Am I still on Earth?! It’s hard to believe, but I am. That fantasy castle is #FactoryButte and I think the evil King and Queen live there. Zoom in to see why this big butte is one of my utmost favorites!! - Harry #Cainesville #Utah #UpperBlueHills
Chauvet Cave, located in southern France, is a cave that
contatin the earliest—and best preserved cave paintings in the world. The
images are from the Upper Paleolithic period and are at least 37 000 years old,
but aside from the intricate paintings, the cave was also discovered to contain
the fossilized remains of various extinct animals and plants.
One of the larger cave painting sites, Chauvet
Cave is embedded into limestone cliffs and the sheer quantity of paintings and
artwork is in itself spectacular, nevermind the size and quality of the
pictures (which are themselves remarkable). What the images depict is also
unique compared to other finds of this nature. As opposed to specifically
painting typical herbivores (likely the quarry of prehistoric human hunters),
the cave also depicts predatory animals as well, such as cave lions, panthers,
bears, and hyenas. All told, there are at least 13 different species depicted
in the paintins, including rhinoceroses. These images do not exist outside of
context, however, and many of them depict complex scenes or interaction between
species and other artistic and more abstract depictions (such as red ochre
reliefs of hands, and other lines and dashes).
Chauvet Cave recently re-entered the public eye
just this past March when a researchers recently claimed that the cave depicts
various volcanic eruptions and that such paintings are the first time humans
recorded and depicted those eruptions in history. Splashes of red ochre and
what appears to be an impromptu dive into deeply abstract imagery (a notable
departure from some fairly realistic animals) would seem to support this
The cave is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, but
unfortunately has been off limits to the public since 1994. As with the caves
in Lascaux, frequent human activity inside the cave slowly cultivated a species
of mould which could have damaged the paintings. A replica was opened to the
public in April, 2015.
Warnings: ANGST, little bit of fluff, talk of miscarriage.
Word count: 2.222 (hell yeah)
Summary: Steve’s away for another mission and you fall apart. There’s a secret that has been weighing on your shoulders for way too long and you have no idea how much longer you can keep it from Steve.
Dean yanks open his bedroom door to find the bunker bathed in cool darkness, the sound of the driving rain sending echoes bouncing off all the walls, punctuated by a violent clap of thunder. The lights flicker on for just a second, just long enough to illuminate Castiel, standing pinned to the wall outside his own bedroom, eyes wide with fright, before the darkness returns and with it another loud crash of thunder. He hears a pained yelp come from Cas’ direction, and the rain lashes against the building with more fervour.
“Cas, buddy, it’s just a storm. It will pass.”
Dean fumbles around on the table near his bedroom door in search of the flashlight he knows is there, and manages to turn it on. He shines the beam of light down the corridor towards Castiel’s room, and finds his angel just where he was before: clinging to the wall with his chest heaving and his skin ashen grey. For a second he wonders if something else has happened, if the sound of the storm drowned out some other noise he should have been listening for; Castiel can’t be this scared of thunderstorms, surely.
His name leaves the angel in a fearful, broken whisper, and Dean beckons to him, unable to stand the petrified look in his clear blue eyes for a moment longer. Cas hesitates, then crosses the few steps to Dean’s room as though he were walking across a disintegrating bridge over a canyon, and collides brutally with Dean in his desperation to get inside and get safe. Dean’s arms automatically come up around the angel, and feels the tremors racking through him. He almost smiles; almost. If Cas wasn’t so completely shaken by all this, it would be mildly amusing. Adorable, even. But right now the angel needs reassurance, not ridicule.
“Dean, what’s going on? It sounds like the sky is falling!”
Cas is still standing in Dean’s arms, his own wrapped tightly around the hunter’s waist, his terror overriding every social skill he had spent so long learning, and Dean finds himself rubbing Cas’ back to try and transfer some comfort though his touch into his shaking friend. It’s so bizarre that Dean wonders for a moment if he’s dreaming: the famed Castiel, angel who had commanded thousands and fought in battle over centuries, is frightened by thunder.
“It’s just a thunderstorm, Cas. You’ve experienced these before, surely?”
Another clap of thunder splits the air and Castiel yelps, loudly, right by Dean’s ear. The lights flash on and off again, the wind and rain outside playing havoc with the power lines, and for a moment Cas’ white face is illuminated, only inches from Dean’s. All humour in the situation dies as Dean sees the tears in his friend’s eyes and the tense, defined lines between his brows and crossing his forehead. Cas is really scared, and it’s not so funny any more.
“Hey, come on. It’s OK.”
Dean manoeuvres them both back into his room and kicks the door shut. Cas is still clinging to him, reluctant to let go, so it takes Dean a minute or two to get them across the room to sit down on the bed. Thunder splits the air again and Castiel tenses violently. Dean sets the flashlight dow on the bed, angled so that it casts the room into as much light as possible, and reaches over to turn his iPod off. He had been listening to a little classic rock, trying to wait out the storm, when he had heard Castiel cry his name from down the hall during a light instrumental. Shadows are jumping across the walls, and probably not helping Cas’ nerves but the only other option is total darkness and that’s less than preferable right now.
“Dean, what’s happening? This is what a thunderstorm sounds like on earth?!”
“Yeah, Cas, what did you think it would be like?”
“It’s so loud. Does it sound this loud to you?” Cas’ eyes are wandering fitfully around Dean’s room, evidently trying to work out if the hunter finds it all as overwhelming as he does. It’s normally Castiel and his angelic powers making the weather storm like this, knocking out electricity and sending rumbling shockwaves through the air. Dean supposes it makes sense for the loss of that control to knock him for six.
“Yeah, Cas, it’s loud. But hey, after thirty-something years of experiencing them, you kinda get used to it. Maybe your angel mojo is magnifying-“ Dean is cut off as another rumble splits the air between them, twice as loud now. The storm is directly above them, and the lights flash and flicker on and off sporadically, making Cas tremble and Dean has to admit that this is one of the more violent storms in his recent memory. The wind is screeching outside, and he’s pretty sure that when they eventually venture out into the main area of the bunker that the rain will have seeped in under the door. Cas has his head in his hands, trying to calm himself down, but Dean can sense it isn’t working. He reaches over and grips his friend’s shoulder, rubbing gently and murmuring nonsense to him.
“It’s OK, Cas, it will pass. The thunder can’t hurt you. It’s the lightning you have to worry about, and we’re safe from that in here. It’s fine, you’re fine.” He shifts closer to Cas on the bed as another rumble crashes through the bunker, and the air between them is thick with Cas’ emotion. He brings his other hand up, moving Cas to face just a little away from him, and starts to massage his shoulders with gently but insistent fingers, trying to work through some of the tension. Cas leans back into his hands with a low sound of relief, tensing and cringing again at another crash. Dean moves closer, running his hands up and down Castiel’s upper arms, feeling tremors rock through his angel and trying to shush and calm him with his touches and low murmurs into his ear.
He doesn’t know how they end up lying back on his bed together. He doesn’t know how his arm ends up under Cas’ head, the angel using it as a pillow while Dean plays with his hair, or how his other arm ends up thrown over his friend’s waist, pulling him close. He can’t work out how their legs got tangled together, or how Cas’ hands are fisted in his flannel overshirt, his too-blue eyes studying Dean’s face, dropping down to his lips then back up until ocean-blue meets sparkling green. Being so close to his hunter is calming Castiel; the sound of the thunder seems to be fading into the background the longer he looks into Dean’s eyes, and his heart rate is steadily dropping back to somewhere near it’s normal region. Dean’s calm, controlled presence is exactly what he needs, and he’s staring back at Cas with an unreadable expression on his handsome face. Castiel thinks, not for the first time, how beautiful his hunter is, especially this close.
Dean doesn’t know what passes between he and Cas at that moment. Cas is looking at him strangely, an expression of awe and longing on his face, the fear all but ebbed away, and as Dean gazes at him he feels one of Cas’ hands come up to brush over his jaw with feather-light fingertips. Then over his cheekbone, temple, then back down…to his lips. Cas passes a thumb lightly over Dean’s full bottom lip, watching the movement of his own hand curiously as though he’s powerless to control it. His breathing is slow now, deep and controlled, and his brows are furrowed with intrigue rather than nerves. Dean’s hand plays gently in Cas’ hair, his other stroking circles onto the angel’s back as they lie and study each other in the semi darkness, warm and safe in the bunker, the driving rain and crashing skies all but forgotten. Minutes or hours pass them by, lost in each other as Cas traces the lines of Dean’s face and Dean pulls his angel closer and closer, and it’s only a matter of time before the inevitable happens.
If asked, Dean would have no clue who made the first move, who kissed whom. It just happened, the crescendo of their years of skirting around each other and swallowing their feelings. It was gentle but deliciously explosive, the feel of Castiel’s mouth against his, his chapped lips soft but persistent; Dean can feel him holding back years of want, trying not to push too hard with their first kiss. Maybe he’s worried Dean will pull away. Maybe he’s worried he will pull away. That’s when Dean takes control; he tangles his hand firmly in Castiel’s hair and locks their mouths together with a low, drawn out moan of pure joy. Cas’ lips part beneath his and Dean dips his tongue in curiously, tasting Cas and pouring all his love and adoration into his kiss. He holds Cas close, tight to his body, and Castiel returns the embrace and that’s how they stay, pressed together in an intimate embrace, using their mouths to memorise each other and commit this moment to memory, even as the thunder splits the skies above them.
He’s kissing his angel, and his angel is kissing him right back and this right here is what heaven truly feels like.
As Long As you Aren't A porn blog i will gladly follow u back.☺im high as fuck needing some task to do so i'm Checking out who i follow and deleting inactive blogs because i gotta make room for all u awesome beautiful people that are following me. thanks for being apart of my craziness lol especially my high nights (rather early mornings😆)