moon over the ocean

I want to dance until my stomach aches from twisting and twirling and spinning. I want to feel
my mind melt into my hips and legs until I am free.
I want to drive on desert roads with a seldom smoked hand-rolled cigarette, a blazing sun
through the roof, a song that pushes the tears from my ribcage and a bare foot on the gas pedal.
I want warm wind blowing through my hair, and dark coffee that pulses through my veins.
I want stars. Stars that fall on me and envelop every orifice until I become a part of the sky.
I want warm clean socks inside of my sleeping bag and a good soft hat over messy hair that
smells like summer.
I want to say yes to adventures that spark out of madness and I want them to lead to more yes’s
and nights of bold plans that may never happen.
I want music. I want music that carries the weight of everything this world bears down on it and
turns it into beauty.
I want poetry. I want the moon and the setting sun over the canyons and the ocean and the smel
of the redwoods and the wet ferns in autumn.
I want to love without borders and lines and compartments. I want to never hurt but always heal
and, if I cannot do that, I want to at least try and do no harm (but take no shit)
I want to inspire and be inspired. I want to swim low into the depths of myself without the fear of
getting lost.
What do I want? I want to live every moment.

(Source: thoughtcataloginstagram)

@moonlight-lyrics @saviorsong

Originally posted by toxic-eunoia



















































Chapter 1 - First Meeting

The swim had been long, but it had been worth it. Even though the waters slowly got colder, Lyric had powered through. The English channel was freezing, but if a new home was necessary, then she would do what she had to. She’d get used to it eventually.

The problem was the cold caused her scales to change colors. Back home, her tail was deep, solid blue. But the frigid waters of the English channel caused patches of black to appear.

That was okay. It was kind of a cool aesthetic.

Summer was just barely dawning on the northern half of the world. The perfect time to lounge on the rocks, brush her hair, and sing. She was far enough away from shore that the humans wouldn’t even notice. Humans were rarely out on the beach after nightfall anyway.

The moon soared over the ocean, casting its silvery, glimmering light on the gentle waves. It wasn’t quite full yet, but it was close. Maybe another day or two.

Lyric sang gently, her voice drifting over the water, the fluke of her tail lazily swishing back and forth, trailing in the ocean. She could taste the salt on her lips. It was a different taste from back home, but it was still seawater.

The sound of humans on the beach silenced her. Slowly she eased off the rock she was lounging on and back into the water, peering around the edge of the rock towards the shore where the humans had arrived. Their voices were loud. There were several men and women. Two of the men in particular were tall. It was dark though so she couldn’t make out any distinguishing features.

The group gathered driftwood and and started a… oh what was it called… flare? No. F… f…

Fire!

The humans started a fire. It was a bit bluish. She’d seen other fires before and they were usually orange or yellow. The bluish tint she attributed to the driftwood being waterlogged. But she knew nothing about fires. They didn’t work underwater.

Word spreads fast over the ocean floor. Apparently people from America made fires on the beach more than people from England (she knew what the humans named the waters of the planet, not the lands), so she found the group of young people a bit peculiar. Why were they making a fire in England? Was that weird for humans or were the stories just lost in translation? She wasn’t sure.

“Phil! Don’t get too close to the water!” one of the two tall men called.

“Don’t worry, I won’t!” the other tall man replied. A ripple of laughter came from the other humans.

“Yeah!” a woman with blonde hair put in. “Because Phil is scared of the sea!”

“There’s nothing wrong with fear, Louise,” the second tall man, now identified as Phil, retorted sharply.

“No, no,” the woman agreed. “Fear is healthy. But there’s nothing in the sea that’s going to hurt you this close to the shore.” Lyric silently agreed, still watching them from her hiding place behind the rock.

The lustrous moonlight glinted off Phil’s black hair. It was almost blue.

Lyric watched the humans with a fascination but remained hidden behind the rock. This was the closest she’d ever been to them where she could get closer without them noticing. But she didn’t. Humans were dangerous. More than once someone from home got caught in a human’s fishing net and had to get cut out.

After a while, the group around the fire got ready to leave, walking up the beach while chatting and laughing.

All but Phil. He was searching the sand for something, getting nearer and nearer to the ocean. On instinct, Lyric eased out from behind the rocks and slowly stroked closer to shore, keeping everything under her eyes submerged in the gentle waves.

“Hey Phil!” the other tall man called. “You coming?”

The cute black-haired man turned around. “Yeah! Coming Dan! Just think I dropped something,” he replied loudly.

“We left our phones in the car,” the other man commented.

“Oh. Right,” Phil muttered—Lyric can barely hear it.

A wave rushed past her, bobbing her up and down before rolling towards the beach. A high tide swell.

Phil was too close to the water.

The swell knocked him off his feet and swallowed him up. Lyric had seen that happen before, but mostly with young children.

Her eyes widened and she dove under, her tail propelling her quickly through the water to where the wave and the riptide were pulling the man out to sea. She didn’t have time to think about the consequences. She wasn’t going to let him die.

Ahead, she saw Phil flailing underwater, trying to figure out which way is up.

She grabbed him from behind, arms wrapping around his chest and pulling him towards the surface. The rhythm of the waves gave her an easy ride back to the beach.

She washed up on the sand and finally let go of Phil, her tail giving a little flap against the sand in anticipation. Not knowing what else to do, she began singing in an attempt to get the others to notice him, scooting back towards the water as she did so.

The other tall guy, Dan—who she could now see had brown, curly hair—noticed her singing, but she was already at the rocks where she’d been hidden before.

“Phil!” the boy with the brown, curly hair exclaimed, running back down the sand and kneeling next to his black-haired friend as Lyric watched from behind the rocks. Dan rolled Phil onto his side to drain any seawater from his lungs. Lyric’s tail drifted through the water in anticipation while she clung to the craggy surface of  the rock. Was he alright? Was she too late? She hadn’t stuck around long enough to determine if he was still alive.

So suddenly she jumped a little bit, he coughed and sat up, dribbling water down his front. Lyric smiled and sighed with relief. He faced the sea and looked out.

And for a moment, her eyes met his.

^^^^^

“Helllloooooo? Have you heard anything I just said?” Lyric’s friend Mirabelle asked, waving one hand in front of her face while she used her other hand to push her cloud of brown hair back.

Lyric snapped back to attention. “No. Sorry.”

“What’s been up with you today? You seem a little… distant.”

“Sorry,” Lyric mumbled. “Just… stayed up late last night. Couldn’t sleep.”

Mirabelle gave Lyric a skeptical look. “Don’t lie to me,” she warned.

“I’m not,” Lyric replied. And for the most part, she wasn’t lying. She had stayed up late.

Mirabelle’s face dropped. “Oh no.” She grabbed Lyric’s elbow. “There’s a human involved, isn’t there?”

“You’re one to talk,” she retorted. “How is your human prince?”

Mirabelle rolled her eyes, silver-white tail lashing in irritation from the teasing. “Okay, A: he’s not a prince, and B: he’s not mine. He was a guy I sang duets with who almost got me captured. We both agreed that me moving here from Florida was the safest option,” she countered. “But he’s not important right now. Is there a human involved?” Her eyes searched her friend’s face, putting on her Mom Friend expression. “Look, I’m not going to tell anyone. Tell me.”

Lyric sighed. “A wave knocked him into the water,” she explained. “I pulled him out. That’s all.”

Mirabelle smiled. “That’s okay. You did what you thought was right. That’s all any of us can do. But you know I have to inform you that was a dangerous and risky decision,” she remarked.

“Says the girl who spent months learning human songs from a human prince in order to sing duets.”

“He’s not a prince, but yeah. And look where that got me. I had to move across the ocean. I’m speaking from experience that we have to be cautious with humans. I’m not going to reprimand you for saving his life. Just be careful.”

“No promises,” Lyric told Mirabelle.

pillow talk:

“My love has abandonment issues.
My love hates sleeping alone.
My love, a clenched fist around your
heart; yes, my love is that terrifying
because it doesn’t know release.
Imagine the moon, how she sets the ocean
free to spill over distant shorelines only to
clutch it back to her chest again and again.
We call this ‘tide’.
We call it ‘gravitational pull’.
My love is like that —
desperate, unapologetic.
Except they don’t write scientific theories
around my love; this swelling in my chest
is too big to be understood.
Big enough to have its own gravity
and some nights, even strong enough
to pull you back into my arms.”
—Anita Ofokansi

“But remember, there are two ways to dehumanize someone: by dismissing them, and by idolizing them.”
—Dave Wong

artwork by Huebucket

vimeo

A tour of night skies around the world. The videographer gives some really neat notes in the caption, excerpted below.

Keep reading

Read this totally beautiful poem written by bisexualklausmikaelson and wanted to do a reading of it.

Backing music is “In A Box” from the Legend of Korra OST.

Go show the original post some love, too - http://bisexualklausmikaelson.tumblr.com/post/92191549770/i-gods-and-monsters-both-alike-have-sung-me


i. gods and monsters, both alike,
have sung me stories of a girl
with seastorms in her eyes
and sunshine in her veins.

(they tell me that she is a sleeping legend
a girl who can walk on water
and fly me to the moon and back)

ii. below the horizon,
over the whispering ocean,
there is an island
made of wildflowers and sea urchins.

(the gods tell me that this island is cursed
for anyone who dares to cross it
falls in love with a blue eyed girl).

iii. you meet her once,
when your heart is shipwrecked
and she is lost at sea

(she drives you mad,
tells you how she could bend the earth
like it’s a part of her,
an extension of her body)

iv. the monsters, they say,
that falling in love with her
could cause an apocalypse.
but you have a lion-hearted soul
and you’ve never once feared
the end of the world

(maybe, the only thing you ever feared
was losing your father,
and instead, you watched him
become a monster)

v. since then, you’ve kept your heart hidden

love, for you, was a dangerous thing
but when she walked in to your life
and flooded your dreams with gold
she made you feel a love so strong
you swear you wanted to drown

vi. there is a saying you know,
about white picket fences
and homes made of starlight

(and you take her hand and you tell her
that you’d like to see the world through her eyes)

now the gods and monsters
they tell me a different story
a tale about a girl
who fell in love with another girl

and won the war

Made with SoundCloud
Watch on the-earth-story.com

Gorgeous setting full moon over the western Pacific Ocean/Japan as viewed from the ISS>

drowning in saltwater & light

The first time I saw the sea I fell in love
every footstep on sandy shores a kiss taken over by tide
each imprint a story the ocean hoarded.
I understood, I did that too
tried to hold on to love like
souvenirs. memorabilia. haunts of a lost time.
Seafoam is a liminal space; it exists until you meddle with it
I am learning to appreciate this temporality of love.
Growing up to this world I understood two things:
thunderstorms drop rain, and women are born to pain.
the rainwater hides your tears, and crying
makes you accustomed to looking at the world through saltwater,
I guess, and keeping eyes open underwater, easy.

So: dear moon, wash your tide over me, send
your ocean abyss for me, in that void let me see what can come to be.
I will wear my heart on my fingertips, susceptible to frostbite
my heart bleeding in black and white
red against cyan, yellow and blue, magenta on green
mermaids wearing sundrop crystals in coral reefs, us.
Dear ocean, the way you hold me gets my words
caught in the hollow of my throat,
so have my puffy kisses for keeps
do as this conch shell whispers:
girl just, stay with me, stay with
me, stay with me
.

My love has abandonment issues.
My love hates sleeping alone.
My love, a clenched fist around your
heart; yes, my love is that terrifying
because it doesn’t know release.
Imagine the moon, how she sets the ocean
free to spill over distant shorelines only to
clutch it back to her chest again and again.
We call this ‘tide’.
We call it ‘gravitational pull’.
My love is like that —
desperate, unapologetic.
Except they don’t write scientific theories
around my love; this swelling in my chest
is too big to be understood.
Big enough to have its own gravity
and some nights, even strong enough
to pull you back into my arms.
—  Anita Ofokansi