vigours

It has been a difficult year. There is no doubt in that the year has thrown us numerous challenges and knocked us to and fro, sometimes leaving us completely defeated. And I can’t count the number of terrible things that have been experienced by all different kinds of people from all different kinds of places. And so I hope that we will meet the new year with a vigour never seen before. Because if anything good should come out of this, if there should be anything that the past year has taught us, if we want this to let us ignite something stronger within us, it should be the fact that 2016 has come at us time and time again, and we are surviving it. Yes, some of us we did not make it, but let us live not only for them, but for us, for ourselves. Here’s to another year gone by, for the ones that didn’t make it this far, and the ones that are still here, breathing. In and out. Here’s to 2017.
—  thisislifenow 

shit that’s got me emo today:

the way Isak so quietly says “neither have i”, like a small little confession (that isn’t small in the slightest at all) that has built up and up alongside his courage and acceptance of himself and his feelings (love) for Even, after Even says “and I haven’t felt anything, quite like this, ever”, which, again, is such a huge confession from Even (said with so much vigour and certainty), that has built up and up stemming from a place that began as want, then need, and then grew into love all at once.

and then sealed with the softest kiss, a gentle brush of lips like a silent vow between the two of them: that this is all i have, this is all i feel for you, and i’ve laid it all out on the table here for you. take from it, take as much as you want from it, as much as you need from it, and i’ll continue pouring.

232. Slytherins have a special kind of loyalty. Looking at people like Bellatrix Lestrange, outsiders might mistake it for fanaticism and obsession, but real Slytherins know what it is: true acceptance not despite, but rather BECAUSE of each other’s flaws. Snarky comments at the breakfast table are a sign of affection. Quidditch training and duelling sessions happen with merciless vigour. They stand as one without asking too many questions.

Submitted by @1lectersquare

CW’s DC Shows as Your Evening Meal

- Arrow is like the green vegetables you get out of the way at the start of the meal; fibrous and full of vigour but you don’t really want to, yet you know you kind of have to, and force it down.

- The Flash is the delicious meat and potatoes bulk of the roast, that’s wholesome and satisfying and goes down fairly painlessly.

- Supergirl is the tasty dessert afterwards , a bit too sweet and fluffy and you feel oddly guilty for wanting it, but it makes you feel happier and is pleasing to look at.

- DC’s Legends of Tomorrow is the pizza you order at 2:36am, half drunk after the pub, and it’s too much all in one go and you feel sort of nauseated and bloated and bewildered but there’s so many toppings it’s sort of delicious, and eating it makes you feel like a kid again.

Give yourself time to make a prayer that will become the prayer of your soul. Listen to the voices of longing in your soul. Listen to your hungers. Give attention to the unexpected that lives around the rim of your life. Listen to your memory and to the inrush of your future, to the voices of those near you and those you have lost. Out of all of that attention to your soul, make a prayer that is big enough for your wild soul, yet tender enough for your shy and awkward vulnerability; that has enough healing to gain the ointment of divine forgiveness for your wounds; enough truth and vigour to challenge your blindness and complacency; enough graciousness and vision to mirror your immortal beauty. Write a prayer that is worthy of the destiny to which you have been called.
— 

A PRAYER FOR YOUR WILD SOUL

JohnO'Donohue
Excerpt from ETERNAL ECHOES

i understand why Taliban, ISIS, Saudi Arabia and other governments and terrorist organizations hate shia muslims so much: they have seen, time and time again, that nothing is really able to deter them from their commitment to the ahle bayt. they kill their families, bomb their religious processions, completely obliterate their places of worship, and yet, shias go out in larger and larger numbers every year and practice their faith even more openly and with even more vigour. nothing can stop the love of imam hussain and his family, and nothing can ever stop shias from existing. we’ll always exist, we’ll always persevere and we’ll always thrive. 

2

Tharan = Vigourous - Ethuil = Spring

Thranduil

Daily Thranduil Project - Freedon Sunday

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#CelebrateMercy -— Rabiʾ al awwal 1438: Never seen anyone comparable to him (ﷺ)

ʾIbrāhīm‎ ibn Muḥammad, who is from the grandchildren of ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib reported that when ʿAlī used to describe the Prophet (ﷺ), he would say, “The Messenger of Allāh was neither very tall nor very short, but of a medium stature amongst the people. His hair was neither very curly nor completely straight; rather it was in between these two description.”

He (ﷺ) did not have a fleshy body or a fully round face, his face was slightly round (ﷺ). His skin was colour white with some redness. He had extremely black eyes with long eyelashes (ﷺ). He has large joints and broad shoulders (ﷺ). There was no hair more than normal on his body and he has a thin line of hair running from the chest to his navel (ﷺ). He had think hands and feet (ﷺ). When he walked, he lifted his legs with vigour and his steps were firm and strong as if he was descending down a slope (ﷺ). When he wished to look behind, he would turn his whole body, and not just the face (ﷺ). The Seal of Prophethood was situated between his shoulders (ﷺ). He was the seal of Prophets, and he has the most generous of hearts and the most truthful tongue (ﷺ). He was the most kind-hearted and tolerant person ever (ﷺ). He was the best to spend time with due to his awe-inspiring character and kind treatment; anyone who came across him unexpectedly would become awestruck; and whoever came in close contact with him would love him (ﷺ).

One who describes him can only state, “I have never seen anyone comparable to him (ﷺ).”

Shaykh Ḥamza Yūsuf, “One of things about the ʿulamāʾ they say maḥabba (love) for most human beings arises out of three things. The first is the physical love. You see something beautiful and your heart inclines towards it. So He put the love of beauty in the hearts of human beings. If you see something beautiful, you incline towards it. Your eye delights in it, if you see a human being that is beautiful, you can fall in love, it can happen just from sight. The ʿulamāʾ have maintained the physical description of the Prophet (ﷺ) because that is a level of maḥabba – to actually hear how beautiful he was (ﷺ). He was the most beautiful human being. He was more beautiful than Yūsuf.  One of the gifts of this ummah is that we have an exact description of the Prophet (ﷺ), it is as if you are looking at him (ﷺ). There was a desire to keep the description of the Prophet (ﷺ) so people could have a physical attraction to him as well as the first stage of love.”

Beautiful, Subḥān’Allāh!

It stretches one’s suspension of disbelief that 4 teens and a young adult would be successful in using a weapon like Voltron, as opposed to like, 5 older, more experienced adults, but when I think about it…I had way more piss n’ vinegar in my teens than I do now at 24.
Nowadays I’m achey, constantly tired, and want everyone who tries to start shit with me to buzz off. 
I see this in a lot of other folks in their 20′s and early 30′s as well; you just get to a point where you can’t maintain that kind of vigour. 
I honestly thought it was BS when my gr 11 bio teacher said ‘it’s all downhill from 20.’ He was right, haha. 

For @hiddenpolkadots​, who wanted something cute and fluffy in canon-verse. Hope you like it!!

They’re out exploring when they discover it.

It’s a combination of chance and curiosity more than anything, honestly. Bellamy’s not sure they’re going to find anything of interest, but Clarke’s just so eager, and he likes spending time with her like this. Just the two of them, outside in the warm weather, the sun beaming down bright and lovely, with nothing but time.

“Just a little bit further,” she promises, not for the first time this past half hour.

“You don’t even know where we’re going,” Bellamy points out with a laugh. She glances back to shoot him a grin and he just rolls his eyes. It’s all the acceptance she needs, and she speeds up their trekking with renewed vigour.

“We’re going to find something,” she says, determined, and he simply laughs again. He’s pretty sure she could make something materialise out of nowhere if her will alone allowed it.

“If you say so,” he responds, fond but doubtful.

And of course they do find something, following the sound of water until they step out from the thick foliage of the forest and onto the open grassy riverbank. Something that takes his breath away.

A waterfall.

“Holy shit,” Clarke breathes out as she takes in the view before them.

It’s maybe twenty feet tall, the stream of water tumbling over a series of boulders and pooling at the bottom to meet a wide and gentle river. The water is gorgeous, blue and green and clear enough to see down to the riverbed, the pebbles and the plants and the fish swimming through it, and the surroundings are just as much. Moss-covered rocks and trees standing tall and large and flowers he doesn’t think he’s ever seen before in bright and gorgeous colours.

It’s beautiful, serene in a way Bellamy forgot Earth could be, with how much death and destruction it seems to have delivered them. But this place feels untouched and perfect, a small pocket of the world that right now, is all theirs. He wonders if they’re the first to witness it since the nuclear apocalypse. It feels that way. He and Clarke, together.

“We found something,” Clarke says after a long minute, voice full of wonder, and when Bellamy glances her way her smile is wide and her eyes are holding nothing but awe.

“You did, yeah,” he responds, knocking his shoulder with hers.

“I wouldn’t have if you didn’t agree to come,” she points out, pulling off her backpack and setting it down on the grass. When she looks at him she’s beaming, and he falls a little more in love with her, if that’s even possible. “We can go in, yeah?”

Bellamy’s lips tick up into an amused smile. “Doesn’t look like there are any mutant water animals living in here, does it?”

Clarke laughs, throwing her head back with it, and Bellamy can’t help but grin at the sight. He loves seeing her like this, unabashedly happy and without a care in the world. It makes his chest bloom with warmth.

They set themselves up quickly, Bellamy pulling out the small mat they brought and setting their bags down on it. They strip with little fanfare, each tugging off their clothes until they’re down to their underwear.

He’s seen Clarke naked hundreds of times by now, but still his eyes move to trace her body almost reverently. He loves every single part of her, from the swell of her stomach to the stretch marks on her hips, from the curve of her breasts to the mole above her lips. She’s smirking when he meets her gaze, teasing and a little smug like she always is when he gets lost at the sight of her.

“Stopping there?” She asks with a pointed look down, a challenge, and Bellamy snorts, raising an eyebrow as he pulls down his briefs. Clarke laughs, delighted, but he sees the way her eyes turn dark and a little mischievous, too. She steps out of her panties and unclasps her bra, letting them fall to the ground. Then, “Come on,” she says with a grin, offering him her hand.

He takes it, and together they walk to the river edge. It’s only a few feet deep, and they lower themselves down into it.

“Oh, wow,” Bellamy laughs. The water’s warm.

“Hot springs,” Clarke says, her laugh coming out surprised and delighted.

He steps further into the river slowly, and Clarke follows a second later. They wade around together for a while, just enjoying the feel of the water on their skin, of it turning their hair silky smooth, exchanging easy words and soft kisses. Their smiles never leave their faces. Bellamy can feel his widen each time Clarke laughs heartily, or squeals when he tickles her sides, or looks at him in amazement as she discovers something hidden in the depths of the water.

He’s so fucking in love with her it’s ridiculous.

“We should go under the waterfall,” she suggests after they’ve grown accustomed to the gentle flow of the river, to the warmth of the water around them and the sun shining from above. “Do you think it’ll be like a shower?”

“With about a hundred times the water, maybe,” Bellamy says, earning himself a splash in the face.

“Shut up,” Clarke mutters, although she can’t keep the smile off her face. She pulls him under before he even gets a chance to think twice about it, her laugh turning into a surprised squeak at the cool rush of water over them.

It’s falling heavily, but Bellamy can’t say he minds the feeling. There’s something refreshing in the way it runs from the top of his head down the planes of his body to meet the water below, leaving his skin prickling. Peaceful too, the white noise of rushing water pushing everything from his mind, leaving nothing but this feeling of content rooted deep in his chest right now and the girl who’s experiencing it with him.

She folds herself into his arms, and they stay like that for a few minutes, together under the cascade of the waterfall.

Eventually they make it back into the open river, after Clarke gets cold and lets Bellamy know by tugging on his arm and spitting a mouthful of water in his face. He sputters and she laughs, and he challenges her to a water fight, and she does the same with an underwater handstand competition. They splash each other and they race around this little, wonderful space they’ve found together. They talk and they laugh and they kiss and they get carried away on the riverbank for half an hour or so, until their faces are flushed red and they’re too exhausted to do anything more than just float on their backs and enjoy the sun.

And when that begins the set, turning the sky shades of pink and orange he knows Clarke would love to paint, she swims up to him. It’ll be getting dark soon, and they’ll need to make dinner and put up a tent, but right now his thoughts are only for Clarke, naked and gorgeous and wading through the water to meet him. She locks her legs around his waist and curls her arms around his shoulders, and he pulls her closer, loving the feeling of her right here, skin against skin.

“I told you this was a good idea.”

Bellamy chuckles lightly, closing his eyes. He can feel Clarke’s smile between them, knows it’s wide and bright and full of love. “You did. And it was.”

She hums, nosing at his neck. “I love you.”

“Yeah,” he says, sighing in content when she presses her lips to his shoulder. He feels so full with her, with this easy happiness and with this day and with this place they’ve found. It’s enough to feel like it’ll burst from his chest, so he just holds her tighter, closer, and presses his smile into her hair. “I love you too.”

Want one?

NiziSta Interview: Takatsuki Kanako, Part I

Interview       :       August 26, 2016

(Part II)

“I want to take on a lot of challenges as a voice actress.” Takatsuki Kanako interview, part I.

Today, we will introduce a rookie voice actress affiliated with Amuse, Inc., Takatsuki Kanako-san. Performing the role of Kunikida Hanamaru in Love Live! Sunshine!!, she’s one of the most prominent voice actresses today.


Keep reading

The United States of New Hampshire, Massachusetts Bay, Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia, in Congress assembled—To John Laurens, Esquire, Greeting.

We, reposing especial trust and confidence in your fidelity, zeal, prudence and abilities, have nominated and constituted, and by these presents do nominate and constitute you our minister, for the special purpose of proceeding to the Court of Versailles, and representing to his Most Christian Majesty the present state of our publick affairs, with the necessity and mutual advantage of his maintaining a naval superiority in the American seas; and also of soliciting from him, and forwarding to the United States, certain aids in money and stores according to an estimate herewith delivered to you, the better to enable us to prosecute the war with vigour, and co-operate with the arms of our ally with effect.

— 

Commission from the Continental Congress to John Laurens for the position of minister to France

I think calling Laurens “prudent” was a bit generous, though I will agree that he was quite zealous.

I have read every word of The Game of Kings with increasing admiration and pleasure. It is eccentric certainly…and monstrous without a doubt. But what eccentricity and what monstrousness! At the end I was quite lost in admiration of the vigour and wit which kept this bespangled, word-crammed, plot-ridden and fantastic tale all in one piece; and I searched in vain to find a thousand words expendable in the whole…I have learned to respect Miss Dunnett. She knows practically everything, and her sharp, adroit, level-headed humour kept me afloat, so that not once was I in danger of going down even for the first time in a welter of Scottish genealogy and costume description. Her great thing is not to explain. If you don’t know what a papingo-shoot is, well then, that is your look-out. Latin, court French, Italian and Spanish conceits flitter impertinently in the dialogue. And so do endless references to things and situations which no doubt held no secrets for Shakespeare, but which present foxers in 1957. She must have the most ostentatious dictionary in the world….The effect is like being in some great murky place, like Holyrood or the Tower of London, but without a guide or any of the little notices telling one where to go, or what this thing was used for. All the dreadful realities and foibles of the past exist hugger-mugger and one reels out, overcome by a mixture of small, cold rooms and huge hot treacheries.
—  Reader’s report on The Game of Kings, recommending publication. The publisher rejected the manuscript on the grounds that it was too long.

Request:

Can I make a request where reader is best friends with Calvin, but he has a girlfriend who’s really mean to the reader and near the end of the story Calvin admits he likes the reader while his girlfriend is drunk


Okay so I cut off a teeny bit of the request because it would be a spoiler lmao, you’ll just have to wait and see what happens! :p

Thanks so much for the request, I hope this is good enough! :D



A familiar shrill voice greeted your ears with the same vigour as nails ferociously scraping a blackboard.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as a feeling of dread settled in the pit of your stomach and a sigh blew past your lips.

One of the major downsides of staying with Calvin while you found a new place was the disgusting frequency with which he found it necessary to bring his irritating bitch of a girlfriend home.

Well… it was his house….

It was fine at first - she seemed nice enough, so you smiled and laughed and tried to make a good impression - as you did with everyone. That was until the fourth time she came round; she grabbed you by the arm and pulled you close enough so you could feel her breath on your face and hissed in your ear, ‘Just remember I’m Calvin’s girlfriend, alright? He’s taken.’

You wrenched your arm out of her iron grip and rubbed the finger marks she left on your skin as your brow furrowed in anger.

'What? Calm the fuck down, I’m only here temporarily. We’re friends.’

You wanted nothing more than to punch the bitch in the face, but your increasingly murderous thoughts were thankfully interrupted by Calvin’s entrance back into the room and her demeanour changed instantly.

A sickeningly sweet smile swept across her face like a well-rehearsed procedure and she emitted a high pitched squeal of a laugh every time Calvin spoke.

Since then, her unwarranted bitchy comments were relentless, and you did your best to avoid her so you wouldn’t end up in prison for murder.

Now, her voice even managed to permeate the closed door to your room; the screeching punctuated every now and then by the deep hum of Calvin’s voice.

Her voice became impossibly louder and it dawned on you that they were arguing.

Feet padding closer to your room sparked panic in your gut and you quickly switched off the bedside light and pretended to be asleep - throwing yourself backwards into the pillows and closing your eyes.  

The door cracked open and unleashed hell in the form of no protection whatsoever against Satan’s screeching.

'Shut the fuck up - Y/n’s sleeping!’ Calvin’s harsh whisper made her all the more furious and she let loose.

'I don’t give a fuck! This is serious, Calvin - and your only concern is waking her up?!’

'You’re making a big deal out of nothing, and you don’t need to fucking shout all the time!’

Calvin was trying to remain calm and you could hear it in his voice as he quietly closed your door and returned to the lounge, where the argument continued.

You would have been perfectly happy to stay well out of the way for the rest of the night had your stomach not started growling like an angry bear.

With the stealth of an assassin, you opened your door and peeked out into the hallway.

Clear.

You began to tiptoe towards the kitchen and hadn’t heard a sound yet; maybe they left?

Your spirits began to lift and you thought your ninja skills were no longer required until you walked into the lounge and she barged right into you.

'Watch where you’re going,’ she hissed as she walked out and you muttered a quiet, 'Fuck off,’ until you spotted Calvin and promptly shut your mouth.

Sure, she was a cunt - but if she made him happy then it had nothing to do with you, right?

Of course, that’s ignoring the fact that she completely takes advantage of him and treats him like absolute shit… but that’s none of your business.

He was angry. Really angry.

His brown eyes were filled with a rage you had never seen before and his hands were clenched into fists as he plopped himself down onto the sofa.

After grabbing a drink for each of you (the food would have to wait), you joined him, tucking your legs up under yourself as your body faced his.

'What have you done this time?’ You asked nonchalantly as you took a sip of the refreshingly cold liquid in your glass.

'I apparently ignored her when she asked me a question.’

'Is that it?’ You raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

'Twice.’

'Fucking hell, Calvin. That’s punishable by death in some countries.’

The chuckle that escaped him eased his rage a bit and you were glad - angry Calvin was scary.

Hot, but scary.

The Bitch entered the lounge clutching a bottle of wine with a face like thunder when she spotted you sitting next to Calvin.

Her gaze emitted pure hatred and it made you smile to see her so pathetically wound up over literally nothing.

As you began to move from the sofa and make your way back up to your room, a hand on your knee stopped you from going any further.

Confused, you glanced at Calvin. The look he gave you begged you to stay so he wouldn’t have to deal with her - especially when she was drunk.

For a second you hesitated, but you knew he’d do the same for you so you ended up staying.

'Any good movies on?’ You mumbled as you took the remote and began flicking through channels. Anything to fill the empty silence that otherwise blanketed the room.

'Isn’t it time to went back to your room, Y/n? Calvin and I need to talk,’ her slurred voice took a moment to process and when you finally understood the garbled nonsense that escaped her mouth you simply smiled and replied, 'Nope. I’m good here, thanks.’  

Calvin tried to suppress a grin but failed miserably and she retaliated by taking another swig from the wine bottle, which was now half empty.

A short while later, Satan was so drunk she began to fall in and out of consciousness while she desperately clutched onto the empty wine bottle in one hand.

She was a mess.

You and Calvin spoke in hushed tones, though a jackhammer probably wouldn’t rouse her at this point. As Calvin spoke, your eyes observed her diminishing grip on the wine bottle and you had to dive for it before it fell to the floor and shattered.

You set it on the floor before joining Calvin on the sofa and continuing your conversation.

The topic soon turned to her.

'She treats you like shit,’ you said and immediately regretted opening your mouth - but it was the truth.

You watched his gaze dip from yours and it suddenly hit you how much you wanted him.

He was always there for you like no one else had ever been.

He listened to you and supported you and held you whenever you needed it and now you knew why your stomach fluttered every time he said your name.

You watched his lips as he spoke and you wanted nothing more than to lean forward and connect your mouth to his because you would treat him so much better than she does-


He leaned in and his plump lips felt better against yours than you could ever have imagined they would and his hands in your hair felt divine - his fingers glided through the strands and he tugged slightly on them when the kiss deepened.

With one hand in his soft hair and the other on his chest his teeth nipped at your bottom lip and you groaned and squeezed your thighs together as a burning lust ignited in the pit of your stomach.

'We can’t do this,’ breathy whispers spilled from your mouth against your will and his dark eyes met yours.

'Fuck, I want you so bad,’ he said against your lips and you wanted to give in - to let him take control and intoxicate your senses; but before you could, a groan from the other end of the room snapped you out of the trance and you stopped.

You didn’t want this to end… you wanted to feel his hands all over you as he whispered how beautiful you were against your skin; you wanted to feel his lips dance over every inch of your body and leave pretty purple marks wherever he saw fit. You wanted him. And he just said he wanted you too.

But it couldn’t happen. 

You untangled yourself from the beautiful brown-eyed boy. 'I think you need to take her home.’ You said as you exited the lounge and returned to your room.

Lying amongst the pillows on your bed, all you could think about was his lips and the way his hands felt on your skin…

but he could never be yours.


I hope it was what you wanted! :) My asks are always open for anything at all and thank you so much for reading! X

I luv u!