violent weather

Humans are weird little aliens, Part 3 (Final)

Last part, guys! Hope you liked the trilogy!

Kii’o finally found the page they were reading. Kii’o coughed, and resumed reading.

“All in all, humans are always a great addition to your crew. They can be very unpredictable, and that is not always a bad thing. As long as you know how to take good care of them and not be startled by their… well, weirdness, they will always be by your side.

Humans are beautiful creatures, and everyone’s glad we found them. Who knew a tiny Death Planet on the edge of uncivilised universe could house such strong and stubborn species.

– Dr. Troa’Gaa.”

Maefaa pondered. Was that it about humans? They sounded so much more complex than the book made them out to be. 

But yes, Maefaa knew. After reading about the story of humans before, of course that wasn’t all about them.

Maefaa read about the endless catastrophes that hit humans. Mass extinctions. Violent weather. Kanye West. They just seemed to shrug all that off like it was nothing. Looks like humans refuse to die, huh. 

And now, this ally has joined us. The Federation invited humans to be a part of it shortly after their discovery. Their insatiable curiosity and endless determination has helped us advance.

“Maefaa?” Said Kii’o.

“Oh, sorry. I guess I spaced out for a moment there.”

Kii’o slowly put the book back into the bookshelf. The choice was made. Kii’o turned to Maefaa and slowly became yellow. Then back again to Kii’o’s natural colour. A slow, reassuring nod.

The hatches opened. A figure stood triumphantly in the entrance.

It had purple fur on the head, certainly not natural, Maefaa noticed. It looked distressed, for its skin was orange-peach-ish. Red skin was associated with distress to Maefaa, but the memory of the guide saying not to be startled popped up.

“Hey guys!” it said, showing its teeth, which were evolved to kill. Spooky.

Reddish skin, but not really in danger? Showing teeth as a salute?

Yes. It looked like humans were weird little aliens, after all.

I pick up gently, the flow of water trickling down,
I’m refreshing, but you’ll only want a small taste,
or else you’ll drown.
I am violent weather
and I know you can only adore me
when I’m functioning
at the least of my capacity.
So I try not to overflow, I try not to make you see
just how destructive I can be.
I’ve watched past lovers capsize over,
thinking they could love a thunderstorm.
But I am abrupt
and I can make the clouds, the darkening skies,
the rapid winds, the claps of light,
look so beautiful
before an explosion rips through the cosmic dead air
and I’ll set you on fire,
with no way to repair.
—  anonymous said: ‘writing prompt: you said you liked rain, so i turned into a thunderstorm. (i wanted to do this but couldn’t)’
Humans are weird: What to do when you can't get your homesick human a pet

Amilia stare out the window lost in the way the leaves of the tree just outside were waving in the gently breeze. The sunlight showing bursts of bright green against a background of dark foilage. It glistened almost like stars did against the dark background of empty space. A flash of feathers caught her gaze and she watched a birds startled flight from one tree to another. In the far distance massive snow topped mountains towered over the valley her window looked out too. Her eyes traced the path of a stream whose sours was hidden from sight.
A soft woosh indicated the door lock opening, and the observation deck flooded with red light. The image of Earth shimmered, giving way to the true view of vast space beyond.
“Apologies Amilia, I was unaware this deck was occupied.”
A Salidan stood in the door way, primary eyes flickering incandescently from yellow to red in a show of embarrassment.
The Salidan race were similar to humans, carbon based organisms with similar enough organs. They were tall and spindly, with four arms, two sets of eyes, skin in variations of the color purple, and three sets of lungs with a built in filtration system that was capable of filtering out elements detrimental to their bodily process. They came from a planet remarkably similar to earth, thought it lacked in Earth’s extreme biodiversity and violent weather systems. There’s was located in the GN-z11 galaxy, from which they were currently 6 billion lightyears away from.
“Axlan-yua,” Amilia smiled, “No harm done I’m guessing I didn’t register to your telepathic hoodoo.”
Axlan-yua frowned primary eye lids drooping in disappointment, his secondary eyes stared unendingy into her own. A trait Amilia had been told was known to cause discomfort in humans not used to interacting with Salidian’s. “No, unfortunately even spending so much time with you has not familiarized me to your brain patterns.”
His head tilted in a show of curiosity, an action Amilia was hesitant to tell him he had picked up from her, “Was that Earth you were looking at?”
Amilia smiled sadly, “Yes,” she said, “A place called Colorado.”
“May I inquire,” He seemed to hesitate, “are you suffering what they call “Home sickness”?“
Amilia sighed, and motioned to the soft seat across from her, telling her friend with body language that his questions were okay. The young Salidian relaxed his stiff posture, and sprawled out across from her.
“I don’t know Axlan, how can I be Homesick for a place I have never been?”
Axlan-yua’s primary eyes shifted to a deep green, which Amilia judged as introspective from her long association with her friends emotional coloring.
“I sometimes wish to step upon the soil of the planet my memory lines once walked, perhaps you merely long for memories buried within you genetic code?”
Amilia shrugged, “I don’t know Axlan…it’s possible.”
Axlan-yua reached an arm out to pat Amilia on the leg, “One day we will go to Dokkum, and we will go to Earth…and see if we can discover a cure to your mind sadness.”
Despite his reassurances Axlan-yua was worried for his juvenile human friend. He began spending his free time on the intergalactic academies library council researching those things that would make his friend happy.
Unfortunately pets were not allowed in the academy for students, though he HAD seen Amilia visiting some of the zoological professors animal companions. So he began researching things that made humans happy. As well as things that might trigger his friends genetic memories.
After desperately asking Sax, a Xycfra, who were insectoid types with perfect photographic memories with the ability to access a hive mind, for help he finally had a plan. The next time the merchant ships docked he handed his list of items to an Earth dealer.
The gruff looking man read the list with what could have been a confused frown, or and angry scowl (Axlan-yua wasn’t adept at reading humans he was in constant contact with).
“Don’t recall Salidian’s having a thing for scents,” the man said, with what Axlan-yua supposed was suspicion, “Your folks haven’t found a way to get sussed out on essential oils have ya?”
Axlan almost felt the need to blink his secondary eyes in a show of the human emotion shock, and he might of if his secondaries has eyelids, “No, Sir, essential oils don’t act as a drug on my species.” He hesitated before offering, “My human friend is sad.”
The man nodded in understanding, “Wanting to give ‘em a taste of Earth.” He said nodding in contemplation. “Wait here.”
He wandered into the back of his ship and was absent for a long while. When he came back out he had a box full of items.
“Here,” he said, “I threw some other things in as well,” and pulled a few packet with English writings on them, “This is a drink, kinda like tea, instructions are on the packet and this stuff goes innut you serve it hot like..ya know…always makes my daughter feel good when she’s blue.”
Axlan-yua nodded eagerly, and gathered the items.

When Axlan-yua told her to meet him in the observation pod four Amilia knew something was up. Salidian’s do NOT have good poker faces what the emotionally colored primary eyes and all. But he was her closest friend at the academy. And she new whatever it was it wouldn’t be bad. The room was lit like an earth twilight, and all the rooms graphic walls were ingaged in the middle part of the rooms light was being produced by a projection of a low fire, the sound system projecting the sounds the wood made while it burned….a gentle crackle and small pops.
It seemed like she could SMELL the fire smoke almost.
She gasped as she looked around her and realized that it appeared as though they were standing in a meadow. Surrounded by tall Douglas fir trees, and then the scent hit her faintly like lemons or pineapples but fresh and crisp…and somehow she knew this was what these trees smelled like.
In the background a low whooshing like blood constantly running within her ears with little bubbles, and that was the stream between the trees making that noise! She looked up and saw pink tinged clouds, and the first stars appearing in the sky, this was what the sky on earth looked like.
She turned to look at her friend, eyes wide in wonder, and the green happiness of his eyes let her know that if he was human his grin would be a mile wide.
“Sit Amilia, Sit!” He handed her a mug, with a thick milky brown liquid sloshing around in it. Floating upon the surface were small bits of stuff that looked like foam chunks.
With a small sniff her eyes widened in delight, “Hot chocolate!” She laughed happily.
She turned eyes wet with moisture to her friend, “Axlan, how did you do all this?”
Axlan-yua could feel the happiness radiating off of her. He could FEEL it! He was synching with his friends brain patterns.
His eyes whirled a rainbow of colors in excitement before setting back to happy green, “I could not take you to earth, so I brought earth to you.”

“And that,” Amilia told her enthralled children as they sat around the happily crackling fire, cheerfully munching a s'more, “Is how your Uncle Axlan and I began the installation of “World Rooms” on Intergalactic Academy Stations.“

_________________________________________ Team no sleep! Just an idea I had to write down.

The Aries Witch ♈ Flower Magick

Acacia Blossom

: Hidden Love, Friendship, Retirement, Platonic Love

Amaryllis: True Beauty, Pride, Innocence

Ambrosia: Love Returned

Anemone: Being Forsaken, Sincerity, Estrangement, Abandonment, Expectation, Illness

Apple Blossom: Good Fortune

Aster: Variety, Differences

Azalea: Fragility, Passion, Temperance, Symbolic Womanhood

Baby’s Breath: Sweet Beauty, Innocence, Purity, Modesty

Begonia: Heightened Awareness, Balance, Psychic Ability, To Send A Warning

Bells of Ireland: Luck, Good Fortune

Belvedere: Declaration Of War

Buttercup: Increasing Self-esteem, Verbal Communication, Childhood Reminiscence, Wealth


General: Gratitude, Admiration, Perfection, Masculine Energy
Pink: Persistent Desire
Red: Ardent Love
White: Beauty, Adoration


: Dreams of Beauty and Wealth Coming to Fruition

Calla Lily: Beauty


General: Self-esteem, Healing, True Love
Red: Admiration From Afar, Desires That Do Not Come to Pass
Pink: True Sentimental Love
Purple: Changeability
Striped: Refusals of Love, Rejection
White: Innocent, Pure Love
Yellow: Rejections, Disappointments

Cattail: Prosperity, Peace

Clover: Good Luck, Faithfulness, Compassion


Red: Love
White: Truth
Yellow: Scorned in Love


: Parental Love and Care of the Young

Cornflower: Refinement, Elegance

Daffodil: Inner Beauty, Chivalry, Clarity of Thought, Vanity, Unrequited Love, Energy That Comes From Being In Love, Sunlight, Respect

Dahlia: Spiritual Evolution, Dignity, Refinement, Instability


White: Decisions, Inner Strength, Heightened Awareness, Creativity
Red: Unconscious Beauty


: Spirit Magick, Wish Magick, Prophecy

Dogwood: Indifference

Dragon’s Blood (also known as Dragon Lily): Inner Power

Edelweiss: Nobility

Forget-me-not: True Love, Remembrances, Links To The Past

Foxglove (also known as Dead Men’s Bells and Fairy Thimbles): Stateliness, Deception, Youth

Fuchsia: Good Taste, Love Secrets

Gardenia: Refinement, Purification, Emotional Support, Secret Love

Geranium: Returning Joy, Healing, Difficulties and Frustrations Passing Away

Green Grass: Submission


General: Inner Healing From Within, Initiation, Immortality, Luck, Rainmaking, Protection From Violent Crimes And Theft, Weather Working, Warding Off Inappropriate Suitors
Purple: Solitude, Admiration
White: Protection, Wish Magick


: Protection

Heliotrope: Devotion

Hibiscus: Obsessive Love, Feminine Energy, Sensuality, Warmth, Creation, Fragile Beauty

Honeysuckle: Ties Between Lovers


General: Overcoming Grief, Games, Gentleness Of Nature, Impulsivity
Blue: Consistency
Purple: Regret, Sadness, Jealousy
Pink: Harmless Mischief
Red: Harmless Mischief
White: Shyness, Prayers For Those In Need
Yellow: Jealousy

Hydrangea: Ruthlessness, Frigidity, Hex Breaking, False Pride

Hyssop: Protection, Purification Iris: Purity, Faith, Wisdom, Hope, Valor, Magick and Energy For Pure Aims


General: Material Wealth, Love, Divination, Dream Magick
Indian: Fondness
Spanish: Sensuality
Yellow: Modesty, Refined Beauty, Elegance
White: Sociability


: Sympathy, Having Your Affections Returned To You, Desires Fulfilled

Lavender: Devotion, Magick, Love, Protection, Healing, Distrust, Inner Sight


General: Pride, Beauty
Purple: First Love, Infatuation, Pure Love
White: Innocence



General: Birth, Honor, Divinity, Humility, Purification
Calla: Beauty
Day: Motherhood
Eucharis: Enchantment, Glamoury
Lily of the Valley: Sociability, Joy, Humility
Orange: Hatred, Dislike
Tiger: Wealth, Pride, Prosperity
Water: Soothing
White: Virginity, Purity, Majesty, Youth
Yellow: Happiness, Lies, Gratitude


: Determination, Nobility, Fidelity

Marigold: Protection, Fidelity, Dream Magick, Longevity, Jealousy, Psychic Abilities, Legal Matters Cruelty Between Lovers, Despair, Evil Thoughts

Mimosa: Love, Protection, Purification, Secret Love, Divination

Morning Glory: Death and Rebirth, Affection, Spontaneity

Motherwort: Secret Love

Narcissus: Beauty, Vanity, Formality

Orchid: Love, Beauty, Refinement, Fertility, Consideration

Pansy: Cheerfulness, Romantic Thoughts

Passion Flower: Faith, Peace, Spiritual Enthusiasm, Sleep, Friendship

Pennyroyal: Protection, Strength, Banishing, Peace

Peony: Exorcism, Protection, Anger, Shame, Marital Bliss, Compassion, Shyness

Periwinkle (also known as Vinca and Myrtle): Love, Recollections, Lust, Memories, Mental Powers, Money, Protection

Petunia: Anger, Resentment, Disdain


General: Eternal Rest, Oblivion, Imagination, Fertility, Sleep, Invisibility, Red: Pleasure
White: Consolation
Yellow: Success, Money

Pomegranate Blossom

: Fertility, Binding, Incarceration, Elegance, Divination, Wealth, Un-reciprocated Love Magick

Poplar: Flying, Wealth


General: Obsessive Love, Feminine Energy
Evening: Inconstancy
Red: Unsolicited Recognition

Pussy Willow

: Motherhood

Rhododendron: Learning Who Is Against You, Power To Overcome Enemies, Banishing, Stirring Up Agitation


General: Love, Passion, Strength Through Silence
Black: Impending Death
Bridal: Bliss
Christmas: Relief
Coral: Desire
Damask: Inspiration For Love, Refreshing Love
Green: Masculine Energy
Hibiscus: Fragile Beauty
Lavender: Magick
Orange: Wonder
Pink: Perfection, Everlasting Joy, Secret Love, Grace, Indecision
Peach: Immortality
Red: Love, Protection, Healing, Respect, Beauty
Dark Red: Shame, Shyness. Mourning
Tea: Enduring Desire
Thorn-less: Immediate Affection, Love At First Sight
Wild: Ferocity
White: Innocence, Secrecy, Silence, Purity, Humility, Exorcism
White (Dried): Death
Yellow: Joy, Jealousy, Friendship


: Youth, Innocence, Beauty, Virginity

Snapdragon: Force of Will, Protection, Creativity, Clairaudience

Snowball: Heavenly Journeys

Spider Flower: Impulsive Acts Of Love

Star of Bethlehem: Reconciliation, Atonement

Strawberry Blossom: Luck, Love


General: Wish Magick, Fertility, Happiness, Wisdom, Healing
Dwarf: Adoration
Tall: Pride, Fleeting Wealth, Lies About Money


: Declaration Of War

Toadstool: Weather Working Tuberose: Pleasures That Inevitably Cause Pain, Addictions


General: Lust, Sensuality, Romance, Notoriety
Red: Declaration Of Love
Variegated: Image Magick
Yellow: Charisma, Hopeless Love, Making Friends, Sociability

Venus Flytrap

: Incarceration, Confinement


General: Modesty, Affection, Virtue, Psychic Sensitivity
Blue: Watcher Conjuration, Fidelity, Love
White: Impulsive Acts Of Love


: Protection, Love


Magenta: Lasting Affection
Mixed: Memories Of Those Beyond Your Reach
Scarlet: Constancy
White: Goodness
Yellow: Haunting Memories


history meme: 04/08 objects or places | the Bermuda Triangle

The Bermuda Triangle, also known as the Devil’s Triangle, is an undefined region in the western part of the North Atlantic Ocean, where a number of aircraft and ships are said to have disappeared under mysterious circumstances. The earliest allegation of unusual disappearances appeared in a September 17, 1950 article published in The Miami Herald. Two years later, Fate magazine published a short article covering the loss of several planes and ships, including the loss of Flight 19, a group of five U.S. Navy TBM Avenger bombers on a training mission. Some speculated that unknown and mysterious forces account for the unexplained disappearances, such as extraterrestrials; the influence of the lost continent of Atlantis; and other whimsical ideas.
Some explanations are more grounded in science, if not in evidence. The majority of Atlantic tropical storms and hurricanes pass through the Bermuda Triangle. Also, the Gulf Stream can cause rapid, sometimes violent, changes in weather. Additionally, the large number of islands in the Caribbean Sea creates many areas of shallow water that can be treacherous to ship navigation.
The U.S. Navy and U.S. Coast Guard contend that there are no supernatural explanations for disasters at sea.  Their experience suggests that the combined forces of nature and human fallibility outdo even the most incredulous science fiction.
The ocean has always been a mysterious place to humans, and when foul weather or poor navigation is involved, it can be a very deadly place. This is true all over the world.  There is no evidence that mysterious disappearances occur with any greater frequency in the Bermuda Triangle than in any other large, well-traveled area of the ocean. [more]

Lore of the Mountains

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.

Pine Trees

Pines are said to be the dwelling places of faeries and gnomes, and as pine is benevolent, it was frequently used as a resting place for travellers as it has a protective aura.  

The pine symbolises:

  • Good fortune.
  • Prosperity.
  • Protection.
  • Fertility.
  • Serenity.

Pine twigs are said to protect the house and cattle from misfortune, disease, and even lightening. Pine cones are a powerful amulet against malevolent forces

Pine was used by the Druids when making winter solstice fires to draw back the sun, the resin and needles were burnt as incense to counter magic and repel evil (a mixture of dried needles with equal parts of juniper and cedar), and the smoke was used to cleanse spaces of negative energy. 

The Little People

Many cultures speak of a race the "little people” who live in the woods.

Legends often talk of the little people playing pranks on people such as singing and then hiding when an inquisitive person searches for the music. It is often said that the little people love children and would take them away from bad or abusive parents or if the child was without parents and left in the woods to fend for themselves.

Other legends say the little people if seen by an adult human would beg them not to say anything of their existence and would reward those who kept their word by helping them and their family out in times of need

Hunting Superstitions

  • A spider web brushing against one’s face is good luck for hunting.
  • To carry a dried breast frog bone will also bring good luck.
  • To shoot and kill a blonde phase black bear will bring bad luck and the animal is considered sacred as some believe it to be a spirit.
  • To carry a rabbit foot while hunting will bring good luck.
  • Kill the first rabbit you see on your first hunt of the year and you will have a good hunting season.
  • To run back after you have entered the woods to hunt is a bad omen.
  • Wrap a black horsehair around your wrist and you will shoot straight.
  • If you are out hunting and you are walking along and see your shadow, it is a saying that you will not catch any game that day.

Mountain Giants

Their appearance are said to be hideous - claws, fangs, and deformed features. Some sources say that they might even have more than one head. However, some can be described oppositely - they can also be beautiful.

Mountain giants are said to have great influences on nature. In folklore, people have attributed violent weather and even land formations to giants. Stories tell that giants can move and create mountains, form lakes, move islands, and uproot trees. Half-finished buildings destroyed by harsh winds are attributed to giants blowing them over. They believed that smoke from a giant’s pipe causes mist and shaking, fighting, and sneezing cause earthquakes.

Black Hauteur

A Harry Styles Imagine

*In which Harry is from a male boarding house and you are from a female boarding house, and this is a little pathetic but please bear it.*

*** *** ***

The truth of the matter is that you’re supremely unremarkable. You are young, you are ordinary. You do not have eyes that are bright and metaphorical to otherworldly things, or a face significantly worth remembering. You have no terminal life-threatening illness, or a brushed adventure that you can accidentally spill on an insensate twilight. Behind your facade there are no magicians who cast your spells, no suitors to lay claim to the mess you are. And your words, perhaps your words are not beautiful, but they are yours, and within them, there’s a growing urge, a mere manifestation to create something beautiful, and even stronger urge to tell him, despite the blooming inclination, that you are waiting for him to listen.

But like most miseries, your story begins with apparent happiness. It begins with words and heads that sway, with Valentines Day and roses and the beginning of your first year at Med school & your absolute resentment, because you are young, and pitifully ordinary, and boys don’t like pitifully ordinary girls with non-metaphorical eyes and unmemorable faces.

You don’t really know what to do. This arranged boy-girl interaction means an awful lot of stutters and shame and pink cheeks and embarrassment if you are not pretty enough to be picked by a boy. But you try anyway; you dab a little rouge on your ordinary lips, wing-line your non-metaphorical eyes, and make a little card which you think is really silly. It’s black with a little of your poetry because there’s no way anyone would know that you write too many words to talk about a feeling that can be described in one: insignificant.

By the end of the night you’re supposed to slip your card underneath the door of the boy you favored most without signing your name to it. Yours, as dull as it is, reads like this:

“Come find me when your bones are rickety,  

And your breaths are labored,

When you’ve killed the night with the touch of your lips,

And you’re all but tipsy from these vinous conundrums.”

So it begins. It’s 21:00 on a Friday and you awkwardly wait around for the night to end as you watch the other beautiful girls with champagne in their glasses being charmed out of their wits by dashing young men in suits. You try not to cry; because in all honesty, you knew that this would happen. You know that boys like pretty, extraordinary girls, girls that are not you. You remind yourself that your worth is more than a boy wanting to talk to you, is more than a few awkward conversations and graceless dances and a kiss to bid you goodnight. Still, the shame in knowing that you’re undesirable is stinging, and painful.

“It’s absolutely pathetic, isn’t it?” A deep male voice booms next to your ear, and you have to stifle that gasp of surprise. You turn around, and seated behind your row is a tall boy with hair that cascades, and chartreuse eyes that gleam with mischief and hedonism. And he’s caught your eye since the beginning, but he’s too beautiful and all the girls fawn over him and there’s no possible way he’d talk to you. But here he is.

*** *** ***

So it begins. There are some words that lodge in your throat when he looks at the luminous skyline, a cigarette between pink lips. He’s your best friend now, but he doesn’t talk to you everyday, because he knows that oft times, you like to be alone with your thoughts and your books and your insignificant words. Harry’s terribly jolly, and you’re awfully sad, and what a marvelous pair you are.

He takes your hands in his tonight, unaware that your heart beats are erratic, and the winter remains static as he blows hot air into your hands. The way he says your name leaves you breathless, but you cannot ask him for more than this.

“You’re so lovely,” he says, when you offer him some tea. “ so lovely.”

And in the quiet night, the words resonate in the air. But it’s difficult, because there’s always someone else and you’re pretty sure he came to talk about her to you tonight. Harry doesn’t say anything, but simply stares at you until your face is smoldering, and you can’t seem to breath.

“Don’t do that.”

He laughs, and puts his hands up as if to say ‘I’m not doing anything.’ “Do what?” He says.

“Don’t look at me as if you’re assessing me. It’s odd, and it’s disconcerting.”

“You’re so lovely, you know that?”

“As you’ve said every time I’ve given you tea, Harry.”

“Yes, but your loveliness is not conduced by giving me tea.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.” He should never have said that, because now you know that you are so deeply in love with him that it chokes you. It burns you. It touches you between your legs and deep within your midsection. It kisses you on your neck and down your chest and asks you why you blush so violently when the weather is so mild.

“How was your date?” You ask. You’re pretty sure that once you hear the gory details of it, you’ll identify the causal associations of his pathological jolliness. 

“It was so lovely. We watched the musical and I realized that her eyes seem so surreal. I don’t think I will ever forget. And they speak of wonderful things. They speak of the gold eyes of the sunset, of a brown that bleeds its own godly sunsets long after the sun has said its promising goodbye.”

And you have to be silent as it settles in. He barely integrates subliminal metaphors when he describes things as meager as dates. 

“I know, it’s silly of me to think of it that way, right?” He shakes his head a little and flicks the cigarette so that you’re watching the ashes sway through the wind. 

“No, no. I think it’s very pretty and poetic. Not many people see brown eyes that way. It’s so pure.”

You say that, but something archaic and barbarous assaults you, because you’re suddenly green with envy. You often wish anyone would talk about you with such charming words and euphoric stares into far and deep distances, and this confession strikes that tender chord of insignificance that you feel all the time.

But he smiles tenderly at you then, something with fervent admiration and you remember that he’s your best friend and you can’t possibly expect him to know that you’re irrevocably in love with every fiber of his being, and you’d much rather be absolutely revered by him than be remembered as the jealous best friend. And it easily feels okay again.

The evening progresses, and he tells you about the play and the art and the insignificant things, and pretty soon you’re muffling your laughs into his chest and breathing in cologne and masculinity and nicotine and the wine you’re both sipping on feels tingly and exquisite in your veins. You could never really handle liquor, and wine isn’t supposed to affect anybody, but you haven’t eaten at all and your head feels wonderfully light.

“May I ask you a question?” You absent-mindedly play with the buttons on his shirt, and in your drunken stupor, the heat emanating from him is making you feel uncharacteristically carnal. “Actually, I don’t need your permission. Why do you keep taunting me?” 

“What are you talking about?”

“You keep taunting me. You’re so beautiful and I’m a mess and you look like something tempestuous and forbidden and you’re lithe and sinewy and your body is carved from sin and desire. every time I close my eyes I see us and tangled bed sheets and poetry and the stars painted across the black canvas of night that keep reminding me of you and Harry I cannot want you or love you as much as I do and so I keep trying to move away from this complexity but you keep saying these beautiful deep things and they keep touching me in places I didn’t think I had and I have to keep escaping you because around you I can’t breathe and I can’t think and I’m trying so desperately but your eyes keep looking me with something incomprehensible and I try not feel so hurt when you’re around her and I’m reduced to nothingness once more and Harry I want to breathe again.”

 And you only stop because you literally cannot breathe at all and it only gets worse when you realize the intensity of his alarm and the idiocy of your inebriated confession. 

“Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry. I’m sosososo sorry. Please excuse me.”

You stand up too quickly, and you’re ready to run; you’re ready to tuck the night into a paperless envelope and set it aflame. You’re walking too quickly and too disjointedly and you’re a stumbling drunken mess before you reach the table and you lean against it, breathing deeply. You realize you have nowhere else to go; this is your room after all. You’re willing yourself not to cry even though you may have potentially lost your best and only dear friend.

But your thoughts are short-lived, because just as quickly as you leaned on that table, you’re now seated on it, Harry clutching the back of your neck and forcing you to look at him through your winded breathing. There’s a volatile, fervent pleading in his gaze, and that too is short-lived, because he leans and whispers in his voice as ichorous as liquid and as tempting as sin. 

“I’d promise you a thousand tangled bed sheets with us between them if you want me to.” And then you’re both kissing deeply and his hands roam amorously. He’s poised and learned and gentlemanly as ever and you’re all but a mess and mangle of limbs and thoughts and a smoldering body. He’s said so little but his kisses promise you a study of your contours and your tongue tracing his tattoos and heated neck kisses and whispered “I love you”’s and kisses to break through the days you feel gloomy and sad and alone. He moans ever so softly against your neck when you thread your fingers through his clipped hair. All the while, it feels like you’ve come home to slender fingers and muscled arms and a beating heart encased by a chest with two sparrows on either side and pretty green eyes.

 And then you remember her, and you may be terribly ugly and pitifully ordinary, but your heart is pure and eternally laden with guilt and you’re not going to reach for entitlement for a man that doesn’t belong to you. You’re not going to wreck something glorious and wonderful for an innocent girl simply because of what you want. You’re not that selfish. So you push him away a little, and then a lot, and he remembers too.

And then you’re no longer kissing, and he can’t get away fast enough. “Love,” He breathes, “I’m so terribly sorry. I can’t do this to her. I’m sorry.” 

He says it all with conviction, but his eyes search yours with confusion, and now you’re tearing up and he can’t watch you break down because of him.

“I-I need to go.”

*** *** ***

Author’s note:

This is really rushed and really bad and really lengthy and I’m emotionally unwell and the female lead seems reckless and is everything I didn’t want her to be. But I can’t help it, the ink in my veins have been encroaching my fingertips for the longest time and even though it’s absolutely ghastly and pathetic, it’s all I have to give. 

Hope you enjoy this mess.

Please let me know what I should do next. 

You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is like an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not be come dirty.” -Mahatma Ghandi 

If I were filling out a form about myself and came to the religious preference section, I would probably check other or no preference or undecided. We didn’t go to church when I was kid, nor was I taught how to pray. However, I was taught how to read at my mother’s insistence. From a very early age I was always keen to words, the way people spoke, and how things were written. Writing has always been something I’ve been drawn to. I often felt some kind of a connection when writing, even if it was just my thoughts streaming down on to the paper without the intention of them ever being read by anyone.

“As I pen these things
It might literally be all I have
Ink on paper
Does any of this matter?
Then I’m reminded of what I’ve seen
The places I love and the people I’ve been “

I’ve never held any religious beliefs of my own, but I’ve always been drawn to the words of others. Some of my favorite musicians have religious backgrounds or used religion as a source of inspiration for their works. I love the raw emotion and passion that I feel in the music. They sing of a force and a being far greater than you and I. They speak of Love and Grace in the biblical sense as things that connect us to each other.

I believe that hope is something that connects us all. Hope is something that holds more power than a single person could comprehend. I have suffered ill at the hands of others, and it has been something I have come to accept and forgive, instead of holding on to anger and bitterness. 

“Only Love could have brought me to this place
Holding in me a joyful heart while spit covers my face
I’ve come to forgive those who’ve wronged me
Knowing that they’ve helped make me into exactly who You intended me to be.“

I have made it through to the other side of my hardest struggles. If you had asked me when I was walking through all of it what kept me going, I probably wouldn’t have had an answer half the time. I just felt this connection to someone, to something. Maybe it was the other people I had never met who were walking through the same sort of darkness that I was. Maybe it was a connection to this idea of hope, that our better days really are ahead. For some people this manifests itself in the idea of faith and believing in a higher power. For some it may be the connectedness of family and community that keeps them going. For me personally I just keep coming back to this idea of hope, that life is a wonderful gift to be treasured. So where my days were once filled with darkness, they are now filled with the light of pursuing and honoring this gift that I’ve been given.


“I’m trying my best to be a better man
Despite all my fears, I really am
I write these things to remind myself
That amidst this darkness, there still remains
Light, Hope, and a perfect plan
For the first time in my life
I am writing for the sake of writing
Living for the sake of living
Loving for the sake of loving
And I’ll live”

 Part of why I wished to pursue this internship was to hopefully make the differences in the lives of others. I wished to say the things I wish I could have said to those in my life that I’ve lost, those people whose memories and stories that are now a part of mine. Explaining how their passing has affected me and why I chose to pursue this opportunity isn’t something that has always been easy for people to understand. I often wrestle with understanding my own spirituality and then finding the words to explain it. I wrestle with finding a way to tell people that I am living for those we have lost. I’m living for hope and this idea that our lives are meant to be truly wonderful. I often find that other people have found far better words to describe it than I feel I could have.


“So you can call this sort of life a hopeless endeavor
That this tiny vessel could ever endure such violent weather
Call it pointless
I’ll continue to carry out Grace none the less
I will scream it till my face is blue
There is a point to all of this and its always been You”


      Kenneth, TWLOHA Fall 2014 Intern 

anonymous asked:

A group of "scientists" from the Netherlands just published a paper about how cultures living "near the equator" don't "promote responsibility" because they don't have to prepare for winter, and also they are more violent because hot weather makes people grumpy

Weird, because I noticed that “cold weather people” (great euphemism, BTW) are by far the most violent people throughout history through to today. But I guess colonizing and murdering the entire world was just cause they were grumpy.

Soldatin Pt. 14

Summary: The mission in the Austrian Alps does not go as planned leaving a member of the team injured.

Word Count: 2623

Warnings: Mission talk, action, drowning, blood, self-surgery

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10 Part 11   Part 12   Part 13

Part 15

Originally posted by acrownofbloodandroses

Your entire body is numb. You and Bucky are trudging through the snow in silence while the sun sets.

“Can’t help but think how nice this view would be from the window of a heated chalet with a nice cup of cocoa,” you say, finally breaking the deafening silence as the icy snow crushes under your crampons.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees as he looks up at the setting sun and the snow capped mountains surrounding you both. He furrows his brow, “What’s a chalet?”

You laugh, “Like a cabin.”

“Ooh. Yeah, that’d be nice instead of freezing my ba—um,” he catches himself, “Instead of freezing out here,” he clears his throat.

You smirk, “Steve and Nat should almost be in position in the southwest corner, Wanda and Vision shouldn’t be too far behind in the southeast.”

Bucky nods. The sun is setting fast. You are approaching the ridge which overlooks the Hydra base and a frozen lake. Loosening the climbing rope which is hung at your side, you hand half to Bucky and you both clip in to.

Approaching the wall of the ridge, you feel over several sections of ice, “We need blue ice,” you inform Bucky as you remove an ice axe from your side.

Smoothing out a large plane of ice with the adze on your axe, you chip away at the ice’s brittle surface in search of the strong, blue ice below.

Looking at your watch, then feeling the ice, you sigh, “You’ll have to do…”

Bucky looks slightly concerned but nods.

You take two ice screws from your side and proceed drilling into the ice in a V-formation. Removing the screws and checking the holes, you thread climbing rope through it and secure with a knot. Screwing in once more near the top of the V, you secure the knot below with a carabiner and give it a good tug.

You hook Bucky into the line, “I’ll be right behind you,” you promise as you toss the anchored rope over the side of the face.

He clips leans over the edge, testing the weight as he pulls down his goggles.

“Just don’t look down,” you smile and graze his cheek with your gloved hand, “See you at the bottom.” You give a little salute with 2 fingers and he starts to rappel down the roughly 80 foot face.

Keep reading

amunets  asked:

036 for the fluffy prompts please!

Assumes C knows that K is SG. Possible very vague spoilers from an upcoming episode.
See more notes at the bottom.


Kara had never liked Earth’s more violent weather; the thundering booms and bright flashes of lightning reminded her far too much of her planet as it disappeared and took her family with it.

The first storm after she settled with the Danvers was also the first night she let herself break down and sob for everything lost and every scary moment yet to come. She kept herself quiet, huddled in a corner and crying into her pillow, to prevent disturbing her human caretakers.

The storms after that still made her uneasy but she became stronger, she started to heal as much as one can after such a monumental loss. Eventually she learned to sleep through them even if she never did feel quite rested enough the morning after.

It wasn’t until Leslie returned and kidnapped Cat that Kara’s aversion to storms returned to the devastating level of her childhood.

The first flash of lightning roused her from sleep and by the time the rumble of thunder arrived her eyes were filling with tears. This time it wasn’t just the loss of her home she felt all over again, though that would always be with her.

No, this time it was flashbacks to watching Cat disappear in a flash of white light, unable to prevent it as the kryptonite spear in her chest drained her of power and life. It was remembering Cat’s painful screams as Leslie shocked her over and over again trying to call Supergirl to their location. It was the feeling of having to sit and watch and wait while her backup got into position.

She rocked on her bed, gripping her pillow to her chest as the storm built up and the cracks of lightning moved closer. She knew Cat was okay now. Cat was safe at home. Kara had saved her. She repeated it over and over but still could not stop the tears and the gasps every time the light lit up her window.

Finally, unable to stop herself no matter how selfish she knew it was, she picked up her phone and ignored the 2:30am on her lock screen. She pressed Cat’s name in her contact list. It rang only twice before she answered.

“Kara?” Cat asked. Always Kara now. “Are you alright? What’s going on?”

Her voice didn’t sound like she’d been asleep, Kara thought. She wanted to ask why her boss was awake, she wanted to ask if she was alright, but she couldn’t make her voice work. She was worried Cat would hear the sobs she was barely holding back. Just hearing the woman’s voice was like wrapping a blanket around herself. It was enough to keep the sights and sounds of the storm at bay for a moment.

“Kara, say something. You’re scaring me.”

That wasn’t at all what Kara had intended and so she cleared her throat and tried to speak. “I’m okay, Miss Grant. Cat. I’m okay,” but she couldn’t keep the hiccuping sound of crying from coming through the line. She was worried she’d have to explain.

“Is the storm bothering you, too? I haven’t been able to sleep at all,” Cat said.

Kara sighed with guilty relief. Cat understood because Cat had gone through it. Kara was glad to not be alone in her hatred of the storm, but her heart broke that Cat had to remember ever going through the experience at all. She wanted to offer words of comfort, she wanted to be strong for Cat, but she could only sniff into the phone and nod. Cat couldn’t see her of course, but Kara knew she got the message anyway.

“I’ve just been reading an interesting article on the rise of the Kardashian empire. And by interesting I mean it’s twelve pages long and I chose it because I thought it would put me to sleep by page two,” Cat said, voice lower now.

Kara smiled even as the latest boom made her jump and nearly drop the phone. “Will you read it out loud?” she asked, harnessing the bravery that came with a middle of the night phone call.

“Are you terribly interested in the Kardashians, Kara?” Cat asked with a soft laugh.

“No,” Kara shook her head and moved to lie down again, “but I’m terribly interested in listening to your voice a bit longer.”

There was silence on the line for a moment, long enough for the lightning outside to distract Kara again and make her wince. She shouldn’t have asked this of Cat, after everything it wasn’t Cat who should be doing the comforting.

But Cat cleared her throat and began, “Alright. But I’m not starting over, I won’t re-read this drivel. You’ll just have to keep up without the introduction.”

Cat read to Kara over the phone at nearly 3:00 in the morning and never asked why, never demanded an explanation or anything in return. At the end of page twelve she listened to the soft sound of Kara’s even breathing through the receiver. “Are you asleep?” she whispered.

“No,” Kara answered quietly,“but I feel like I can now. Fall asleep, I mean.” The flashes and the thundering sounds were no match for Cat’s voice. “Thank you,” Kara whispered.

‘Thank you for surviving, thank you for comforting me, thank you for existing.’ she thought.

“You’re welcome, Kara. Get some rest. I will see you tomorrow,” Cat reminded her before hanging up.

She would see Cat tomorrow, see that she was alright and still there. Kara fell asleep thinking about Cat’s voice as the storm raged on outside.


Thank you for the prompt! This wasn’t as fluffy as I wanted it to be because my headcanon is that storms really mess with Kara’s emotions instead of just making her afraid. I plan to follow it up at some point with something fluffier during another storm after Supercat gets together.


The great blizzard had swept through Falkreath so suddenly that neither Rowan nor Farkas had seen it coming. Wind and snow came blowing down from the mountains in a relentless fury, overwhelming the gloomy village and the surrounding forest in such powerful torrents of frost that it would be nigh impossible for travelers to navigate through… and Divines watch over anyone who tried. 

As the wintry gale raged on, Rowan made his way about Lakeview Manor, checking the doors and windows to be sure that all were closed good and tight. Suddenly, he caught an unfamiliar scent emanating somewhere from the lower level of the cabin. Moving slowly and with caution, he followed it to its source, knowing Farkas would have easily caught the smell of a stranger as well. When he came upon the opening to the entry hall, he found his husband already there, staring down an unexpected visitor who had sought shelter in their home while the violent weather ravaged the land outside.

“You didn’t lock the main doors?” asked the vampire, turning to Farkas with a quizzical look of disbelief written across his pallid face.

“I was getting to them,” said the wolf, eyes flashing perilously at the stranger while his posture lowered into a threatening position and his hands curled into fists at his side. “Guess I didn’t get there fast enough.”

Rowan sighed at his husband, but didn’t seem willing to argue the subject any further. He regarded the unknown guest with an air of consideration, deciding to allow them a chance to explain themselves before casting them out into the deadly cold. “All right, tell us exactly who you are,” he demanded, calm and concise - but there was a mild flare of danger in his scarlet eyes that suggested his good grace was not to be trifled with. “We can’t very well send some poor traveler away into this mess, but do not think for a second that we won’t kill you if we think you’ll try to kill us first.”

So you can call this sort of life a hopeless endeavor, that this tiny vessel could ever endure such violent weather; call it pointless, I’ll continue to carry out Grace none the less. I will scream it till my face is blue. There is a point to all of this and its always been you.
—  Being As An Ocean