wave down

I got lost out there in this world
Looking for a brand new wave to fall down
It’s no surprise that things gotten worse
And I think God never let me drown

While I was having the time of my life
I think my soul died a little every day
I always call to say I’m sorry
You said it’s okay
Through it all you never walked away

I didn’t have to lie to myself for so long
I didn’t have to let myself get so far gone
I didn’t have to make the ones I love feel so alone
I didn’t have to die to go to heaven
I just had to go  h o m e

Into the arms of my angel
Into the piece I’ve left behind
All I had to do to save my own life
Was to look into your eyes

Moon Signs 3

Moon in Aries: You have instinctive reactions to people, and you immediately form your judgments. Your enthusiasm is easy to elicit, as is your anger. When you are in doubt, you immerse yourself in the activity. You are action-oriented, impetuous and determined, but you can also be selfish, irritable, impatient and abrupt. You make your needs known. When you were a child, your mother had to react to your impetuous demands. It was necessary. As a result, you have perceived him as a dynamic person. She taught you, for example, to be independent.

Moon in Taurus: On the emotional level, you are cautious, trustworthy and enjoyable. You react slowly, but once you have decided to devote yourself to something, it’s for the long run. You are stable, but obstinate. In case of doubt, you refuse to move in the least centimeter. But you suffer in times of change. When you were a child, you desperately sought the safety of a present and caring parent. It’s likely your mother tried to be that for you.

Moon in Gemini: You are fickle, agitated, dashing, and you have a clear speech. You express your feelings with spirit and intelligence. But you take a basically cerebral approach to your emotional problems. Though you tend to worry, analyzing your own reactions brings you a dose of calm, and you adapt easily to change. As a child, you were agitated, curious and easily distracted.

Moon in Cancer: The Moon governs the sign of Cancer, and therefore no matter what else happens in your card, you are a lunar person: changing mood, receptive, sentimental, and supremely conscious of the continual flow of your emotions. Tears coqme easily, and the past exercises a magnetic influence on you. You are probably very affectionate and remarkably committed to your loved ones.

Moon in Leo: The Moon in Leo adds heat, luster and exuberance to any solar sign. You consider yourself an outstanding number. Although your pride is easily crumpled, you are generally confident and happy. But when things do not go as you wish, you conceal the doubts you have about yourself and your ambivalence by a firework of emotions.

Moon in Virgo: Shy in terms of emotions, you prefer to repress them rather than express them. You try to be discreet, and you may find it difficult to cope with major problems. Instead, you divert your attention by focusing on details or working so hard that you barely have time to think. You are industrious, you have practical sense and you are helpful.

Moon in Libra: You are gracious, kind, romantic and diplomatic. You avoid vulgarity and try to express your feelings in a balanced and reasonable manner. Love and relational life are indispensable to your well-being, and you can barely imagine life without a partner. But you also enjoy serenity, and you will do what is necessary to achieve this elusive goal.

Moon in Scorpio: Passionate and easily crumpled, you are a complicated person. Stubborn, intense, and sometimes self-destructive, you express your feelings indirectly and you often try to keep them secret, which may require a certain amount of manipulation. You avoid confrontation in terms of emotions: you feel that it is safer.

Moon in Sagittarius: You have a philosophic attitude, you are frank, cheerful and generous. Well-intentioned and idealistic, you are also a risk taker who depends on his independence and will do anything to preserve it. When a problem arises, you tend to look for rational explanations. It is easier for you to take action than emotions. You may believe that you are always right, even if it is not, which can inadvertently hurt you. But your optimism eventually comes back, and you embark on a new adventure.

Moon in Capricorn: You are stable, reserved and well disciplined. You know your limits. You may be pessimistic and sad because, in one way or another, the typical joy of childhood has passed you by. Reserved and complexed, you feel more stable and calm when you succeed. The exuberance of feelings and the dramas of other people make you anxious. But in times of crisis, you take responsibility. When you are in control, you experience a sense of authority and control that you try to maintain with great effort.

Moon in Aquarius: In the depths of yourself, you consider yourself a sort of Crusader or pillar of good works of charity. You like to think that you are able to make a difference in the world. Whatever else you see in your natal chart, you are attracted by what is original and non-conformist. It is difficult for you to express your emotions and you can give people the impression of being reserved. In reality, you do not know what to do with your feelings, and you are trying to pretend you do not.

Moon in Pisces: You are gentle, sentimental, influential and compassionate. But each emotional wave puts you down. Extremely sensitive and easily injured, you also possess a very fine intuition. When you act upon it, you are well. Although you may be dreamy and sometimes lack practical sense, it is imperative that you protect yourself emotionally.

I did some outdoors sketching during a brief glimmer of sunshine, but the on-flowing mysteries past the broad river-bend were barred by a beaked guardian.

The night starts with a big, spicy Philly cheese steak. It’s about 6pm. I’ve been wanting to try the cheese steak from this corny, 50’s retro place for a long time. I gobble down the big greasy bowl of meat, hot sauce, and cheese, then head to the coffee shop for my weekly draw group. A little after I get home, about 10pm, a stomach ache comes on. “Damn, guess spicy foods are out.” I’ve been getting stomach aches every time I have spicy Thai or hot wings. I google search about spice pain- possible stomach ulcer? “I guess I have been stressed lately, but no more than usual I don’t think…” File under “Will investigate further later.“ According to the comments on this health website, a glass of milk will help. Gulp one down, go to bed.

Wrestle to sleep for about an hour. Realize the ache is just over the required pain threshold to keep you from sleeping. Do some work on my comic, more tired, but stomach worse. Will play batman until I fall asleep. I feel like I’m just running in circles… How many times have I failed this mission? Batman, batman, stomach now hurts too bad to enjoy an active task like video games. Deliriously tired. Would be great to sleep through the rest of this abdominal temper tantrum. Try the old “hot shower will make you sleep” trick. Take some Pepto-Bismol, and some generic acetaminophen. Out of the shower, hurts to walk around now, and to lie down. Guess I’ll have to wait it out with my eyes open. Call and leave my Doc a message, maybe will get a spot in there tomorrow. Need to get that ulcer discovered… Time to enjoy a passive task like watching TV. Breaking Bad feels like the right mixture of funny and painful, just like me and my burning spice belly. Damn, I can’t even enjoy that part where during Hank’s interrogation of that meth head, Wendy, she accuses Hank of trying to buy sexual services from her on behalf of an underage “football player” (a misunderstanding involving Walter Jr. from a few episodes before). Oh hell. Time to look up what time emergency medical clinics open. Guess I’ll have to pay out of pocket since I can’t wait for my Doc tomorrow.  It’s about 4am now. Earliest clinic opens at 8. Now hungry again, but can’t eat what with all the pain. One hour down. Man, this is really starting to hurt. Can I really wait 3 more hours? Sitting is starting to hurt as much as lying and standing. And I’m still not enjoying TV. Okay, I’ve come to a decision…. 

“Hey, Kayla, my stomach still hurts, I’m thinking about driving to the ER, do you wanna come?” “Oh! Ya, sure. What time is it?” “It’s 5:30”. I  call the hospital “Hey, I’ve had a pretty bad stomach ache all night, I’m thinking of coming by.” Operator: *long pause* “Haha, well, okay! We’re open all night, so just come on in.” 

Driving with a stomach ache is not so bad, because you’re already hunched over. Wish Kayla could drive, but she doesn’t really know how, probably would have a panic attack and would definitely crash. Interesting that they have ER parking, I wonder how many ER patients drive themselves here… All bodily positions hurt my insides now, signing in to this place sucks. Give Kayla half the paperwork to fill out, glad she’s here, or this would be really boring. Man, they sure take a long time for someone trying to get into an empty emergency room… Signing in with a nurse, she ask me my height and I say “ ‘5’’8”, but I notice she puts down “ ‘5’’7”… They want to look at my pee, they always want to see my pee. I pee, no blood, so whatever that tells them means I’m getting an ultrasound first. Then a young nurse named Ken, a cool Asian dude with screws through both ears, squirts so much morphine into my IV that I lean back and audibly say “oh my god.” I feel it ripple like a shock wave from my arm down to the ends of my body. My belly is feeling alright now. 

The ultrasound technician tells me that babies are the least common thing she uses ultrasounds for. My joke has fallen flat. Back in the room, the doctor and his manila folder tell me “Good news! No gallstones, there are kidney stones inside your kidneys, but since they are inside, you shouldn’t be feeling the pain from those.” “Wait, does that mean I have to pee those stones out at some poin–” It is not discussed again. Seeing that neither organ has the appropriate stones, Doc would “rather not expose me to more radiation than necessary” and is working on discharging me. But, “I won’t leave here without a diagnosis.” 

In I go to the CT scan tube. That hot squish of contrast dye spreading through my veins. “Okay, we’re moving you into a room upstairs.” Says a hippy technician. Upstairs in my sweet and swanky single with couch, a person I’m pretty sure is just a businessman disguised in medical scrubs types on a computer. He takes down my answers to what seem like pre-surgery questions. “Do you have anybody specific on file in the event you are medically unable to yield consent  for yourself?” This, combined fact that they won’t feed me, makes me wonder what it is I’m going into surgery for. I saw this same thing about a year and a half ago with the whole brain debacle, but that’s a story for another time. Several medical people dip in, sprinkle breadcrumbs of information; it’s like a game show challenge that combines a scavenger hunt with a jigsaw puzzle. You have to gather the pieces of information from their hiding places, then assemble them in the correct order to reveal an answer. A tech comes in and spoils the game, “You seem to have a lot of questions, so I just want to make sure, you know you have appendicitis right? We’re about to take it out.” “Thank god,” I think. “It’s not the spicy foods. Spicy foods are still in.” Downstairs, in pre-op, I complain to my plain-clothes surgeon about how analog tests like pressing on my stomach are remarkably inaccurate, since a doctor’s subjective interpretation of my poor description of say, “the pain is slightly higher” can rule out appendicitis, the same appendicitis that a machine might spot an hour later. I tell him that I almost got sent home. My surgeon tells me he’s been doing analogue tests for 30 years, and not to worry about it. I start to tell him how “my deadpan reaction to pain also causes a lot of people to misdiagnose me, that a lot of people laugh when I describe how I’m in pai–”, but he walks away in the middle to get dressed for surgery. The operating room has big TVs and lights, it looks like a set, and I consider the possibility of fake hospitals as the anesthesia takes the wheel.

In the recovery area, the nurse tells me how big, inflamed appendixes can be agitated by spicy foods, foods high in fat, and dense foods like heavy cheese. I see an image of a spotlit cheese steak appear in a black void. Nurse feeds me ice chips and tells me she craves ice chips when she’s dehydrated. I suggest that she only craves ice chips because she works in a hospital, that ice chips are too unsatisfying a thing to crave at random, and that most people would just crave water. She agrees. Back upstairs in my room, it is now 8pm, and it has been 26 hours since I’ve eaten. I’ve been hydrated only through IV’s. The driest mouth and the clearest pee. Because the lingering anesthetic can cause nausea and vomiting, they will only give me jello. I go nuts on the jello. They continue to give me every jello I ask for, one at a time, like a test. Way past where I though the cutoff point would be, the nurse tells me “That’s it! There’s no more jello! You ate all the jello on this floor.” You’re damn right I did, you’re damn right….

do u guys even realize how silena went into battle dressed as clarisse mimicked the way patroclus headed into war dressed as achilles and how clarisse went full on fight frenzy mirrored the way achilles exploded in all out killing rage when they found out about their loved one’s death

Rosie sat on the floor, looking up at the scene around her with wide eyes, probably not taking anything in.

Sherlock and Mycroft were yelling at each other. Molly was holding some toys in front of her face to get her distracted from it, but she just watched with rapt attention as the brothers bickered.

John was at his laptop at the desk, ignoring the scene completely - it was one he had seen hundreds of times. It had lost it’s interest after the second.

Rosie opened her mouth and started making noises.

Molly put the toy down and waved John over.

“I think she’s starting to talk.”

“M-” Rosie choked out the M sound. By now both Mycroft and Molly were smiling - Mycroft’s rather bored, like he was doing it only because he thought he had to - and Sherlock looked on like he was watching at tennis match between the three. John nodded his head at her.

“Yeah Rose?”

“M-M-”

“Molly? Are you trying to say Molly?” she said to the young girl.

“M-Mu-”

Sherlock laughed as if he knew something the others didn’t. John didn’t have the time to be suspicious as he tried to coax his daughter into saying her first word.

“M-Mu-Murd-”

By now John was looking at Sherlock. “You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.”

Sherlock smirked. “Oh, but I did.”

Rosie clapped her hands on the floor.

“Murder!”

Things Happen

Summary: You wake up next to a man you don’t know, in a place you have never been in, not remembering what has happened the night before. What ensues after is hard to believe.

Word Count: 2,256

Warnings: Mentions of drinking and vomit.

A/N: Thank you to @whothehellisbella for her help, you are amazing, Bella! <3 I hope you all enjoy this one :D 

Originally posted by bucky-papichulo


The buzzing in your head was constant and obnoxious. You knew you had been stupid enough last night to drink yourself to stupor. Groaning, you reached for your pillow and instead your fingers threaded through long hair. Some part of you knew that you shouldn’t, but you still gripped tightly and pulled.

A loud yelp pierced through the air before a masculine voice began to curse. There was a sharp sting to the back of your hand and you hissed, pulling it back and cradling it to your chest.

Your eyes fluttering opened, you gave it a few seconds to fully focus on the person before you and you realized that you did not know him.

“Who are you?” you blurted out.

Keep reading

2

So I was watching Captain America: Civil War again. And I realised something. 

That bit at the end, where they find Zemo? They’re in Siberia. At the Hydra facility. Where Bucky Barnes was held, and trained, and conditioned, and tortured as the Winter Soldier. That’s his chair, right there. One of his chairs. He has at least one more – we saw one in Washington DC in CA:WS. But this is the big one. This is where he was given the order to kill Howard and Maria Stark, among others.

He’ll have a lot of memories associated with this place. A lot of very traumatic memories. He didn’t want to come here, we saw that in his face earlier. But he came anyway. Because Steve needs him.

That’s Steve Rogers on the left. And Tony Stark, also on the left. 

Bucky’s on the right, gun lifted, every muscle tense. The positioning of the scene means he’s separated from the others – physically and almost certainly mentally.

Look at his face.

Look at the terror. The barely-restrained panic. The stubborn determination to see this through – and he fully expects it to be a fight to the death against five other Winter Soldiers. It will mean his death and Tony’s death and Steve’s death, and then the world will fall and it will be his fault, because Bucky was the weakest of the six Winter Soldiers and he knows it. He knows he’s no match for even one of the other Soldiers, let alone all of them. He knows he will probably die here, in this place that has already caused him so much pain and suffering

(Also, for the entirety of Steve’s conversation with Zemo, Bucky’s in the background by the railing. We don’t see a reaction shot until after Tony finds out about his parents. But what’s Bucky doing there? Staring at the chair, trying not to throw up, perhaps? Trying not to pass out from the onslaught of memories, the emotional distress of being in such close proximity to the thing that was used to torture him for decades?)

He’s gripping that gun pretty tightly. He’s on edge. Maybe fighting the pull of his mind combined with this environment. In the previous scene, even when it was clear that Tony wasn’t about to shoot them on sight, he didn’t lower the gun until Steve physically waved him down. Was it because it was Steve, specifically, giving the order? Or was it his mind recognising a command from a superior officer?

He doesn’t want to be here.

He knows he’ll probably die here.

But he made a promise to Steve.

This? This is the end of the line.

And Bucky sure as hell is going to go down fighting.

Candy Hearts || Bucky x Reader

Summary → A year of silently pinning over your best friend and neighbor Bucky Barnes ends happier than expected when you spend Valentine’s Day together.

Word Count → 2.9K (I’m a wordy bitch, okay?)

Warnings → Cursing, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!). Fluff? Definitely fluff.

A/N → Happy #FreakyFriday y’all! I apologize for the delay, but I had an unplanned twelve hour work shift today. With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, I thought I’d try my hand at fluffy smut (it’s a first for me - so go easy on this fic). Other than that, enjoy!

A nervous giggle flew from your lips as you twirled on your toes to face the full-length mirror hung over the back of your bedroom door. Your usual untamed knot of hair had been brushed and curled into effortless beach waves that cascaded down your shoulders and back. You wore nothing but Bucky’s trademark, burgundy Henley, which you’d confiscated the last time you’d done laundry together. It hung loosely over your frame, hitting mid-thigh and creating an innocently sexy, ‘girl next door’ type of vibe. You undid the first few buttons of the V-neck, to show off just the right amount of cleavage. You opted for some mascara and pink chapstick, making your lips appear fuller. Thoroughly satisfied with your appearance, you exited your room and tiptoed excitedly down the hall.

Over the past eighteen months, as your friendship with Bucky had grown closer, the both of you had developed several traditions. Every Sunday you’d get together for pasta, you’d lift weights with each other three times a week, and Tuesday nights were spent on Bucky’s couch with abundant amounts of junk food while binge watching television shows. Unless there was a particularly lengthy mission for the team or some other out of the ordinary incident, neither of you ever bailed on your plans. And tonight, Valentine’s Day, was not about to be any different. You had been secretly ecstatic when Bucky double-checked you’d still be getting together for takeout and Netflix, despite the holiday.

Keep reading

6

Budapest Auditoriums by Zsolt Hlinka

In the words of the artist Zsolt Hlinka:

My “Auditorium” series has been built around a theme which always been among the most fascinating ones for me: symmetry. Similarly to my previous photo series, I’ve continued to look for places which have been built to embrace larger crowds, and are rarely seen in their “empty” states. This is how I’ve finally arrived at the determining venues of the cultural life of Budapest: the theatres.

A defining characteristic of my pictures is how they take the recipient to a reversed world: they no longer show the theatre from the viewer’s perspective, but from the point of view of the performer, looking out from the stage. However, instead of an audience, they reveal the grandiose symmetry of the spaces. In this changed role, time slows down, and it becomes a single timeless moment, where the auditoriums break down to waves, colors and moods.

Follow the Source Link for image sources and more information.

In the end it all comes down to waves;
what surges through our veins;
the way we make contact,
physical or ethereal.
   
                                        A
                                   greater
                               connection.
   
Be it touch, or energy resonating,
it all comes down to this pull
that is not gravitational,
nor magnetic, yet
moving us
closer                    
                          toward each other.
    
In the end it all comes down to waves,
surging, frothing waves; salt residue
sticking on the skin of lovers.
   
                            The full moon,
                                 blushing.
   
The intangible
unrelentingly undulating inside of us.
—  Waves, by M.A. Tempels © 2017