violent weather

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

Camellia:

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

Cactus

: Dreams of Beauty and Wealth Coming to Fruition

Calla Lily: Beauty

Carnation:

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

Chrysanthemum:

Red: Love
White: Truth
Yellow: Scorned in Love

Cinquefoil

: 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

Daisy:

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

Dandelion

: 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

Heather:

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

Hellebores

: Protection

Heliotrope: Devotion

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

Honeysuckle: Ties Between Lovers

Hyacinth:

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

Jasmine:

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

Jonquil

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

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

Lilac:

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

Lily

:

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

Magnolia

: 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

Poppy:

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

Primrose:

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

Rose:

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

Rosebud

: 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

Sunflower:

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

Tansy

: Declaration Of War

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

Tulip:

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

Venus Flytrap

: Incarceration, Confinement

Violet:

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

Wisteria

: Protection, Love

Zinnia:

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

3

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.

anonymous asked:

Will you give me land ideas for a Prince of Breath who loves storms and violent weather, heavy winds, and natural disasters, and has a fascination with pain of others and knifes?

heck yeah! my own personal land is the Land of Typhoons and Tranquility so I got quite a few good ideas for ya :D

-Land of Hurricanes and Blades

-Land of Thunder and Injury

-Land of Sadism and Gales

-Land of Prisons and Wakes

-Land of Gusts and Pleasure

This word – said in a tongue I know all too well
Bound by our unspoken promises
Held in our jagged breaths
Cradled in the tips of our fingers

A world beyond you and I
Spoken of as heaven
But, we live here
Dancing to the tune of wanderlust

Sipping zizib in the stone city of Zanzibar
Where we made our vows
To the arsenic skies of Advocate Harbour
Where we weathered the violent storms

The world calls us lovers
Some whisper soul mates
But these words are cages
For you and I

But, the old man in the streets of Islamabad told us what it was
राबता
Raabta
Inexplicable connection with another soul

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.

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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.

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
Maybe In A Different Universe| Stiles Stilinski Imagine Part 3

Originally posted by impxrethoughts

A/N; I don’t really think this turned out as good as I would have liked it to, but I’ve been so blocked, in regards to writing lately, and then I finally just wrote and everything thing just sort of poured out. I hope you all liked this at least a little, and I apologize if this wasn’t what any of you wanted. Enjoy, my angels <3 

Warnings/Triggers; I couldn’t really find any.. But if there is one, please let me know, and I’ll add it! 


There he sat, completely soaked, unnerved and apprehensive, upon your bed, waiting. His chapped lips were chattering against one another, hands shaken and numb, the boy’s entire being shivering violently from the hazardous weather. 

Stiles’ gaze lay fixated on his sweats, the maroon cloth clinging to his long legs and sculptured waist, not having enough courage to look straight ahead at your closed bedroom door.

 Mind reeling with the battle inside his head, he continuously tapped his converse clad feet against the floor, something he did when his nerves were at a dangerous high. 

Stiles could feel the anxiety building, making it’s why up through his swollen throat, closing his only air way and halting his breaths. He knew that in just a few moments, your door would open and you would witness the teenage boy at his very lowest. And even so, he couldn’t bring himself to care, his judgment clouded with too many mixed emotions he couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

The soft patters of what Stiles assumed to be your footsteps, caused his heartbeat to increase dramatically, cheeks heating up in pure guilt and sorrow. 

The spastic boy couldn’t decide if coming to see you was just one huge mistake, or if he was doing the right thing. But when he saw the look on your face when you caught his eye, he assumed it was a bit of both. 

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{Open}

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.”

Jonty rewatch, season 2 part 2!  This is a long one, so I put all but the first two episodes under a readmore to spare tag browsers.  Hopefully people who liked the first two posts will be willing to read this one since it’s where most of the heavy shit comes in.  Anyway, LET’S DO THIS.

2x09

  • God, Monty is so fucking smart.  While everyone else is arguing, he is figuring out what they need to do, how they need to do it, and what they need to do it with.
  • Monty’s GIANT SMILE when they break through the wall.  I’m pretty sure that is the biggest we see him smile like ever.  I can’t tell if he’s excited that his plan worked or he just really likes fiddling with electronics and can’t fucking wait to get started.
  • Jasper can’t be on watch because Jasper needs to hold the flashlight and offer moral support for his boy.  <3
  • When Jasper realizes Monty is missing, I swear he almost fucking passes out.  You can see like his entire existence flicker for a second, like his entire brain momentarily forgot how to be.
  • Again, Monty is SO FUCKING PUMPED when he unjams the frequency.  I feel like Monty doesn’t do things like this on his own much.  He’s usually operating under someone else’s orders or following somebody else’s plan.  But in this episode, Monty has the idea, Monty makes the plan, and Monty executes it.  And it works, and he is just so pleased with himself.
  • And then it all comes crashing down.  He is so obviously nervous when talking to Emerson; I don’t think he has much experience with lying. Jasper is probably the one who usually talks them out of trouble, if it comes to that.
  • But I doubt even Jasper could have lied his way out of this one.  Emerson clearly suspected something, and Monty just didn’t have the knowledge he needed.  He was too caught up in making sure the plan worked, and it costs him dearly.
  • Monty in the cage destroys me.  They knocked him out, took his clothes and confined him like an animal.  For all that Jasper suffers in Mount Weather, he was never caged or drilled, never dehumanized like this.  But Monty was, and it’s something he will likely never be able to forget.

2x11

  • Oh boy, here we go, Jasper has lost all chill.  Jasper is fresh out of fucks.  He is so fucking tightly wound here, so full of fear and anxiety and worry.  And he’s spent two days like this.
  • Listen to how calm and even his voice is when he’s talking to Wallace, right up until the exact moment he fucking snaps: “NO!”  He goes from whisper to ROAR in like a split second.
  • The whole confrontation with President Wallace is basically the darkest we’ve seen Jasper at this point.  It’s kind of disturbing how quickly his emotions shift, how comfortable he is with calling attention to his own instability in order to threaten this man, to make him see that in this moment, Jasper is capable of anything.
  • SIDE NOTE: Jasper with a sword is unreasonably hot.
  • Monty telling them that Harper is too weak to drill.  The unspoken implication: “I’m not.”
  • Jasper repeatedly shouting “Open it!” at the guard who was just given a direct order by the President and is clearly already opening the cage.
  • Monty crying when he hugs Jasper, wincing as he is pulled out of the cage.  They drilled him.  They took a part of him while he screamed for them to stop, and put it into someone else.  I wonder who got his marrow?  It was probably Cage, that fucking dick.
  • Monty has to lean on Jasper as they walk out, but seems able to stand on his own in the next scene.  How recently had they drilled him?  How much did they take?
  • Just a reminder that Jasper was not the only one who wanted to stay in Mount Weather before he knew: basically everyone had questions and reservations about leaving in the next scene.  Remember, no one but Jasper’s inner circle knew the full extent of what was happening, and that was probably for the best.  Crowds make bad decisions, and everyone knowing would’ve just made rash actions or accidental leaks more likely.
  • It’s interesting that though Jasper is positioned as leader of the 47, when he tells them they’re leaving, the group doesn’t really start moving until Monty backs him up.  “Do what he says.”
  • But after that, it seems to be cemented.  During Empire of Our Own, after the camera pans past Monty taking care of Harper (♥), we see the rest of the Delinquents, their eyes all focused on a single point offscreen we can’t see… until the camera pans to Jasper.  They’re all looking to him.  And from the look on his face, he knows it.

This is where it gets long, and I just start gushing, so proceed at your own risk.

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