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Forest weather

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Moke Lake, Queenstown | south_of_home

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Hotheaded Prince Zuko in Book 3 with his dramatic outbursts and that one time he was emo. 

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Okay, what’s really going on? Are you nervous about the full moon?

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😭 THIS IS BEAUTIFUL 😭

They are the Ying and Yang.

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Giving a character a name is such a difficult thing to do because this one weird word is supposed to just fit their character and you can't describe why some work and some don't, just some characters are a Doris and some are a Fabio and sometimes you get it right from the off, sometimes it just always feels wrong. It's such a weird problem like it's just a sound that HAS to fit the rest of them and sometimes you just know they're a Winston and other times you're constantly questioning their Philomena-ness.

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Episode 15: Bato of the Water Tribe

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i am going to REPENT and the devil will not stop me

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Lost Woods

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.... Um. Well. I guess, if I had to read this, you all have to as well.

Too Young To Hate

 For @woppy42

 The wind whipped snow, dirt, and bones into the air. The howling screech as life returned to the once-living monasteries forced Katara and Sokka to cover their ears as Aang floated before them, more a being of pure spiritual energy than the 12 year old boy they rescued in the ice.

 “Aang!” Katara called over the whipping wind and howling gusts, “Don’t do this!”

 Sokka grabbed Katara by the fur-lining in her coat and pulled her back down behind the stone pillar they were hiding behind. “It’s useless Katara! He can’t hear us! He’s going to blow us off the mountain!”

 “He’ll hear me!” Lightning McQueen said as he drifted to a stop by the pillar. His headlights crackled with red and yellow bolts of electricity as he looked up at Aang. “We are more alike than he thinks.”

 “Whatever you’re going to do, do it soon!” Sokka yelled over the wind. “This mountain isn’t going to last much longer!”

 McQueen grunted and rolled forward into the gale, eyes braced against the furious elemental power that Aang was summoning.

 “Aang!” McQueen called out, his wheels shifting in the uneasy snowbanks, “Aang, we need to talk!”

 Aang remained motionless in his sphere of air, hovering above the ground as the gusty breeze gusted gustily about him.

 McQueen revved his engine and pulled closer to the moody 12 year old. “You’re too young to hate the world!”

 The winds buffered for a second and McQueen could see that he was descending slowly. “You’re too young, Aang. Things happen, yes. We lose races in our lives and we lose racing partners. I’ve lost people just like you Aang. People that I still expect to see when I pull a sick drift around a corner. But they’re gone. And we have to move on. We have to finish the race. If not for us, for them. To remember them!”

 Aang lowered to the ground and collapsed, the glow fading from his tattoos, and the winds dying off as suddenly as they started. Sokka and Katara ran from behind the pillar up to McQueen then over to Aang.

 “What did you tell him?” Sokka asked McQueen, as Katara cradled the bald kid in her arms.

 “Same thing I tell everybody.” McQueen said with a grin. “Kachow.”

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That day, she was amazed to discover that when he was saying As you wish, what he meant was, I love you. And even more amazed was the day she realised she truly loved him back.

The Princess Bride 1987 | dir. Rob Reiner

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One of the many stupid feelings humans are capable of having is the private, repulsive rage of seeing someone getting support and sympathy for a problem no one helped you with when you were having it, either because you didn’t have anyone or because it never occurred to you that you could ask for help. Suddenly the world seems to split into two – the realm that contains people like them, the connected and loved – and the realm that contains you, the miserable and the alone, who must suffer in solitude. This is sufficiently horrible that you grasp for reasons or world-understandings to make this reality acceptable, and a mentally available one is that it is superior to be in the miserable solitude realm, that the problem is one that should be solved with self sufficiency and dignity. That this other person is pathetic for being aided and loved when you were not. Scorn is more palatable than confronting the notion that you could have received aid (if you had made different choices or been luckier), that you desperately wish you could have been aided but were not. Scorn is more palatable than the howling hunger for things to have been different for you. So your mind chooses scorn.

It is also a bad place to be. Human existence is full of such traps.

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The light broke through.