nocturnal wanderings

V for Vicious

Originally posted by parkjmin

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: HarelyQuinn!Au / Smut / Drabble

Rated M for mentions of blood (just a tiny bit) and mature themes

Word count: 3.6k

Synopsis: This night, under the stars and with wind blowing between your bodies, you and Taehyung are the queen and king of the world. 

May madness enlighten your way forever.

Author’s note: I’m weak, oh I’m so weak. I really couldn’t let go of my first fic, so here a drabble set in the same universe, following the madness of Tae and his love. This could be read alone, but I suggest you to check Sanitarium for a better understanding of the dynamics between the characters. This is dedicated to everyone who loved Harley!Tae and in particular to @sugajpg (gurl, I know you are a sucker for this kind of shit)



The wind blows cold and loud, it echoes against the moon and between the glowing of stars like pearly diamonds embodied in the sky – someone once told you they are the wings of fallen angels that still burn between Heaven and Earth.

You are on the top of the highest building of the city, feet well planted on the floor as the town shines in all its insignificance under you: everything is silent and slow, the city lights quivering like the breaths of a sleeping beast while the vain lives of humans fade into their blue dreams. The whole world is still, yet alive with almost unnoticeable tremors between the streets: some nocturnal souls wandering in search of gold and crowns and gems between the shadows – the army of evil and detriment, maybe.

And you, so mighty, so perfect above all this, are no different than a queen loving her king.

Really, it’s a breath-taking scenery, nearly empowering, yet you would be able to appreciate it way more if Taehyung’s knife wasn’t wildly pressed under your jaw.

Keep reading

There are many things I have loved and hated in life,
For many a problem I have been an ‘open city’,
But anyway…
Like a young man returning home late at night,
Exhausted and broken by his nocturnal wanderings,
Here too am I, returning to you,
Worn out after another escapade.
—  Ismail Kadare
Closed// Dead to the World

A deeply chilled breeze drifted through the dark woods. The trickling sound of a nearby stream could heard over the sound of nocturnal animals wandering about. Frost threatened to bite at the leaves of the trees and underbrush. 

Bright starts glittered in the sky, seen easily through the patches in the tree canopy. Sam smiled tiredly as he watched them as he slumped back against the broad redwood tree behind him. He hated to admit it but he loved being in the woods, the stars were always so beautiful this far from the city’s light pollution.

Sam grimaced and looked down at where he was holding his side. He frowned as he watched the blood well up around his fingers. The wound was bad enough that he had no hope of fixing it on his own. He always knew he’d die at least once in the woods.

He shook his head and rested it back against the tree trunk. He looked back up at the stars, thinking about what an idiot he was. He should never have come on this hunt alone. But how was he supposed to know it was a dulahan killing all the campers. Hunters hadn’t even heard rumors of one in almost a hundred years!

“Oh well, no use thinking about it now.” Sam commented softly to himself, ignoring the rustling sound nearby. It’s not like anything worse could happen to him right now,  “I should probably call Dean….”

Creating UTOPIA: a Process of Self Integration

Creating utopia requires integrating ourselves first.

Relax. We are all where we need to be. Chaos may be swirling around us, but we are lighthouses in the dark and springtime of the new world.

Intellect is giving way to heart-based compassion and soul-full intuitive living. We access heart and soul by learning to meditate, following our gut feeling, making decisions based on our own happiness and loving ourselves. We feel the shift in vibration as our mental, emotional and spiritual auric layers fuse with the physical body, and we come home.

The temple of heart and soul, the physical body, is a miraculous biospiritual community of trillions of specialized cells cooperating for optimum health. The template for each conscious cell is its spirit, powered by emotion and condensing into physicality. Even our genes, once thought to be immutable, are affected by thought and intention — the vast new field of epigenetics.

Each cell’s DNA holds our entire history, including every detail of past and future lives. “Junk” DNA, the 85% not mapped by the Human Genome Project, also includes capability to access multiple dimensions, millions of new genes, suppressors and activators of genes known and unknown, abilities to access light and free energy rather than food and drink as power sources, psychic abilities, unity consciousness, instant creativity and manifestation of our uniqueness.

Each cell’s membrane functions as its brain, allowing substances whose keys fit specific cellular locks to enter the cell via an elaborate canal system. Emotions release chemicals which flood the body and seep through cell membranes.

Human body cells are our babies to nurture, feed, sing to, talk with, listen to, discipline, rock to sleep, and hold dear for a lifetime. Like biological children, our cells delight, disappoint, sparkle with magic, misbehave, sleep and wake, and are always at our core.

From the first morning flicker of wakefulness, an attitude of gratitude infuses us as our soul returns from nocturnal wanderings. We enjoy and employ our half-awake theta-state to intend our dreams, send light and peace to those who struggle and let our minds float freely. Physical stretching stirs our biology. We are reminded of simple joys — our breath, the beloved spouse, birdsong or traffic noise, welcome relief of elimination, breakfast smells, sunrise, children’s and pets’ greetings.

Each moment we live in two worlds — one busy and concrete, the other impressionistic and other-dimensional. Every decision we make is derived from ours or someone else’s need, intuitive guidance, conscience or external stimuli. The busier we are, the faster time moves, the more we become adept at distinguishing the most appropriate choice, usually the first, often the loudest. Gracefully we become the current of life, radiant with peace and maintaining balance.

Old World is external power, enslaving us for someone else’s benefit, driven by greed and control. New World power is our own, based on love and the self-oriented, but not the selfish. The more we are able to integrate ourselves, the more we come to know our inner Messiah.

By: Dr. McIntosh 

Monday night Anthony Tulliani and I decided to pull an all nighter and spend some serious time shooting in and around Boston after dark. Initially starting out at Central Square in Cambridge we made our way over and through Brighton and Allston. Then found ourselves wandering through the streets of Downtown Boston for the remainder of the night. Overall I think we covered about 13miles of ground in about 7 hours. More pictures to come soon.

anonymous asked:

Can you tell me please, why The Picture of Dorian Gray is your favorite book? why do you love it so much?

Why, certainly! I’d be happy to! :)

The first time I read The Picture of Dorian Gray, I enjoyed it. But hardly anything more. But then again, the first time I read it, I read it in German, because it was for my Literature class, not my English class. There were a few parts that struck a chord with me, and I found it overall enjoyable. But that was it.
Quite a while later, however, I picked up the copy of the book in English. And it was like, all of a sudden, I was reading a whole other book.

One of the first reasons I loved The Picture of Dorian Gray was the language. Wilde has a way with words that fascinates me, he paints such vivid pictures in such vibrant colours, his works create images in my mind’s eye like no one else’s yet. I can fully immerse myself in the scenes and I feel like I’m there - one of the best examples for that is the night when Dorian breaks off his engagement to Sybil Vane and wanders nocturnal London for hours until, in the small hours, he comes to Covent Garden, where the new day’s bustle has already started on the market. It’s such an intense scene, at least for me.

The second reason are the characters. Wilde’s ways to describe human nature are wonderful, and all his characters have personality, even if it’s just a minor character (unless they’re not meant to have a personality, but more of that later).
Let’s take a look at Lord Henry. He’s such a cleverly constructed character, because despite him basically being the villain of the story, we all like him. He’s the manipulating mastermind, and let’s be frank, an asshole, but he’s so charming about it we can’t help but like him, root for him, agree with him. It is so hard to disengage yourself from that charm, bu if you do, you’ll see how wicked he really is, and that all the other characters have the same problem: They are so bedazzled by his charm and wit that none of them see his true nature. The subtle ways in which he manipulates those around him can elude the reader for a long time, after half a dozen times of reading the book, I’m sure I still don’t know half of it.
Then there’s Dorian. And the fascinating thing about Dorian is, that he really doesn’t have a personality at all. Dorian is completely vapid, a vessel that takes in everything of the people around him: In the beginning Basil showers him in compliments and adoration: so he is charming, but vain.
Then Harry fills him with his manipulations, with arrogance and hedonism, so he becomes conceited, frivolous and hedonistic.
When he meets Sybil (and this is interesting, because Sybil, too, is an empty vessel, that has been filled by the theatre with dreams of tragic lovestories and charming princes) he is filled with romance and naive visions of love, by the roles she plays and by herself; they fill each other up with their empty-headed dreams of the perfect love story, their savior come along to rescue them from a life of wickedness and misery respectively.
After that, there is the Yellow Book, and it tells Dorian all about decadence, so he becomes snobbish and decadent and entirely wicked.
Really, Dorian was the ideal subject for Harry to find, because like a sponge he absorbs everything that is put to him, he internalises all of Harrys manipulations and I’m sure Harry himself did not expect to go so horribly awry.

You see, my love for this book has little to do with the actual plot of the cursed Picture (even though it’s important: It wouldn’t have been possible for Dorian to be so wicked for so long without someone noticing, if it weren’t for the picture), but much more with the careful construction of the characters and the fascination of watching them interact in such subtle and (for the time) natural ways, how they influence each other and what decadence and vanity can do to people.

I’m sorry this turned into such an essay, but I suppose you asked, and you can’t really ask me about my favourite book and then expect me to keep it short. In fact, I could ramble on much longer, but I will leave it at this for now: I hope this answers your question.