copples

Io ti vengo a prendere. Ti prendo con me e ce ne andiamo via. Ti lascio una cartina, tu colori un posto e poi ti ci porto, così, senza pensarci, prendo tutto e vado via con te. Anche se scegli l'America. Io ti amo, quindi sbrigati a scendere, perché sono sotto casa tua con il cuore che scoppia perché come ti ama questo cuore, credimi, al mondo non ne esiste alcuno capace di amare così.
30 Days, 30 words

Here are the resulting 30 poems from my challenge, to write 30 poems prompted by a new word!

1. Aurivorous - [Au`riv´o`rous
1. Gold-devouring.]

2. Giglot - [Gig´lot
1. A wanton; a lascivious or light, giddy girl.]

3. Ataraxia - [at-uh-rak-see-uh
1. a state of freedom from emotional disturbance and anxiety; tranquillity.]

4. Migniard - [Mign´iard

1.Soft; dainty.]

5. Polyrhizous - [Pol`y`rhi´zous
1. Having numerous roots, or rootlets.]

6. Somniloquism - [Som`nil´o`quism
1.The act or habit of talking in one’s sleep.]

7. Blin - [v.1.To stop; to cease; to desist.
n.1.Cessation; end.]

8. Abulia - [a•bu•li•a
1. Loss or impairment of the ability to make decisions or act independently.]

9. Compotator - [com•po•ta•tor
1. one who drinks with another]

10. Sarcocarp - [sahr-koh-kahrp
1. the fleshy mesocarp of certain fruits, such as the peach.]

11. Crepuscule - [cre•pus•cule
1. Twilight.]

12. Misween - [Mis`ween´
1. To ween amiss; to misjudge; to distrust; to be mistaken.]

13. Ascetic - [as•cet•ic
1. A person who renounces material comforts and leads a life of austere self-discipline, especially as an act of religious devotion.]

14. Thurification - [Thu`ri`fi`ca´tion
1. The act of fuming with incense, or the act of burning incense.]

15. Aurichalceous - [Au`ri`chal´ce`ous
1. Brass-colored.]

16. Fuliginous - [fyoo-lij-uh-nuh-s
1.sooty; smoky]

17. Nychthemeron - [nych•them•er•on
a full period of a night and a day]

18. Subdial - [Sub`di´al
1.Of or pertaining to the open air; being under the open sky.]

19. Lunulet - [Lun’u’let
1. A small spot shaped like a half moon or crescent as the lunulet on the wings of many insects]

20. Eluctation - [E`luc`ta´tion
1. A struggling out of any difficulty.]

21. Copple - [Cop´ple
1.Something rising in a conical shape; specifically, a hill rising to a point.]

22. Chirm - [chi(ə)rm\
1. noise, din; especially  confused noise, clamor, or hum (as of voices or insects)]

23. Ambustion - [Am`bus´tion
1.(Med.) A burn or scald.]

24. Anhele - [An`hele´
1.To pant; to be breathlessly anxious or eager for.]

25. Surceaseance - [Sur`cease´ance
1.Cessation]

26. Meach - [1.To skulk; to cower ]

27. Camleted - [Cam´let`ed
1. Wavy or undulating like camlet; veined]

28. Thaumaturgist - [thau·ma·tur·gist
1. A performer of miracles; especially a magician]

29. Supervacaneous - [Su`per`va`ca´ne`ous
1.Serving no purpose; superfluous; needless.]

30.Geognosis - [Ge`og`no´sis
1. Knowledge of the earth.]

flickr

Omaha, April 1971 by Ayar Talore
Via Flickr:
Burlington service to Kansas City, April 1971. Wayne Copple foto

Top Moments of 2015, WoSo Edition

We all know what an amazing year it’s been for the USWNT and for women’s soccer in general. Here are some of my top moments of 2015, plus some honorable mentions (warning, it’s long)

Keep reading

flickr

KCUS by Ayar Talore
Via Flickr:
April 1971, Wayne Copple foto

Tempest

Fairy Tail 
Pairing: Gajevy

On an island off the coast of Ireland, danger lurks in the ocean. An ancient magic comes alive when the storm hits, but not everything is as it seems on the surface, sometimes you have to dive deeper to uncover the truth.

A/N: Hi all, long time no fic from me! So I’ve really thrown myself back into it, I’ve gone for something a little different. I’ve drawn inspiration from Maggie Stiefvater’s “The Scorpio Races” and some old legends about Kelpies to concoct a new story of Gajeel and Levy and an encounter with mythical magic. 
I’ve combined kelpies and capaill uisce in this story.. capaill uisce meaning water horse in Irish. Capaill is plural, capall is singular, it’s pronounced copple ish-ka. I hope you enjoy, depending on feedback, I may continue it.


The waves crashed against the cliffs with a thunderous roar as the wind howled and the trees groaned as they attempted to withstand the storm. Rain fell in heavy sheets, making it almost impossible to see, were it not for the bright lightning that ripped across the sky, followed promptly by yet another thunderous boom.

No one stirred in the town; shutters were down, lights were extinguished and doors were firmly shut. Not many would dare to leave their homes on this night, and not because of the adverse weather, no, but what such weather could bring.


A small, young woman stood alone on the cliffs, swaying slightly as the wind ripped at her dark cloak and unique blue hair. The rain pelted her but she did not appear to care, her intense gaze was fixed only on the rough sea.

The waves rose higher as the sea grew ever more restless. The white foam that crested the waves grew larger and a new roar was added to the clamour of the storm. They were coming.

Levy gathered her cloak around her and shielding her face with a small hand, she moved nearer to the edge of the great cliff, her eyes never leaving the tumultuous sea. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed once more, but this time an unearthly scream answered. As the wave rose higher, a shape began to take form. Two hooves extended outwards and the wave began to solidify into a long, bony face. The shape threw back its head, sea foam flying back in the appearance of a mane and let out an ear splitting screech.

Levy’s heart began to pound as she watched in awe and admiration as more waves took on their true forms. Kelpies some called them, but her people referred to them as the capaill uisce. They were magnificent beasts from the sea that took on the form of horses, though it was said they had another form, a human-like form. They were fearsome creatures, as wild and untameable as the sea herself. It was said their only goal was to drown anyone foolish enough to get close. Many had lost their lives to the great beasts, fishermen caught unawares by their sharp, deadly teeth or  innocent islanders who dared to brave the beach in a storm. They say the capaill uisce have a thirst for blood that cannot be quenched and Levy McGarden believed them.

She could not, however, suppress her absolute fascination with these impeccable creatures, and so here she stood in the midst of a storm, exhilaration thrumming through her veins, watching as they reared and screeched and threw themselves at the rocky cliff below, before disappearing beneath the waves once more. Some horses came ashore, to race among the surf, white, blue or black tails and manes streaming behind them as their hooves pounded the sand. They raced together, jaws snapping in a deadly game.

Levy was breathless as she watched, as if she too were running with the great beasts. Lightning illuminated the beach again and silver flashed all around as it glinted off the horse’s bridles. An old legend said if you could take a capall uisce’s bridle; it could not return to the ocean and would therefore be enslaved to the one who held it. Many would never be foolish enough to try such a thing, but there were a few, a desperate few who would long for a horse of such power that would fetch a high price on the market despite the danger it would pose. Such a horse could ensure a family’s survival in such a poverty stricken time. After all, desperate times call for desperate measures.

A large black stallion suddenly stopped, hooves digging deep grooves into the wet sand. The others cantered by, snapping their teeth at him as they passed, but his gaze was firmly locked on a point further up the beach. Levy followed the stallion’s stare and spotted what had grasped his attention.

A small gasp escaped her, a person was running down the beach, stumbling on the soft sand in his haste. Long dark hair was pasted to his skin with the rain, despite the wind’s best efforts to shift it. He appeared to be a large man, tall with tan skin, but she could make out little else due to the torrential rain.

The dark horse on the beach suddenly tossed its head and whinnied. Several horses nearby briefly paused to look upon the approaching man but quickly lost interest, one dark blue water horse however, began galloping through the surf to where the black one stood, she too tossed her mane and let out an ethereal whinny that had the hairs raising on Levy’s neck.

Her heart seized in fear, fear for the capaill uisce. There was only one reason men came down to the beach on a night like this.

“No,” she whispered. She had seen it once, a capall uisce being captured and it was something she wished to never see again. She could still hear its desperate screams as it kicked and snapped at its numerous captors who held the ropes that cruelly bound its neck and legs. Other capaill uisce had screamed their fury over the howling winds but none dared to come nearer.

Levy had recognised one man, though she had seen him only once or twice. Ivan Dreyar, a rich man who owned a fancy stables on the wealthy side of the small town, a man who demanded respect and assumed authority over the island. He was a man not to be trusted and one who couldn’t care less about the poverty stricken people of the island. Evidently regular horses no longer sated his hunger for money and power and so he turned his attention to the capaill uisce.

She had never seen or heard what had become of the capall uisce he had caught on that awful night. She had watched from her cliff in horror, powerless to stop it, and when Ivan had lifted a knife to the shimmering silver bridle, prominent against the stallion’s jet black coat, she had run. She was a coward, she knew that, she should have done something, anything. She would not allow it to happen again though, she would not make the same mistake twice.

She could see light from lanterns approaching in the distance, no doubt the foolish young man’s backup. If she could just distract him, perhaps the horses could get away.

“Hey!” She screamed, but her small voice was carried away on the fierce wind.

The man was so close now to the two capaill uisce standing in the surf, Levy cursed his bravery and stupidity, he didn’t even have a weapon or rope. She wordlessly urged the horses to return to the sea, wringing her hands with anxiety. The dark blue mare suddenkly began to step towards him and Levy could not stop her jaw from falling; she had never seen a water horse behave in such a manner before. She was not displaying any signs of aggression, in fact her ears were pricked and she almost seemed… happy? The man however moved purposefully, and Levy could not help but doubt his intentions.

Cupping her hands around her mouth she put all the power she could into her voice and yelled again, praying to the gods that he would hear.

He looked up as lightning flashed and everything seemed to stop. She no longer heard the crashing of the waves or the roar of the thunder; she was lost in his piercing gaze. His eyes were a blood red, though she had only seen them for a moment, she was almost certain. But she had to have imagined it, it wasn’t possible, was it? He looked away from her as the two capaill uisce approached, releasing her from her stupor. 

The black stallion abruptly stopped before the man, ears pricked towards the top of the beach. Almost instantaneously, his ears snapped back to lie flat against his head and his lips drew back, exposing his pointed teeth. The man whirled around, and Levy thought she could make out a rather panicked expression. The men were closer now, about a dozen of them carrying lanterns, spears and ropes.

Without warning the dark haired man sprang into action, he leapt for the dark blue horse and Levy could not help the cry that sprung from her lips. The mare merely snapped lightly at him and butted her great head into his chest, he pushed her off, and began pushing her towards the ocean. It looked as though he was yelling but Levy couldn’t make out his words.

The black stallion abruptly nipped at her rump in an attempt to make her move, snarling at her but she refused to budge.

Levy watched in utter disbelief, why were they not attempting to kill this man and why was he not trying to capture her or the stallion? The men were almost upon them, spears pointed and voices raised as they attempted to shout over the cacophony of the storm. The strange man began howling in frustration as he pushed at the dark blue capall uisce, the black stallion too began shrieking at the mare.

Just as the men were almost upon them, she found her senses and leapt into the waves, swimming out alongside the black stallion. The man sank to his knees in the surf just as the others reached him. Surrounding him, they pointed their spears threateningly at him, yelling what Levy could only presume was abuse. One particularly large man, who could only be Ivan Dreyar, spun the spear in his hand and with no hesitation, struck the man across the face with the blunt end. As he collapsed in the surf the capaill uisce screamed furiously.

Levy covered her mouth to prevent the scream that almost escaped her too, tears streamed down her face and fear clutched her heart.

As they dragged him up the beach, Levy looked on in horror and shock, but he did not look up at her again.