#wooden gates for sale

[valoisfulcanellideux]

The Greatbridge in its heyday

We all know it as this beautiful creation:

But I wanted to write about how it might have been in its heyday, when the Ancient Capital was alive and thronging with people. And so I did...

From These Stones Remember (ch.22) -

The great wooden gates lay up ahead, and beyond them he could see a bustle already arising. Carts rumbled past him, laden with wares, donkeys and llamas similarly packed with goods passed by more noisily. And, as he walked through the gates, the whole of the Greatbridge lay before him. Flanking the whole length of it, as far as he could see, stalls and stands were already set up and in the process of being stocked. Banners and pennants danced in the river breeze that also brought the scents of spices and incense smokes to him. Baskets and crates and sacks, fruits and grains and vegetables, the hot floury smell of flatbread baking in ovens, the mouth-watering sizzle of sides of pork turning over hot coals that nosed down from the far end of the bridge, the chatter and laughter of haggling already underway. To his left, a large balloon that floated in the air, tied down with rope. Occasional bursts of flame upwards into the stiffened cloth sphere made it rise to the limits of the rope, as well as the heavy net slung across the top of the sphere. Below it there hung a large square basket, from which burly men wearing brown leather breeches and white shirts handed down large crates to their colleagues on the ladder below, who cracked them open and set out their contents on tables and boxes. Stacks of books, both plain and with magical sheen, piled between shining ingots of pure iron. To his right, a great chirping, flapping, and squawking as a man and woman took birdcages from a small cart pulled by a third, hanging them beneath a joyously bright statue of a parrot. Two small children stood close by, hand-in-hand, watching and giggling. Beneath bright awnings, cooking oils by the jug and dried fruits by the waxen bag, seeds by the pouch for planting, buttons by the cone and ribbons by the measure of thumb to elbow. Beneath the llama statue, women crowded to haggle for the best and brightest from water-filled buckets of colourful flowers. Moving through the bustling crowd, delights at every turn, Paix gloried in the beauty and heart of humanity that thronged this place. Hawkers cried their wares, flattered and wheedled and flirted with their customers for another sale, jugglers and tumbling acrobats somehow managed to keep both a space about them and an entertained audience distracted before them. Devotees sang and sold wine and sugar beneath a floating quartz cupola that defied both gravity and sensibility. A redstone trickster held a small gaggle of onlookers rapt while his light-fingered accomplice relieved their pockets of coin. Mummers performed a comedic play, drawing roars of laughter from those crowded around their antics. Paix was offered samples of wine by the singing devotees, juicy hunks of roasted pork by odd little squat folk whose cloak hoods flared widely on either side of their heads and who tried to press him for an additional purchase of copper ingots, giggling when he demurred since he had nothing with which to pay them. More wine, followed by a hand thrusting a crescent-shaped meat pie toward him with a broad grin and a bellowed word that was lost amid the general clamour on the Greatbridge.

[hannahssimblr]

“Go play on that pirate ship thing,” I tell Ivy, “I’ll be over there on the swings.”

She looks up at me under the brim of her horrible frog hat. She made me buy it for her in the end of season sale at one of those tourist shops by the beach, “I'll go on the monkey bars. Will I show you my tricks?”

She's talking about how she can hold onto bars and spin herself in a circle, “Yeah, sure, I’ll just watch you from over there.”

She rushes over and throws herself up onto a bar, “And what if I want to go on the swings?”

“Well you can’t, not until I’m done talking to my friend.”

“Your girlfriend.”

“No” I plonk onto the wooden swing and wait, the cool air rustling through the bushes and lifting little bits of of twigs from the sandy surface of the playground. I swing myself idly, calling out unenthusiastic words of encouragement to Ivy as she spins and twists on the bars until I hear the playground gate squeak open. 

Clóda looks obliviously happy, out of her work uniform now and back in those teeny tiny shorts that would have had my eyes out on stalks a month ago. It's funny how quickly feelings can change. 

“You brought your sister along!” She says brightly as she approaches me, and I spot Ivy looking our way only to look away quickly with a stricken look on her face. I wonder if she associates Clóda with stranger danger and hot chocolate vomit. 

“I told my mom I was coming to the park, so she made me take her.”

“Aw, she’s so cute though!” She throws a thumbs up to my sister, “Nice job on those bars, yeah? You’re so good, do you do gymnastics?” 

Ivy doesn’t respond. 

“No, she doesn’t, she just likes the monkey bars,” I explain. 

Clóda’s smile is strained when she swivels back to me, “Well, how are you? I’ve actually been un-grounded for a few days now, I… have you been busy?”

“Not really.”

“Oh,” she digs around her hoodie pocket for a scrap of paper and hands it to me, “This is my MSN, my email and my Bebo for when you go home and you want to stay in touch. You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. I am.” 

“Well, I hope that we can still talk, and stuff, and maybe at midterm break I could get the train up to Dublin and-”

“Clóda, look,” I hand the paper back to her, still folded. “To be honest, I’m not going to be staying in touch with you anymore.”

Her face falls, “Why?”

“Because.” 

“Because?”

“It’s too much effort, I’m not bothered.”

Perplexed eyes fly all over my face, “Is it the distance? Because it’s only two and a half hours on-”

“No it’s not the distance, to be honest, it’s you.”

“Me? What did I do?” 

I sigh, “Your friends gave me a call the other night.”

“Which friends?”

“I don’t know, they were too busy giggling and screaming to give me names, and I could hardly even make out what they were trying to say, but I heard enough.”

“Enough…?”

“Enough to know that you’ve been bragging about me all over the place, making up stories about how I’m going to buy you a heap of stuff in America and whatever, I never said that.”

She shrugs, but she’s so tense now that it’s more like a jerk, “Well, so? You could do that, maybe, if you wanted to. You said you might get me Abercrombie stuff, I was just telling a few white lies about the other things, you know, to make them jealous.”

“Why would you even want to do that?” 

“I don’t know, I suppose they think it’s pretty cool that my boyfriend is so good looking, and like, that he’s American and stuff…” 

“Who said I was your boyfriend?” 

She hesitates, “Well, I thought-”

“Usually,” I say, gesturing to the space between us, “two people will have a conversation about that kind of thing, you can’t just say what you want, or like, just decide on your own what this is.”

She bites her lip, “But when we had sex I thought-”

“Oh God, people have sex, Clóda, why does it have to mean so much?” I raise my voice a bit and Ivy glances around in alarm. I wave her away.

“Maybe it doesn’t to you,” Clóda says, and her voice cracks a little, once again flooding me with guilt, “but for me, it’s-” she breaks off because instead of an inhale there is a gasp, like something related to a sob that brings me to the edge of taking it all back, but I grit my teeth, “We shouldn’t have ever done anything then, I’m sorry.”

“You regret it?”

I don’t answer her, we’ve lost sight of the point, suddenly, and I’m not completely sure how we got here, “Look, I just asked you here so that I could tell you that I don’t want us to hang out anymore after this summer. We don’t have to hash out all of the details-”

“It’s because you don’t like how I kiss,” She insists, “I wasn’t good enough at it.”

“No, that isn’t it, I-”

“It’s my dad. He’s put you off. Did he say something to you?”

“No.”

“Well then it has to be because I forgot my jumper when we-”

“No, Clóda,” I explode, “It’s because you’re mean. Because you’re not a nice person, okay?”

She blinks.

“You went around the caravan park telling everyone that Kelly Healy is a loser and she needs her mother’s help to make friends, that’s just such a mean thing to do, and I don’t understand why you would do something like that, especially now because everyone thinks that it was me who said it.”

She takes a break from looking pathetic to let her features twist into an unpleasant shape, “Oh, Kelly? But we don’t like her, that’s what you said.”

“What?”

“We laughed about her after going to Shane’s place, you said that she was weird, I didn’t think anyone would really care if I said it to a few people. It just came up, I don't know. Why does it matter?”

“Obviously because it’s a ridiculously horrible thing to do. You just told a load of the people she hangs around with something highly personal about her that you weren’t even supposed to know.”

A pause, “Yeah but she’s weird.”

I am incredulous, “God, Clóda, is this really how you think? Is that your reasoning? That if you don’t like someone then you can say what you like about them to whoever will listen? Why do you act like this, huh? I can’t believe how much time I wasted this summer hanging out with you. You’re ridiculous. You act like a child.”

She bursts into tears, “Well I’m fifteen! What do you want from me?” And she sobs, standing in place while I sit opposite, uncertain of what I am supposed to do next. Is this what fifteen is supposed to be? Sometimes I feel so detached from genuine teenage reality that I cannot possibly imagine how I am supposed to experience it. In some ways I feel twelve years old, in others, twenty, so far removed from the freedom and reality of proper teendom that I can't even imagine what fifteen feels like. Was I ever like her? 

“I think we’re too different,” I say finally, “I think that’s why we can’t hang out.”

“But I really like you,” she sniffles, while in the background Ivy hangs from the monkey bars by her knees, her ugly hat dropping onto the ground. 

“Look, Jude!” She calls, “I can do a new trick.”

“Yeah, amazing,” I say, “Make sure you don’t slip and hit your head, huh?”

“I wouldn’t!”

“Yeah, you might, and then what will I do, huh? Take you back home with your head cracked open?”

“I wouldn’t have to go back to school then.”

“Yeah, good one,” Maybe I’ll crack my skull open too. It feels like a genuine option to consider as I sit there with Clóda crying right in front of me, blocking my exit route. 

“I’m sorry,” I say to her, “It’s just not meant to be, I guess.”

“Okay.”

“Good luck with it all, yeah? The job and school and all that. I’ll probably see you around next summer.”

“You’ll be back?”

“Uh huh. Probably the summer after that too,”

“Oh.”

“It doesn't have to be awkward. We can just be normal.”

She sniffs, “Alright”

I look up at her from where I sit and take in the tears on her cheeks, the way her chest heaves with each gasp, and I tell her “You'll be alright.”

I get up and call for Ivy, “c’mon, we’re going home now.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“I wanted a go on the swings.”

I look around to see that Clóda has taken my place on the seat and is blubbering miserably into her sleeves. 

“Swings are closed,” I say. 

“Okay, well, you can take me tomorrow.”

“We’re going home tomorrow.”

“Early.”

“You want me to get up early?”

“Yes, you’re lazy, you should have to get up early like me.”

“Yeah but you have an incentive, I don’t care about the seven AM cartoons.”

“Well you should.”

I laugh, “Why is that?”

And she tells me why, and we walk out the playground gate and through the village, side by side with the last of the August sun on our backs. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[myhauntedsalem]

The Dybbuk Box

A Dybbuk Box is a wine cabinet which, according to Jewish folklore is said to be haunted by a restless, evil spirit that is capable of haunting and possessing the living. One particular Dybbuk Box became famous when it was listed on eBay along with a terrifying back story.

The story began in September of 2001, when an antique buyer and refinishes attended an estate sale in Portland, Oregon. The auction was held to sell off the belongings of a 103-year-old woman and her granddaughter informed the antique dealer of the woman’s past when she noticed that he had purchased a simple wooden wine cabinet. The old woman had been Jewish, the only one of her family members to have survived her time in a Nazi concentration camp during World War II. When she immigrated to the United States, the wine cabinet and two other items were the only things she brought with her.

The woman’s granddaughter explained that her grandmother had always kept the box hidden away and said that it should never, ever be opened because it contained a malicious spirit called a dybbuk. She requested that the box be buried with her but since doing so went against Jewish tradition, her family did not oblige. When the antique dealer asked the granddaughter if she would like to keep the box for sentimental reasons, the woman vehemently refused, becoming very upset and saying, “We made a deal! You have to take it!”

The dealer took his purchase back to his shop and placed it in his workshop in the basement. Immediately, strange and frightening things started happening. He was called by his frantic shop assistant, who said that the lights had gone out, the doors and security gates had locked and she heard terrible sounds coming from the basement. When he investigated, he discovered a terrible odor of cat urine lingering in the air and every light bulb in the place had been smashed.

The dealer gave the wine box to his mother as a gift and the woman immediately suffered a major stroke. In the hospital, she spelled out, H-A-T-E G-I-F-T as tears spilled from her eyes uncontrollably. He attempted to give the gift to several more people but it was always returned to him within a few days, usually because people just didn’t like it or because they felt that something about it was evil. He began suffering from a recurring nightmare and he later found that all of his family members who had been around the box were having the same dream. He started seeing shadow figures darting around in his peripheral vision, as well.

After finally admitting that there was something paranormal happening, he went online to research and fell asleep at his computer. When he woke up, he felt like something was breathing on his neck and when he turned his head he saw a huge shadow figure dashing away from him down the hall. He then decided to list the item on eBay, along with a detailed account of what had happened to him since obtaining the box.

Jason Haxton, the curator of a medical museum in Missouri, purchased the box from the eBay auction. He later wrote a book detailing the strange story of the Dybbuk Box and in 2012, a horror movie based on the book entitled The Possession was released.

[girlsfightingarena]

Colors Aesthetic

bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies.                               ( repost, don’t reblog! )

                            𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

                            𝐑𝐄𝐃

wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets

                          𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams

                           𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍

marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns

                          𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces

                          𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art

Tagged by @unshackled-instinct

Tagging whoever would like to do this! Feel free to steal!

[demonsfate]

 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂

bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies.                               ( repost, don’t reblog! )

                            𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

                            𝐑𝐄𝐃

wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets

                          𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams

                           𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍

marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns

                          𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces

                          𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art

                            𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

                            𝐑𝐄𝐃

wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets

                          𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams

                           𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍

marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns

                          𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces

                          𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art

TAGGED BY . . . i stole this ! <3

TAGGING . . . feel free to take it too !

[dilf-din]

Yeehawgust Day 4: Hold Your Horses

Cowboy!TLOU AU

WC: 825

Rating: T

Characters: Tommy and Maria

Warnings: none, Tommy being a dumbass

A/N: I’m a little behind, but I’ve got another one coming later today too!

Tommy Miller was one cocky son of a gun. Most of the time, it was justified. He might as well have been born in a stable. He’d never met a horse or bull he couldn’t ride, a pig he couldn’t wrestle, or a girl he couldn’t woo. Something about his freckles and warm eyes in the Texas sun had everyone he could ever want wrapped around his finger. He was a sweet talker, a rabble rouser, one of the boys, said yes ma’am and no ma’am, everything you could want in a guy.

He’d tried his hand at a few different things over the years, trick riding, traveling with a rodeo, working cattle sales, but nothing beat the feel of home, the woods and the creeks he grew up running through, the way he knew each creak in the floor. Joel welcomed him back with open arms, he always did. Miller Family Farms had been a staple in the riding community in Northeast Texas for generations. Many a decorated racer had gotten their start in the pens there. That dirt had seen some more blood than they cared to admit, a whole lot of sweat, and its fair share of tears.

At the start of summer, Joel and Sarah had gone on their annual fishing trip, meaning Tommy was back just in time to hold things down until their return. He had helped Joel out with the business side of things before, dabbled in the financials, but his real heart was with the horses. That’s where he spent most of his time.

Summer meant a new batch of riders would be coming in to start their hopefully lasting careers of showing or riding or anything in between. Tommy was getting everyone saddled and ready for the lessons that afternoon when he heard footsteps behind him followed by a reluctant knock against the wooden door.

“Hello?” a sweet, feminine voiced carried to him on the June breeze.

“Be right there!” Tommy called back from one of the far stalls, wiping his hands on his jeans before exiting and latching it behind him. He did his best to keep a straight face when he met the fierce brown eyes of the woman the voice belonged to. She had long dreadlocks neatly tied behind her and a pale yellow button down that glowed against the deep carob of her skin.

“Well hello ma’am, Tommy Miller, nice to meet ya.”

“Maria,” she said, extending a hand to shake, her mouth turning into a halfway grin, “Miller? You the owner?”

“Naw, that’s my brother. I’m just helping out while he’s out of town. I’m guessin’ you’re here for a lesson?” he said turning and leading her farther into the stables.

“Correct.”

“The teacher ain’t here yet, but I can get ya started. Have you ever ridden before?”

“No, never,” she said plainly but confidently.

“Well, lucky for you, you’re in the best hands on this side of the Mississippi,” he said, carrying himself with a renewed swagger.

“Lucky me?” she said coyly, a hand raising to her heart.

“This here’s Daylily, she’s real sweet, good for beginners,” he said leading her up to a copper mare with a wispy, sand colored mane.

Maria rose a gentle hand up to stroke her nose, “Hi, friend.”

Tommy grinned at her from her periphery.

“Let’s get you up,” he said, unlatching the door and leading the horse from the stall. He offered Maria a strong hand to swing up and into the saddle while he explained all the bits and pieces, talked her through how to get her to start walking, and so forth. Tommy walked ahead to open the gate into one of the pens, allowing them to walk through at a steady pace. He closed it behind them and hopped up on one of the beams, tucking the heels of his boots into the one below him to steady himself.

“Just take her for a nice, slow walk, feel the way she moves under ya,” he instructed casually, nodding his head beneath the brim of his hat.

“Like this?” Maria asked before breaking out in a full blown gallop and skillfully rounding the barrels at each end of the pen. She completed a few laps to make her point before pulling Daylily to a stop in front of Tommy.

He had straightened his posture with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“I reckon you’re the teacher then?” he was thankful for the flush of the day’s heat hiding the pink creeping into his cheeks.

“What gave it away?” she asked with a sly smile, dismounting in front of him without breaking a sweat.

“Looks like there’s a thing or two you could teach me,” he said suavely, hopping down from the fence, towering over her.

“You don’t seem like a very good listener,” she teased.

“Depends on who’s doin’ the talkin’,” he shot back with a twinkle in his eye.

[littlebeethings]

With the Morning Light

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Reader Word count: 1500 Warnings: None, just fluff Summary: Nights when Marcus was gone were the hardest. You couldn’t stop yourself from worrying about him, wondering if you would see him again. This night was no different. Only when he finally did stumbled into your little house, bruised and bloody, he had a baby in his arms. Masterlist | Ao3

It was one of those nights you hated most. The nights where you were left alone to worry. The house was dark and quiet which allowed all the thoughts you could normally drown out during the day to spark to life.

It was well past midnight and the coffee between your hands had long gone cold. You continued to grip the mug regardless. It not only helped you stay awake during nights like these, but it also helped ground you. When the thoughts became too much, you focused on the smooth, round ceramic beneath your fingertips.

The mug was a part of a set your aunt gave you when you married. They fit perfectly in your hands. When you opened the gift after you got home from your honeymoon, you didn’t imagine them being used so late at night to keep you from panicking.

You knew what being Marcus’s partner entailed when you said “I do.” You knew it when you said “Yes!” And you knew it when you asked him to get coffee all those years ago. You had nights like these long before the wedding and before the engagement, but before you had roommates or family nearby you could stay with when these nights got to be too hard. I guess it was your fault for wanting a little bit of land away from the hustle and bustle of the city you spent your days in. But Marcus had agreed.

Originally, the home was going to be built from scratch. Marcus wanted it to be perfect for the two of you. You were on the way to the lot your realtor wanted to show you when you passed this house.

Marcus had one hand on the wheel and one hand around yours. His finger ran over the engagement ring he had put on you not three months prior. You leaned your head against the window and watched the tall trees pass.

“We have to have chickens,” you said.

“Chickens?” Marcus asked.

“Yes, chickens,” you smiled thinking of your aunt’s chickens and the taste of farm-fresh eggs. Having a little basket on the counter with brown and blue eggs inside.

“We will get chickens then,” Marcus said. “We can have the coop modeled after our house.”

You laughed, “A normal coop will do.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence watching the scenery pass you by. You love the idea that you would someday soon be living out here with the love of your life. It put a smile on your face that you couldn’t get rid of.

The car went around a large turn when you saw it. The little gray stone house being eaten by green veins, hidden by large oak trees, and was that a willow tree on the left?

“Marcus, stop the car,” you said, your eyes glued to the house with the red and white for sale sign in the yard.

“What is it?” he asked, slowing the car down.

“That house,” you said. “That’s the house.”

Marcus pulled the car off to the side. You both stepped out of the car, and you jogged over to the little wooden gate that opened into the yard. Marcus came to stand behind you, his arms slowly wrapped around your waist and his chin came to rest on your shoulder. You laid your arms over his.

“This is our house,” he whispered, taking in every little detail. It would need work. A lot of work. But it was your house.

“We’re home.”

You called your realtor and had an offer in before the day ended. The first thing you did when you moved in was hang a porch swing in the willow tree.

It took time, but the first floor was almost completely renovated and you would be starting work on the upstairs bedrooms in a few months. You had chickens, just like you wanted. Some mornings you would get up with the sun and collect the eggs while Marcus fixed coffee. The two of you would meet beneath the willow and drink your coffee and listen to the sounds of the countryside. Those mornings were perfect. Other mornings, especially in the winter months, you would stay in bed a little while longer. Marcus would get up and start a fire in the fireplace across from your bed and then crawl under the covers beside you. Those mornings were wonderful.

It’s the nights alone you didn’t like.

You woke up with your cheek pressed against the wooden dining table. The screen door had been what woke you. The screen door. Marcus.

You stood us quickly, your chair screeching against the floor. Marcus stood in the entryway still in his tactical suit. He was covered in dirt, blood, and bruises. Whose blood, you didn’t know. And in his arms was a little girl no older than four. She was sound asleep against Marcus’s shoulder.

You wondered if this was what Catelyn Stark felt when Ned came home with Jon. But Marcus had not been to war, nor would he have cheated, and he didn’t have a sister who ran away with a married man and caused the war that Marcus would theoretically be fighting in.

“Whose child is this?” You asked, moving closer and brushing the little girl’s long hair from her face.

“Is the guest room still set up from when your sister’s son stayed the night?” Marcus asked. He sounded so tired.

“Yes,” you said, reaching out to take the girl from him. He hesitated at first. Something you didn’t recognize flashed across his face. Then he released her to you. Quietly, you took the girl up the stairs to the guest room and tucked her into the twin bed.

When you came back downstairs, Marcus was sitting at the kitchen table. You grabbed the medkit you kept under the sink and fixed a glass of water. Carefully, you began to clean Marcus’s face. He closed his eyes, his hand rested on your hip as you worked. 

“Marcus,” you whispered. “Whose child is sleeping in our guestroom?”

He sighed. “No one.”

You placed the rag you had been using to wipe his face on the table and cupped his cheeks. “She has to be someone.”

Marcus leaned into your touch and looked up at you. “She was at an orphanage that had been attacked. She was the only child left.” Your name fell from his lips and the way he said it caused something in you to shatter. “They were all dead. All of them.”

“Oh, Marcus.” You gathered him in your arms, his head resting against your chest. 

“I couldn’t save them,” he cried. “I couldn’t save any of them.”

“You saved her,” you whispered.

You didn’t get him to bed until almost three. You left him sleeping in the bedroom, having gently pried his tactical suit off him and coaxing him into the bed. 

Climbing the stairs you wondered what would come next. There were so many different paths from this one. You never imagined yourself a mother, but then Marcus showed up with her in his arms and you had the same feeling you felt when you saw this house.

You quietly entered the guestroom. The little girl was still fast asleep. Her little body moved with each breath. You sat in the chair beside the window and that’s where you sat until morning. The last thought before sleep took you was, “this is our child.”

You woke up with your arms wrapped around a tiny human. Sometime in the night, the little girl had crawled into your lap. And sometime in the night, you had wrapped your arms around her.

The pounding of someone running up the stairs echoed around you and then Marcus was there. He sighed and his hand gripped his bare chest when he saw you. “You weren’t there when I woke up,” he said.

“I didn’t want her to be alone,” you said. You reached your hand out, silently asking him to join you. He did. He kissed the top of your head before sitting on the floor beside the chair. His hand gripped yours like it was his lifeline.

“What do we do now?” Marcus asked. His eyes on the little girl in your lap.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, burying your nose in the little girl’s hair.

“Her name’s Missy,” Marcus said.

“Missy,” you repeated, trying the name on your tongue.

“I know you said no kids,” Marcus began.

“I said no biological kids,” you corrected him.

“Biological kids,” Marcus paused. “Would you ever consider. . . ?”

Missy stirred a bit only to press farther into you. Your body reacted in this warm, fuzzy way. It had you holding her closer to you, rubbing circles into her back as you remembered your mother doing to you when you were sick or tired as a kid. Marcus squeezed your hand and you squeezed back. 

The night was finally over and with the morning sun, you could breathe.

“Yes.”

[mariacallous]

Former Orlen CEO Daniel Obajtek claims he’s not hiding abroad. However, many of his videos on social media were shot in a Budapest penthouse apartment owned by a company close to Viktor Orbán’s government. During the time we were watching the house, a man hiding his face jumped into the same type of car that Obajtek posted about. On another occasion, Orbán’s close aide entered the building.

In the morning  of June 1, a tall woman with colored blonde hair wearing a black hoodie stepped out of a beautifully renovated 19th-century building of Budapest’s elegant Andrássy avenue. A huge advertisement banner above the building’s gate reads in English: “luxury apartments for sale,” and “where values and high quality meet.” The woman crossed Oktogon, the Hungarian capital’s iconic eight-sided square, then disappeared onto a smaller street while talking to someone on the phone.

Twelve minutes later, a metallic gray Lexus ES 300h briefly stopped in front of the same building. At exactly the same time, the ornate brown wooden gate opened, and a man hiding behind a face mask, sunglasses and a cap appeared on the street. The timing was so precise that there was barely enough time for us to start recording what was happening: the man had already jumped into the back seat of the car and disappeared.

Later, when we analyzed the video frame-by-frame, we could identify the driver as a blonde-haired woman — one who looked extremely similar to the one who had just left the building.

Meanwhile, the tinted passenger windows of the Lexus successfully hid the man. The whole process seemed carefully designed and perfectly executed in order to protect his identity. The letters on the license plate of the car, however, signify that it comes from Warsaw’s Mokotów district. 

We had good reason for watching the house on Andrássy, even on a Saturday morning: VSquare and Frontstory.pl’s partner on this investigation, Radio Zet, has learned from its sources that one of the building’s residents is Daniel Obajtek. He is the former CEO of the Polish state-owned oil company Orlen, and his long tenure leading the Polish oil company is embroiled in scandal. 

Was the man who did everything to hide his face while slipping into the car Obajtek? We can’t know for sure. However, a few weeks earlier, on April 10, Obajtek’s official Facebook account posted a photo of him fueling a metallic gray car. Only certain parts of the car are visible in the picture – but from those very distinct parts, the type of car, Lexus ES 300h, is easily recognizable.

This past week, in addition to watching the building at Andrássy in the hope that we could meet Obajtek, we also thoroughly analyzed his social media content. With the help of sources with intimate knowledge of the various relevant locations, we successfully identified the places from which he has been posting his videos — at least since February.

This is how we were able to confirm that many of his Instagram videos are indeed recorded at the same building at Andrássy from a 147 square meter penthouse apartment worth approx. €1.6-2 million. The official owner of the apartment is BBID Ltd, a real estate developer company that turned the previously run-down building into luxury housing. The owners of the company reportedly have close ties to Viktor Orbán’s government and are even business relations with the Hungarian Prime Minister’s son-in-law, István Tiborcz. According to Radio Zet’s sources, the penthouse where Obajtek spends considerable time is rented out, although it’s unclear who is officially renting it.

Obajtek posted his first video from the penthouse apartment on February 19. In April, he even conducted a Youtube interview with a right-wing journalist  in what seems to be his secret Budapest home. Another recurring location in Obajtek’s videos is Budapest’s City Park (Városliget) at the end of Andrássy avenue, from which he appears to have posted multiple videos – including one mocking Polish media by suggesting he is not “on the run” from his scandals but rather getting into shape to face the “media’s attacks.”

Although the videos are carefully edited so as to not show recognizable landmarks, Hungarian text or anything else that would give away their locations, we could still identify them using open source research. 

Recently, Obajtek has been the subject of much attention from the public — as well as from Polish prosecutors, due to revelations about Orlen’s gigantic financial losses during his tenure as CEO. Polish investigators are currently conducting three main investigations into dealings under Obajtek’s leadership:

on the merger of the state-owned Orlen and Lotos energy companies and the agreement to sell a 30 percent stake in the Gdansk Refinery to Saudi Aramco

on Orlen’s huge financial losses, which were caused by the radical cutting of fuel prices on the wholesale and retail markets in autumn 2023 – and which may have been related to the parliamentary elections (the idea being that lower prices would boost the then-ruling Law and Justice government’s chances)

the unsupervised transfer of more than PLN 1.5 billion to OTS (Orlen Trading Switzerland).

So far Obajtek is expected to testify in the prosecutor’s investigation as a witness – he is not charged. Though according to Gazeta Wyborcza, staying abroad might be a preventive measure for him to avoid any potential charges before the European Parliament elections. Obajtek is running as the Law and Justice’s candidate from Podkarpacie (Southern Poland).

Obajtek is not the first person from outside of Hungary who, when scrutinized by their home countries’ authorities, feels that it is safer under Hungarian jurisdiction. In 2018, after he was convicted and sentenced to jail, former North Macedonian Prime Minister Nikola Gruevski fled to Hungary, where he was granted asylum. In early 2024, facing charges at home, former Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro spent multiple days at the Hungarian Embassy in Brasília, as the New York Times has uncovered. Both of them reportedly closely coordinated with Hungarian government officials. 

There is no information on whether Obajtek also enjoys the protection of Hungarian authorities or communicates with them. However, shortly after 6pm on Monday, June 4, we spotted Viktor Orbán’s close personal aide Dávid Héjj entering the Andrássy avenue building. We have no information as to which apartment he went into, but he routinely typed in the gate code without any help, suggesting it is not his first visit there. There was no indication that Obajtek was also in the building at the time.

What is public knowledge, however, is that Obajtek knows Viktor Orbán: back in 2022, when Orlen and Hungary’s MOL oil company entered into a deal over acquiring gas stations in both countries, the deal was “welcomed” by the government and Obajtek was received by Orbán in his office.

We sent requests for comment to BBID Ltd. and the office of Viktor Orbán, none of them reacted before publication. 

Obajtek replied: “I have never made a secret of the fact that I conduct business talks not only in Poland, but also abroad. It is, therefore, natural that I have to stop somewhere during these trips. As a private person, I do not have to explain myself. Please do not look for sensations. I am not asking you where you are staying during your trips.”

[arcxnumvitae]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂

bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies.  ( repost, don’t reblog! )

                           𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

                           𝐑𝐄𝐃

wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets

                         𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams

                          𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍

marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns

                         𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces

                         𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art

[snorfbin]

i feel like the difference between zos with eso and larian with bg3 is like night and day. larian put so much love and effort into bg3 but it feels like zos actually fucking hates their players and wants everyone to suffer

like when it comes to updates it feels like larian is kissing me with tongue but zos barely even gives me scraps, even when they hype up how long their patch notes are. there was one "fix" zos had implemented on pts where youd only get sprinting animations when you actually held shift to sprint otherwise youd just get the normal running animation. as someone who does a lot of mat farming ive got a super speedy toon and it looked so damn stupid. like imagine someones running around twice as fast as usain bolt but with the gait of a casual jogger! so stupid and ugly! the "fix" never actually made it to the live server bc this is one of the few times zos actually listened to the players but guess what made it on to the patch notes for the live server soon after? yup! they said in the patch notes that this "fix" was on the live server when it wasnt at all! they just left it in the official live server patch notes to pad out the length bc they spent so much time hyping up how long the patch notes were gonna be bc they were fixing so much stuff

ive never had any issues with combat at all in bg3, it works exceedingly well and i quite enjoy it. and then zos broke the blocking mechanic... three times in a row... ive also been having problems with my 2 arcanists too. if i use my green beam but literally anything interrupts me then i cant use ANY of my abilities at all until the beam ability normally wouldve ended. normally if someone bashes you while channeling an ability like that you just cant recast that ability for like 2 secs at most but you can still use other abilities. for me i cant do anything at all. anything that interrupts my ability will cause this to happen such as a summoned companion finally appearing. this isnt a lag thing either, it happens when my ping is as low as 70 or off the charts at 999. the arcanist class is part of a $70 dlc and altho i got it on sale id expect any game company to do some fucking quality checks on their shit before launching it!

larians depiction of the world makes sense too compared with some of the more recent eso dlcs. like necrom is an ancient city, possibly one of the oldest in morrowind and prolly like 4 thousand years old. its also the epicenter of morrowinds funerary culture where people go to cremate their honoured dead. you can see carts all over the city carrying coffins. so tell me why in a city that relies on carts for something so fucking culturally important and so regular do they not have some sorta permanent infrastructure for carts? they just have wooden ramps barely big enough for a single cart on MOST stair cases, theres even some stairs near the cremation section of the city with absolutely no ramps whatsoever. death be so common by the time of eso with shit like the knehatan flu and the three banners war and molag bals planemeld and so on and so forth, its a very turbulent time with people dying left right and center! the stairs that do have ramps only have one single ramp! oh good lord the traffic jams must be a fucking nightmare! what if one of those ramps breaks bc its literally just made of wood? what are people to do then? i doubt you could get away with just leaving your ancestor there for a bit either bc ancestors and their care are so important to the culture! youre just fucked if one of those shitty ramps snaps like a twig underneath the very constant wear and tear! the main gate doesnt even have ramps either, the main fucking gate to the city is rampless!

larians fast at fixing their bugs and mistakes too. meanwhile necrom launched with a couple of audio mistakes. most notably the telvanni peninsula zone didnt have any ambient music at all and throughout azandars whole questline all other npcs had no audio to their dialogue so the game would skip right over subtitles, thankfully i already had npc subtitles turned on in my chatbox so i had the luxury to read them while azandar immediately went right back to speaking. it took zos several fucking months to fix those audio issues. i literally beat bg3 in the time it took zos to fix the audio bug, i even made several new ocs with backstories in that time too. also during that time playing bg3 i didnt have any issues with missing music or dialogue audio! when larian does encounter a bug or mistake its usually fixed by the 2nd update after the mistake comes up

zos has also outright stolen tes fanart and passed it off as their own creation and put it in a lootbox people could spend irl money to gamble for. lately with my last rant about the jubilee maintenance it feels like theyre trying to pit players against each other rather than taking responsibility for their shitty way of handling the scenario. they turned the situation into an us versus them sorta fight on the forums between folks who just wanted the rewards from the final day of the jubilee event and those who wanted access to their account back, zos just sat back and watched everyone bicker and fight

playing bg3 has made me fully aware of just how shitty eso is. like i can handle some of the bugs zos throws my way bc ive spent years playing skyrim, its just the usual tes bugs. with each quarter tho it feels like a new round of bugs comes in, just as many as are in skyrim. the bugs and errors and mistakes just keep adding up more and more and more. its just never ending shit and bg3 wouldnt treat me like that!

[oculusxcaro]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂

rules: bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies. ( repost, don’t reblog! )

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways 𝐑𝐄𝐃 wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets 𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art

Tagged by: Nobody, stole while exploring! Tagging: @acidbite, @arkhmlcst, @babydxhl, @bdybag, @byanyan, @elisethetraveller, @grasshopperqueen, @novaless, @paleobird, @sanguine-salvation, @smilingmxsk, @the-rorschach-mask (and your other muses!), @twcfaces and anybody else who'd like to do this???

[unshackled-instinct]

 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂

bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies.                               ( repost, don’t reblog! )

                            𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

                            𝐑𝐄𝐃

wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets

                          𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams

                           𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍

marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns

                          𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces

                          𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art

Tagged by: stolen from source.

Tagging: @thekingofmuses, @girlsfightingarena @neowaveoasis

and anyone else who wants to do this meme.

[thewolfisawake]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂

bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies.  ( repost, don’t reblog! )

                           𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

                           𝐑𝐄𝐃

wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets

                         𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams

                          𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍

marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns

                         𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces

                         𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art

[oathofpromises]

    𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂

bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies. ( repost, don’t reblog! )

                      𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

                          𝐑𝐄𝐃

wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets

                          𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams

                           𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍

marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns

                          𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces

                          𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art

Tagged by: no one(original post found here)

Tagging: @diademreigned @hyaciiintho @crystalmarred @phantomrune @vierandancer and anyone else that wants to do this just say I tagged you