fic: Yin and Yang

title: yin and yang

genre: fluff/tiniest bit of angst if you squint

warnings: swearing | word count: 1500

description: a sunset beach walk after phil’s thirtieth birthday brings talk of things to come and decisions they figure they need to discuss. plus there’s this metaphor about the sunset.

yin and yang; light and dark, day and night - two opposites that are made to be together.

“I think you’d be a sunrise,” Phil says.

Dan quirks an eyebrow and prompts him to elaborate. “I’m all gloom and darkness, I’m definitely a three am sky.”

Phil frowns. “Maybe, but you’d be scattered with stars. And you’d be five in the morning, not three, the sun would be just about ready to rise. There is some light in you, Dan.”

Keep reading

Eighth year part two

While walking to his seat in the great hall Draco’s eyes scanned the room. The Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables were filled end to end with bubbling students, but the Slytherins sat as though they were enveloped in darkness. While most first years were smiling, the ones who were here only one year prior during the war, sat with clouds above their heads. Everyone knew it, majority of the Slytherins parents fought for the Dark lord, on the losing side. Now those parents were dead or residing in Azkaban, just like Draco’s father. A lot of prejudice was meant to disperse with the enactment of the house unity push, but the malice towards the Slytherins ran deep so their efforts would be wasted.

As his eyes scanned the dining hall they quickly met with striking blue ones, Luna. She gave him a wave, he had given back a stiff nod. Draco finally made it to the Slytherin table and sat next to Blaise. They quickly dove into a conversation, both boys avoiding the topic of war and their parents, which they were both grateful for. Blaise had spent the summer in America, visiting places he had always dreamed of going. Draco did nothing noteworthy enough to tell Blaise. Once Headmistress McGonagall took the podium at the front of the hall, all the chatter died down.

“As you all know Hogwarts was home to the final battle of the second wizarding war and had suffered much damage, as well as,” she paused a moment to gather herself, “taking the lives of some of Hogwarts very own. While this castle will never be the same, we do hope you find your time here valuable. Now onto other business, in all of Hogwarts history, the 4 houses have been divided in their common rooms and in this very hall. This year that will no longer be the case. Dormitories and common rooms are now separated by year and you’ll be encouraged to sit anywhere you please in this hall and make new friends no matter which house. We hope you will find peace and a home within our castle walls once again, for Hogwarts will still hold its pride until the very end.” Once she finished speaking and stepped down from the podium, no one clapped, they all took a respectful moment of silence.

The clamor of the great hall didn’t pick up again until the food appeared on the gold dished on front of them. Draco once again felt his eyes wander the hall, drawn like a moth to a flame his eyes landed on Harry. There he sat next to the girl Weasley. Draco felt his stomach turn. She was everything Harry deserved, smart, pretty, talented, and not a death eater. Definitely not a death eater. They were the ‘it’ couple, they both played exceptional quidditch, they both were outgoing and popular, and their relationship even mirrored Harry’s parents. Draco felt sick with jealousy.

Ginny was always the one wrench in Draco’s assumption that Harry had been a little bit gay. Once Harry had met Cedric Diggory, Draco could’ve sworn Harry had crush on the Hufflepuff boy. Which only made Draco feel worse because most Hufflepuffs were the exact opposite of most Slytherins. Draco felt he knew Harry’s type then. But after all the stolen glances, quiet conversations and after mourning over Diggory’s death as if they were lovers, Ginny still was there. Comforting him, loving him. It drove Draco mad.

To avoid getting upset further, Draco peeled his eyes away from the sight and turned them down towards his plate. He wouldn’t lift them again until Blaise reached over and bumped Draco’s arm with his own.

“My bet is we’ve got a bloody good chance of getting a room together.” Blaise said like he had read Draco’s earlier thoughts. The boys smiled at one another and continued their meals. Draco always had a lot of respect for Blaise. He was the smartest next to Draco and Pansy. He didn’t flaunt it either he was down to earth. They got along well with one another.

Draco was about to take another bite of his dinner when McGonagall stopped right in front of him. He straightened up. He couldn’t control the slight fear that ran through him. She was the former head Gryffindor teacher and he was a former death eater. Something must’ve been off.

“Mr. Malfoy,” even his own wretched last name made him cringe, “ would you please make you find you way to my office once the feast is over?” She asked in a polite tone which eased Draco’s apparent tension.

Draco gave a strained smile which must’ve pleased her because she turned on her heel and moved back towards the front. All the possible reasons for this meeting ran through Draco’s mind. Maybe they wouldn’t allow him to go here anymore with a dark mark scorched on his wrist. Perhaps since his family housed the dark lord, they couldn’t fathom letting him walk the halls. He was a trigger for the kids who wished to push the war out of their mind.

He couldn’t have been more wrong though, because after dinner he did make his way to the headmistresses office, only to find Harry sitting upon one of the upholstered chairs. Once he heard the door creaking, Harry turned around. The two boys locked eyes. Harry’s were still as bright as ever.

“Oh thank Merlin. I though I was in trouble for something already, but now that you’re here I don’t believe that’s the case.” Harry spluttered.

“Of course, because you Potter, the boy who saved the wizard world twice would be in trouble on the first day of school. Honestly, they call you the chosen one!” Draco retorted sarcastically. The name “Potter” rolled off of Draco’s tongue with the slightest of ease.

Harry’s eyes brightened at Draco’s use of sarcastic tongue. Maybe it wasn’t the sarcasm actually, maybe it was the fact that the last time they had a two way conversation, Harry tried talking to him, but it wasn’t Draco it was a quiet and deprived shell of Draco’s former self.

It had happened while Draco sat outside the ministry’s court doors awaiting his family’s trial. He wasn’t sure whether or not he would walk out of those doors or have to spend the rest of his days staring at an Azkaban prison cell wall. But when he heard quick foot steps and saw Harry Potter running down the hall towards him, slight hope radiated itself in Draco’s mind.

While he felt relieved Draco also felt angry. What game was Harry playing at, maybe he wanted to hear the minister claim guilty in person, or maybe he wanted to give Draco hope only to take it away last second. Quite the opposite actually though, Harry wanted Draco and Narcissa to walk free, they weren’t responsible for Lucius’s actions. He wouldn’t ever bring himself to help Lucius out of the situation he dug himself into for years.

“Come for more Kudos have we Potter? Isn’t saving our world twice enough? We’re already in your debt don’t twist the knife!” Draco’s shouts echoed through the empty ministry walls.

Harry looked shocked at first but then He stuck his hand out halfway confidently and looked Draco in the eyes, “ I’m not here to make you feel worse you tosser. 7 years ago I refused to shake your hand because I thought you were a twat. I have realized now that you weren’t a twat by choice and you do not deserve to spend the rest of your life in Azkaban. So, let’s start over.”

That shut Draco’s anger right up. A smile threatened to break through onto Draco’s face but he reached out quick to shake Harry’s hand, in fear it would be yanked away from him soon.

Draco was torn from the memory when the door swung open revealing McGonagall in her finest purple robes and recently cleaned glasses. She motioned for Draco to sit, then she herself took a spot behind her desk.

“Now as you know all dormitories are split by year and so I have decided that it would be most beneficial if you two were the prefects of the 8th year common room.” McGonagall said, then giving the boys a look as if daring them to challenge her.

“What exactly does that mean?” Harry asked while playing with his fingers, not paying attention fully.

“Well we need house unity, and what better to promote it than a popular Gryffindor and a popular Slytherin? You guys will share a room and advise your common room. I’ll expect you two to get a long and be able to run things efficiently.” She said it as though it was obvious.

“What you’re basically saying is that you’re going to put me and Potter together because, he’s the chosen one and anyone will follow what he does, and I’m an ex death eater. So if the infamous Harry Potter can befriend a death eater, why can’t all the others?” Draco’s words had no malice behind them, just truth.

“If you want to get technical Mr. Malfoy, then yes. It could be a great opportunity for you two as well though. Don’t think I didn’t hear about what happened at the ministry. You boys aren’t enemies anymore.” McGonagall said all knowingly.

But she wasn’t all knowingly because had she been so, she would’ve known the boys were never enemies. At least Draco never saw Harry as an enemy, his feelings got in the way of that and created a storm blaring in Draco’s mind. 

Draco was about to object strongly to McGonagall’s proposal. There was no way he could share a room with Harry. His heart was too weak to walk into their room every night and see Harry and Ginny, the perfect couple, hanging out in their shared room. The thought of it made Draco dizzy. He couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t.

But before Draco could fit in his opinion, Harry opened his mouth.

“I think it’s a brilliant idea Headmistress! When do we move in?” Harry could hardly contain the excitement that spread across his face. Draco took note of how green Harry’s eyes appeared then. They blazed the same gleam of desire as they did when Harry spotted the snitch on the Quidditch pitch.

Draco hadn’t known what Harrys excitement meant but he knew that this was one of the worst ideas Harry has ever had. If it had gotten bad, Draco knew he would be back here begging to switch rooms. Bloody hell, he didn’t even care if he roomed with Weasley, anything to get away from Potters relationship rubbed in his face.

Even though deep down Draco’s mind was screaming that he would finally get Harry’s attention, because how could you ever ignore someone who slept in the bed across from yours?

⚠️This part is a bit short and the story seems to be going slow, but I promise it’s gonna pick up soon! I just wanted to establish the background and beginning. But let me know your thoughts! The support I got on part one is literally the most amazing thing to happen to me. Everyone on here is so sweet to new writers! Thank you so much for reading 💛💗⚠️

FIND PART ONE HERE ——> https://marshmclaren.tumblr.com/post/164282548849/eighth-year-part-one


congratulations team ike

its official. the trend is broken and after 6 gauntlets we finally have our first ever male gauntlet winner. 

i can’t speak for members of the other teams, or for those of you who supported ike from the very beginning, but as someone who joined from team lyn im very happy to see ike win. yes, there was a lot of salt and character bashing from some members of team lyn against team camilla, but i also saw a lot of baiting and trolling from some members of team camilla against team lyn as well. so lets not pretend either side is perfect and did nothing wrong.

that said, great effort to team camilla. regardless of how it happened, the least popular female character in the gauntlet made it to the final and held her own against the most popular male character. you guys did a great job and you should be very proud of your efforts.

team ike, once again congratulations. you guys did what many once thought was impossible. you should be very proud of fighting through extremely popular characters from start to finish and coming out on top. i also hope this win will help the lyn fans who are still feeling the burn of that ill timed multiplier against camilla to get over the loss.

regardless of who won, the important thing to keep in mind that gauntlets end, and when they do we should move on from all the toxicity and negativity and look forward to the next upcoming feh events together.

Things are sweeter when they’re lost. I know because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly… And when I got it, it turned to dust in my hands. And that taught me you can’t have anything… Because desire just cheats you. It’s like a sunbeam, skipping here and there about a room. It stops and gilds some inconsequential object, and we poor fools try to grasp it, but when we do, the sunbeam moves on to something else and you’ve got the inconsequential part. The glitter that made you want it is gone.
—  F. Scott Fitzgerald, “The Beautiful and Damned”

“We’re doing the opposite of what we planned to do when we moved here,” murmured Candy. Morgan raised an eyebrow.

“You know,” Candy said, “you’re a politician. A successful politician. And I’m good at my job, too.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s not. It just feels like … we’re growing up.”

Morgan laughed, putting an arm around Candy’s shoulders.

“But we’re together. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Candy nodded.

“I’m not exactly … worrying. I just never thought that it’d happen.”

“I know, me neither.”

I love Liam because he is an impulsive idealist, because he makes mistakes, because he sometimes drives her mad.
I love Liam because he will say and do anything to show he loves her without saying he loves her.
I love Liam because they don’t have to see eye to eye to care about each other. They can argue, it’s fine.
I love Liam for flooding her email with vids, writing down a long list of “what we’ll do when we move in together” and sending it to her by mistake.
I love Liam for his friendship with Jaal and for always trying to unite people of different races and cultures.
I love Liam because his hair is so precious and he is outstandingly sexy.

And I love Liam because he deserves more love.

Taking My Life Away Part 19 ~end~

Originally posted by chrisstmaself

Originally posted by drama---llama

Summary: Reader gets a job in a new city forcing her to leave her best friend behind. Or not.

Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 1832

A/N: This is it! It’s super cheesy and I really hope I didn’t disappoint anybody! I wanted this to be an even 20 parts, so if anybody wants like, and epilogue about the future I’ll write one if I get enough feedback. Again, thank you everybody for reading!! If you ever wanna be tagged in anything else that I write please let me know!!

Catch Up Here

Keep reading

Imagine Roleplaying With Andy

Originally posted by recandpark

Let’s Do Something

Requested By sugar-rae99

Summary: Andy comes to rescue you after a very dull day at work for a little roleplaying fun.

Warnings: None.

A/N: So I’m not particularly proud of this one, but its not the worst I’ve ever done. I feel like I could’ve added more, so if you aren’t satisfied with this, you can always request a longer one or a part 2! (The reason for this is probably my lack of sleep and terrible anxiety, but as I proof read it, it doesn’t seem too bad)

You were actually yawning in the middle of the day, the time you were usually the most hyper. There was literally nothing to do and nowhere to go. Leslie was off somewhere, April was in her usual “don’t bother me” mood, Ron was locked in his office with a gun, and you really didn’t notice Jerry sitting at his desk half-asleep.
You heard a strange rolling in the hallway and perked up, a smile growing on your face. “Y/n!” Andy called, skating into the big room, flipping over the desk and standing quickly up, smiling at you.
You laughed, making your way over to him. “Just the person I wanted to see. What’re you doing here?”
He tried to suppress his smile, holding out an upside-down fake badge. “Burt Macklin. FBI.  We have a case!”

Keep reading

Fight me- Chapter 5

A/N: Hey guys! Surprise!!! Here’s another chapter! And it’s really long, too! I’m spoiling you guys. :D
I’ve broken a rule of reader inserts in this chapter. I know, I’m disgraceful. But here’s my explanation: instead of using a Y/M/N (Your Mum’s Name) or Y/S/C/N (Your Second Cousin’s Name) thing for a particular character in this chapter, I have named them. I did this because this character is a terrible human being, and I think it’s distasteful to associate a person that you guys knows with them.
There are quiet a few possible triggers in this chapter, so if you don’t want to read those bits, I’ll put a little summary at the bottom and little horizontal lines where the really bad bits start and finish.
As always, I hope you enjoy and let me know if you want to be tagged! I take requests, so please, request away!
Series summary: Dean is fighting for money and he meets someone interesting
Word count: 1800 (I really am spoiling you!)
Warnings: language, a lot more angst then usual, verbal abuse, brief mention of drug use, child abuse, a bit of violence, mention of sex work, I think I’ve covered everything.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Originally posted by generalsloth

Dean’s watching day time TV when Y/N woke up. She yawned, and stretched before sitting next to Dean on the couch. She sniffs herself, trying to be casual, then cringes. “Do you have any deodorant I can use?” Dean nods, going to his duffel and pulling out a spray. He chucks it to her and she quickly applies it under both arms, before chucking it back. He sits back down, and they continue watching for a while. Eventually, Dean breaks the silence and turns to face her, “So it’s Sam’s birthday tomorrow-“
“-and you want me to get lost?” She asks, still watching the screen. Dean sighs, “No, I was wondering if you’d come with me to buy his present? You’re welcome to stay for it. It would probably be more fun if you did.” She was quiet for a moment. “That sounds fun.” Was her soft reply. Dean smiled, “Good.” Y/N turned towards him, “But I’m gonna need some clothes. I can’t just wear your castoffs for the next week.”

Keep reading


Chen: Well, I can’t watch Joonmyunnie a lot since I’m in front of him when we do the sexy moves, but I can still feel him~ :3 /continuously brushes tail against hyung’s crotch/

Suho: Hmm, okay guys, let’s take a break now and reconvene in 15 minutes. Jongdae, come with me, I need to talk to you about your… dance moves.

Chen: Hehe, yes hyung~

Baekhyun: Aw, again? This is the third time we’ve had a break, I just wanna finish practice so we can go out and get ice cream…

Kyungsoo: They’re just gonna have another quickie in the bathroom, aren’t they…

right, okay, so. long story time.

for the past year i’ve lived in a queer hippie commune with four other people and a cat, and for the most part it’s been fairly decent (only one major fight!). we all have our own lives and sometimes we get together and make fun of bad movies. it’s chill.

but like, hippie communes aren’t exactly known for their cleanliness, which is why they’re generally located in abandoned buildings, or dorms, or storage containers, or in the middle of the woods - you know, places where you can make your pillow nests and keep your empty can collections and brew your dubiously legal substances without the neighbors getting suspicious. makes sense, right?

so obviously we got a fancy detached house from a rich neighborhood.

it was mostly an accident: my friend happened to contact the nice middle-class finnoswedish nuclear family from the nice middle-class finnoswedish area a week before they left to australia for a year, so they really had no choice but to accept. it seems that even a ragtag bunch of more or less put together young adults is better than no residents at all. (we told them we’re responsible students, of course. they didn’t check if it was true.)

so the whole city is known to attract above-average, well educated, middle-class families with young children, but it was especially apparent in our block. it was a rich cishet wet dream, basically; rows and rows of quaint detached houses with white picket fences and strictly kept lawns, constant sounds of children playing, such a safe environment that the greatest drama we witnessed all year was neighbors passive-aggressively cutting their lawn just slightly shorter than the residents next door. truly picturesque… and boring as hell.
every single house was readymade, each a different shape but somehow still indistinguishable from the rest. every single piece of furniture was bought straight from ikea. i’ve had three separate people tell me that the original interior looks like it’s straight from a catalogue. i mean i guess if you like kitsch…

so, naturally, the first thing we do when we move in?

we fucking wreck the place.

we glue the clean white walls full of pictures of troy bolton and cover the horrid grey sofas with rainbows and hang a giant communist flag on the wall with duct tape. someone manages to wedge a fork in the toilet and one of my housemates starts brewing moonshine in the tidy glass balcony. the lovely wooden kitchen counters are completely covered in junk and plants. parties are held and alcohol&vomit is cleaned up from the hardwood floor more times than i care to remember. the neighbors side-eye us when we break the block’s lawnmower in our overgrown grass but say nothing because they’re polite and passive-aggressive.

it gets worse as the year progresses. four out of the five of us succumb to depression and cleaning just… doesn’t happen. it gets to the point where i’ve completely forgotten what the laundry room looks like under all the junk. there’s rotting food everywhere and dirty dishes all over the house. the mess extends to the yard and even on top of the roof. (one of my housemates being a hoarder does not help.)

and suddenly it’s summer again and it’s time for us to move out.

it takes us collectively two weeks of continuous cleaning. sixteen rags, ten sponges, five bottles of cleaning solution, two mops, two vacuums, one steamer. we fill the block’s dumpster TWICE. we scrub every millimeter of the hardwood floors, of the clinical white walls, even the fucking ceiling. we try to fix and mask the holes left in the walls and the scrapes in the hardwood paneling. we methodically wash the stupid fucking fabric stairs. i fracture my finger while personally sanding and re-oiling the kitchen counters and the entire goddamn sauna. when we finally finish, we can only pray to any deity willing to listen that they’ll somehow gloss over any remaining damages.

and so the day comes and the father of the family arrives to collect our keys and to look over the house. he inspects the interior in his cargo capris and middle-class dad blouse, his hair done effortlessly and his beard trimmed, practically oozing stern fatherly judgement. i stand by and try not to show how nervous i am, although i am sure he knows anyway. we walk through the building in silence.

finally, he turns and looks down at me, straight in my eyes, and says,

“The house looks fine to me, but the floors are dusty. Did you get sloppy with your final cleanup?”

Imagine Spending Valentine’s Day With Your Brother Dean

Request: Hi!! I was wondering if you could do an imagine w/ Dean and a sister reader (age: 13) where its Valentine’s Day and they kinda just spend time together and just really appreciate each other. ALOT of fluff also :). Thank you and I love your blog❤️❤️ - @anarahma

Author’s Note: Thank you! I changed it a little bit, but I hope you still like it! Did anyone go to any Valentine’s Dances growing up? I don’t even think my schools had them or maybe they did and I just hated after school activities a lot. – Haley xx

It was Valentine’s Day and this year your school decided a Valentine’s Day Dance would put everyone into that lovey dovey spirit, but for you, it did nothing. You had no interest into going to a dance with a date, you were thirteen years old, and also, a Winchester.

Even if you were a lot young than your brothers (ten and six years, respectfully), love still didn’t come your way because the Winchester’s have bad luck with it. There’s also no way in hell Dean and Sam would let you go out with a boy to a dance, even if it was for a bunch of middle schoolers.

You sighed and flopped down on the motel bed. “What’s up, kid?” Dean asked, from across the room.

“When do we move again?” you asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“Why?” You heard the chair scrape back and Dean’s heavy boots hit the floor.

“Because I’m done with the stupid school. I hate it. Tonight’s the Valentine’s Dance and I rather hunt a million vamps than go.”

You felt the bed dip with Dean’s weight and you looked over at him. “Why do you care so much about a dance?”

“I don’t!” you exclaimed and Dean laughed. “There’s no point. I can’t even dance and no boy asked me anyways…”

“So, if a boy did ask, you would go?” Dean asked.

Your face got real hot and you pulled yourself off the bed. “No!”

Dean rolled his eyes and laughed again. Dean stood up and walked to the small kitchenette area where an even smaller radio sat on the counter. Dean grabbed it and switched it on, tuning to a classic rock station and keeping the volume low. “Alright, come here,” he said, walking in the middle of the room.

You sighed and did what he said. Dean placed one of your hands onto his shoulder, while he wrapped his around your waist.

“I don’t want to dance with you,” you mumbled.

“I don’t give a shit,” Dean said. “I would make you dance with Sam since your so damn tall, but he won’t be back tonight. If you can’t dance, I’ll teach you.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is dumb.” His free hand held yours and you two started slowly twirling around the motel floor. You all danced for a few songs. Dean dipped you and everything was fine, until he did it again and he dropped you.

“See,” Dean said, helping you up. “That’s why you don’t go to dances.”

“So you drop me on the floor instead of someone else?” you asked.

“Exactly,” Dean winked.

“Whatever, you big loser, but thanks for dancing with me. Next year I can smoke everyone else.”

“As long as I can scare the boy who is taking you, I don’t care,” Dean said. He grabbed his keys from the table. “Let’s finish the Valentine’s Brother Dance with some food.”

Retrograde (7/?)

A/N: HEY. Happy New Year to you all, you bunch of wonderful, beautiful people! I’ve reached 4.2k followers and I am still amazed by that! Also, I have begun a new chaptered fic called The Anatomy of You and Me which you can find here (shameless plug) and yep, that’s about it. HERE’S CHAPTER 7. (P.S. The reactions to the chapter 6 cliff-hanger were golden!) 

Title: Retrograde 

Genre: Romance/Angst/Comfort

Warnings: Swearing. 

Description: Dan is involved in an accident that leads to major consequences…he wakes up with amnesia. The good news, he still remembers Phil. The bad news? He thinks it’s 2009, that he’s only 18 years old and that Phil Lester is just the YouTuber he obsesses over behind his laptop screen who doesn’t know he exists. Together, they help Dan rediscover who he’s become and watch him fall in love with Phil all over again.

Word Count: 2500 

Chapter One. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter


Chapter Seven: If You Wait.

Keep reading

Frequency & The Law of Vibration

In the year 1905, Albert Einstein proved that we can break matter down into smaller components and that, when we do, we move beyond the material realm and into a realm in which everything is energy.

This is the Law of Vibration, a law of nature that states that ‘nothing rests; everything moves; every-thing vibrates.’ The lower the vibration, the slower the vibration; the higher the vibration the faster the vibration.

The difference between the manifestations of the physical, mental, emo-tional and spiritual result simply from different levels of vibrating energy, or frequencies. So, while the feelings of fear, grief and despair vibrate at a very low frequency, the feelings of love, joy and gratitude vibrate much quicker.

The most common unit of measure for frequency is the Hertz, which is one vibrational cycle per second. So a frequency of 460 Hz means that there are 460 cycles of vibration occurring every single second.

“All the physical matters are composed of vibration.”
-Dr. Max Planck

At the very leading edge of biophysics today, scientists are recognizing that the molecules in our bodies are actually controlled by these frequencies.  In 1974, Dr. Colin W.F. McClare, Ph.D, an Oxford University Bio-Physicist, discovered that frequencies of vibrating energy are roughly one-hundred times more efficient in relaying information within a biological system than physical signals, such as hormones, neurotransmitters and other growth factors.

Although most frequencies exist outside of our normal range of perception, all can be perceived as both colors and sounds. There are seven colors in a rainbow and seven notes in the musical scale. So the color blue is also heard as the musical key of D, which vibrates at 587 Hz.

But what is most interesting is that, if a frequency is vibrating fast enough, it’s emitted as a color of Light.

If we wanted to convert sound to Light, we would simply raise its frequency forty octaves. This results in a vibration in the trillions of cycles per second. So, if a pianist could press a key way above the eighty-eight keys that exist on a piano, that key would produce Light. They could create a chord of Light in the same way they can create a chord of sound. And it would be seen as colors of Light because it would be moving at the speed of Light.

The philosophical and scientific basis for this Law of Vibration can be found in quantum physics and in Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. Energy is related to matter and the speed of Light. This is Einstein’s famous E = mc2 equation.

When two frequencies are brought together, the lower will always rise to meet the higher. This is the principle of resonance. So, when a piano is tuned, a tuning fork is struck, and then brought close to the piano string that carries that same musical tone. The string then raises its vibration automatically and attunes itself to the same rate at which the fork is vibrating.

I will raise him up at the last day. I John 6:40

Using this principal of resonance, we can actually increase the speed at which the molecules in our bodies vibrate, through our thoughts of love, joy and gratitude. When atoms slow down, third dimensional matter is created; when they speed up, the higher dimensions of consciousness can be reached. And the higher our consciousness is raised, the closer to Spirit we become.

”In the beginning was the Word,” the vibration of sound.

By: Vicky Anderson

Lost (Pietro Maximoff Imagine)

Originally posted by pietromcximoff

“(Y/L/N)! Rogers! Report to the main room immediately!” Nick Fury’s voice came over the intercom in the Avengers Tower, causing you to jump straight out of your skin as you dropped the book you were reading.

Sure, you were a trained fighter and a damn good one, too, but that didn’t mean you had to give up everything you loved and enjoyed. So, more often than not, all the other Avengers typically found you with your nose buried in a book, no matter where you were.

As you reached down to pick it up, you felt a breeze and then suddenly, there was a hand grabbing your book and picking it up for you. You took a startled step back and looked up to see a certain silver-haired speedster standing there with your book in his hands.

“I think you dropped something,” the young man flashed his bright smile at you, causing you to flush bright pink and take the book from his outstretched hand.

“Thank you, Pietro,” you said quietly, before nodding once at him in thanks and heading off quickly towards the elevator to go down to the main room as you were instructed only moments ago, your face a bright red color.

Keep reading

And that taught me you can’t have anything, you can’t have anything at all. Because desire just cheats you. It’s like a sunbeam skipping here and there about a room. It stops and gilds some inconsequential object, and we poor fools try to grasp it - but when we do the sunbeam moves on to something else, and you’ve got the inconsequential part, but the glitter that made you want it is gone.
—  F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned

“Sometimes I bite my lips and close my eyes just to pretend it’s you.”

It all started with one tender kiss.

Solana knew that August was infamous with the ladies for his lips and all the sexy tricks he could do with his tongue. She just never thought it’d be her on the receiving end. Even with the sense of surprise still settling in her core, she didn’t stop him from tugging off her boy shorts on her thick body and nibbling on her inner thighs. Emotions were running high in competition with her raging hormones and rising libido. He easily worked his way up to her full breasts, slipping her camisole tank top over her head to expose hardened nipples that were sensitive to the touch.

She took her last bit of will power to muffle her moans. They were almost impossible to control when her body was experiencing such immense pleasure. She inhaled his intoxicating scent of musk fused cologne while he gave his attention to her cocoa toned neck and her fingers rushed to tangle in the short brown curls on his head.

Once Solana moved her legs to lock around August’s torso, she felt just how hard he could get through his boxer briefs. The thought of something so large pushing through a virgin opening left her on edge, but curiosity kept her along for the journey into new territory.

She was ready.

Ready to shed her innocence in exchange for sexual freedom.

The succulent kisses stopped and August stood at the foot of the king sized bed to trade his underwear for a Magnum. Solana could hear her heart beat rapidly while she watched the movements of her lover. The display of his smooth caramel complexion would urge anyone to dip an apple in his face. His detailed body tattoos wrapped around lean muscle, but the real head turner was the package between his legs. It was thicker while hard and seemed to out-measure a foot long ruler.

She felt her pussy throb when she locked eyes with August. A sense of magnetism made her drop the thoughts of apprehension that swirled around in her mind.He had her under his mesmerizing spell.

“You comfortable baby?” the question rolled off his tongue with his noticeable NOLA accent.

She was so happy he had foregone his usual childish nickname for her. Despite her second of gratefulness, she closed her eyes briefly and took a short breath before nodding in agreement. Words wouldn’t suffice for this moment. It was too special.

The bed dipped from his added weight and he slipped two fingers inside of her before withdrawing them to lick the wet glaze from her arousal. She shivered from the sexy gesture, thinking of how much she wanted to enjoy the act.

“Hmmm, wanna taste?”

Before Solana could respond, August pulled in her plump bottom lip to suck while she licked over his top. While she remained distracted, he moved her legs farther apart and slipped himself inside of her with ease. They both gasped in unison from the sudden connection. He filled her up and filled her out nicely.

“I promise you’re gonna love this,” August whispered in Solana’s ear.

The lick he gave her earlobe and the thrust stretching her walls made her moan through the initial discomfort before a pleasurable rhythm balanced out. Every time he cranked his hips to roll inside her and hit her spot she would arch her back from the sensation. Her hands instantly grabbed onto his backside for the ride. She wanted to keep him in that position forever. The passion of his strokes made her feel loved in unexplainable ways. Ways that no one could ever amount to. Her trust lied in the palms of his hands.

“Baby,” Solana moaned, feeling a fire burn within her. “Please don’t stop.”

August groaned in the crook of her neck while quickening his pace. There was no intention to break when so much sex filled the air. He was balls deep—slipping in and pulling out to tease her insides and drive her crazy. Never had she known such a feeling. Just the way her body reacted made her feel out of control. The heat of their bodies colliding created an echo as her bed rocked in place. An unbearable build-up made her body tense as his dick swelled just a little more from the approaching climax. She wailed as her toes curled and…

The obnoxious ringtone blaring from her iPhone on her nightstand made her body shoot up in bed. She was panting like she’d just ran laps around a track, a glisten coating her forehead and a hand over her heart from the thought of what almost happened.

Except it didn’t, she calmed at the thought. Yet she really wished it did. At least until the end.

“What the fuck?” she questioned herself aloud.

To assure herself of reality, Solana turned on the lamp beside her bed and looked around suspiciously. There weren’t any signs of her best friend. None of his clothes hung around nor did his scent pervade the air. She felt her body—her favorite pink camisole tank top still snug around her breast while her boy shorts were moist to the touch. The dream felt so surreal.

But it was all a disappointment because it would never actually happen. Not between two people that defied the typical definition of best friends. Fifteen years of the rawest form of loyalty would do the trick.

In an attempt to regroup, Solana darted from her bed to her kitchen for a bottle of water before settling between her duvet again. She checked her call log and noticed that August had been trying to reach her. The irony was just too much to handle at the late hour.


Solana was still embarrassed about what took place in her king sized bed. The thought of trying to shake it off was almost impossible when he was sitting right in front of her in the living flesh.

August had practically begged Solana to come to lunch with him since they would be leaving for college soon. She was against the idea at first. How could she be in the same atmosphere with him? All she could think about was how her lips would tingle if he would just place them on top of hers. Solana knew her fairytale dreaming was inappropriate and deceitful but the thought was impeccable and somewhat felt right.

“SOLANA ROWE!” she blinked her brown eyes a few dozen times as her awareness of reality set back in. She stared at him as he gazed back, waiting for her to tell him what she thought about the apartment that they would be living in together.

She wanted to tell him she hated the joint and she changed her mind about the living conditions for college, but she couldn’t just turn her back on him.

“I love it August. When do we move in again?” he shook his head as he licked over his plump lips to rid them of the honey mustard sauce left behind from his French fries.

He took a gulp of his Sprite before answering her question.

“First off, you know I hate that shit when you ignore me ma. Stop doin’ it. Secondly we move in a couple of days. You packed all your shit right?”

August knew Solana was the queen of procrastination so he had to question her just to make sure that they’d be leaving on time like he scheduled.

August was a perfectionist. 

When he wanted something done, it was going to get done regardless of who and what was in the way. If Solana hadn’t packed yet he would make it his business to go over her house tonight to start packing for her.

“Solana tell me you started packing at least man.” she hadn’t but she wouldn’t dare to tell him that. She just simply took her bottom lip in between her teeth as she began playing on her iPhone.

August knew the answer so he just sighed and nodded his head. He placed forty dollars on the table as he began telling Solana that they had business to handle. She was so damn hard headed but that was August’s best friend.

He had grown to love her flaws and her as well.

mockingbirdie  asked:

Bucky Prompt: Sam attempting... to take Bucky flying.

Title: Flying Lessons
Rating: G
Summary: You come down because that makes going back up even better. 

It became evident, fairly early on, that Sam and Steve didn’t have the means to keep Bucky safe – and keep others safe from him – at Sam’s house in DC. He needed more attention, more monitoring, and somewhere a little more…enclosed, at least at first. 

Steve didn’t feel right about it anyway; Sam had already helped more than anyone had a right to ask, and even if he said he liked it, that he was happy to do it, it didn’t sit right with Steve.

“Tony Stark’s given me a place,” Steve said one morning, before Bucky was awake, looking shamefacedly at his coffee. “The Tower has security, it has access to…to doctors and things…” he trailed off, embarrassed. “It’s not that I’m not grateful. But we know this isn’t working.”

“Nah, that’s fine. So when do we move?” Sam asked, and he saw Steve blink back confusion, and then tears of gratitude. Steve was still not used to having allies again. Sam was just – better with Bucky, more patient, more deliberate. He said he had more emotional distance, which was true, and teased Steve that he was just plain better than him, which he thought unhappily that Steve sometimes believed. 

“It’s easier for me, we haven’t got a history,” Sam said one time, when they were discussing it. “Besides, you know I have like…years of training in dealing with trauma, right? No offense, I don’t think they offered courses in therapeutic counseling in the middle of Nazi Germany." 

Sam took Bucky to the Tower the next week, and Steve followed behind with a moving van full of the remains of his apartment and all of Sam’s. They settled in easily enough, though Bucky stopped sleeping through the night again while he adjusted, and Steve kept getting lost in Manhattan. 

Sam loved the Tower, particularly because New York was a little less hostile to superheroes than DC was just then, and also because he could launch a lot easier from the top of the Tower than he could from his old backyard. He went flying three or four times a week, testing new models Stark tweaked for him, getting back in condition, drawing tourists and curious locals who wanted to see the Falcon, hero of the Battle of the Potomac. 

One morning, after showing off for a group of schoolkids on a field trip, he landed on the deck of Stark Tower to find Bucky sitting on the railing. He stopped, retracting the wings a little, and said, "Hey man,” carefully.

Bucky shot him a look. “I just wanted to see. I’m not going to jump.”

“Wouldn’t blame you if you were thinking about it,” Sam said. Bucky frowned. “We all hit valleys sometimes.”

“Maybe.” Bucky looked back at his wings, hovering half-open. “Did I ever say sorry? For throwing you off the Carrier?”

“Wasn’t you. Don’t need an apology,” Sam said. 

“Sure.” Bucky turned back to look out at the city. “Nice view, at least." 

"I got a better one,” Sam said. And then, thoughtfully, “Want to see?”

Bucky shook his head. 

“Are you sure? I’m Pararescue, you know, carrying people with this on is kinda what I do. Did. Do,” Sam decided. “I’ve carried Steve, pretty sure he’s heavier than you.”

Bucky eyed the wings again. “Why would you do that?”

Sam laughed. “I was gonna fly some more anyway. You look like you could use a little shift in perspective. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Why do you do any of it?”

Sam considered it. “The flying?”

Bucky shook his head, gesturing to himself with his steel arm. “All of it.”

“Well, I like Steve,” Sam said. “And seeing you hurting hurts him. I like you, what little I get to see underneath right now.”

Bucky grimaced.

“And I like looking after people. I couldn’t do it alone when I got home after my last tour. I owe a lotta folks for the good place I’m in. If it makes me happy to pay it forward, I don’t need another reason. Happiness is an ongoing project, you know, it’s not an endgame, but it’s a legitimate excuse to do what you want. You can want to be happy, Bucky." 

Bucky looked back out over the city, then climbed off the railing. "How do we do it?" 

"Here. I got a harness,” Sam said, unhooking some straps from his left thigh and settling them across Bucky’s chest, around his shoulders and hips. He stood behind Bucky, undid some straps on his ankles, and ran loops around Bucky’s, then straightened and hooked the back of the harness to his. “Just be careful when we land, let me do the driving, your feet are tied to mine. Move when I move while we’re in the air. Okay?”

Bucky nodded, but his body was rigid. 

“Still time to back out, do it another time,” Sam said. 

“No, I want to see.”

“Relax,” Sam said in his ear. “It won’t hurt. Match my breathing. I won’t let you fall." 

Bucky’s shoulders dropped, and Sam said, "Okay, here we go,” and launched straight up, using the thrusters to get some height before snapping the wings fully open and catching the warm updrafts between buildings. 

Below him, he felt Bucky catch his breath. They climbed on the updraft until the air grew cold and thin, and Sam leveled out. From here practically half the island was visible, all the roofs and alleys, people and cars on the ground. 

“You like it?” he yelled, over the wind. 

“Why would you ever come down?” Bucky yelled back. 

“Makes going back up better,” Sam told him, and fell into a roll. Bucky tucked his legs up with Sam’s, curved his body in like he’d been doing it for years, and let them tumble until Sam caught them, level with about the 90th floor of the tower. They zipped past Steve, standing at the window with his mouth agape, and made for Central Park.

“You’re a natural,” Sam said. “Come on, let’s go buzz a hot dog cart,” and for the first time since they’d found him, he heard Bucky laugh.