Katherine Frances's Blog, page 312
September 22, 2015
jaebooklover:
favorite books read in 2015: Daughter of Smoke...
favorite books read in 2015: Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor
“Have you ever asked yourself, do monsters make war, or does war make monsters?”
"I have a heart in my stomach which throbs and mocks."
- Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath (via tremendousandsonorouswords)
September 21, 2015
facinaoris:
Hail to you, Hela, stiller of strife.
Half fair,...
Hail to you, Hela, stiller of strife.
Half fair, half rotten, mirror of life.
Cool is your comfort, equal for all.
Highways and alleys end in your hall.
Kim Shimmers and the Screech Owl
A Harry Potter Fanfiction by me
This Harry Potter fanfiction will be posted, as long as all goes well, every weekend.
Chapter 9
Quidditch Cup
It had been almost three months since she’d had anything other than a passing hello with Fred and George. It was late February, and Kim had been working with the more miserable than ever Hermione to give Hagrid a solid case to defend Buckbeak. Ron and Harry were still angry at both Hermione and Kim, and nothing, including the upcoming quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, could lift Kim’s spirits.
When Kim woke the morning of the match, she wandered unenthusiastically to the Great Hall. She wasn’t looking forward to the match at all because while watching this game would be considerably nicer due to the improved weather conditions, she had no idea where she was going to sit. She supposed she’d find Luna or Clemon in the Ravenclaw section. Kim had a hard time keeping up with whether or not Hermione and Ron were fighting, but if not they would certainly be sitting together, and if they were sitting together Kim would certainly not be welcome near. All this, along with the fact that Clemon was eyeing Kim suspiciously as she walked up to the table with pins and flags, made Kim hesitantly decide to pick up the blue and bronze. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Ravenclaw to win… It was just that in her heart, she didn’t want Fred, George, or Harry to loose.
And that feeling swelled even stronger as she sat down at the Ravenclaw table, which was bustling with nervous energy about how they were going to manage defeating Harry’s new Firebolt. Kim watched as the Gryffindor table was practically exploding with excitement and happiness over the game to come. Fred and George were there too. Kim got a sudden urge to go talk to them. Did she really have any concrete reason to think they were mad at her? It had been such a long time since they’d had their disagreement, she could hardly remember exactly what happened. Perhaps this was all just a misunderstanding. And it couldn’t hurt just to go over and say good luck, could it? That was neutral enough.
Kim got shakily to her feet. Fred and George were standing and making their way out of the Great Hall. This was her only chance. She had to hurry. She almost lost the will right then and there. Don’t be stupid. These were your friends… even if they aren’t anymore… and who knows… Kim saw flashes of the last quidditch match, of Fred and George embracing her as they embarked solemnly to witness the damage done to Harry, unsure if he was alive or dead.
“Hey guys,” she said with a shaky cord running through her tone. They both turned casually until they caught sight of her. They gave her a quick look up and down and dawned smirking grins. Kim took a breath and opened her mouth to try and force out some form of luck wishing, but they cut her off with an ugly jeer. Arm in arm with each other, they leaned in and they booed. They were smirking at her, like she was a zoo animal they wanted to make angry so it’d be more exciting for them.
“Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw,” they jeered, followed by another boo and then ugly laughter. Kim felt her face crumpling despite herself.
“Well- good luck then,” she said sharply, only able to think of the last thing she’d meant to say as her throat got tight and her voice thick. Both their faces wiped clean of their expressions, but she didn’t stick around to watch what they did next. She hurried off to escape back up to Ravenclaw Tower, suddenly completely uninterested in watching quidditch at all.
iluvatardis:
polyamorousmisanthrope:
valkyriestrikeofthelashatt...
valkyriestrikeofthelashatterdome:
#pirates of the caribbean was kind of a formative influence #so here’s the thing #after years of chasing curses and hearts and fountains; losing the pearl and winning her back and losing her again #after rum enough to drown his sins and sorrows both#captain jack sparrow wakes up one morning and he’s immortal #just like that #no deals with calypso (he hasn’t been able to find her since the brethren court broke her chains) no desperate double-dealing #one morning he just…stops #stops aging stops dying #he gets the seas forever—except #except #the edges of the map are closing in #the lure of undiscovered treasures is waning and merchant ships are becoming better defended #the day that the East India Company takes Shipwreck Island; Jack feels a great chapter in the world’s history close #(he flees to the Barbary coast with the rest of his ilk; but the romance has gone out of it—the is too much desperation #too much hunger too much blood to it nowadays #the age of the swashbuckler won’t live out the decade) #I imagine this thing he’s chased all his life would crumble through his hands as he bounced from ship to ship #he never gets used to the square rigging on the clippers; though they lead to some good work running tea from china #but the first time he sees a steamship he nearly walks off the dock out of shock #of all the ways sailing would have changed; who thought you’d get rid of the /sails/ #(he swears he’s never getting on one of those monstrosities; let alone sailing on one) #(he manages to hold out until 1893 when the longing for the sea overwhelms him and he decides that even #that ghastly smog and the humming of the engines can be endured) #sometimes he’ll see calypso out of the corner of his eye—leaning on the deck railing; darting alongside the ship with the dolphins #(someone in the early 20th century tells him they’re not fish and he nearly busts a gut laughing) #calls himself american; spanish; english (british); caribbean #he has two dozen different copies of Stevenson’s Treasure Island—it reminds him of something gone and half-forgotten #and in 1920 when Seitz comes out with Pirate Gold; Captain Jack Sparrow is in the first row (x)
And then in the future, everything changes. He’s been through it all, of course-watched humanity rediscover the heavens above them, watched them begin to wonder what’s out there. He cheered with the rest of the world when they landed on the moon, cheered as if he’d found Isla de la Muerta all over again, because there was something new. New treasure, a new horizon. But then they stop going, stop exploring, and he goes back to riding tankers across the rising seas. So he’s surprised when one day he wakes up from a night with his bottle of rum (his truest companion), and hears that there’s colonies on Mars now, and they need ships to supply them. He spends the next decade crafting new identities, learning all he can to qualify for the job, and after several tries (and even more faked deaths-this immortality thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be in the age of the inerasable digital self) he gets it. The ships go nearly constantly now, the needs of the terraforming project creating an unbroken line of vessels from Mars to Earth and back again. “Show me that horizon,” he whispers to himself, his personal prayer of thanksgiving, each time they leave orbit, because the worlds, the stars are in motion and it’s never the same, with nearly three years for a round trip the ports are always different, even if they keep the old names. And finally one trip something goes wrong with the reactor, they’re too low on power and have to deploy the backups, and Jack (Lucky Jack, they call him, for he survives too many things he shouldn’t but science has yet to accept that maybe some things weren’t old wives’ tales after all) goes out for the spacewalk to bring up the solar panels. And as they rise, geometric patterns black against the sun’s glare, he’s struck by a powerful sense of déjà vu, because it’s all here-wind and sails, a ship beneath his feet and stars above his head, horizon in all directions. He wonders, for a moment, if the reason he’s still here is because the universe wanted a witness, to mourn the end of one age of exploration, and rejoice in the birth of the next.
Thank you for writing this. It made me cry, but oh I am so relieved to see the yearning for the stars.
That shouldn’t have given me as many feels as it did…
September 20, 2015
fuckyeahnorsemythology:
theasatrucommunity:
chaosophia218:
Anc...
Ancient Alphabets.
Thedan Script - used extensively by Gardnerian Witches
Runic Alphabets - they served for divinatory and ritual purposes, as well as the more practical use; there are three main types of Runes; Germanic, Scandinavian/Norse, and Anglo-Saxon and they each have any number of variations, depending on the region from which they originate
Celtic and Pictish - early Celts and their priests, the Druids, had their own form of alphabet known as “Ogam Bethluisnion”, which was an extremely simple alphabet used more for carving into wood and stone, than for general writing, while Pictish artwork was later adopted by the Celts, especially throughout Ireland
Ceremonial Magick Alphabets - “Passing the River”, “Malachim” and “Celestial” alphabets were used almost exclusively by ceremonial magicians
Nice reference!
A nice side-by-side comparison of runic scripts.
The last three are constructed alphabets by Heinrich Agrippa and are not organic scripts. They are also based off of Greek and Latin rather than germanic languages.
