breeze in the clouds

nature aesthetics.

bold the natural aesthetics that appeal to / apply to your muse. repost, do not reblog. feel free to add any natural features you see fit!

fluffy white nimbus clouds. dark grey cumulonimbus clouds. rain clouds. a hurricane. light spring breeze. a sherbert-colored sky at sunrise. hazy yellow skies. deep blue ponds of fresh water. blankets of sparkling snow. tornado winds. monsoon flooding. rich, orange sunsets. soft, purple clouds at dusk. heavy hail. the rumbling of thunder. icy sleet. gentle snowfall. moss-dusted tree bark. pink sunset clouds. grey winter skies. navy blue skies in the daytime. cool mist in the morning. leaf-bare trees. giant ocean waves. the full moon. a cracked, dry desert. rolling hills of prairie grass. sweeping waves of briny seawater. rocky, steep ravines. rippling canyon walls. spindly cave stalactites. creeping green ivy. lush canopies of leafy trees. dense, white fog. heavy waves of cold, torrential rain. a peaceful creek of clear water. flowering cacti dusted with dew, catching light in the morning sun. a bubbling, hot pool of volcanic sulfur. sharp, grey mountainsides. fossils nestled in chunks of rock. a white sand beach. deep imprints of animal tracks in the dirt. soft, squishy moss.uniform rows of birch trees in winter. delicate mushrooms popping up in spring from beneath the decay on the forest floor. tumbleweeds jerking in the faintest wind across the desert landscape. light rain. white feathers fluttering down from flocks of doves in the sky. summer wildfires. a mixing of hot and cool air before a storm. silent lightning in the static of summer heat. a windy blizzard. thick flakes of snow tumbling down from the sky. a tree standing alone in a barren, yellow field. a desert of loose sand and tall, orange dunes. a pure blue sky. a river of molten rock. a grove of flowering trees. twisting, mangled roots sticking up from the muddy ground. bitter, cold winds. tumultuous skies of stormy clouds. branches of lightning ripping across the sky. a foggy swamp. the tree-bare foothills of a mountain range. sandy brown cliffsides. rocky coastlines. the violent shaking of an earthquake. the mysterious sound of ethereal trumpets in the sky. the lights of the auroras borealis and australis. a black sand beach. a lone tropical island in the reef of shallow. aqua waters. underwater volcanic vents. a herd of migrating mammals. tree branches growing heavy with ripe fruit. light streaming down through the clouds. a field of lush grain wading peacefully in the summer breeze. the sound of insects and frogs teeming in the night. natural diamonds nestled in coarse desert sands. a frozen lake. the sea salt scent of the air right above the ocean. the rippling of water as fish dive down under the surface to hide. the warmth of the seaside sand in the tropics. the quaint of a spider’s web balancing dew on its threads at dawn. delicate flowers blossoming between the cracks of cobblestone.

Conclusion: everything is Yusuke’s damn aesthetic.

tagged by: @inxquisitor& @ptohpr (:heart_eyes:)

tagging: @corruptedpersona @ufoneet @evokcr @fakechis @reinjustxcia @bottledlies

A Lesson in Love (Creative Writing)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,547

A/N: The tag list for this story is officially CLOSED. Also, we’re nearing the end of this series. I’d say there’s 4-5 parts left. 

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - Forever grateful for your editing assistance.

Originally posted by thoranda

The sun is out as you walk to your Creative Writing class. It’s a sign that winter is really being left behind, only to be replaced by longer days, warmer weather and an abundance of thriving greenery.

As much of a fan that you are of the freezing season, you’re grateful to see it go. The temperamental radiator in your apartment made your nights especially cold and knowing that you don’t have to depend on that for warmth anymore is a big relief.

Keep reading

Wow! So I’ve been doing a lot of code refactoring lately (mostly transitioning stuff into FSMs to make it easy to control what things can do during certain states in a more organized manner).

I’ve also been working on improving how hitboxes and hurtboxes work, giving me a lot more control over how attacks work and how they affect those getting hit. Some other smaller things in here are that I’ve added a lot of transition-like states, such as turning, landing, couching, and rolling.

Storm Magic
  • When the skies darken, you can sometimes feel the air inhale; you too take in a deep breath and share the energy trapped in your lungs
  • All is still, waiting, knowing not what the sky will leave in it’s wake
  • Thunder rumbles in the distance, greeting you as an old friend
  • There is a soft sound of rain, growing stronger, faster. Hitting the rooftops, pattering upon the leaves, its’ fall has a lyrical cadence
  • Wind whistles past, quick to greet you and quicker yet to dance away into unknowns
  • At night you look up, watching as the sky comes alight above you. Perhaps angry, or joyful, or proud: the clouds lack nothing of passion
  • Windows open, a breeze flows past with lingering touches of petrichor, roses, magic
  • Softness spreads. Birdsong rings out, gentle at first yet stonger each second, greeting the coming change of time
  • The air exhales
  • You have held your breath for so long. The magic passes with the storm, but it’s power lingers
  • Like rain unto earth, it soaked into your pores and flows through your bloodstream
  • Feel the clouds break. Let the sun warm your skin
  • Breathe in

or “the college au where lily is a single mom struggling with finishing school and raising a child, and james discovers he quite likes babysitting” (AO3)

(p.s.: thank you to @gxldentrio for being a lovely beta reader!)

Chapter: ½

She’s just another face in the crowd.

But she stands out.

She’s battling her way through the waves of I’m late-s, I should have gone to bed earlier-s and Why haven’t I started that bloody paper yet-s entangling themselves in people’s legs. They trip, but she bears on.

Her hair is made of flames; they lick their way through the sea of people, turning them to ashes, burning a path for her - James is entranced. Her brow is furrowed with decision, and she doesn’t hesitate to nudge someone out of her way with her shoulder, or to make herself bigger with the size of her backpack which looks like it could make her topple over. She parts the flood with sheer determination in her eyes.

She’s unstoppable.


He goes unnoticed.

Keep reading

CP bachelor AU: part 12

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11


The clouds that threatened rain earlier in the day have subsided, bunching themselves cosily near the horizon as though they’re aware that what Laurent needs more than anything else is a good sunset to serve as a backdrop. Laurent sits in the grass near the edge of the headland, looking down onto the dark sand of the beach. The water shades abruptly from turquoise to teal a few hundred metres offshore, a meandering divide that becomes less and less distinct as the sun creeps down.

Part of the reason Laurent has been so strict with the show’s budget is that he’s been determined, all along, to produce a finale that is truly spectacular. Sunsets over the ocean aren’t exactly easy to come by, on Australia’s east coast, and it’s an irony of geography that the nearest west coast belongs to another country entirely.

But that makes it better, Laurent thinks, gazing out over the vista of Te Henga. Crossing the sea. The romance of destination.

“I don’t suppose you’d be prepared to give us a hint,” says a voice from behind him.

“And spoil your authentic, on-camera emotional response?” Laurent shoots back. “Please, Jokaste.”

Jokaste steps up next to him; Laurent has to tilt his head to take her in. Her hair is braided back, one plait forming a headband and the others looped intricately into a knot at the back of her head. She’s wearing a long flowing dress of pale lavender, just a shade away from overtly bridal, and it somehow manages to accentuate the porcelain of her skin instead of calling out unpleasant pink or yellow tones. Laurent makes a note to give someone in wardrobe a bonus for that.

“You do know who he’s going to choose, don’t you?” she says.

“Of course,” Laurent lies, cool and easy.

Keep reading

A summer breeze can be very refreshing; but if we try to put it in a tin can so we can have it entirely to ourselves, the breeze will die. Our beloved is the same. He is like a breeze, a cloud, a flower. If you imprison him in a tin can, he will die. Yet many people do just that. They rob their loved one of his liberty, until he can no longer be himself. They live to satisfy themselves and use their loved one to help them fulfill that. That is not loving; it is destroying.
—  Thich Nhat Hanh

pairing: lin manuel miranda x reader

word count: 2300 (did NOT mean for it to be this long)

warnings: swearing

prompt/request: “Hiiii, can I get a lin x reader where they run into each other on the street or something and they’re both wearing the same outfit (like black jeans and gray hoodies(™️️) and red converse or something) and its just really fluffy and stuff? Ok thanks!!” from an anon


Fuck this wind, you thought angrily as you stomped down a New York City sidewalk.

It had been a tough day, to say the least. Your boss was a moron, your co-workers were bitches, and you had started the morning off by waking up half an hour later than you normally intended and, in result, arrived an hour late for work, which earned you glares and lots of scolding – not to mention your laundry hadn’t finished in time, so you were stuck wearing the same hoodie, jeans, and black converse you wore the night before to make a convenience store run.

When you finally got off for lunch break, you knew you needed to get out of there.

You moved your hood down so it was over your face and slid your phone into the back pocket of your jeans. Grey clouds gathered overhead, and the swift breeze whipped hair across your face and into your mouth. Your eyebrows knitted together in the center of your forehead. You didn’t want to go back to work, but with weather like this? How the hell was your mood supposed to improve when the weather was so utterly miserable? It would do nothing but make you angrier, and you knew if you got any angrier, you wouldn’t be able to get any work done. You stopped for a second, pulled out your phone, and just began to type in your passcode when –


You fell face-first onto the cement.

Keep reading

That’s Not The Point

Prompt Requests: 
24: You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.
25: You’re mine. I don’t share.
26: Just shut up and kiss me. 

Dad!Shawn fluff! 

This goes out to @dumbshawnblog for all of the dad!shawn inspo 😘 

It’s the middle of Spring, so the weather is at a point where it’s just about right. On this particular Saturday it was beautiful out with the sun peeking through the clouds and a light breeze passing by. As you pulled into the parking lot you could see the rest of Amelia’s classmates and accompanying parents on the beach.

“You ready for this?” Shawn asks from the passenger seat. The sun hat you got him as a joke adorned the top of his head and his eyes were framed by a pair of black Ray Bans. Such a dad. In the back seat, Amelia was already anxious to get out and she made sure to let the two of you know.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Keep reading

Bringing Your Scene to Life Through Action

Have you ever read a story that starts with a character sitting in a still forest, just thinking?  They’re almost always dull.

I’ve read, and rejected, thousands of them for publication.  Why?   Because the whole darned story is just sitting there, doing nothing, too.

So we’re trained as writers to avoid such scenes, to start our tale “in media res,” in the middle of things—specifically, in the middle of action.

But not all tales lend themselves to action and adventure.  In fact, when dealing with settings, most of them aren’t very dynamic.  Houses, castles, entire cities and mountains all just  … sit there, despite the fact that you would like them to do otherwise.

We’re biologically geared to take notice of things in motion.   Anything that moves of its own volition is either potential food or a potential threat.  So we’re wired for action.

Many of the best writers try to bring scenes to life even by putting their world into motion in one of several ways.

The first way to bring your story into motion is to look for details that suggest motion.  So instead of having your character sitting in a perfectly still forest, describe the trees swaying in a soft breeze, with trees creaking under its power, as cumulus clouds sail overhead in the advance of a storm. Or describe a single crow as it takes flight from a branch above your character, or show the squirrels racing up the boles of pine trees, or tell of the sound of a branch snapping, which might portend danger.

Some things, of course, can’t be in motion very well.  A house just sits there, as does a rock.  All of your wishing will not put that object into motion.  So you have to stretch your imagination, look for metaphors or similes that create motion where there is none.

When Tolkien described trees, he would say that they “marched down the hillside,” or they “huddled near the book,” and they “leaned above Frodo,” and so on.  It’s a technique that can work, but don’t work too hard at it.  You’ll know that you’re overdoing it when you try to assign the inanimate objects human emotions or desires.  I hate reading about a “lonely little rock, pining for others.”  If you go that far, you sound schizophrenic.

One writing exercise that I find that works well for the opening of a tale is to describe the scene using only active verbs (no was, or were, or anything that shows a static setting.) Give it a try—write a two-page scene with a well-developed setting that places everything in physical motion. It’s a challenge, but it tends to be a rewarding one.

in the opal light of aquarius there is a kaleidoscope mind, catching thoughts from clouds as they blow in the breeze. mystic vapour washes though a clinical, logical mind, highlighting the dual nature in aquarius. internally, there is a cacophony, the mind can be difficult to control