blind divine

*takes a breathe*

Okay, so here’s the thing. When you are talking to a blind person who you KNOW does the thing in question, don’t fucking tell them that it is a mostly visual medium.

Because guess what, just because it is for you does not mean it has to be for the rest of the world.

I was in a car today with someone who was trying to tell me that tarot is mainly in how you interpret the pictures. That you need to be able to see the images to get good readings.

Guys, this is not true. I read the tarot, I read the tarot without being bale to tell the images around eighty percent of the time. This does not make me a bad reader and if you fucking try and tell me it does, I will try very hard not to verbally rip your throat out.

Granted, this was the same person who was telling me that there is only one way to learn the tarot, going through card by card and trying to learn EVERYTHING ABOUT IT’s IMAGE, and was refusing to take into account people who may have different learning styles, disabilities or anything else that would keep them from learning in that exact way.

Hi, I am proud of myself for not yelling at anyone today.

I lie in the dark counting your heartbeats. I imagine our life together. I imagine the words I will say when we get married. The thought of trying to put together enough sentences to describe the depth of my love brings tears to my eyes. My love is blind faith, miraculous and divine. Hearing you breathe beside me at night, that is my religion. You said you wanted to grow old with me and I held it in my lungs, trying not to let it escape so that I could let it saturate in my veins. You are not the best parts of me. You are the most beautiful parts of the person I want to become. You are the love story I have been trying to write my entire life.
—  Ambra J. Wilson

The truth is, that all genuine appreciation rests on a certain mystery of humility and almost of darkness. The man who said, “Blessed is he that expecteth nothing, for he shall not be disappointed,” put the eulogy quite inadequately and even falsely. The truth “Blessed is he that expecteth nothing, for he shall be gloriously surprised.” The man who expects nothing sees redder roses than common men see, and greener grass, and a more startling sun. Blessed is he that expecteth nothing, for he shall possess the cities and the mountains; blessed is the meek, for he shall inherit the earth. Until we realize that things might not be we cannot realize that things are. Until we see the background of darkness we cannot admire the light as a single and created thing. As soon as we have seen that darkness, all light is lightening, sudden, blinding, and divine. Until we picture nonentity we underrate the victory of God, and can realize none of the trophies of His ancient war. It is one of the million wild jests of truth that we know nothing until we know nothing.

G.K. Chesterton, Heretics

Luctor et Emergo – Chapter 3

In which Cassian learns about his family, Jyn finds a way to remember hers, and Bodhi discovers family might not always be blood.

[Hogwarts AU]

Read on AO3 / Below the Cut

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(Special thanks to @valcain for the graphic and @wearesuchstuff1 for beta reading!)

Keep reading

IN early thought everything was a person, in the loose meaning then possessed by personality, and many such “persons” were worshipped–earth, sun, moon, sea, wind, etc. This led later to more complete personification, and the sun or earth divinity or spirit was more or less separated from the sun or earth themselves. Some Celtic divinities were thus evolved, but there still continued a veneration of the objects of nature in themselves, as well as a cult of nature spirits or secondary divinities who peopled every part of nature. “Nor will I call out upon the mountains, fountains, or hills, or upon the rivers, which are now subservient to the use of man, but once were an abomination and destruction to them, and to which the blind people paid divine honours,” cries Gildas. This was the true cult of the folk, the “blind people,” even when the greater gods were organised, and it has survived with modifications in out-of-the-way places, in spite of the coming of Christianity.

S. Kentigern rebuked the Cambrians for worshipping the elements, which God made for man’s use. The question of the daughters of Loegaire also throws much light on Celtic nature worship. “Has your god sons or daughters? … Have many fostered his sons? Are his daughters dear and beautiful to men? Is he in heaven or on earth, in the sea, in the rivers, in the mountains, in the valleys?” The words suggest a belief in divine beings filling heaven, earth, sea, air, hills, glens, lochs, and rivers, and following human customs.

—  The Religion of the Ancient Celts by J. A. MacCullogh
Early Mornings

Wade Wilson x Reader

Warnings: Smut

Request: Could you write a one shot where wade and read had a busy night ;) and wade wakes up the next day with morning wood but doesn’t wanna disturb reader ?? you can decide what happens at the end heheh


The smell of sweat was still heavy in the air, your limbs intertwined with his. Your head was resting on Wade’s chest, his arms holding you close to him. The morning light was creeping in from the blinds, casting a divine light over your sleeping form. Despite how peaceful the room may look, it was anything but. Wade was watching the rise and fall of your bare chest, torn between wanting to wake you and wishing to watch you. 

He shifted uncomfortably, hissing when his rock hard length brushed against your thigh. Holding his breath, he observed as you stirred at the noise, giving no other indication of waking up. He sighed in relief, or perhaps it was frustration. Every inch of his skin was on fire, his eyes glazed over at a million different scenarios of you on top of him, beneath him, kneeling before him, or begging him. 

It was enough to make him go mad, his senses alight with the desire for you. But at the same time, his heart was singing in his chest at the soft smile tugging at your lips and the occasional sigh at whatever dream you were having. He only smiled for a moment before the more… pressing matter returned. Wake you up or suffer a while longer? 

Fractured images of last night assaulted his mind, arousal stabbing deep in his abdomen. Your nails had clawed at his back, lips heatedly moving on his while your legs had been wrapped around his hips. It hadn’t been what he was expecting, but he wasn’t disappointed in the least. He expected your first time to be sweet and languid, but it was fast and needy. 

Truthfully, he hadn’t known how much he needed you before last night. When he was buried inside your heat, there was nothing in this world that could possibly tear him down. Every moan and every kiss brought the heavens themselves with them, showing him something he couldn’t have ever dreamed of. And now, he scowled down at the tented sheets, he wished for nothing more than that again.

“Wade?” You whispered groggily, your eyes slitted open. A smile once again bloomed on his face, the adorable expression on your face saving him from the maddening lust once again.

“Morning,” he mumbled. You smiled up at him, watching curiously through your lashes. He looked oddly distressed to your eyes, something that you weren’t expecting.

“Something the matter?” You asked. He shook his head, groaning when your leg rubbed against his hardened length. Your mouth formed an ‘o’, your mind telling you exactly what was wrong. A devious smirk formed on your face, one warm hand tracing his erection through the thin sheets. He was pushing up into your touch, eyes slamming closed at the assault. It was like the heavens themselves had invaded the room, each caress bringing immense pleasure to Wade. And just when he thought he couldn’t feel any better, your hot tongue swiped across his tip, licking the precum beading there. His eyes immediately shot open, a loud moan being torn from his lips.

“(Y/N),” he gurgled, the word being lost in the sensation of your lips around his length, sliding tortuously down every inch of him. You didn’t stop until he hit the back of your throat, your mouth warming him to the core. He had to physically restrain himself from thrusting roughly into your mouth, his hands tangling themselves in your (Y/H/C) locks. 

It took a moment for you to be able to move, your body trying its hardest to adjust to the foreign sensation. But when you did, it was marvelous. Your teeth grazed up his shaft, tongue swirling around it as you bobbed your head up and down. His head was thrown back, face twisted in pleasure as a cacophony of sounds left his parted lips. He was in heaven, every movement of your mouth on him bringing him ever closer to the light. You found it incredibly erotic, the broken phrases and curses arousing you to no end. You could see him grow closer to his release, his grip tightening and his chest moving up and down heavily. Wade was quite sure he’d never felt this good, your mouth doing wonders to him. 

He was so close, he just needed… He threw his head back, your cheeks hollowing around his length finishing him. The light blinded him as his hot seed spilled down your throat, his body humming with pleasure. There was nothing left in the world, only this bright light that encompassed him. It was bliss. Slowly, he came back to his senses. His body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, his hands still entangled in your hair, and the constant mantra of your name on his lips. He didn’t even realize he’d been speaking but you didn’t seem to mind. You licked your lips, the very taste of Wade on your tongue. He watched the movement with interest, wrapping his hands around your hips so he could pull you back up to him.

“That was…” He breathed. He hadn’t been expecting that, and even if he had been, he was positive he wouldn’t have ever guessed it would be that pleasurable.

“I know,” you smirked, his expression stroking your ego to no end. He looked absolutely sated, your actions obviously satisfying him. Lazily, he stroked the very top of your thigh, his lips turning up to form his own smirk. “What are you up to?” You asked suspiciously, your gaze on his hand.

“Payback.” He chuckled. He may have stroked your ego, but you had one hell of a feeling you were about to stroke his right back.

myopia, god in the wings,
the boy spreading his joy
all over me, his face as open
as velvet.

this is what the dog wants,
what moms want, the keeling
kind of love struck dumb. the
silence of a gesture, a mouth
bruised in a bad way. no, wait -

when i met him his name was
something else, transcendental,
happy accident. it didn’t yet kill
me to hear it. a better translation
from a language of sadness. you
know the drill.

later, his tongue wide as a mile on
a holy road. something ugly in the
eyes. he would feed me fresh plums,
planting the pits along the roadside.

when i say it was easy, i’m lying.
happiness is a kind of blindness,
divining the truth from a few wet
seeds. he spoke of flesh as
something absent from itself,
hands growing larger each time
the night settled around us.

in the distance, thunder. the whole
world rumbling. our bath water
turning the colour of four dollar
wine. somewhere some glorious
grievance, a tree in salted soil
bearing fruit.

—  REGULAR BOYS | agooduniverse

Icarus, I know you believe yourself dead now that your wings have melted. Your father crafted them poorly out of materials he knew would likely fail. You were a child you were bound to test the limits. That is what youth does; how else can we hope to grow? You plummeted towards the ocean blaming yourself for the betrayal of the fragile wings he made you.

Somehow, through blind luck or perhaps divine intervention, you wound up on the shore, far from all you knew. You think yourself to be a dead-man-walking, unaware that you still live. Your grin is a barely concealed snarl, daring anyone to break this facade you’ve constructed around yourself. You laugh as you pump your veins full of toxins, a solitary game of Russian Roulette, wondering which drink will be the bullet through your skull.

But life grows from death, and though you try to douse yourself in poison, new growth prevails. Here and there the tiny shoots of new growth glimmer through, reaching up towards the light you refuse to believe is there. Every so often the snarl cracks to reveal a genuine smile. Your laughter is sometimes filled with joy. In these moments you bloom, even if only for a second.

Death did not kill you. The chaotic waves cradled you in a cocoon, rocking you while you metamorphosed. You are growing new wings. They’re still wet and clinging to your back, too fragile to carry you. But with time and patience they will spread and you will fly. And this time you will fly on real wings, not ones manufactured out of broken hopes and lies. It takes time for these wings to grow and develop, but they’re there, I promise you.

You live, you fight, you are the dandelion that grows in the cracks of asphalt. Icarus, you are scared to look towards the sun because the last time you got close to it you fell. But Icarus, that was because you were on your own, your father left you to fly on his own. This time we will fly towards the heavens together. This time we will catch each other. This time we will leave the chains of gravity behind and soar together through the clouds, through storm and calm, until we find our perch where we will roost and look down at the sorrows we left behind.

— 

Brother do you believe in an afterlife
Where our souls will both collide
In some great Elysium
Way up in the sky
Free from our shackles, our chains
Our mouths, our brains
We’ll open all the gates
And we will walk careless
Straight into the light (x)

A response to this. Sorry @pragmaticgryffindor I don’t write nearly as nicely as you do. But I felt this needed to be said, to you and so many others.

THE LETTER

I just wanted to say something about the famous letter. I don’t give a shit if you agree or disagree, but I agree and I’ll tell you why.
So, we’re in 2014 and remembering last year, we have to do some matching.
Remember the fantastic #AskJaredLeto by Jared on Twitter? That doesn’t exist anymore.
Remember the long VyRTs? 6 hours VyRTs. That doesn’t exist anymore.
Remember free VyRT Violet? That doesn’t exist anymore.
setlists: 13 songs. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? 13 SONGS? They should do at least 20 songs!
The tour is called “Love Lust Faith + Dreams”, ok, but… no S/T songs at all? That’s not fair!
Not all the Echelon prefer the last two albums, some prefer the S/T and ABL (like me).
How many times do we cry ‘cause we’ll never listen to songs like Buddha For Mary or R-Evolve live?
The band is far, far away from us. Close, but far away.
They don’t love us like they did before, they don’t answer to us on Twitter anymore, they ignore every single request we make.
They considered us like a family, and a family has the right to give some advice, but they are ignoring us.
The Echelon always fight for what they believe in, Mars taught us, and now we are fighting to get the old Mars back.
I’m sick and tired of live songs unfinished with an acoustic guitar.
I WANT FULL BAND SONGS, LIKE THE KILL, LIKE IT WAS BEFORE.
Do you like Mars who only cares about money and not about us? Good for you, we don’t.
We want Mars who cares about us, who hears our desperate requests, who listens to us.
Jared, Shannon and Tomo are my life, they will always be, but I don’t recognize the band I discovered many years ago anymore.
Don’t you see how much they are far away from us?
On Twitter they only write things like “Go VIP with…” and I don’t give a fuck about that shit.
I want answers, I want them to have a relationship with us like it was before.
Dammit, why are you so blind? You divinize them, you see them as gods, you only want to fuck Jared or Shannon and you don’t give a shit about the music.
You only wait for the moment when Jared says “Do you really want me?” during Hurricane only to scream “Yeeeeeeah” like horny girls.
You live in another world where you think Jared and Shannon will marry you, will have babies with you, and you don’t realize how much it’s all fucked-up with this band.
Stop licking their asses and grow up, for God’s sake! You won’t receive a medal for “Best Echelon of the year”.
We are all Echelon, you don’t have the fucking right to say who is an Echelon and who isn’t an Echelon.
“I’m the Echelon and I don’t agree with that letter”. What the fuck does this mean?
That people who agree are not Echelon? I agree and I’m an Echelon like you, SO SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH UP.
Go back to your dreams where Jared fucks you all day long, but don’t say that we are not real Echelon.
Leave us alone, we will fight until the end and you can’t do a shit about it.
Provehito In Altum.
Bye!