black plume

Captain Steve Rogers, Lovecraftian Horror

Title: The Miskatonic Project
Rating: PG-13 for horror themes, death
Summary: Abraham Erskine may have invented something new with the Serum – or maybe he re-created something very old. Something…Elder.
Notes: I should be working on like three other fanfics but I had a TERRIBLE DREAM this afternoon and anyway this only took about half an hour to write.

***

Steve came out of the Vita-Ray machine…different. 

Of course he looked different – taller, thickly muscled, skin gleaming. But it wasn’t the change in his appearance so much as the…sensation people felt around him. Howard claimed not to feel it, and Erskine died before he could weigh in. Peggy felt it, but not in the way others did. To her, he seemed otherworldly, but like an angel or a religious vision – comforting under a layer of unreality. She even liked the strange black pupils he’d developed, so big and dark you could hardly see the whites of his eyes at all. 

Others, however…. 

She didn’t see him pull the Hydra agent out of the submarine after Erskine’s assassination. Only three people did – a cab driver, a little boy, and the boy’s mother. The cab driver wouldn’t say a word, and the boy’s mother stuttered and stammered so badly they finally gave up. The little boy just said, “Well, he got him,” and looked admiringly at Steve. 

Steve wasn’t wet, but the submarine lay on the deck of the pier, and the man next to it was dead, a rictus of horror on his face. 

(There is a readmore below! Read more!)

Keep reading

Massive fire in west London high-rise

A deadly nighttime fire raced through a 24-story apartment tower in London early Wednesday, June 14, killing at least six people and injuring dozens more. Some desperate residents threw their children from high windows, hoping someone on the ground would catch them.

Police commander Stuart Cundy said there were six confirmed fatalities, adding that the figure was likely to rise “during what will be a complex recovery operation over a number of days.”

People in the apartments cornered by the quickly advancing flames and thick smoke banged on windows and screamed for help to those watching down below, witnesses and survivors said.

Flames from the inferno lit up the night, and smoke spewed from the windows of the Grenfell Tower in North Kensington, where more than 200 firefighters battled the blaze and went into the building with breathing apparatus. After dawn revealed the blackened, flame-licked wreckage of the building, a plume of black smoke stretched for miles across the pale sky.

“This is an unprecedented incident,” Fire Commissioner Dany Cotton told reporters on the scene. “In my 29 years of being a firefighter I have never, ever seen anything of this scale.”

The London Fire Brigade received the first reports of the fire at 12:54 a.m., and the first engines arrived within six minutes, she said. Flames could still be seen more than 10 hours later.

There was no immediate word on the cause, but angry residents said they had repeatedly warned about a potential fire threat. One resident said the fire alarm did not go off. (AP)

See more news-related photo galleries and follow us on Yahoo News Photo Twitter and Tumblr.

Flames come out of windows at the Grenfell Tower, a 24-storey apartment block in North Kensington, London, Britain, June 14, 2017. (Facundo Arrizabalaga/EPA)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Local resident Amanda Fernandez reacts following a huge fire at the Grenfell Tower, a 24-storey apartment block in North Kensington, London, Britain, June 14, 2017. (Andy Rain/EPA)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

A view on the burning Grenfell Tower, a 24-storey apartment block in North Kensington, London, Britain, June 14, 2017. (Andy Rain/EPA)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Police from the Tactical Support Group at the scene of a huge fire at the Grenfell Tower, a 24-storey apartment block in North Kensington, London, Britain, June 14, 2017. (Andy Rain/EPA)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Smoke rises from the fire at the Grenfell Tower, a 24-storey apartment block in North Kensington, London, Britain, June 14, 2017. (Will Oliver/EPA)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Firefighters attend the burnt out remains of Grenfell Tower, a 24-storey apartment block in North Kensington, London, Britain, June 14, 2017. (Facundo Arrizabalaga/EPA)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Firefighters at a scene of a fire at the Grenfell Tower, a 24-storey apartment block in North Kensington, London, Britain, June 14, 2017. (Facundo Arrizabalaga/EPA)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

A view on the burningd Grenfell Tower, a 24-storey apartment block in North Kensington, London, Britain, June 14, 2017. According to the London Fire Brigade (LFB), 40 fire engines and 200 firefighters are working to put out the blaze. Residents in the tower were evacuated, a number of people were treated for a ‘range of injuries,’ and six people have died in a fire, Metropolitan Police said. The blaze broke out at around 1:00 am GMT. (Facundo Arrizabalaga/EPA)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Smoke and flames rise from a building on fire in London, Wednesday, June 14, 2017. Metropolitan Police in London say they’re continuing to evacuate people from a massive apartment fire in west London. The fire has been burning for more than three hours and stretches from the second to the 27th floor of the building. (AP Photo/Matt Dunham)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Smoke billows as firefighters deal with a serious fire in a tower block at Latimer Road in West London, Britain June 14, 2017. 2017. (Toby Melville/Reuters)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

A person peers out of a window from a building on fire in London, Wednesday, June 14, 2017. Metropolitan Police in London say they’re continuing to evacuate people from a massive apartment fire in west London. The fire has been burning for more than three hours and stretches from the second to the 27th floor of the building. (Matt Dunham/AP)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Smoke rises from a building on fire in London, Wednesday, June 14, 2017. Metropolitan Police in London say they’re continuing to evacuate people from a massive apartment fire in west London. The fire has been burning for more than three hours and stretches from the second to the 27th floor of the building. (Matt Dunham/AP)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

RTS16Z92

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Flames and smoke billow as firefighters deal with a serious fire in a tower block at Latimer Road in West London, Britain June 14, 2017. (Toby Melville/Reuters)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Firefighters wait to start their shift after a massive fire raged in a 27-floor high-rise apartment building in London, Wednesday, June 14, 2017.(Matt Dunham/AP)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Smoke rises from a building on fire in London, Wednesday, June 14, 2017. (Matt Dunham/AP)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Smoke and flames rise from a building on fire in London, Wednesday, June 14, 2017. (Matt Dunham/AP)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Firefighters deal with a serious fire in a tower block at Latimer Road in West London, Britain June 14, 2017. (Toby Melville/Reuters)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Smoke and flames rise from a building on fire in London, Wednesday, June 14, 2017.(Matt Dunham/AP)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

A man stands amid debris after a serious fire in a tower block at Latimer Road in West London, Britain June 14, 2017. (Toby Melville/Reuters)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

A helicopter is seen as flames and smoke billow while firefighters deal with a serious fire in a tower block at Latimer Road in West London, Britain June 14, 2017. (Toby Melville/Reuters)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

People look on as firefighters deal with a serious fire in a tower block at Latimer Road in West London, Britain June 14, 2017. (Toby Melville/Reuters)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

A person, bottom right, peers out of a window from a building on fire in London, Wednesday, June 14, 2017. (Matt Dunham/AP)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

A helicopter is seen as smoke billows from a serious fire in a tower block at Latimer Road in West London, Britain June 14, 2017. (Toby Melville/Reuters)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

In this image made from video provided by Celeste Thomas @MAMAPIE, a building is on fire in London, Wednesday, June 14, 2017. Firefighters are battling a massive fire in an apartment high-rise in London. One side of the building appeared to be in flames. (Celeste Thomas @MAMAPIE via AP)

Source: Yahoo News Photo Staff

Crystals for the Aura

The aura can be charged, healed, and strengthened by wearing, existing in the same space as, or holding crystals for extended periods of time. Crystals can also assist in finding blockages in the aura, healing holes in the aura, balancing, stabilizing, and cleansing it.

These stones have different uses in relation to the aura, but all relate to its maintenance in some way. Included are their uses and the signs of the Zodiac they are related to. First is a smaller list of more common stones, then an alphabetical list which encompasses all associated stones.


Agate: Stabilizes, cleanses, removes negative energy; Gemini

Amethyst: Clears and cleanses, can heal holes in the aura; Virgo, Capricorn, Aquarius, Pisces

Aqua Aura Quartz: Cleanses and smooths the aura; Aries, Gemini, Leo

Aquamarine: Assists in shielding and protecting the aura; Aries, Gemini, Pisces 

Carnelian: Repairs holes in the aura; Taurus, Cancer, Leo

Citrine: Clears the aura; Aries, Gemini, Leo, Libra

Fluorite, Colorless: Clears and charges the aura; Capricorn, Pisces

Diamond: Fills the holes in the aura; Aries, Taurus, Leo

Labradorite: Shields the aura, clears it, balances, and heals “leaks” of energy; Leo, Scorpio, Sagittarius 

Quartz, Clear: Protects the aura; quartz energy can connect to all signs

Smokey Quartz: Removes negative energy from the aura; Sagittarius, Capricorn

Topaz: Expels anything unneeded from the aura; Sagittarius

Tourmaline: Clears the aura; Libra

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Katsuki shouto and Momo screwing up something important but instead of getting angry at them the s/o pretends to be fine about it

Bakugou shoots up in his bed, sitting straight up. His head whips over to the clock on his nightstand. He glares are the numbers staring back at him. Ah, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck him in the motherfucking asshole. He fucking overslept. Bakugou grabs his phone only to see multiple texts from his partner.

Babe, are you coming?

You promised Katsuhiko you would.

Please hurry. He’ll be on soon.

He did great. We’re headed home.

Bakugou rubs his face with his hand. Shit. He was only supposed to sleep for an hour. That was the plan. Shower. Sleep. Wake up. Go to Katsuhiko’s recital. He had a solo. His first solo. Bakugou was supposed to be there. It didn’t matter if his muscles were so sore that he could barely move. It didn’t matter that he felt like he hadn’t slept in days. It didn’t matter if he’s stressed to hell over this new villain. He promised Katsuhiko that he would be there. What kind of hero … what kind of father is he?

Bakugou finishes pulling a shirt over his body when he hears the front door open. You walk in, followed by your son and daughter. He walks into the living room to find the rest of his family staring back at him. Katsumi takes her brother’s hand and pulls him past their father with an up-turnt nose.

“Mom says we’re not supposed to talk to you,” Katsumi says, sitting on the couch with her younger brother at her side.

You place Katsuhiko’s cello down by the coat rack and stare at your husband with a furrowed brow. You kick off your shoes, pushing passed Bakugou and entering the kitchen. He follows close behind you. Bakugou wraps an arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.  

“On a scale of pissed to furious, how fucked am I?”

“I’m … I’m not mad,” you sigh, “I know you didn’t do it on purpose, but you promised him. And you know how much this meant to him.”

Bakugou breathes, “I know. I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did, and I’m glad you know you did. But you still have to make it up to Hiko.”

“I fucking know, dammit.”

“Good,” you smile as you slip from his grasp, “Hiko wants hamburger steak for dinner. You can get started on making up to him that way.”

You teasingly pat Bakugou on the cheek. He snaps at your hand with his teeth as you laugh, walking out of the kitchen to join your children in the living room. Bakugou huffs. Turning to the sink, he washes his hands. He’s got a lot of making up to do.


Todoroki sits on the edge of his daughters’ bed after he finishes tucking them in.

“Did you have fun at your birthday party?” Todoroki asks, tucking the blankets in around his daughters.

Yuki yawns and nods her head. Her eyelids are already heavy, worn out from an evening of fun with their friends. She smiles when Todoroki bends down and pecks her forehead. He turns to Yoko who is still staring at him rather expectantly. He peppers little kisses over her cheeks as she giggles quietly. Todoroki smiles, hearing his little girl’s bubbly laugh.

“What about you, Yoko? Did you have fun?”

“I had lots of fun, Daddy. I’m so happy because Uncle Deku came too,” Yoko says, “And I’m gonna go to sleep now so I have even more energy to have more fun tomorrow!”

“What a good idea, sunshine.”

Todoroki gives each of his girls another kiss before he leaves the room, making sure he turns on the night light and leaves a crack in the door. He walks into the living room to find you curled on the couch with a glass of wine in your hands. Today had went off without a hitch. Todoroki had booked the venue weeks in advances, made sure the cake would be made on time, and he even got no. 1 hero Deku to stop by. So why … why does he feel like he’s forgetting something as he sits next to you.

“The girls asleep?”

“Yeah.”

You breathe and raise your wine glass, “Well, it’s late, but happy anniversary, Shouto.”

He watches as you knock back the rest of the red liquid. No … no, that’s not today. Because today is Yoko and Yuki’s birthday. (Month) (day). And your anniversary is on … (Month) (day) … Todoroki’s eyes widen.

“I’m not mad. I’m just happy Yoko and Yuki’s birthday party went well, and thanks for getting Deku to come.”

“(Name), I’m so sorry. I—”

“Shouto, it’s really okay.”

You gasp as your husband presses kisses to your neck. He grabs the wine glass, placing it on the coffee table as he lays you back against the couch. Todoroki pecks your lips.

“Well, it’s not to late if we still want to celebra—”

“Nah. I’m tired.”

You roll out from under Todoroki and head to your bedroom. He blinks as he watches your form disappear down the hallway. He sighs, laying on his stomach and pressing his face into the pillows of the couch. He’s definetely going to the jewelry store first thing in the morning. 


“Mother,” Momoe sits on the counter top swinging her feet as she watches her mother run around the kitchen and living room, “Mother.”

Yaoyorozu pops into the kitchen, checking on her soup before returning to the kitchen to finish creating more decorations for the table. Her daughter’s eyes are focused on her mother’s slightly frazzled form. Yaoyorozu takes a small breath. She knows she has people to help her, but she really wants to make a nice dinner for her family and her in-laws. By herself. And she can do it.

“Mother,” Momoe speaks up again.

Yaoyorozu stops and looks at her daughter who is staring at her with eyes so very reminiscent of yours. She smiles at Momoe, tucking a free strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear.

“Yes, Momoe, dear?”

“Mother, I think something is burning.”

Burning? Yaoyorozu sniffs the air, panic rising in her eyes. She opens the oven and a black plume of smoke billows out. She coughs and fans the the air around her.

“Momoe, open up some windows, honey,” Yaoyorozu says, creating a fire extinguisher from her thigh.

Momoe nods, cautiously sliding down from the counter and running over to the window. Yaoyorozu sprays the burning mess with the extinguisher. She bites her lip, feeling tears start to sting in her eyes. Yaoyorozu had it all planned out, but now it’s ruined and you are going to be home any minute and …

“Babe, Momoe!” you sing as you throw open the door, “I’m ho— What the heck is going on?”

You are greeting with the sight of your daughter fanning the smoke alarm as smoke curls out of the window. You recoil when the smell of burnt food hits your nostrils. Fanning the space in front of your face, you make your way into kitchen. Your wife stands, clutching the red fire extinguisher close to her chest.

“Ah, (Name)! Y-You’re early! You’re parents aren’t here are they?”

“No, I’m going to pick them up in an hour. What’s going on though? Was that dinner?”

She doesn’t respond, but you know the answer. You take the fire extinguisher from your wife’s hands and use your thumb to wipe away her beading tears. Yaoyorozu looks down at her hands. She can’t even make dinner for her family. How useless is she? How could she mess up something so important. You cup her face, bring her gaze back to yours.

“Hey, hey, hey, no tears, babe,” you say with a smile on your face.

“B-But I promised that I—”

“I’m not mad or anything. We’ll just go out for dinner,” you peck Yaoyorozu’s lips, “What do you think, Momoe?”

Your daughter bounds up to the two of you and wraps her arms around Yaoyorozu’s leg. You stroke Momoe’s dark hair as she grins up at you.

“See. Everything is gonna be fine, babe.”

Yaoyorozu nods, wiping the last of her tears. You kiss her again, and she smiles against your lips feeling Momoe squeeze her leg in a tight hug. Everything would be okay, but she is definitely going to make that dinner for you and Momoe. Just not tonight.

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
 Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
 Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
         Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” —  The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe (The Raven- Celebrity Readings for Astor Benefit) 
[x]

The Raven


Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!

—  The Raven - Edgar Allen Poe
7

The Darkest Queen

I’ve been a little bit in love with this costume since the first spoiler pictures surfaced, and I think it’s a costume of an iconic level that we haven’t seen since her gown when she got Snow to eat the cursed apple.

It is a cousin of Captain Hook’s costumes, similar to the narrow coat of the Georgian era. While it does fasten, most of the buttons are decorative. The sleeves have the customary broad cuffs, and she wears black gloves.

It has many elements in common with the Queen’s previous riding gear, the exaggerated shoulders, Napoleon collar, lace jabot. But everything here is very, very dark. Even the gold lace at her throat is black-tinged. Her jewelry is black, instead of her customary brighter stones. Her hat is a black stone on black bow with black plume on black hat. I think even her lipstick is darker than normal.

It’s a picture of self-loathing. This is the person she hates the most.

(The hat is interesting, and I still haven’t nailed down a name for that exact style. But the style definitely derives from European military hats over many centuries, all the way to the Pannonian cap of third-century Rome, surviving all the way to the pillbox hat of the modern age.)

Many thanks to @ouat-con-pics for the fourth and last pictures.

Steam machine

The clarity has become muddled;
the sense of purpose,
disturbed

       in
                  alternate
                                       priorities

(petrified piece of progression //
               ancient relic)

body craves action, unsettled in
peace; inactivity

                                      the heart
                       screams
           rage

( ( against what – the nothingness? ) )

                   Corrosion ! –

The great fire has long ago faded

water destined to turn
steam
                  drowns
                                     the defiler

metal mouthed monstrosity;
coal eater left hungry

    black plumes
          once spat
                                 now stain teeth

    Steam machine   //  time machine

                 machine craves machine

                              One last chance

“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can”

             Eyes on the mountain
                (summit
                        unseen)

- M.A. Tempels © 2017

What Is and What Could Have Been

TITLE: What Is and What Could Have Been


CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One-Shot

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s wife suffering a terrible nightmare and him soothing her after it. 

RATING: Mature

NOTES: Done as a result of a prompt by @janedoe876


The sound of buildings crashing to the ground and of women and children screaming in terror was everywhere. The smell of burning, the wails of despair and the sounds of a battle continuing, firing of guns and blasting of cannons.

Lena shook in terror as another blast caused a building close to her to begin to collapse, the rubble of which splaying onto the streets and a cloud of dust engulfing her, causing her to cough and splutter as she walked forward, using the side wall of another building to guide her through the street.

Keep reading

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
   While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
           Only this and nothing more.”

   Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
   Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
   From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
           Nameless here for evermore.

   And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
   So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
   “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
           This it is and nothing more.”

   Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
   But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
   And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
           Darkness there and nothing more.

   Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
   But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
   And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
           Merely this and nothing more.

   Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
   “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
     Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
           ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

   Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
   Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
   But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
           Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
   For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
   Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
           With such name as “Nevermore.”

   But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
   Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
   Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
           Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

   Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
   Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
   Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
           Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

   But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
   Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
   Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
           Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

   This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
   This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
   On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
           She shall press, ah, nevermore!

   Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
   “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
   Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
   Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
   On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
   Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
   It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
   Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
   Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
   And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
   And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
           Shall be lifted—nevermore!

This is my second time posting a John story, and second one I’ve written that is NSFW. I’m not too sure about this, so feedback is very much appreciated!

2200 words

NSFW

John x reader (y/n)

I don’t want to tag anyone, as I don’t know who would want to read a John fic.

Thank you for reading!

Keep reading

amorverus  asked:

also add a sword arcing through some demons as he swings his bike in a circle

its path is a hot glowing streak of scarlet against the onyx night. the pierced demons erupt into decadent plumes of black smoke, whirling into a tornado around the spin of his bike. as the demon debris fizzles and the dismembered carcasses plop against the cement, he swings the roaring vehicle back down the highway. the studs spanning the broad of his back, lining his leathered shoulders and spine not unlike a skeleton, act as the night’s stars, glittering under passing street lights. his hair stands tall and dangerous, fluttering only slightly against the blazing speed.

he dips down into a sleeping city off an exit ramp and his hellish pups emerge from underground to join him, sprinting happily alongside the buzzing bike for three blocks.

and at three blocks and a quarter past four, neon red spills over them and they pull into the backside parking lot of a weary roadside inn. the word ‘motel’ sits high above in a large vertical sign but, apart from m, the letters have given up light a long time ago. 

the bike sputters to a stop, as do the panting pups, in front of room 104. the painted numbers are melting and the door is falling off its hinges. there’s broken glass along the path, glistening vermillion and not just from blood. the room window, however, is still intact.

the bloodied shards crunch under leather boots and there against the mess stands magnus’ husband, encased in his favorite hue, shielding the orange flame of a lighter against the cool kiss of wind. 

“need a light?” magnus quips, swinging off his resting vehicle. his smile could devour the sun.

alec’s eyes are brighter than day as he looks up, smirk wide, cigarette dangling. 

“yeah, you.”


anyway maia should be arrested

black plums sweep
blue plume wind of

thick-boned season

full as the waters

tree-spirits breathe
their yellow bellow of
hum-bells and
leisure

and the
sun splinters its
first grim swellings
of spring

(our)
woodland, overhead
in eaves
of bloom & dark duff

sweeten the green
              of evening

so
what is forgotten?

minnows mix & unstitch
the river’s cambrian gray

& the hoar-frost fringes
of heresy and betrayal

leak the last
stains of fall

sylph, I am your bundle,
buried in the corruption
of autumn

the lamps are lit underground ,
it is hard to be taken

The effects of Iraqi troops setting fire to the oil wells in Kuwait during February 1991, is captured in this near-vertical photograph of the northwestern end of the Persian Gulf taken on April 7, 1991. The black smoke plumes of more than 700 individual oil-well fires are being blown by the wind. Kuwait City is visible at centre-left (north is to the right in this rotated image).

Photograph: NASA