘JESUS LOVES YOU’ spray-painted across the sides of ramshackle buildings, an antique almirah scratched to high hell, a monster in the closet, the tunnel beneath the bridge that half the town believes is a gateway to hell, smoking up in trip mall parking lots. 

PISCES: halloween decor presented in shop windows a couple months early, visiting that lake where you heard that one kid drowned, the garage door slamming without cause or notice, storing fireflies in jars, drugstore makeup, birthday cake flavored oreos, a wheeled desk chair that seems to turn on its own when nobody’s in the office, a candle snuffed out on a windless evening.

I Think I’m Yours

Request: “Eye colour Soulmate AU (where people are born with heterochromatic eyes, and they only revert to their genetically inherited colour when they interact with their soulmate.)”

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader

Word Count: 1028

Warnings: None

Originally posted by crazy-vibes-under-the-moon


Newt sifted through his writing, letting out a long, tired sigh as he looked for a certain paragraph that he had forgotten to edit. His eyes, one blue and one green, flitted across the pages lazily, only half-heartedly putting effort into the search.  

“Newt!” A voice called. “Order for Newt!”

He jumped to his feet, running a hand over his face in an attempt to push away the creeping tiredness. Editing his manuscript was such a monotonous job that even now, in the early hours of the afternoon, he longed for his bed. He came before the little lady who held out the paper bag containing his lunch and a cup of coffee. She looked up to him, doing a double take as she spotted his eyes. Then she cast a sorry gaze upon him, a sad smile tugging at her lips. Newt took the meal, ashamedly hanging his head lower as he walked back to his table. Not many people noticed, but once up close many could tell the slight significance in the hue of his eyes.

Keep reading

4

Hey guys it’s finished! If you’d like to read more about this piece, I have a longer description of it in this post here. Inspired by the actions and spirit of Elizabeth Warren and women throughout history, this design is something truly special to me. I chose to incorporate elements from Watership Down, a story of survival in the darkest of worlds that touched me deeply when I was young. I want to inspire others to keep surviving and persisting, pushing back against the tide of oppression and hate. Women have changed the world a hundred times over no matter how many warnings, no matter how many explanations, and we have always persisted. We will persist.

We are doing a flash preorder for this design - it will be available until February 17th! Get yours here.

Unicorn Empire shirts are printed by hand in small batches using traditional screen printing techniques. We use only high-quality water-based inks, making our shirts uniquely soft and durable. All of our products are available in a range of straight and plus sizes at the same price.

Protest Against the Rising Tide of Conformity

Bob Dylan and Joan Baez by Daniel Kramer, 1964

Supergirl Ao3 Fic Masterpost

Since it’s the hiatus and y'all might be looking for something to read, here’s a comprehensive list of all my Supergirl fanfictions.

All 19 (and counting!) of them.

Here we go!


Oneshots:

certain dark things

http://archiveofourown.org/works/8460508

Summary:

SuperCorp. Lena-centric.

“The pain comes in waves, like the crash of the tide against the shore- the sea merciless and unrelenting in its assault of the sand. It threatens to consume her, to drown her, to pull her from the safety of land and batter her against the jagged edges of the rocks that protrude from the waves until she is in pieces, scattered, like so many grains of sand.

Like falling snow slipping through grasping fingers, like smoke wafting from the end of a lit cigarette, like dandelion seeds dancing on the wind.

Intangible, untouchable, like fine mist on a cool morning.

The pain comes in waves, and she is utterly helpless against it.”


plumerias

http://archiveofourown.org/works/8466748

Summary:

SuperCorp. Lena-centric.

Kara zor-El looks down at her chest, at the glyph that has never held any meaning other than hope in her eyes, and is shamed.

This, her family’s emblem- el mayarah, stronger together- has never made her feel more set apart than it does in this moment.

Inspired by one of the Kara/Lena scenes from 2x03

mild AU in which Lex was killed by Kal-El during his attempts to destroy Metropolis


the girl of shadow

http://archiveofourown.org/works/8475310

Summary:

Alex-centric fic.

Alex Danvers has dedicated her whole life to protecting her sister, and she would do it all again in a heartbeat.

She’s just not sure who she would do it for.

Inspired by For The Girl Who Has Everything | 500 word Alex angst challenge


of potstickers and preferences

http://archiveofourown.org/works/8543383

Summary:

SuperCorp adorableness. Kara-centric.

Because really, who serves potstickers at a gala?

Shameless fluff. Fix-it fic (sort of) to make up for the lack of Kara/Lena interactions at the gala.


family

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9198482

Summary:

Winn-centric. Winn/Alex brOTP.

In which Winn does something stupid, Alex seizes the opportunity to put on her Big Sister pants, and the family we find isn’t always the one we were born into.


home

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9198524

Summary:

Sanvers. Alex-centric.

Shit hits the fan at work, and Alex finds herself struggling to cope in the aftermath of a mission that goes sideways.

Maggie is there to help her get through it.


a reason to smile

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9198614

Summary:

Sanvers. Alex-centric. Drabble.

The result of the most dangerous question on the planet- ‘what if?’

What if Alex had met Maggie before, back in college, during her party girl days?


kintsukuroi

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10896183

Summary:

SuperCorp. Kara-centric.

kintsukuroi (n.) - the art of repairing something with gold, and realizing that the object is all the more beautiful for having been broken

OR

It’s the anniversary of the day of Krypton’s death. Kara’s not in the best state of mind, and Lena tries her hardest to reach her.


kuebiko

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10896300

Summary:

SuperCorp. Lena-centric.

SuperCorp, post-winter finale.

Fix-it fic for the totally unresolved matter of Lena Luthor in the aftermath of her mother’s arrest.

Lena’s settling in for a quiet night of drinking away her sorrows, but Kara’s not willing to let her fall into a bottle.


in the absence of the sun

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10979070

Summary:

SuperCorp. Lena-centric.

It’s the anniversary of the day Lena’s mother died, and Kara opens up some old wounds when she digs into it.

Kara’s only trying to help, but the story of that night is more complicated than she knows.


Oneshots in the uncompleted ‘SuperCorp AU’ collection:

of art room supply cabinets and a lack of caffeine

http://archiveofourown.org/works/8461354

Summary:

SuperCorp. Kara-centric.

The last thing Kara Danvers expects to find in one of the art room supply cabinets is a person. Vaguely suggestive figurines? Sure. Abandoned sculptures? Maybe. But definitely not a person.

And especially not one with dark hair, green eyes, and a downright killer smile.

OR

The university SuperCorp oneshot AU you were all hoping and praying for.


of misunderstandings and morning detentions

http://archiveofourown.org/works/8787796

Summary:

SuperCorp. Kara-centric. High school.

Kara Danvers has detention. So does a certain kryptonite-eyed individual.

Excerpt:

She’s just perfecting her vacant stare when the sound of the door hinges squealing in protest breaks her concentration. Her attention snaps towards the doorway, where a girl with dark hair, green eyes, and an absolutely wicked smile meets her eyes- and winks.

A bright crimson flush spreads across her cheeks as she quickly averts her gaze, having suddenly developed an intense desire to count every single one of the tally marks scratched into the battered desk in front of her. “Miss Luthor, we don’t have all day to wait for you to get inside and shut the door,” McCarthy snaps, gesturing towards the other students- most of whom suppress a long-suffering sigh as he glowers. “Take a seat.”


Multi-Chapter WIPs:

epiphany

http://archiveofourown.org/works/8699392/chapters/19945063

Summary:

SuperCorp. Angst. Slow burn.

Lena’s just trying to drink away the day when she gets a not-so unexpected visitor on her roof.

Post 2x08.

Fix-it fic.

Kind of.


give me touch

http://archiveofourown.org/works/8667829/chapters/19870315

Summary:

SuperCorp. Introspective.

Touch.

Kara needs it.

Lena hates it.

A look into why they turned out this way.


these memories, they haunt me

archiveofourown.org/works/8484442/chapters/19442719

Summary:

SuperCorp. Lena-centric. The Morgana reincarnation!AU you didn’t know you needed.

“I know you’ll be there for me when the time comes.”

Kara’s departure is hasty, and for that, Lena is grateful.

If she’d lingered a few seconds more, she would have seen Lena’s lowered eyes flash gold.

My interpretation of the Lena/Kara scene from 2x04 and Lena’s shady look at the end of it.


tabula rasa

http://archiveofourown.org/works/8495818/chapters/19468954

Summary:

SuperCorp. Sanvers. Other pairings.

who can we become, when we no longer wish to be ourselves?

what remains when we are hollowed?

Alternate Universe- Dollhouse

our souls entwined

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10868802/chapters/24143733

Summary:

SuperCorp. Daemons!AU

Alternate Universe. Set in a world where the people of Earth have Daemons, physical forms of their souls that exist outside their body in the form of animal companions.

In which Lena is a girl with witch-blood in her veins, and Kara is a girl whose soul has never settled.

This is the story of two girls who have never fit in with anybody else- except each other.


stranger in her skin

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10871043/chapters/24149193

Summary:

Lena-centric. Growing up. Eventual SuperCorp.

“She is fourteen the first time she tries to run away.

It’s not something she plans- she just walks out of the house one day and doesn’t feel like coming back.”

Lena-centric fic set during her childhood. Basically the teen!Lena growing up fic you didn’t ask for and got anyways. :)

dust and shadow

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9120091/chapters/20727223

Summary:

SuperCorp. Harry Potter!AU

The SuperCorp Hogwarts AU you probably weren’t looking for that my trashy gay brain couldn’t help but writing.

Excerpt:

Kara is only nine years old when her world ends.

There’s a flash of green light that passes through the glass of the windowshield as though it were as insubstantial as smoke that strikes her father squarely in the chest and then the wheel jerks and the world is spinning spinning spinning-

Her mother’s screams echo in her ears as the world turns upside down and right side up and upside down all over again. She’s reaching for her, fingers outstretched- Kara! -but her mother’s belt won’t loosen and neither will hers and all she knows is that she wants to get out, she wants to move-

They stop falling.


This was all typed and formatted on mobile, so just know I definitely did suffer while making this.

Happy reading! :)

  • what she says: i'm fine.
  • what she means: i played 4 fuckin games thinking that by the end of it desmond miles would be this unstoppable badass assassin who would single handedly save the world and turn the tide against abstergo - i thought i would get an amazing modern game where we get to jump off skyscrapers and infiltrate businesses and government buildings in abstergo's pocket and walk around hacking computers and stabbing people and then taking a nap in the animus so we could play as anscestors but noooOOOOooooooOooOoO they had to go and fuckin kill him like i didn't just spend the last 4 games getting emotionally invested in a sarcastic piece of shit bartender i cAN'T BELI E VE
Against The Tide
Celldweller
Against The Tide

Celldweller || Against The Tide

I finally get what you’ve been saying,
Now that we’re knee deep side by side,
The storm clouds are circling above us,
As we struggle against the tide.

This sorrow weighs down on my shoulders,
This fear is getting harder to hide,
You’ll leave me alone in this darkness,
Left to hold out
Against the tide ~♫

Door Struggles

Critters asked: How many cumulative hours has Vox Machina fought with doors on stream?

It’s impossible to say in in-game time because some of it wasn’t measured in neat 6-second rounds. We can, however, measure real life time! For this (and for fun), we decided to include some barriers and portals that functioned as doors as well. We didn’t include doors that didn’t pose a threat to Vox Machina. Updated to Episode 85.

Time Spent Dealing With Doors and Barriers: 4:11:13

Thanks to icecream-s-coops, @JacobSBrowning, @_miss_maria_, Monique S., and our past volunteers for their work compiling this list!

Keep reading

Kiwi: Part Four

A mini-series based in Jamaica during the writing/recording of Harry’s new album. Enjoy. x

Kiwi: Part One // Kiwi: Part Two // Kiwi: Part Three



“Wrong way…wrong…”

“M’starting to think you’re just sending me in circles.”

She and Harry took their time walking to the beach from their swim, eventually working their way back to their usual playful banter after their slightly awkward moment. She’d let Harry take the lead as they made their way out of the forest after insisting that he knew the way, occasionally teasing him when he started drifting in the wrong direction or began getting lost.

“You’re the one who wanted to guess his way back,” she grinned, reaching to gently pinch at his side.

“Didn’t realize that all forest looks alike,” he huffed, playfully swatting at your finger.

“It’s harder than it looks,” she smiled, tucking her thumbs into the pockets of her shorts as she started walking off in a slightly different direction. He followed, running his hands through his locks that were still damp from being in the water.

“How do yeh know your way around so well?” He asked once he’d caught up to her, watching to make sure he didn’t trip and fall.

“I have a lot of time to myself,” she replied, adding a shrug of her shoulder. The truth was, when she wasn’t working, she spent a lot of time going for hikes through these trees and had gotten lost multiple times herself. At this point it was almost a game that she played on purpose.

“Don’t yeh get lonely?”

“Not really,” she said, reassuring him with a small smile. “I work at the bar most nights so there’s plenty of people to keep me busy. And I don’t mind being alone. Besides, occasionally I get some good company…And then there’s you.”

“Ouch,” his voice raised an octave as he stopped walking, clutching onto his chest over his heart as he jutted his lower lip out in a pout. She turned around to look at him when she realized he’d stopped and couldn’t help but giggle at his expression, reaching to take the hand that was on his chest in her palm and tug him along with her again.

“Oh c’mon, you goon,” she laughed, and his features relaxed to reveal a cheeky grin. He continued to follow her, but neither of them brought up the tingle in the palms and the fact that both their hearts were beating just slightly faster than normal.

She didn’t let go of his hand.

Keep reading

🌊 Stem the Tide 🌊

a water based spell to stop or slow events, or to push someone back. 

To “Stem the Tide” is a nautical expression to describe ships sailing against the tide of the water, that was slowly them down. 

🌊  gather: crushed rosemary, a divination board, a representative object. 

* a divination board can be a pendulum board, ouija board, anything that has various answers

🌊  go to bathwater or a puddle, other body of water if you are landlocked.

🌊  weigh the divination board down at the bottom. 

🌊  sprinkle crushed rosemary over the water

🌊  place the representative object to float in over the center of the board. 

🌊  gather energy around your hands, perhaps even with a tempest spell. 

🌊  using your hands, influence and push the tide to move where the object is over the board. the object is like the planchette or pendulum for the board, but you are giving it the answers. 

🌊  though you cannot change the entire tide or command where a wave crashes, you affect the waters in your own way, making ripples and splashes. 

Which Generation Are You From?

Many people like to think that their preferences and choices are their own. But to what extent is that really true? How much autonomy do we really have to make our own decisions?

If you know about MBTI and Enneagram, you already know that these two orientations of personality can make a huge impact on the style with which you approach life and the direction you choose. However, one theory, the Strauss-Howe generational theory proposes that even the timing of our birth can cause us to take on the attributes of the our generation’s zeitgeist in cycles of 4.

There are 4 different generation archetypes: the prophets, nomads, heroes and artists. The emergence of these archetypes are centered around two distinct periods of heavy activity.

The first distinct period of heavy activity is described as the crisis, where “institutional life is destroyed and rebuilt in response to a perceived threat to the nation’s survival. Civic authority revives, cultural expression redirects towards community purpose, and people begin to locate themselves as members of a larger group”.

The second distinct period of heavy activity is described as the awakening, when “institutions are attacked in the name of personal and spiritual autonomy. Just when society is reaching its high tide of public progress, people suddenly tire of social discipline and want to recapture a sense of self-awareness, spirituality and personal authenticity.”

Prophet generations are born near the end of a Crisis, during a time of rejuvenated community life and consensus around a new societal order. Prophets grow up as the increasingly indulged children of this post-Crisis era, come of age as self-absorbed young crusaders of an Awakening, focus on morals and principles in midlife, and emerge as elders guiding another Crisis.

Nomad generations are born during an Awakening, a time of social ideals and spiritual agendas, when young adults are passionately attacking the established institutional order. Nomads grow up as under-protected children during this Awakening, come of age as alienated, post-Awakening adults, become pragmatic midlife leaders during a Crisis, and age into resilient post-Crisis elders.

Hero generations are born after an Awakening, a time of individual pragmatism, self-reliance, and let-things-be attitude. Heroes grow up as increasingly protected post-Awakening children, come of age as team-oriented young optimists during a Crisis, emerge as energetic, overly-confident midlifers, and age into politically powerful elders attacked by another Awakening.

Artist generations are born during a Crisis, a time when great dangers cut down social and political complexity in favor of public consensus, aggressive institutions, and an ethic of personal sacrifice. Artists grow up overprotected by adults preoccupied with the Crisis, come of age as the socialized and conformist young adults of a post-Crisis world, break out as process-oriented midlife leaders during an Awakening, and age into thoughtful post-Awakening elders.

So how does this correspond with our present day? Keeping note that the age ranges of these generations are not set by any one authority, we are still able to see the formation of a plausible model that fits within the generational trends we see today.

Baby Boomers, who would be between 52 and 70 in 2016, would be the Prophets. They experienced unprecedented good fortune within their youth having been born in an economy post-world war 2.

Generation X, would be between 35 and 51 in 2016, would be the Nomads. Think The Breakfast Club.

Generation Y, or millennial, 18 and 34 in 2016, would be the Heroes. The millennials were the last generation to see life without the internet yet on the cusp of new changes with technology. The Hero Generation comes of age during a crisis period, and with the emergence of The Great Recession and issues like ISIS, it makes sense that we are currently in a crisis period.

Generation Z, will include those below 18 and those who have yet to be born, featuring as the Artist generation.

What we can learn from observing these theories, is that each archetype is formed in response to the previous generations. Generation X incited a spiritual movement from the lack of soul within the strong and cold institutions they saw. The Baby Boomers sought to create unity as embodiments of society’s idealistic visions for the future. These different generations of people were all influenced by their predecessors and their births at specific periods of time. The personalities of these people, despite likely seeing themselves as autonomous individuals with their own goals, created a unique faction that represented an overlying message. It makes you wonder what our personalities could have been like, given the same experiences as our predecessors, what our dreams and goals would be like and whether we would understand people from different generations more.

Given these theories of MBTI, Enneagram and Strauss-Howe generational theory, we can almost get a sense that we don’t choose our own destinies, but our destinies choose us. The real battle may be a matter of whether we choose to embrace our roles or fight against the tides.

Have You Ever Felt It?

Have you ever felt it?

That primal feeling deep within your soul that comes to the understanding that YOU ARE ABOUT TO DIE.

And then all of a sudden all of the superfluities of the world just… fade away.

All the sharper colours, the finer auditory details in the ambiance of this violent world just give way to an almost numbing calm; and then and there you’re given a choice.

Submit. And give in to the longing of deaths embrace and the respite earned in eternal rest.

Or fight. Bloody, painful, exhausting, brutal struggle to hold onto your already forfeited existence. The weight of all your sins and mistakes bearing down like a warp field on your very spirit.

And in accepting your end.

In coming to terms that you and everything that you are will soon be an irrelevant corpse easily forgotten in the entropy of this world you squandered your time in.

You find this irreplicable calm.

You’re already dead. Where’s the sense in panicking?

You just pick up your weapon and shoot.

One target then the next. And onwards, forward unto the dawn of the next day. You keep fighting. Death constantly pursuing you like a shadow cast over your wasted existence. Your worthless struggle for your incorrigible fate.

Your bones and sinew long since turned to ash, your spirit abandoned and dead like all the rest.

Another day passes, and the struggle to keep alive even after all this time face to face with your imminent demise and you start to think how much longer the fight is even worth it.

Hour by hour, the burning of your eyes, the screaming of your muscles and the aching of your bones and shattered heart beg for you to choose submission.

Feeling only your rage standing resolute against the tide of darkness quickly beginning to overcome you.

Shoot.

Click.

Shoot.

Click.

Shoot.

Finally, at the very end. You feel energy like a last burst of life, the pain numbs away and everything is sharper, the sounds more acute, the colours more vivid than ever before.

You make a call. The last one you’ll ever make. And you apologize for everything.

You say your goodbyes.

Then a flash in the distance, something different like a change of energy in the air.

You look down your scope.

N7

You breathe in the air, sucking life straight into your lungs.

The only cure for death is an incorruptible will to live. To fight. To survive.

To have staved off the allure of submission for so long…

That surge of life that runs through your entire body when finally, you know you’re going to be ok.

That feeling that tells you YOU ARE ALIVE.

Have you ever felt it?