edge of the wood

Imagine Daryl saving a little boy and it turns out he’s your baby brother who you thought died with your parents.

“I found him at the edge of the woods,”

“He won’t talk but I don’t really blame him, he’s probably been through a lot.”

”I thought he was dead just like our parents, thank you for bringing him back to me Daryl.” 

Dance in the Middle of the Fighting - Chapter 1: The Birth

A/N: It’s heavy-handed! It’s semi-dystopian! It’s Actor!Tom! I hope you enjoy. No warnings this chapter except some description of birth.

Dance, when you’re broken open. Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you’re perfectly free. –Rumi

Chapter 1:The Birth

Rain, again and still. She makes her way down the slope and to the little footbridge over the Swannanoa that moves here on the edge of these fragrant woods. The rain channels down her neck, down her curls, down the front of her dress and slides in between her breasts, trickling warm down her belly, all the way down into her boots. Trudging forward, her ankles aching, a half-anxiety gnawing at the base of her stomach.

She shouldn’t have waited so long to come this way. She shouldn’t have rested this afternoon, underneath the broad-leafed trees up higher in the hills. After the first birth of the day, a long but peaceful affair, the air was so cool and for a moment it wasn’t raining, and because of the time she took to herself the messenger walked an extra half-hour to get to her, and now Nida might have to give birth on her own, after all this time of working with her, after all this time of working to make her feel safe.

Keep reading

10

In Honour of International Women’s Day:
10 Movies About Friendship Directed by Women

Breathe dir. Mélanie Laurent (2014)
Charlie is an average French suburban teenager, but when she becomes fast friends with Sarah, the rebellious new girl at school, she discovers there’s nothing average about how she feels.

Daisies dir. Vera Chytilová (1966)
Two girls try to understand the meaning of the world and their life.

The Edge of Seventeen dir. Kelly Fremon Craig (2016)
High-school life gets even more unbearable for Nadine when her best friend, Krista, starts dating her older brother.

The Fits dir. Anna Rose Holmer (2015)
While training at the gym 11-year-old tomboy Toni becomes entranced with a dance troupe. As she struggles to fit in she finds herself caught up in danger as the group begins to suffer from fainting spells and other violent fits.

The Forest for the Trees dir. Maren Ade (2003)
As an awkward idealistic high school teacher begins her first job in the city, things turn out to be much tougher than she had imagined.

Divines dir. Houda Benyamina (2016)
In a housing estate on the outskirts of Paris, a teenager who is hungry for her share of power and success becomes a runner for a drug dealer.

Hush Little Baby dir. Hella Joof (2009)
Four dysfunctional teenage girls steal a car and elope from the institution where they live. They go on a road trip across Denmark, confronting ghosts of the past and settling old accounts as their dark secrets are revealed.

The Innocents dir. Anne Fontaine (2016)
In 1945 Poland, a young French Red Cross doctor who is sent to assist the survivors of the German camps discovers several nuns in advanced states of pregnancy during a visit to a nearby convent.

In Bloom dir. Nana Ekvtimishvili & Simon Groß (2013)
Set in the Georgian capital of Tbilisi in 1992. Friends Eka and Natia look to leave childhood behind as they ignore societal customs and work to escape their turbulent family lives.

Thirteen dir. Catherine Hardwicke (2003)
A thirteen-year-old girl’s relationship with her mother is put to the test as she discovers drugs, sex, and petty crime in the company of her cool but troubled best friend.

More friendship movies HERE and HERE

I never pranked my parents again after the incident.

by reddit user Eigengraulogy

I was 11 years old when it happened.

As a kid, I knew that something wasn’t quite right with the events that unfolded at the time. Even though it was never brought up again under any circumstances by either one of my parents, it’s something that always stuck with me. I can’t say it’s a memory that I tried to suppress seeing as it was always there at the back of my mind, bothering me like an itch that wouldn’t go away unless properly scratched.

Keep reading

3

etsyfindoftheday 3 | 4.4.17

live edge floating desk by 32belowdesigns

this gorgeous, rustic wood slab desk has a raw, live edge — love the way it’s paired with the industrial pipe wall attachments. you get to choose from four wood options: cherry, walnut, maple, and ash.

[Pearl] Oh! Peridot!

[Peri] huh?

[Pearl] That purple friend of yours-

[Ame] THEY KINDA LOOK LIKE THIS

[Peri] Wh- uh… I don’t actually know them. but what?

[Pearl] Ah… I wasn’t sure.. Anyway, I saw them at the edge of the woods. I tried to say hello but they just ran off!

[Peri] That seems to be their only response to greetings huh. Thats the only sign of them in a while… could you tell where they went?

[Pearl] The encounter gave no evidence to anything in particular, they just kinda ran off in some random direction, I’m sorry.

[Peri] Well uh, thanks for letting me know, I guess.

I really hope they come back

the thought of them never returning just because they think I might go after them if they come near is a bit daunting. I’ve… underestimated how much I rely on them. and now I need all the help I can get.

[Ame] HEY P-DOT

[Ame] Check it out! squak squak! she likes it!

ugh

The Domestic Garden Witch: Hangin’ Out

So maybe you’re a college witch with limited space and money, limited to the one window in your dorm. Or, maybe you’re a witch without extensive backyard space who wants to start up a magical garden. Perhaps you’re a kitchen witch who wants the freshest herbs right at her fingertips.

For many witches, having a garden seems to be a bit of a no-brainer. After all, plants and magic go hand-in-hand. Plus, when thinking of a witch, it’s hard not to think of a cottage in the woods with a little vegetable garden out front. Unfortunately for the majority of us, our cottage in the woods is a tiny flat, and our garden out front is a windowsill with limited space.

This is when it comes time to embrace your craftiness and bring your garden indoors! Not only does it place your garden in a convenient location, it also allows you to freshen the air, recycle what would otherwise harm the earth, and embrace your witchy green thumb!

Another Indoor Succulent Garden, Josh?

Yeah, yeah, it’s another succulent garden. Bite me. But this goes to show how easy and inexpensive succulents are, frankly! They’re an ideal type of garden for those on a budget or who are limited on time and space. In fact, I’ve often said to my boyfriend (who claims that he has no green thumb whatsoever) that the only way to not have a green thumb is to end up killing succulents. Especially since they’re low maintenance.

I’ve always had a love for hanging gardens. I’m not entirely sure why, but somehow, they always bring a bit of life to a garden. Perhaps it’s because it’s a great way of simulating a three-dimensional landscape in a world where everything is either standing or flat, or perhaps its just the fact that it’s refreshing to see green at or above eye level. Regardless, this project is a great weekend craft for the college witch who wants to bring some magic into his or her home.

Unlike our previous container gardens, this is one that generally has to be crafted from scratch or with a starter frame. A frame can easily be any wooden picture frame, or you can create your own if you’ve access to power tools.

1. Place the frame front-side down. On the back, fasten a wire mesh (such as chicken wire) to the inner edges to cover the opening of the frame. Around the edges of that opening, fasten strips of wood, about a quarter-inch thick, to provide depth to the opening. Then, seal all of that up with a flat board of wood. What you should end up with is a frame with some depth, like a shadowbox frame, with a wire mesh where the picture would usually be.

2. If desired, now would be the time to paint your frame.

3. Once the frame is dry, lay it backside down. Add moist potting mix through the mesh and into the box. Continue doing so until it is packed down and won’t fall out of the box.

4. Take some cuttings and begin planting them in the soil through the wire mesh. If needed, cut the wire mesh to accommodate some larger cuttings. Continue doing so until the wire mesh and soil are mostly covered. Spray with water and carefully hang in an area that receives plenty of light.

Magic In the Wood

Our previous container magicks have taken a look at metal, seashells, and even the magic of recycled items. But it would be a shame if I were to miss the magic that wood can bring to a container garden. After all, there are entire traditions of magic that focus on different woods and trees (those who participate in druidry definitely would know this, especially as Ogham places particular emphasis on trees and wood).

In working with container gardens, the wooden planter box is usually an easy go-to for buying or building, but the type of wood is usually overlooked. Every time my family built a planter box, the only concern was that it was a hardwood (that way it didn’t rot quickly, and could stand up to the weather and usage). But different trees embody different aspects of magic. So from a witchy standpoint, we can add to the magic of our gardens if we incorporate that into our container gardens!

Now keep in mind that these are going to be general correspondences and descriptions. Depending upon where you live, a tree or wood may have different characteristics (for instance, hawthorn may be linked specifically to magic and protection in Europe, but here in California, the oak is usually more linked to that). 

First is the usual hardwood here in California: redwood. Sturdy, tough, and depending on the source, often a rather beautiful reddish pink color, redwood is an easy go-to. Typically, redwood or sequoia can be linked to wisdom, protection, stability, and strength.

Pine is another frequent go-to. Though its color isn’t as striking, it’s qualities of protection, wisdom, prosperity, and strong association with life are great qualities to implement in a garden.

Oak varies from place to place, and from species to species. Here on California’s Central Coast, it’s hard to go too far without seeing a Coast Live Oak, which grows easily here and has a strong feeling about it that makes it seem that it’s constantly watching and constantly protecting. Oaks are nearly always linked with wisdom, and in some cases are so strongly linked to magic that they merge with magical characters (no joke… in some stories about Merlin, he became an oak tree upon his death). Regardless, oak brings protection, wisdom, knowledge, and masculine energies to one’s garden!

Birch is easily recognizable for it’s lightly colored wood, and for its bright white bark. But while it makes for a sturdy wood, it can also reflect aspects of flexibility. For this reason, it can be used in making a box that will encourage adaptation, creativity, and intuition in your garden.

Those are only four examples, and are some of the easiest woods to get a hold of in your local hardware store. Consider the type of wood you’re using when creating a planter. What aspects does it represent for you? And how can you bring its magic into your garden?

May all your harvests be bountiful! )O(

3

❝ Everything became much brighter, and after a few steps they found themselves at the edge of the wood, looking down on a sandy beach. A few yards away a very calm sea was falling on the sand with such tiny ripples that it made hardly any sound. There was no land in sight and no clouds in the sky. The sun was about where it ought to be at ten o'clock in the morning, and the sea was a dazzling blue. They stood sniffing in the sea-smell.

“By Jove!” said Peter. “This is good enough.”

Five minutes later everyone was barefooted and wading in the cool clear water. ❞

Star spangled brushwork

Summary: You need help painting your apartment, and the weather and Bucky Barnes are both hot. Sniping and sexy times ensue.

Characters: Bucky x Reader
Word count: 3,220
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY. Seriously. If you’re not of legal age, go away, this is not for you.

A/N: It’s my first attempt at smut and smut is hard (no pun intended). Any advice and/ or feedback is always more than welcome. 

Originally posted by maddiekittenlover

After years of saving pennies, working multiple jobs, and one too many nights of boxed wine and Ramen noodles, you had finally, finally, saved enough money for a down payment to buy your own apartment. Sure it was small and on the top floor of an elevator-less building, but it was yours, and that’s what mattered.

In a bid to save money like a responsible homeowner, you also decided to paint the place yourself, and with a little cajoling and a little blackmail concerning that time you filmed him singing ‘Beauty and the Beast’ while he made a PB&J, Bucky grudgingly agreed to help as well.

Keep reading

3

List of spells and charms ⇨ Accio

“And then he heard it, speeding through the air behind him; he turned and saw his Firebolt hurtling towards him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopping dead in mid-air beside him, waiting for him to mount.” — The Firebolt, under influence of this spell

There is a door in the history department. It never looks the same twice and is always cracked open when it’s actually there. No one has ever returned through it.

There once was a chemistry major that went through the door. Their friend followed after.

One returned.

One did not.

The story did not begin there though. It began long, long ago, in the tales and songs of ancestors long gone; passed from mother to daughter and father to son. They did not fade through time, starting anew in each beating heart of the family line.

They reached a young girl with olive skin and hair like raven’s wings. Her dark eyes would shine as her grandmother wove the tales by the fireside.

She spoke to the girl of a woman with fiery hair and burning eyes, who spoke with flames and held infernos between her palms. Perhaps that sparked the love in her for all things she should not, and she strove to make the embers dance, like the one with fire in her hands.

Her grandmother knew in her old, wise bones that this child needed the tales more than most. Their family had always been aware, trusting their intuition had never led them wrong.

So when the girl came to Elsewhere, (For where else could she have gone?) Everyone steered clear (The school gave up on roommates before very long.)

Perhaps it was because of her reputation of playing with fire, or perhaps it was simply fate, but her chemistry professor paired her with a boy who loved to play with ice. They became unlikely friends, she with her burning salts and he with his liquid nitrogen.

“Call me Pyrra.” she said.

“Frozone.” He grinned, white teeth gleamed against his dark skin.

He told her of his girlfriend back in Louisiana who was pregnant with his child: “It’s too soon to know the gender yet.” And she would just smile.

She told him of her grandparents and their small, simple home that stood alone on the reservation and of the wild horses that would thunder by.

They knew what everyone would say, how unwise it was to share so much about themselves, but they were chemistry majors—those rarely got taken.

The two were closer then blood and they both forgot one very important fact— being Taken isn’t the only way to Vanish.

It had been an accident. Frozone hadn’t been paying attention. He had forgotten to count the doors, as he stumbled to his history class after a long night in the labs. No one probably would have known if a fellow student hadn’t seen him stepping through the door—too late to stop his fate.

Pyrra was the first one told, the RA’s decided to wait till the end of the term before notifying his family. They knew it was a futile hope, but anything beat having to make that call.

Pyrra wouldn’t accept this though. She gathered up her craft, and armed herself with salts to burn. She dressed herself in her tribe’s garments and war paint on her face—there is power in being claimed—and set off for the history building when the moonless night was at its darkest.

The door gave way before her and she crossed into when; not where, her friend had gone. She travelled far until she found where the Little People were gathered round. They vanished as she drew near, but she was unshaken by this or fear.

“I have come to bargain for my brother of heart.”

“What will you give?” They whispered in reply.

“A story like none other.” She called bravely into the night.

“There is no story to match his fate, for his return we will need something great.”

Pyrra paused before standing straight.

“Then I will take his place.”

“Is this your choice?”

She thought of her grandparents, sitting at home, they had only gotten electricity a few years ago.

She thought of Frozone’s sisters, all so young and alone thriving off their brother’s hope to give them a better home, on the income of the degree the scholarship would to them all. She thought about his girlfriend, who worked two jobs by day, and attended a community college to get her art degree by night. With that her mind was made.

“It is.”

Frozone stumbled in, lost and confused as if it had only been an hour instead of a day. He caught onto what had happened more than quick enough.

“Pyrra, you can’t do this! Please! It’s my mistake to pay.”

“Call my grandmother and ask for my name, give it to your daughter and your debt shall be paid.”

That was all the time they had, before he was gone and she had stayed. The Little Folk drew near her now; intent on Their new pet, but she held up her hand, she wasn’t Theirs quite yet.

“I have another bargain to make.”

“What now?” They grumbled, discontent and bored.

“My story for my freedom, I chose to stay, but not to be yours.”

“Fine.” they hissed “But the bargain is this: you must keep us entertained till dawn or to us you will belong.”

What choice was there left for her to make? The sky was at it darkest—the hour before dawn. But how that hour stretched on and on!

She dared not tell her family’s tales, or sing to Them their songs, so she told them what she had, her science close at hand.

She told them how a star was born and how precious gems became; all the while between her hands she wove the tales with flame.

When that never nearing dawn finally broke upon the sky, They praised her skills, and kept their deals; blessing her all the while.

Fire-tongue they called her; Flame-speaker, They would say. They kissed her eyes and painted her lips, dressing her in flame.

She smiled and simply said, “That is not my name.”

For she had a new name now, one that no one could ever Take, now that she had given her old name away.

Frozone made it back and tried to keep his word. He called her grandmother who patiently greeted him and told him Pyrra’s name, only requesting that in return he send her things and bring his daughter by some day. She waved him off when he explained that the baby was still too small to tell, whether it was female or male.

Years passed and soon it was time to graduate. Everyone assumed that Pyrra’s grandparents came for Frozone. No one expected Pyrra to appear and collect her diploma as if she had been there all along. Then again, no one mentioned how her eyes were embers now or how her hair had turned from raven black to crimson—so she very well may have been.

         A few decades later a new student comes—a chemistry major that loves to play with fire. She wears a white smile; which is near blinding against her dark skin. She claims she came to prove that her father paid his debt. She won’t say anymore than that. But sometimes she would leave the dorm shortly before dawn on moonless nights with a string of fireworks in her hands. She would always return the next morning, humming ancient songs as she wrote an email to her father.

         During her time a new tale whispers its way into campus lore.

It’s breathed into the ears of distraught students—those with the courage to try and reclaim the Taken Ones are the only ones to hear the advice.

“Come to the edge of the woods on a moonless night, just before dawn and set off fireworks of every color—then wait.”

The ones who listen return with tales about a woman in smoldering garments, blazing red hair, and glowing embers for eyes who would test their resolve. To those who passed she would gift them with words or song, depending on their need, she might even gift them with her fire.

Regardless of what you get, it is always enough to get them back.

Except no one can remember what it was she gave them. They could never remember the tale itself, just that she gave them one; the songs she granted would dance just beyond memory’s grasp; the image of a mesmerizing flame leaving a ghostly impression inside their eyelids. There was only one thing anyone remembers her saying.

“My name is Story—”

There is a door in the history department. It never looks the same twice and is always cracked open when it is there. No one has ever returned through it.

There once was a chemistry major that went through the door. His friend followed after.

He returned.

She did not.

“—and I create myself.”

A/N: I know the Gentry come off a little strange in this. It’s mostly because Pyrra is Navajo and thus the stories she knows are of the Little People; but at Elsewhere, the Gentry are for the most part from Great Britain, Ireland and thereabouts. I tried to blend these two cultures. I’m not gunna lie, I didn’t do great. I haven’t done much with Navajo mythology in a long while. I feel it came off pretty shoddy in this. I’m not trying to offend (I’m part native American myself). Also, I love Chemistry but I suck at it which is why I didn’t go as into depth as I would have liked. (My grammar sucks too, so apologies there as well.)

[x]

No Time to Speak

Alright, so, yeah.

The’s one for @lunathewolfwarrior ; so like, buddy, hope u like it, I’m sorry for not killing Keith but I’m weak so yeah. 

The scenario is simple, kay? Based on the titanic’s scene so hey, there it is!

Contains: Hurt/Comfort, slight angst?, Klance, NO ONE DIES OK? Pre-relationship but they are close and mushy, idk man, I told u, there is no logic whatsoever. They were pining and now they are not!

*Twirls fringer* On to the fic already. Enjoy.


Lance puffs another breath and his mouth twitches upward when the faint warm smoke reminds him of ‘dragon breath’, as his nephew would call it.

His not-so-smile drops when another dragon breath comes and mingles with his own, this one fainter and weaker.

Lance’s eyes fall on Keith’s in an instant.

“K-Keith.” He calls quietly, jaw trembling and lower lip quivering along, “K-Keith, come on. It’s - It’s my turn.”

Keith huffs one more time before he shakes his head, shifting in the slightest on the edge of the wooden plank Lance’s laying on top of before tightening his grip on Lance’s hand.

“I’m – I’m okay.” Keith replies after a few seconds in silence, softly and small, “I’m okay, L-Lance.”

He’s not. Lance can see the way his jaw tenses, trying in vain to stop his teeth from clattering. His lips are blue, taking a shade of purple around the corners. His eyelids drop every few seconds, making Lance’s heart to skip a beat every time his eyes stay close for more than a two ticks.

Lance can see the way their intertwined hands shake but he doesn’t feel a thing.

He can’t feel his hand. He can’t feel Keith’s squeeze on his fingers as he tries uselessly to warm him up or the soft brush of Keith’s thumb on the top of his hand.

There’re no more shivers running down his spine, the icy temperature around them taking its hold on them and it doesn’t help that they are not able to get out of the freezing water, thermic suits damaged earlier  and no other way to provide warm but with each other’s bodies.

Lance whimpers quietly, staring helplessly at Keith’s lower body being hidden by the dark waters below them. He leans forward until his forehead bumps against the wooden plank’s surface before raising his eyes once again to meet Keith’s tired ones.

“Keith, pl-please.” Lance pleads, trying to catch the black haired man attention by moving their hands a little, “We - We agreed on switching places –  You can’t just – You need –”

“Hey.” Keith cuts off, gently and softly, “Your leg i-is still wo-wounded. We need it above the - the surface to -to avoid in- infection, ok-okay? We -We agreed on that.”

Lance shakes his head, eyes bright and desperate. “I-I didn’t – You  never said any -anything about you staying on - on the water, Ke - Keith.”

Half of their armor was gone, the thin black suit underneath barely doing any comfort to their cold bodies. Lance had demanded for both of them to be on the only available floating surface around them.

Keith had refused at first, saying that Lance’s leg needed more room and keep it from jolting it too much. The brunet was restless though, something that changed when they tried to balanced each other in the small plank and both of them ended up on the icy waters, aggravating even more Lance’s open wound.

Keith refused to try again, snapping angrily and in concern as he had pushed the brunet up on the plank, ignoring Lance’s complaints, and then he settle himself on the edge of the wood, upper body on the surface while he kicked his legs under water to keep himself afloat.

They haven’t moved since then.

Lance is not aware of how much time has passed; the seconds seem longer, even slower than ticks, and he can’t make his brain to function enough to make sure how long has Keith’s been under the water now. He can’t calculate the damage it will have on him, he doesn’t know how much longer he can survive like this.

“K-Keith.” Lance calls once more time, letting out a sigh when Keith snaps his eyes open at the calling, looking a little disoriented, “You can’t  keep – We don’t know how lo-long – You n-need to – We need to do some- something.”

Keith stays silent and Lance frowns.

“K-Keith –”

“It’s – It’s fine, L-Lance.” Keith reassurance and Lance’s heart aches at the trembling smile on his teammate’s lips, “My –My Galra blood keeps me wa-warm enough. You - You wouldn’t – It’s okay.”

Keep reading

4

Another successful delivery in the books! Here is a cart I designed and built for a local church looking for a portable piece with storage to display their information. I added some locks, magnetic stops on the doors - and a really gorgeous blacked out top to bring it all together. So happy with how this project turned out. Information center ✔️ Onto the hospitality cart!