from the soil to the soul

Five Second Rule

I was digging through my drafts folder and found this random, mostly finished little ficlet. So I polished it up and present you with some random Hannigram.

Hannibal greatly enjoyed the times when he got to linger in the bowels of the FBI as he was today, leaning over a lightly putrefied body with contained fascination as Jack’s forensic team fussed around him. Admittedly, much of that enjoyment came from the fact that Will was generally nearby and often endearingly vulnerable in this environment, but even when Jack dragged Will away to his office – which he had done just ten minutes ago – Hannibal still took great pleasure in the chance to brush up on his understanding of the FBI’s inner workings. Indeed, he had spent a very entertaining forty-five minutes discussing the use of turmeric in fingerprint identification with Mr Price, the knowledge of which already had Hannibal both rethinking his post-kill clean up routine and considering whether he had anything in his freezer that might work well in a curry. Something delicate and fragrant, to go with the flank of that appalling parking attendant from the previous week, who had been sadly lacking in either quality.

It was, therefore, with pleasant images of arranging his next tableau – something involving flowers, perhaps, for Will – thronging in his head that Hannibal followed behind Price, Zeller and Ms. Katz as they made their way to the break room, having decided that they would make no further progress in the case without “choking down a disgusting amount of sugar,” according to Ms. Katz. Hannibal had nowhere pressing to be, after all, and would happily wait the whole afternoon in order to see Will again once he was released from Jack’s clutches.

That thought might have given Hannibal pause on any other day. However, just at the moment it crossed his mind, he happened to witness the greatest atrocity of his life.

“Oops, butterfingers!” Ms Katz trilled, as a glazed, rainbow-sprinkled doughnut slipped her grasp and landed on the floor, sprinkles down. And then Hannibal watched in fascinated horror as she bent to retrieve the soiled pastry, blew on it and, shrugging, said the words that struck disgust into Hannibal’s very soul.

“Five second rule!”

And then she ate it.

Hannibal had to leave the room. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to vomit otherwise.

Will caught up with him later in his lecture hall, where Hannibal was restoring inner harmony by rearranging the library of his mind palace. He had developed his own shelving system – the Dewey Decimal was hardly up to scratch – and was replacing some volumes of poetry when the smell of aged paper was joined by the ever-welcome scent of Will’s presence. Hannibal opened his eyes to find the profiler regarding him with a mildly concerned expression, perhaps discomfited by Hannibal’s apparent lapse into a vegetative state. Hannibal had yet to introduce Will to his palace, though of course versions of him already resided in many of its rooms.

“Hello Will,” Hannibal said, assuming a placid and affable tone in order to reassure his friend that he was perfectly well.

Will, somewhat worryingly, was not fooled, his magnificent brows drawing together in concern. Hannibal automatically catalogued the expression for future commitment to paper. He would have to find several hours soon to do so: his mental file of unrecorded images of Will was becoming somewhat unwieldy. Perhaps one day he would be able to coax Will to pose for him in the flesh. Perhaps in nothing but the flesh, his beautiful form freed from all that frumpy, everyman plaid, the firm, strong plains of his muscles exposed for Hannibal’s perusal…

“Is something wrong, Doctor?” Will asked, pulling Hannibal from his reverie, his tone brusque as ever but tinged with genuine care, the presence of which caused something to tighten painfully in Hannibal’s chest. He sighed and decided it could do no harm to inform Will of his friend’s unhygienic crassness. Will would likely brush it off as perfectly acceptable behaviour, causing a little tarnish to his appeal that Hannibal would be rather grateful of at that moment.

“Will, have you ever heard of something called the ‘Five Second Rule’?” Hannibal asked, unable to keep his mouth from twisting into a slight moue.

Will looked up at him in surprise and then slapped his hand across his eyes. “Please tell me Bev did not do that in front of you,” he groaned.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, amused by Will’s apparent embarrassment.

“I’m afraid to say she did,” he said, gently despite his stomach lurching slightly at the thought. “You do not approve?”

“Doctor, I live with a pack of dogs. Do you really think I would eat anything that had come into contact with my floor?” Will grinned and Hannibal’s breath hitched. “And I’m pretty certain I clean my floor more than most people, present company excluded.” Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat. “I keep telling Bev she needs to stop, it’s a really filthy habit.”

And then, well, there really was nothing for it but to close the gap between them and kiss Will, firm and sure and with just the slightest brush of tongue to really get the point across.

“Hannibal!” Will pulled back and Hannibal reflected ruefully that he would have preferred the first time Will addressed him by his first name not to have been with such shock in his tone.

“I must apologise, Will. That was not how I had planned…” he trailed off as Will’s eyes snapped up to his.

“Plan? What plan? There was a plan?” Will asked, his eyebrows threatening to detach completely from his head and rocket skywards.

Ah yes, the plan. The one in which Hannibal would – with the help of Will’s rapidly worsening encephalitis – break the empath, frame him and imprison him, to be kept under lock and key until the time might come when Hannibal wished to play with Will’s brain once more. The plan which, Hannibal now realised, he had not thought through with his usual precision, because it would be inconvenient to have to visit the BSHCI every time he wished to kiss Will. The plan which would now have to be abandoned completely because there was little… there was absolutely no chance Hannibal was not going to keep kissing Will, now that he had started. Kissing and, with any luck, much, much more. Assuming Will would let him, that is.

Will, who had pulled back but not out of Hannibal’s embrace.

Will, who was looking up at Hannibal from beneath those ridiculous, beautiful lashes.

Will, who was very definitely smirking and leaning in close to whisper in his doctor’s ear, “Well, Hannibal, it seems you don’t have a problem with all filthy things.”

And it was true because, as they soon found out, there were some things Hannibal was very happy to eat off the floor, even after they’d been there much longer than five seconds.

I want to reinstate a respect for soil. We must touch the soil. How many times do we touch our mobile phone every day? Maybe 100 times. How many times do we touch the soil? Hardly ever. We must give dignity to peasants, farmers and gardeners.

We are all part of this healthy web of life maintained by soil. The Latin word humus means soil. The words human, humility and humus all come from the same root. When humans lose contact with soil, they are no longer humans.

—  Satish Kumar, “The Link Between Soil, Soul and Society
Safe at Last (Part 2):

(Originally Feysand Fic Part 2)

FINALLY figured out a title! So i don’t need to keep asking! Please leave comments/suggestions below!


Part 1:

Part 3:

Part 4:

Part 5:

Part 6:


Feyre has escaped Tamlin for the second time but this time, no one in the night court is aware of what happens. Feyre is depending on the bond to bring Rhysand to her.

I wanted to see a short fic where Rhysand takes care of a weak Feyre and I know that that was like his entire role in ACOMAF but I wanted a scene where Feyre would have nothing but adoration for him and allow him to fuss over her. So here goes nothing…

Keep reading

Cancer is a storm, those storms when rain spills from the sky at the speed of bullets and lightning wakes everyone from their safe and peaceful slumbers. Everything is gloomy for a while, and it is midnight so loneliness befalls the soul. The skies are a dark sinister violet, with dust-colored clouds stretching for miles. Some things are damaged, such as fallen trees or broken power lines. The mood of the storm causes old melancholy to surface, reflection of the past. Nevertheless, water does what water does best, it sustains. It heals too. The calm after a storm… Cancer lies resting in the clouds, safely tucked away until disturbed again. The skies have had their mood swings. The sequence continues constantly, never quite the same as the last. Although it leaves ruin in its wake, it has cleansed the lands, nourishing them with purified waters, a necessity of life.

Scorpio is a volcano, destroying and burning the earth, but bringing forth new creations. The volcanic ash creates fresh and fertile soil for new life to blossom. The process repeats, always out with the old and in with the new, a soul purification. The time of eruption is never known, sometimes it’s spontaneous, impulsive, but other times it’s bubbling inside the earth, waiting to emerge…It isn’t always explosive and theatrical. Lava can flow slowly from the earth. It eventually cools once touched by air and then solidifies and hardens…representative of Scorpio’s silent, seeping and long-lived bitterness, but also the building of resilience. The hardening of the heart, a protection and strengthening method. Frightening and shadowy at first; the skies are ashy and daylight is engulfed in darkness, the colors of death, yet full of vibrant, sometimes loud and fleeting colors once it erupts, the colors of life. Scorpio suffers with internal wars yet finds peace through the purging of inner corruption, harbored anger, and toxicity; Rage gives birth to Serenity, or Darkness to Light, Evil to Good…neither can co-exist without the other, and similarly, no one can exist without the cycle. It is an end that brings beginnings.

Pisces is equally the oceans depths and its waves, at dawn preferably, moving back and forth in uncertainty. Is it safe? The waves move forward tentatively. No wait, it’s not safe. And so, the waves retreat. The vast emptiness is the subconscious womb in which one retreats for protection. When the waves are finally calm–but not truly, the waves of the sea are never asleep—Pisces is lost in thought and sheltering themselves privately in the abyss until it’s safe to surface again. Pisces uses seclusion as rejuvenation of the soul, yet the Piscean soul needs 12 eternities to recover. Who knows when that will be?

So yesterday we talked about how Robin Hood made friends with John “Little John” Little, and maybe you are craving some more Real Deal Robin Hood, but there’s also the distinct possibility that you are hoping today’s story of the day also involves more of those riverside fights to the death between psychopaths. If you want more of both, BOY, HAVE I GOT GOOD NEWS FOR YOU, because today, we are going to talk about how Robin Hood made friends with his other famous ally: Friar Tuck. And YES, it also involves riverside violence, because Robin Hood is a psychopath and that is his only way of making meaningful bonds with others.

RIGHT, so this happens a while after Robin and John have become even bigger threats to society by combining their savagery. There’s like three hundred odd bandits in the Murderous Mass of Merry Men now, their mansion has received some expansions, courtesy of all that money they were totally giving to the poor SNRK and Robin was pretty famous by now. So Robin and the lads were shooting arrows at animals just for kicks, because killing shit is the only consistent hobby a psychopath has, and he decided “YO BUT LET’S KILL COOLER”, so they started aiming at farther and farther away animals, until the only two that could land their shots were Robin and John. 

Now, Robin is kinda really into John, so he’s like “MAN, YOU AND I, WE’RE SO– THERE’S NO ONE BETTER THAN US AT HIGH PRECISION SENSELESS KILLING IN THIS BARBARIC LAND OF THE 1400′s ENGLAND ” because Robin is really proud of their murderous bromance.

But before Robin could get down on one knee and present a ring of engagement to John “Steroids” Little, a resounding “WAIT!” echoed in the forest. “You two are good at high precision senseless killing. Pretty good. But I know someone better than you at high precision senseless killing. He kills things with more precision and less sense than you.”

“NANI” yelled Robin Hood, drawn in chalk in the style of 1980′s anime. “Who the HELL are you talking about, Will Scarlet!”

OK QUICK INTRO: Will Scarlet is another one of Robin Hood’s lads. The youngest one and a passionate youth, he was the finest, best swordsman in the Merry Men, while Robin Hood was the best archer, and John “Hercules’ Bigger Cousin” Little was the best staff wielder (also a really good archer). He was famous for not sucking Robin’s dick despite being loyal to him.

“Well, see, over yonder by The River” elaborated the swordsman “there’s this friar that is even more of an uncouth savage that you two put together”.

“WELL THIS WON’T DO, NO ONE IS A LOWER LIFE THAN ME” and with his arse chaffed by jealousy and his eyes full of Studio Ghibli tears, our man Hoodie grabbed his utensils of murder and went to meet this friar, stomping his feet like the psychopathic manchild he was.

Now, finding a friar in a forest shouldn’t be too hard by itself, because friars are not usually alone in the middle of a forest by a river, but in case there was any doubt, Robin Hood, astute fox, immediately realized that that particular friar by the river was the one he was looking for. Not because he is, like, intelligent and wily or anything, but because, see, when I say “friar”, you imagine this

but what stood in front of Robin was more like

In his usual eloquent and poetic demeanor, Robin Hood let out a “holy fucking shit what” and reconsidered his life choices that led to this moment. That sure was a friar, alright, but he was packing. Weapons, cool armor, the hundred yard stare of someone who was Seen Some Shit, this guy had it all. Are you familiar with the souhei (warrior monk) Musashibo Benkei? The guy that camped out in a bridge and beat people who passed by and stole their weapons? And who ended up with 999 weapons he stole from people he defeated? Ok so this friar was the western equivalent of Benkei, in that you did not fuck with this friar.

Robin Hood, however, is not an intelligent lifeform, so as soon as he got over his initial, visceral fight-or-flight reaction, he was like “EH” and went to face him, anyways.

And by “went to face him” I obviously mean that Hoodie went and told him “hey dude, carry me across this river”. And the heavily armed friar, as you do, SILENTLY picked Robin up and, uh, carried him. At this point, Robin’s brigand mind was a string of 0s and 1s because he could not fucking compute this dude didn’t attack him for disrespecting him like that and instead just silently complied. Well, whatever, free piggyback, Robin is happy.

But as soon as they get to the other side of the river, the friar says “hey, do me a solid and carry me across the river, mang”. OH, SO THAT WAS HIS GAME. Robin picks him up and returns the favor, because piggybacks are awesome. As soon as they get back to the other side, Robin immediately says “hey HEY carry me across this river”, and the friar is like yeah alright it’s not like this is a huge waste of time, so he lifts Robin and starts carrying him again, but in the middle of crossing the river, PSYCHE the friar legit powerbombs Robin against the river. PRAAANKED.

Robin gets up, screams “KISAMA!!! and boss fight music begins to play as he gets his longbow out and starts shooting arrows at the friar, who deflects every single one of them with his shield. “K-kisama…” silently screamed Robin in a very tiny voice when he saw that his signature move had been completely invalidated and was forced to draw his sword to engage Mega Ultra Friar in melee combat. Robin really oughta stay away from rivers because he only ever almost dies near them.

But Robin was a pretty good swordsman in his own right, so they go left and right, swish and swoosh, until they both get tired. The friar has the upper hand on principle of his superior equipment, and also because he’s a Dark Souls boss. Seeing this, Robin remembers he is an outlaw and shouldn’t be playing by the rules, so he grabs his horn and blows it three times, which is the “HELP ME, I SOILED MY DIAPERS, LADS” signal. Almost immediately, Robin’s whole gang of happy killmen turn up and surround the Raid Boss Friar. The friar, however, looked nowhere as terrified as he should look for a tired man outnumbered 300-to-1. He simple put his fingers on his mouth and whistled three times.

“HEY YOU DUMBO” Robin yelled “I’m the one with the bandit gang, so whistling three times is not going to–” but before Robin could finish his tantrum, a rumbling noise surrounded the battlefield. One of the Merry Men looked to the source of the sound and yelled “DOGS…!”, which would usually be a great thing, except these were very angry, very murderous hounds that began attacking the Merry Men. 

Things Robin Hood Didn’t Account For: The friar having a personal army of dogs.
Things The Friar Had: A personal army of dogs.

Around 300 dogs appeared, matching each Merry Man head by head, and all out bandit-versus-dogs war was unleashed. Bandits using swords to defend themselves, dogs dodging skillfully and catching arrows with they mouth (LITERALLY, THAT IS WHAT THE BALLAD SAYS), fucking John “Hulkmania” Little fighting for his life as a dog wanted to french kiss his jugular, it was PANDEMONIUM. The fight goes on and Robin tells John to PLEASE DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS, so John activates the Kaio Ken times 10 and kills like two dozens of dogs with staff blows and arrows because he is kind of a big deal, and the friar is like “dude no don’t kill my dogs, can we reach a compromise?”, and of course, Robin, the sensible guy, says “yeah, if you join our band of murderous and dangerous criminals, we can all be happy together and ransack Nottingham and her roads”. Of course, the friar, a man of the cloth, a servant of our lord Jesus Christ, passionately answered “YOU DON’T HAVE TO ASK TWICE” because he sure as hell loves senseless violence as much as these psychopaths, and he finally found a band of men dangerous and vile enough for him to feel comfortable with, for him to call “his brethren”.

And that’s the story of how Robin Hood recruited a boss fight into his party. And all of his dogs. They christened him “Friar Tuck” because his real name, “Ultra Friar Arnold Schwarzenegger On Steroids” wasn’t as catchy.

been thinking a lot lately about dante, and about how the divine comedy is fundamentally based on the same elements as southern gothicism. lemme explain.

southern gothicism is about, fundamentally, the awfulness of the known, the unbearable ugliness we harbor dragged out bloody and raw into the unforgiving light of day. it’s the deeds of the long-dead family in the abandoned mansion, or what’s really in the barn behind father preston’s house. it’s what happens when the tacit sin in the silence that we keep is broken, and all the accumulated rot that comes seeping out from the rip. paradoxically, however, a lot of the horror element of the genre rests on what is unknown. what is it that rustles in the cornfield on a snowy starless night? what is it that watches from the desert? what is it we all hear scraping up the dock down in the swamp? we don’t know, and therein lies the horror– it could, of course, just be a barn owl, or a coyote, or a caiman. could.

to express both of these kinds of fear, of the known-but-not-spoken and the unknown-unspoken, which are tied together but nevertheless differentiated, southern gothicism turns to, you guessed it: allegory. as within, so without.

take, for example, the archetypal antebellum dynasty, the plantation owners who in effect ruled the town before the civil war. their mansion sits abandoned on the hilltop, and it’s rotting, casting its crumbling sickly shadow over everyone and everything in the valley below. pretty obvious allegorical setup for the continued domination of the poisonous, decaying remnants of the plantation aristocracy in the post-reconstruction south, right? or take father preston– his body in the barn, we can read that as a body, but also as the secrets and hypocrisy of the american church made manifest.

see, this is how southern gothic works: exaggeration, reification, allegory. it takes an idea and makes it physical, exaggerates the fears and horrors and sins we harbor and reflects them back at us in such a way that we see what is true through the lens of what is (we hope) not. sound familiar?

for those of y’all not well versed in dante, inferno is structured around a concept called contrapasso, which doesn’t quite have an english equivalent but can be roughly thought of as a “you get what you give” sort of arrangement. essentially, different sorts of sinners are punished with ironic reflections of the sins they committed. schismatics have their bodies split nearly in two because they split their faiths in two. people who were indifferent to injustice are stung by insects like they should have been stung by their conscience. you get the picture.

contrapasso as a concept is, obviously, dependent upon the physical manifestation of the person’s sin. as within, so without. it works in the same way as the allegorical aspect of southern gothicism: by making true, making real, making horrible and manifest the creeping crawling rotting things that hide inside of human beings. you put the monster on the outside so that the inside might be revealed– whether it’s a person’s sins or the structure of american aristocraticism.

there’s another important similarity. we can trace southern gothicism back to its roots in european gothic fiction of the eighteenth and seventeenth century, literature that’s pervaded with the same sense of loss and decay that exists in the american version of the genre. but there’s a key difference: european gothic fiction tends to focus on what’s referred to as the “terror of the sublime”– transcendent, ethereal, cosmic terror that elevates the mind and educates the soul. it’s an intellectual thing, this kind of fear, and it’s very far removed from the grotesque, visceral, crawling horror that’s associated with american gothicism. crowded swamp towns versus windswept mountain villages, elegant castles versus rotting barns– southern gothic is rooted like kudzu in the soil, dirty and bloody and fertile with rot.

part of what makes inferno so deeply and powerfully horrible is the fact that it doesn’t make use of that clean, european-gothic kind of terror. in hell, there are no wild and windy moors– instead, dante finds swamps and mesas and searing heat, louisiana bayou and west texas desert. and within these landscapes, within the rot and roiling run, nothing is clean. nothing is ethereal. the monsters are not transcendent and unseen; they are grotesque and decaying, and the terror they inspire does not exalt, but horrifies in the most visceral manner.

in canto ix, dante says, presumably in reference to the whole poem:

o you who have sound intellects,
consider the teaching that is hidden
behind the veil of these strange verses.

(inf. ix. 61-63, trans. hollander)

when we do consider the teaching, the real point of inferno, what do we find? every monster pales in comparison to the ones we keep in our chests. when we put what is within without, the results– the mansion rotting on the hill, the body rotting in the preacher’s barn– are more horrible than anything we can imagine rustling in the cornfields, or watching from the desert, or slithering out of the swamp on a moonless night.

over the garden wall

send one for my muses reaction! Feel free to change any gender or anything that needs changing in order for it to make sense to have come from your muse.

I can leave a trail of candy from my pants!❞
We just wanna get home with all our legs and arms attached!❞
You’re more lost than you realize.❞
This guy sounds loony. Maybe we should make a break for it.❞
You lead the Beast right to us with your candy!❞
Beware, the Unknown! Fear the Beast! And leave these woods!❞
Well, that settles it. I’m gonna walk up 10 feet ahead of you.❞
I’m not magical. I’ll just do you a good turn.❞
Hey, not to be obnoxious, but an abandoned ghost town doesn’t seem like it’s gonna be useful.❞
You find this place as creepy as I do, right?❞
How did you end up in this little town of ours?❞
You’ll never convict! You have no proof!❞
It saddens me that you don’t wish to stay here with us, particularly because I simply have to punish your transgressions.❞
They’re all skeletons.❞
Iguess, in some ways, I’m trying to get home, too.❞
The world is a miserable place. Life isn’t fun.❞
We need to do our part to make the world a better place.❞
I can’t hear you because I’m too busy doing what I’m told.❞
You are literally killing me every moment I’m forced to spend with you.❞
I got enough nonsense from that no good, two-timing, low-down handsome man of mine.❞
This is way better than being chased by a gorilla.❞
You know you eat enough when you start seeing stars.❞
I just wanted to have fun, change the world, and make it a better place. But I just made everything worse.❞
Deep down in your heart, you’re a stubborn jerk.❞
When are you gonna give this up?❞
Okay, I think he’s asleep. Let’s go steal his stuff.❞
The beast is upon me!❞
Let’s go to this creepy tavern and ask for some directions.❞
Curse you! You’ll die someday, and I’ll laugh!❞
Oh, you’re not the witless, simple-minded fool everybody takes you for.❞
You’re the master of your own destiny. The hero of your own story!❞
Why not let me take the lantern for awhile?❞
No need for violence…❞
You leave those children be!❞
The money takes my mind off my troubles - the deep, soul-crushing loneliness.❞
She consumed my every thought. I’d fallen in love with a ghost.❞
You’re frightened of a ghost? Ghosts are just floaty things.❞
What if I’m on the brink of madness?❞
Well, guess we have to spend some quality time together.❞
How about you tell me your dark secrets instead, huh?❞
My secrets are too secret.❞
I secretly whisper poetry to myself in my room at night.❞
Looks like there was a struggle - a violent struggle.❞
Do you know what I did for this money? The things these filthy hands have done to make this money?!❞
You alright? You sound uncharacteristically wistful.❞
You’re a manly frog and you need some socks.❞
I don’t think today’s a good day to get arrested by frogs.❞
Drum me! Drum me in the face!❞
Sounds like you’re a real loser back home.❞
That fresh air does simply gruesome things to my tender, delicate skin.❞
Once I fill their heads with wool, they’ll become just like little sheep and follow my every command.❞
All along, you’ve been leading us to this crazy lady?❞
I do as he commands - the voice of the night, the beast of eternal darkness!❞
If you don’t trust me, then you don’t have to follow me, okay?❞
The beast knows your presence!❞
I believe you, but please, hide yourselves at once!❞
Then no one shall be devoured alive tonight?❞
You’re a good girl, but you decieve me.❞
Then you have no evil secrets to keep?❞
Keeping you busy is the only way to keep evil spirts from driving you to wickedness.❞
You shan’t remain alive for long in this house.❞
There is only my way. There is only the forest, and there is only surrender.❞
Can we admit we’re lost for good?❞
The beast has claimed him already.❞
Still the haunted ruins of night call your name.❞
You’re limiting the universe to only things humans could understand.❞
Yes, just sit there in the cold and wait.❞
We’ll keep that light of yours shining, won’t we?❞
There is a light for the lost and the meek.❞
Hard woe and fear are easily forgotten when you submit to the soil of the earth.❞
You’ve been grinding up lost souls for years.❞
Hold your tongue, or I’ll remove it from your mouth!❞
It’s my fault we ended up here. Everything’s been my fault.❞
You’re not trying to help me. You just have some weird obsession.❞
Oh you wonderful mistake of nature!❞


Catch a fly
Tear off its wings
Hear angels sing
I watched you crucify
All the beautiful things
This faith gets euthanized
My soul in a sling
Where were you when I lifted this stone from the grave?
Bleeding and bruised, left all alone and afraid
The distance between us is enough
To make me kneel down and pray
I’ve long displayed my disgrace
My fingertips are frayed
Reaching out for your grace
The throbbing and the ache
This sanctuary is dust
Soiled by love
Masturbating to what once was
The poetry gets stuck in my teeth
Blew all my passion last week
It seeped into the concrete
Rusted my tongue
Cracks in the steeple
Lashes through an eye of a needle
It rained while we fucked
Ignoring the storm
In pictures and paragraphs
We were always torn
Broken in half
Suffocating in the cacaphanous
Sacrilege in a coffin
Dearly departed
I haven’t quite found a way to have you forgotten…
But I will by the morning

In the early evenings I stare at the moon and feel so small, so minuscule compared to the grandeur of nature, making my little frustration of the day so vile and pointless.
If I am to be here I shall enjoy every single moment of life, love everything around me, feel colours vibrate within my soul giving me goosebumps, letting music be the motive of my movements and letting breath be the passage to my world within and without, may nature be my healer in every way, the ocean my purpose, the soil my base, the wind my guide; for I am the creation of mother nature and the divine source may I be a God with the power to choose and decide, to love and thrive and may I be grateful for moments in this beautiful and marvellous incounter of dimensions time and souls
—  Early thoughts from my journal 3.2.17
- @freespiritedaquarius
The wet earth. I did not imagine
your death would reconcile me with
language, did not imagine soil
clinging to the page, black type
like birds on a stone sky. That your soul – yes,
I use that word – beautiful,
could saturate the bitterness from even
that fate, not of love
but its opposite, all concealed
in a reversal of longing.
—  Anne Michaels, from Correspondences
the rain will wash you clean

A surprising number of people expressed interest in me posting the Princess Diaries fic I wrote last night, so here we are.

It’s a scene tag for the end of the first movie (and isn’t exactly second-movie-compliant). Most of you can probably figure out what scene it is, but for reference, it’s set after Joe motions the rest of the security guards out of the entry hall so that he and Clarisse can have some privacy.

Anyhoops, I hope y’all enjoy.

the rain will wash you clean

The first time Joe kisses Clarisse, it is raining.

His touch is gentle, the brush of his lips feather-light against hers. She feels the warmth of his hand on her waist through the thick layers of cream silk, feels the soft sigh of air against her mouth as he pulls away, feels his hesitation in the fibers of his movement.

She suspects that, should she look at him, she will see hesitation—and warmth, always warmth—there too, clouding his dark eyes.

He is not one who was built for fear. She has seen him smeared with blood—his own blood and others’—has seen him tired and aching and wary. She has seen him angry, and hurting, and furious. She has seen him with his eyes burning, and his teeth bared. She has even seen him terrified, once, as she looked up at him from where she had been knocked to the floor by the concussive blast of a grenade. But never before had she seen him afraid.

She thinks, though, that if she looks into his eyes now, she might see fear.

Keep reading

I’m going to share the one of the greatest deceptions in this earth, till this day. I hope I reach you and wake you up. This image here is “Cesare Borgia”, 2nd son of Pope Alexander the 6th, Painted by the Roman Catholic church as “Jesus” to decieve the masses. The true agenda of course was to teach the people who were enslaved (Blacks, Native Americans, Mexicans) ((12 tribes of Israel))) , that they were not the children of the promise, to further destroy their Identity.

Psalm 83:2-4 “For, lo, thine enemies make a tumult: and they that hate thee have lifted up the head.
3 They have taken crafty counsel against thy people, and consulted against thy hidden ones.
4 They have said, Come, and let us cut them off from being a nation; that the name of Israel may be no more in remembrance.”

Yes the truth was hidden, we are the hidden ones it is speaking of, because we lost our identity through slavery, and false teachings (religions, school systems, etc). The most high God never gave us religion, he gave us laws and commandments. These churches will not teach you this, they are set up to keep you asleep. Christ warned us about this, false christs, and false prophets.

Matthew 24:24 “For there shall arise false Christs, and false prophets, and shall shew great signs and wonders; insomuch that, if it were possible, they shall deceive the very elect.”

These churches will teach you all are equal, God loves all, through grace we are all saved, the list goes on. Lets see what the bible says. This bible is for the 12 tribes who were scattered throughout the earth, and also brought here on slave ships. We all know history on slavery, but they kept the truth of who we are, and stole our Identity by going into Israel and claiming they are the children of the promise. (Judaism) Its all lies.

Romans 9:6-8 “6 Not as though the word of God hath taken none effect. For they are not all Israel, which are of Israel:
7 Neither, because they are the seed of Abraham, are they all children: but, In Isaac shall thy seed be called.
8 That is, They which are the children of the flesh, these are not the children of God: but the children of the promise are counted for the seed.”

So yes you can be of Abraham’s seed, but through Isaac, We are called. The promises of the bible, (ruling over all nations), the land, the kingdom, will go to us at the end. That is why we are to repent from these false teachings (Pagan holidays, religions, sin) etc so that we can be ready for the kingdom to come.

Why do you think Christ told his Disciples to not go into the way of the Gentiles? They mixed pagan traditions into their own religion and still decieve people till this day.

Matthew 10:5-6
“These twelve Jesus sent forth, and commanded them, saying, Go not into the way of the Gentiles, and into any city of the Samaritans enter ye not:”
“But go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

Colossians 2:8
“Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ.”

Christ, our forefathers, the angels, Adam, are all Black. So you tell me who’s over in Israel claiming to be the children of TMH with the “Star of David” on their synagouges? The star of David is the star of “Moloch” you can look this up for yourself, its linked to child sacrifice, and yes they do these same things today, believe it or not. I know you all saw the “Pizza Gate” and “spirit cooking” email’s leaked ON THE NEWS. They have been doing this since ancient Babylon. You see why a lot of these presidents are related to each other? Where is your trust? In this system created to destroy you, Or the most high God.

Revelation 2:9
“I know thy works, and tribulation, and poverty, (but thou art rich) and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are Jews, and are not, but are the synagogue of Satan.“

Believe or not, they worship Satan. It’s time to wake up brothers and sisters. You see why the Roman Catholic church would remove the Apocrypha from the bible? They are keeping you from the truth of who you are.

Let’s see what color our people are.

Adam - Genesis 2:7 “And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.”

“From the dust of the ground”. You tell me what color is the soil, different shades of brown, the deeper you go, the darker it gets.

Job - Job 30:30 “My skin is black upon me, and my bones are burned with heat.”

Solomon - Song of Solomon 1:5 (Apocrypha) - “I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.”

Christ - Revelations 1:1 “The Revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave unto him, to shew unto his servants things which must shortly come to pass; and he sent and signified it by his angel unto his servant John:” Revelation ( The revealing of Christ )

Christ - Revelations 1:14-15 “His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow; and his eyes were as a flame of fire;

15 And his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace; and his voice as the sound of many waters.”

Hair like WOOL. Feet like FINE BRASS as if they BURNED in a FURNACE. What color is brasse when you burn it in a furnace? It’s Black. If his feet are black, what color do you think the rest of his body is.

Ancient of Days (The Father) - Daniel 7:9 “Daniel 7:9
“I beheld till the thrones were cast down, and the Ancient of days did sit, whose garment was white as snow, and the hair of his head like the pure wool: his throne was like the fiery flame, and his wheels as burning fire.”

You see what it means for us to really be made in his image? Male and Female? The Father is Black. Christ is Black. The Angels: Black.

Angels - Ezekiel 1:5-7 "5 Also out of the midst thereof came the likeness of four living creatures. And this was their appearance; they had the likeness of a man.
6 And every one had four faces, and every one had four wings.
7 And their feet were straight feet; and the sole of their feet was like the sole of a calf’s foot: and they sparkled like the colour of burnished brass.”

Judah, Also the Tribe of Judah (Blacks in America) - Jeremiah 14:2 “Judah mourneth, and the gates thereof languish; they are black unto the ground; and the cry of Jerusalem is gone up.”

People might say well it doesn’t matter, God loves all, yada yada. It does matter if you have been fed lies your whole life. It matters that we have our own Pastor’s out here feeding our people lies, voting into this Government. We have Pastors out here driving these nice whips taking all types of money, and teaching our people lies. It does matter.

Jeremiah 23:1-2 “1 Woe be unto the pastors that destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! saith the LORD.
2 Therefore thus saith the LORD God of Israel against the pastors that feed my people; Ye have scattered my flock, and driven them away, and have not visited them: behold, I will visit upon you the evil of your doings, saith the LORD.”

Our people love hearing lies, things to keep us comfortable, soothing words. People think we can just do whatever right? We can smoke weed, wear what we want, then we can go to church on sunday and it’s all good the next day. Wrong.

Isaiah 30:9-10 “That this is a rebellious people, lying children, children that will not hear the law of the LORD:
10 Which say to the seers, See not; and to the prophets, Prophesy not unto us right things, speak unto us smooth things, prophesy deceits:”

^ We would rather hear people to speak to us smooth things, feed us deceits and not the truth of whats going on.

Jeremiah 5:31

“The prophets prophesy falsely, and the priests bear rule by their means; and my people love to have it so: and what will ye do in the end thereof?”

I’ll tell you the truth. Babylon (America) is going to be judged, and purged with fire for all the sin and wrong doings, the lies that have been taught. This world pushes that Homosexuality is okay, Transgender is okay, eating pork is okay, having sex before marriage is okay, legalizing weed, it’s so bad now we have our own people selling drugs on the street. You see why they push everything that goes against the laws of the Bible? Wake up. We have time to repent, study the bible, find out who we really are, and get right before Christ comes.

Revelations 18:2-5 “And he cried mightily with a strong voice, saying, Babylon the great is fallen, is fallen, and is become the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird.
3 For all nations have drunk of the wine of the wrath of her fornication, and the kings of the earth have committed fornication with her, and the merchants of the earth are waxed rich through the abundance of her delicacies.
4 And I heard another voice from heaven, saying, Come out of her, my people, that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues.
5 For her sins have reached unto heaven, and God hath remembered her iniquities.”

“her sins have reached unto heaven” We have NASA out here in space, you ever notice that they name their ships after lesser gods? “Apollo” “Calipso (Calypso)” “Juno” “OSIRIS”… Osiris which is an egyptian god, another word for Satan.

You don’t even have to know the bible to know that America is falling, The nations are being stirred up, everyone is talking about shooting nukes, and missiles etc. If you studied the bible, you would know that these things will all come to pass, The most high is in control.

Jeremiah 50:9
“For, lo, I will raise and cause to come up against Babylon an assembly of great nations from the north country: and they shall set themselves in array against her; from thence she shall be taken: their arrows shall be as of a mighty expert man; none shall return in vain.”

Jeremiah 50:14-15 “Put yourselves in array against Babylon round about: all ye that bend the bow, shoot at her, spare no arrows: for she hath sinned against the LORD.
15 Shout against her round about: she hath given her hand: her foundations are fallen, her walls are thrown down: for it is the vengeance of the LORD: take vengeance upon her; as she hath done, do unto her.”

The bible is where the true knowledge is. It has our history, and the things to come. It’s already written. I pray and hope this gives you understanding. The most high tells us that we will live like pilgrims, moving from place to place when the chaos kicks off. If you aren’t walking in truth through Christ, keeping the commandments and worshipping the father in truth and spirit, how will you be ready?

Mark 13:7-8 “7 And when ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars, be ye not troubled: for such things must needs be; but the end shall not be yet.
8 For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be earthquakes in divers places, and there shall be famines and troubles: these are the beginnings of sorrows.”

These times are coming, its a time to rejoice if you’re in the truth, not look to the system or any other man for hope. People put so much trust into Obama and here we are 8 years later, Trump is picking up right where Obama left off. Where is your trust.

Proverbs 1:7
“The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge: but fools despise wisdom and instruction.”

Psalms 111:10
“The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom: a good understanding have all they that do his commandments: his praise endureth for ever.”

John 14:15 “If ye love me, keep my commandments.”

Faith alone is not enough if you’re in this truth, but by works as well. It is a transformation, unlearning the lies of this world, and learning the truth of the bible, precept upon precept.

James 2:24
“Ye see then how that by works a man is justified, and not by faith only.”

Isaiah 28:9-10 “Whom shall he teach knowledge? and whom shall he make to understand doctrine? them that are weaned from the milk, and drawn from the breasts.
10 For precept must be upon precept, precept upon precept; line upon line, line upon line; here a little, and there a little:”

Matthew 18:3 “And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.”

Children are pure, and connected more to the Father than any man on this earth. You ever wonder why children have those dreams, talking about playing with Angels in Heaven etc? why they see things and parents just think they are joking. They are pure coming into this world. Unlearn the lies taught, and read the bible. It is the living word.

Hebrews 4:12 “For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.”

The law is not done away with, we are to keep the Sabbath (Friday sundown to Saturday sundown), and keep the laws and commandments Matthew 5:18 “For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled.”

Bless you.

My secret garden

. For years the secret garden in my soul went unattended and it was covered with brambles and thorns, with noone to water it. Why? Because my garden is hidden by the valley of the shadows where only darkness has dwelled. A place where my demons have tried to prevent every seed that was planted from growing. It had become their personal playground. A place where no man has ever dared to tread. And so the soil began to crack and the ground became parched and dry as the demons laughed with glee. Alas the seeds no longer could thrive. But then there came a day when I encountered a mysterious master gardener. He was not afraid to tread where demons dwelled, because they knew him well. He himself has dwelled amongst these same demons. And so……. He entered the gardens gates surrounded by great darkness and the demons they gathered around to see who dared to enter their domain . And then suddenly to my bewilderment one by one they began to flee as he removed the bramble and then began to water the soil. I asked this master gardener “How will my garden grow”? “There is no light” and he replied. “You are the light my Dear ,it is you who determines whether or not your garden will grow” he went on to say….“ I can only plant the seeds and tend the soil and then care for the garden while it grows”.“You’re job” he said.“Is to allow the light within your heart to penetrate your soul. Only you can make that happen ” Two months later my garden is flourish ing and becoming more beautiful each day as the gardener continues to work his magic. Yes my garden is still hidden and it is here that it will always remain tucked away behind the shadows. But the demons are gone and cannot return because thanks to my wonderful master gardener I have learned how to shed light into my soul. I said to him the other day “Thank you Sir for showing me the way.” He replied"It was in you all along you just needed help to let it shine. S-howard 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

On the left side is Tajikistan, the right Afghanistan. Separated by a river which is at parts roaring and raging between steep cliff faces. Other sections the river spreads over vast planes in to lots of little rivers or one wide river shallow enough to cross. This section of the Pamirs is lush and green with the roar of the powerful river fed from every angle by springs bursting from mountain faces and other small rivers. The narrow roads weave and curve out the shape of the river, occasionally diverging through a small village where children run out to wave to you or sell fresh picked and sun dried fruits. Meeting a car on the road can lead to some difficulty, there are no barriers between you, the steep cliff face and river below. At the times the road comes lower and closer to the river shore which opens up at times to crisp sandy beaches. Beaches so incredibly beautiful, nestled in to mountains with clean yellow sand, that if they were found in a more touristic country, they would be completely overcrowded, but here barely a soul is sat on them. I saw once a group of children playing volleyball and the odd fisher. But otherwise, no one. At times you exchange a wave with the Afghan side. These villages are quiet and peaceful, with no threat of attacks due to their remoteness. Often the villages on either side are much the same; small huts from clay and soil. Though at times you can see the Afghan side suffers a little more poverty. The roads of the Afghan side are a thing of wonder. By most standards the Tajik road is aweful, dust and pot holes with a terrifying vertical drop on your side, only slightly better due to the attraction of tourists. By the Afghan roads are insane, tiny little things you often see little mopeds whizzing along, apparently unconscious of the fact they are on swerving road dug in to a mountain face not much wider than a pedestrian street. I even watch a moped pass two people on the road and then stop for them, letting them on and continuing on at high speed as a trio on that little bike. The thing is, they are actually hand dug in to the mountain..

“I also seemed to realize that a beautiful scene, once it had existed, would always be. The present loss was just a matter of separation in time, and this separation I felt could be overcome. An inextinguishable revelation had struck; the universe showed a different structure. In this structure our lives do not just pass through time in such a way that a moment in time or a station in life once past is lost.”

Fei Xiaotong from “A World Without Ghosts,” From the Soil (University of California Press, 1992)

Through the chaos of these times, I will find the beauty. I will stop and glance skyward and notice the spin of the life we share. I will feel far off soil under these feet and I will allow my soul to grow. I will seek to understand adversity and never shy away from it, no matter the cost, no matter the response it may bring. I will remain kind whether or not kindness has been earned. This is a magic life, not one painted with illusion, and I will do all I can to keep showing that. I will love you, all of you, those who fly away, and those who stay. I promise.

Soul and mind instantly lost their physical bondage, and streamed out like a fluid piercing light from my every pore. The flesh was as though dead, yet in my intense awareness I knew that never before had I been fully alive. My sense of identity was no longer narrowly confined to a body, but embraced the circumambient atoms. People on distant streets seemed to be moving gently over my own remote periphery. The roots of plants and trees appeared through a dim transparency of the soil; I discerned the inward flow of their sap.
The whole vicinity lay bare before me. My ordinary frontal vision was now changed to a vast spherical sight, simultaneously all-perceptive. Through the back of my head I saw men strolling far down Rai Ghat Road, and noticed also a white cow who was leisurely approaching. When she reached the space in front of the open ashram gate, I observed her with my two physical eyes. As she passed by, behind the brick wall, I saw her clearly still.
All objects within my panoramic gaze trembled and vibrated like quick motion pictures. My body, Master’s, the pillared courtyard, the furniture and floor, the trees and sunshine, occasionally became violently agitated, until all melted into a luminescent sea; even as sugar crystals, thrown into a glass of water, dissolve after being shaken. The unifying light alternated with materializations of form, the metamorphoses revealing the law of cause and effect in creation.
An oceanic joy broke upon calm endless shores of my soul. The Spirit of God, I realized, is exhaustless Bliss; His body is countless tissues of light. A swelling glory within me began to envelop towns, continents, the earth, solar and stellar systems, tenuous nebulae, and floating universes. The entire cosmos, gently luminous, like a city seen afar at night, glimmered within the infinitude of my being. The sharply etched global outlines faded somewhat at the farthest edges; there I could see a mellow radiance, ever-undiminished. It was indescribably subtle; the planetary pictures were formed of a grosser light.
The divine dispersion of rays poured from an Eternal Source, blazing into galaxies, transfigured with ineffable auras. Again and again I saw the creative beams condense into constellations, then resolve into sheets of transparent flame. By rhythmic reversion, sextillion worlds passed into diaphanous luster; fire became firmament.
I cognized the center of the empyrean as a point of intuitive perception in my heart. Irradiating splendor issued from my nucleus to every part of the universal structure. Blissful amrita, the nectar of immortality, pulsed through me with a quicksilverlike fluidity. The creative voice of God I heard resounding as Aum, the vibration of the Cosmic Motor.
—  Yogananda, Autobiography of a Yogi
Reaching For The Sun


Prompt: High

Word Count: 507

I was really excited to write this! I was actually pretty inspired by the entry of @kingkuchiki for this week’s prompt. So this entry is derivative of hers! Thanks Tiff, for inspiring me to write something other than smut for this event lmao

Rukia loves high places because she hates the dirty ground.

Throughout the entirety of life, she had encountered too much filth: blood, sweat, screams - these impurities sullied her soil and polluted her world. She always strives to be strong and ignore these blotchy stains on what should be her beautiful universe, but she just can’t seem to make herself comfortable in this disgusting dimension. She hates the memories (nightmares) she’s made here. Though Soul Society was brimming with justice and hope, she felt detached from that pompous system. Like she was floating above, aimlessly, in search of respite.

When she reaches the highest branch of the tallest tree she can find, the sky seems so much more captivating. She stares up at it, begging for its endless turquoise clarity to suck her into salvation. Oh, and the warmth. The unbelievable warmth of being just a few feet closer to the sun, like its rays kiss her skin. She almost wants to take off her clothes and bathe against that seductive heat.

She almost falls in love with the sun.

Was that why Kaien was so attractive to her?

Her now-deceased mentor was kind and chivalrous. He encompassed goodness, and that untampered purity of character was exactly what she’d been looking for amidst the shiny, social grime of nobility and the Goatee’s plastic society. Being around Kaien was like leaving her hand out in the sun for too long; addictingly consoling.

But Kaien lacked the potency of the sun’s heat. He was but a glimmer of a distraction.

She was still desperately cold inside.

That is, until she meets Ichigo.

‘Rukia, you’re screwing it up more!’ the orange-haired student barked at her as he leaned over her back so that she was up against his chest. She was attempting to fix the faucet. The blasted contraption refused to still its flow of water. She was twisting it round and round, until Ichigo decided he had enough and he had to take matters into his own hands. Rukia, not one to give up, pushed back against his chest to try and shake him off of her.

'You fool!’ she growls. 'I’m fine! I know what to do, just-’

'Know what to do? Know what to do?! You’re going to drown us all!’

Although they’re fighting, his brash voice and erotically warm body against hers makes her smile. She purposely puts up a fight because she’ll do anything, anything to feel him on her or hear his voice because he’s her personal sun sitting on the lonely sky of her deep-seated regrets. He’s warm and bright and vibrant, the only colour in her greyscale world.

He’s human and her feelings are forbidden, but those very feelings keep her going.

When Ichigo loses her powers, the Captain-Commander makes it very clear to her that she is to not see him.

Every day after that, she climbs up the highest tree she finds.

The higher up she goes, the closer she feels to Ichigo.

Guilt must not be allowed to fester in the silence of the soul, poisoning it from within. It needs to be confessed. Through confession we bring it into the light, we place it within Christ’s purifying love. In confession, the Lord washes our soiled feet over and over again and prepares us for table fellowship with him.
—  Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI