Author Notes: Alright y’all, here’s some more. Sorry it took so long. This is Chapter 3 of the Pirate AU fic. I hope you all enjoy it! I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or shoot me a message!
Read it on AO3 here Rated:M Ship: Pirate McCree/MerHanzo
Adiantum capillus-veneris is in the family Adiantaceae. Commonly known as the maidenhair fern, it is native to most termperate regions around the world where it grows in moist shaded regions including woodlands, rainforests, and on rock outcroppings. This species is very commonly cultivated for use in shade gafdens; the delicate green pinnae attached to the black wiry rachis make maidenhair fern a very attractive fern for landscaping. Aside from its use in the garden, there are numerous Native American herbal remedies that incorporate the maidenhair fern.
It’s time for #TrilobiteTuesday! Ladyburn, Scotland has long been recognized as one of Europe’s most famed and diverse Ordovician fossil localities. The area that encompasses this site lies along Scotland’s rugged western coast, about 30 miles south of Glasgow. It is a rustic landscape, one filled with rolling green hills and rock-strewn outcrops, a mere stone’s throw from the North Sea. For centuries, area residents have walked through this terrain keeping a sharp eye out for the unique “fossil pockets” that characterize the 437 million year old faunal deposits of this legendary locale. These pockets can yield well-preserved examples of starfish, crinoids and bryzoans, in addition to the more than two dozen trilobite species found here. The Ladyburn fossils are often preserved in either a sturdy brown or orange limonite that serves to both distinguish and highlight the locale’s array of rare trilobite species. These include the likes of Toxochasmops bissetti, Paracybeloides girvanensis (photo) and the giant cheirurid Hadromeros keisleyensis, which on occasion has yielded complete specimens 10 inches in length. Learn more about trilobite research.
It is a route taken by the faeries, commonly in a straight line and between sites of traditionally significance, such as faerie forts or raths (a class of circular earthwork dating from the Iron Age), mountains and hills, thorn bushes, springs, lakes, rock outcrops, and Stone Age monuments.
In some parts of Ireland, Brittany and Germany, there were faerie paths that while being invisible, had been seen as geographical locations by the country people, and that building practices were adapted to ensure they were not obstructed.
The Corpse Roads of Europe are believed to be faerie paths. In Germany and the Netherlands, these tend to be straight invisible lines and are known by a variety of names including Geisterweg (“ghost-way” or “ghost-road”) and Helweg (“hell-way” or “hell-road”) in German and Doodweg (“death-way” or “death-road”) in Dutch. A similarly straight road did however run straight over various burial mounds at Rösaring, Lassa in southern Sweden.
In Ireland, people who had illnesses or other misfortune, were said to live in houses that were “in the way” or in a “contrary place”, obstructing a faerie path. An example of this faerie path straightness is provided by an account concerning a croft (now a cattle shed) at Knockeencreen, Brosna, County Kerry:
In an interview in the 1980s, the last human occupant told of the troubles his grandfather had experienced there, with his cattle periodically and inexplicably dying. The front door is exactly opposite the back door. The grandfather was informed by a passing gypsy that the dwelling stands on a fairy path running between two hills. The gypsy advised the grandfather to keep the doors slightly ajar at night to allow the fairies free passage. The advice was heeded and the problem ceased. It so happens that the building is indeed on a straight line drawn between two local hilltops, and is, moreover, at one end of a long, straight track.
It was believed that a house built on a faerie path would suffer from midnight noises or supernatural manifestations. Bad luck in the form of sick farm animals or personal illness could be the result and one remedy was to build small fires in several places along the faerie path, using fire from the blessed fire of Saint John’s Eve that was lit every year at sunset on 23 June.
Irish faerie paths are said to also exist under water, reminiscent of causeways in marshes at sacred sites and those to crannogs and other islands. These paths, only used by the faerie folk, ran from one island to another and were paved with coral, making them and their travellers visible to fishermen in their boats above.
Before construction of houses, builders used the technique of mapping out the floor plan in the earth and placing a pile of stones at each corner and leaving it overnight, if the stones were undisturbed it was safe to build, otherwise the work would not continue. There is another theme that states if one’s house is on a faerie path, one must leave the doors and windows open at night, front and back, to allow fairies to pass through. Builders were also advised against using white quartz in their stonework, as it is said to be a faerie stone.
A building placed on a faerie path would be demolished by the faerie folk, at least twice, often remaining standing however on the third attempt.
Walking Alongside The Paths
Although it is usually said that they should be avoided, some are reputed to be beneficial to humans - such as the “trods” of West England. These are a straight-line faerie path in the grass of a field with a different shade of green to the rest. People with rheumatism sought relief by walking along these tracks, though animals avoid them. Great danger was still very much associated with using these paths at times when a supernatural procession might be using them.
The Tylwyth teg of Wales have paths on which it is death for a mortal to walk.
The Breton Ankou, who is king of the dead, and his subjects have their own particular paths along which they process.
At some point along the Brule River, the river flow splits along a rock outcrop. Half of it continues flowing on to Lake Superior, and the other half falls down a hole to … uh … water heaven?
It doesn’t seem to come back out anywhere. The assumption has always been that it flows through a system of underground caves until it pops out again somewhere near the lake, because it has to wind up somewhere. But scientists have never figured out where that is.
Not that they haven’t tried – researchers have poured dye into the Kettle and then watched the lake to see which part of it would turn colors. When that didn’t work, they tried dumping Ping-Pong balls, which also vanished from this universe, only to seriously confuse the inhabitants of Dimension X, whose own comedy writers are, at this very moment, freaking out about the lake that produces Ping-Pong balls from nowhere.
One thing we do know? Our plans for the weekend. We’re going to need a fifth of your finest, cheapest bourbon, a boogie board, and a GoPro.
In 1998, I found myself in Aparan, a large town an hour’s drive from Armenia’s capital, Yerevan. A local dance troupe was performing that evening, in the open air, with most of the suburb in attendance. The old, the young, everyone was present, sitting hunched on stools or cross-legged on the floor, transfixed. In the background, small mountains and jagged cliffs framed the scene.
As soon as I took my first shot, an old man approached me. Tears streamed down his face. He told me that his son had died. That he had been electrocuted, that he was his pride and joy, and that I looked just like him. He broke into sobs and moved towards me with outstretched arms. His name was Ishran.
I asked if he would dance for me, and he began dancing. The troupe paused and perched on an outcrop of rocks in the background. It was beautiful, not because the man is beautiful, but because he represents something deep inside the collective consciousness of the Armenian community: a celebratory resilience in the face of overwhelming loss.
Arachniodes simplicior is in the family Dryopteridaceae. Commonly known as east indian holly fern, it is native to eastern Asia including China and Japan. East indian holly fern is an evergreen species commonly found in moist habitats such as along streambanks, shaded woodlands, and on rock outcroppings. This species has been introduced to the west as an ornamental fern, and is frequently used in shade gardens. There are also different varieties of east indian holly fern available for cultivation. Pictured here is a variegated form which has a lime-green to yellow stripe running down the middle of the fronds.
–Today is a walk day. I’ve run the last couple of days, plus there’s a touch of chaffing (oh joy!). So today is a walk day.
–it was about four miles
– the first picture was taken for the pink colors.
–the second picture is of a guy flying his drone. if you look really close between the bridge and the furthest rock outcropping, you can see the red light of his drone.
–thank you all for the kind thoughts about mom. It helps to vent and I’m sure I’ll do it again here. I’ll make sure to mark those posts as “personal” for those of you that don’t want to read them.
He laughed and pulled her closer against him. She relaxed into the curve of her body. The air was cold, but she was warm here, in this small circle with Julian, hidden by the outcroppings of rock, wrapped in the flannel jacket that smelled of him. His hand was gentle in her hair. “Shh, Emma. Go to sleep.”
The (deleted) wedding party scene at Pemberley. From Pride and prejudice 2005 movie script
EXT. PEMBERLEY - NIGHT
We move through a vast wedding party, following Elizabeth and Darcy. We meet all our characters. Lydia and Wickham are missing. Let everyone have an end.
Darcy and Elizabeth kiss, then Darcy pulls Elizabeth off into the shadows. We see them disappear into the park.
Coming close, we see them in the moonlight. It’s Darcy and Elizabeth. Deer turn to gaze at them. The music fades as they walk further from the house, up the hill, past the outcrops of rocks. An owl hoots. Darcy turns to Elizabeth and smiles.
Allow me, Mrs Darcy.
He puts out his hand. She takes it. He helps her up the rock. When they get to the top they sit there, side by side, and gaze at the distant lights of Pemberley.
How did it begin ?
I cannot fix the hour, or the spot, or the look. It was too long ago and I was in the middle before I knew it had begun.
Now be sincere, did you admire me for my impertinence ?
For the liveliness of your mind, I did.
You may as well call it impertinence, though make a virtue of it by all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you are to exaggerate them as much as possible. And, in return, it belongs to me to find occasions for teasing and quarelling with you as often as maybe… and I shall begin directly…
We draw back… their figures diminish, smaller and smaller under the immense, star-spangled sky… Fainter and fainter, the sound of music and laughter…
FADE TO BLACK…
* they should not have deleted this scene :/ It’s a beautiful ending :’) *
Uchiha Madara, sitting on a rock outcropping over Konoha, looked up at the man standing beside him. They were a study in similarities and also contrasts; both had long hair, though Madara’s was black and the newcomer’s a rusty red. Both men were tall but beneath his armor Madara’s frame was lean and muscular. His newfound companion was built for power with a broad belly and wide shoulders.
Madara wore all the trappings of a Clan head; his visitor had only one kamon embroidered over his heart.
“I was unaware I had a problem.” Madara said.
“Oh you’ve got a bunch of problems.” The redhead said, sitting beside Madara. “Of course none of those are about you specifically. And I’m talking about you.”
“Is there a point to this, Akimichi-san?” Madara asked. The redhead snorted. “I’ve bled on and for you enough, Madara. Call me by my damn name.”
“Chouga.” Madara acknowledged. “And I reiterate. The point?”
“You’re too full up with not enough variety.” Chouga said.
Madara blinked. He blinked some more.
“What,” he said delicately, “the hell do you mean by that?”
“It’s an Uchiha thing, I think.” Chouga said, taking in the view of their growing settlement. “You get stuffed with one emotion and you don’t have any room for the others.”
“Hatred.” Madara said, not without bitterness.
“That seems to be a favorite.” Chouga acknowledged with a nod.
“It is necessary. Our hatred-”
“Fuels the vengeance against your enemies blah blah blah.” Chouga gave Madara a sidelong look. “Have you ever eaten just one kind of food, Madara?”
Madara sighed and tipped his head back to gaze at the clouds with exasperation. “No.” He said, knowing if he tried to leave Chouga would find him.
Chouga always found him. The man could have been an Inuzuka bloodhound in another life.
“That’s because variety in flavors and textures is important. You eat the same thing all the time, you get bored. You get tired. You get complacent and sick.”
“I suppose you have experience in these matters.” Madara muttered.
“I might.” Chouga acknowledged.
“And you’re telling me an adage so old it creaks because…?”
“Because if hate is all you know,” Chouga said, “then you’re never gonna be able to get out of the dark.”
“Did Nara send you?” Madara asked tightly.
“She insinuated I should give it a shot.” Chouga said evenly. “I told her I’d try.”
“Unnecessary and pointless.”
“Don’t I know it.” Chouga stood. “I know what you’re going to do, Madara.” He said, looking down at the black haired man. “and I wish to all hell you wouldn’t. But we both know I can’t stop you.”
“Some things cannot go without a fight.” Madara said.
“Some things don’t need to be a fight.” Chouga replied sharply.
“How would you know?” Madara asked, standing and facing Chouga.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Chouga said. “Do us a favor. At least take it out of the village. The people don’t deserve to lose what they’ve built because you’re too damn stupid to know when losing’s a good thing.”
Madara’s hands tightened into fists but he nodded.
“Thanks. And for what it’s worth, whirligig, I voted for you.”
Chouga turned and walked away, leaving Madara Uchiha alone atop the rock to watch the setting sun.
((I was trying for another Chouji and Madara soulmark thing. This came out instead. The history of the Akimichi and the Uchiha: It’s Complicated.))
Rey’s time is split between the camp and a little outcropping of rock
overlooking a particularly scenic part of the swamp, where the trees
part just enough to provide a view of the sky (if it isn’t foggy or
cloudy or otherwise dreary) and a pond so still that its surface is like
glass. Rey meditates there, in a unique place where the sky, land, and
water seem to be of one entity.
started reading this weeks ago and while I obviously adore the whole
fic, I just couldn’t get this scene from the first chapter out of my
head (I didn’t think it was possible but someone made Dagobah sound gross yet beautiful), so weeks later I’ve finally gotten around to painting it.
also forgive me I
never reviewed so hi, have this & take this as an apology