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#a.s.
lovecatcher · 2 years
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https://www.instagram.com/p/COqVBDuHcsD/
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schwimmtagebuch · 3 months
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Vom Paradiese
Das Wort Paradies stammt vom altpersischen pairidaeza ab, einer Zusammensetzung aus pairi, "rund herum", und daeza, "Mauer". Xenophon, der das Wort als Erster erwähnt, rühmte im 5. Jh. v. Chr. nicht nur die Kriegskunst, sondern auch die Gartenbaukunst des persischen Königs Kyros des Jüngeren. "Wo immer der König sich aufhält... er sorgt für die Einrichtung sogenannter Lustgärten, in denen sich alles Gute findet, was die Erde erzeugt, dort verbringt er den größten Teil seiner Zeit." Er gab das persische pairidaeza auf Griechisch als wieder. In der ersten Bibelübersetzung stand parades für Garten. In der jüdisch-christlichen Tradition verwendet man Paradies als Synonym für den Garten Eden.
Penelope Hobhouse: Der Garten. Eine Kulturgeschichte.
Bis vor kurzem war das Schönbrunnerbad von einer Mauer umgeben, die aber wegen Baufälligkeit und Einsturzgefahr von einem japanisch anmutenden Holzzaun ersetzt wurde.
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escaveirado · 7 months
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Quando serei arte novamente?
a.s.
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void-tiger · 1 year
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If I were not scheduled to lead songs today I simply would not go.
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llovelymoonn · 5 months
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osip mandelstam from a swamp, evil, viscous (tr. a.s. kline) (via @metamorphesque) \\ @stuckinapril \\ julie myerson sleepwalking \\ @kosmogrl \\ rainer maria rilke duino elegies: the first elegy (a. poullin, jr.) (via @bones-ivy-breath) \\ @postnuclearophelia \\ joshua turek (via @girlfictions)
kofi
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gazetelinkmedya · 2 years
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Video/ Bağcılar'da dehşet: Annesinin kafasını kesip balkondan attı
Video/ Bağcılar’da dehşet: Annesinin kafasını kesip balkondan attı
Bağcılar’da dehşet: Annesinin kafasını kesip komşularının çığlıklarına aldırmadan kafayı balkondan attı Bağcılar’da psikolojik sorunları olan ve uyuşturucu kullandığı öne sürülen A.S. isimli genç erkek, annesinin kafasını kestikten sonra kafayı balkondan aşağı attı. O dehşet anları kameraya yansıdı. Bağcılar ilçesi Fevziçakmak Mahallesi 2014 Sokak’ta akşam saatlerinde meydana gelen korkunç olay…
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soracities · 9 months
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"Persephone Writes a Letter to Her Mother", by A.E. Stallings
First – hell is not so far underground – My hair gets tangled in the roots of trees & I can just make out the crunch of footsteps, The pop of acorns falling, or the chime Of a shovel squaring a fresh grave or turning Up the tulip bulbs for separation. Day & night, creatures with no legs Or too many, journey to hell and back. Alas, the burrowing animals have dim eyesight. They are useless for news of the upper world. They say the light is “loud” (their figures of speech All come from sound; their hearing is acute).
The dead are just as dull as you would imagine. They evolve like the burrowing animals – losing their sight. They may roam abroad sometimes – but just at night – They can only tell me if there was a moon. Again and again, moth-like, they are duped By any beckoning flame – lamps and candles. They come back startled & singed, sucking their fingers, Happy the dirt is cool and dense and blind. They are silly & grateful and don’t remember anything. I have tried to tell them stories, but they cannot attend. They pester you like children for the wrong details – How long were his fingernails? Did she wear shoes? How much did they eat for breakfast? What is snow? And then they pay no attention to the answers.
My husband, bored with their babbling, neither listens nor speaks. But here there is no fodder for small talk. The weather is always the same. Nothing happens. (Though at times I feel the trees, rocking in place Like grief, clenching the dirt with torturous toes.) There is nothing to eat here but raw beets & turnips. There is nothing to drink but mud-filtered rain. Of course, no one goes hungry or toils, however many – (The dead breed like the bulbs of daffodils – Without sex or seed – all underground – Yet no race has such increase. Worse than insects!)
I miss you and think about you often. Please send flowers. I am forgetting them. If I yank them down by the roots, they lose their petals And smell of compost. Though I try to describe Their color and fragrance, no one here believes me. They think they are the same thing as mushrooms. Yet no dog is so loyal as the dead, Who have no wives or children and no lives, No motives, secret or bare, to disobey. Plus, my husband is a kind, kind master; He asks nothing of us, nothing at all – Thus fall changes to winter, winter to fall, While we learn idleness, a difficult lesson.
He does not fully understand why I write letters. He says that you will never get them. True – Mulched-leaf paper sticks together, then rots; No ink but blood, and it turns brown like the leaves. He found my stash of letters, for I had hid it, Thinking he’d be angry. But he never angers. He took my hands in his hands, my shredded fingers Which I have sliced for ink, thin paper cuts. My effort is futile, he says, and doesn’t forbid it.
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animations-daily · 13 days
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Hey, for your information, I happen to be humanity's last great hope. I weep for the species. TITAN A.E. (2000) dir. Don Bluth, Gary Goldman
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stargirl-writes · 6 months
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promises
pairing : f! reader x rots! anakin skywalker
word count : 1k
masterlist | ao3 link
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summary
ever since anakin had killed dooku, your anxiety has never settled. for you were watching him slowly lose himself in the war. and you lie late at night lost in the idea that maybe, being with you didn't make any difference at all. so, you watched him sleep, at peace, stealing what little time you could have with him.
tags : angst, comfort, love, flangst (?)
warnings : pretty much none, just angsty stuff to cry to hehe
notes : hello beautiful people! i finished the film past lives and there's this one line that just shattered me 😭 so i just wanna share this little imagine before i go to sleep :) hope ya like it 🪽🩷
likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated ! (and fuels me hehe)
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Anakin Skywalker is your secret.
Your beautiful little secret.
Here wrapped in these sheets, where everything softens. Hushed. Kissed by the gentle rays of the moonlight.
You have been awake for some time now. But you didn't dare move. Anakin was still deep in his dreams exhausted from the day before. Despite his slumber, his arms wrap around you protectively.
You placed your head on his chest, following his breathing and listening to the soft thuds of his heart.
Your gaze lands on his peaceful expression.
How can someone look so beautifu?
You thought, he looked like the people in the paintings. Like how an artist would imagine a being with the perfect proportions. And he'd move as if each stroke is intended with grace.
The force made him. You'd sometimes catch yourself lost in his eyes, staring, studying the way it'd crease at the ends when he smiles. Is he even human? You'd think to yourself. He is the galaxy made flesh. That has to account for his prettiness, you think.
You take a deep breath; the scales of the ongoing war are further tipped to the Republic's advantage after Anakin had killed Dooku.
It was so close. Even the air itself has shifted. You can feel it, the end. You can almost visualize it.
Maybe then, things will change...
Selfishly, you feel your heart ache by the little amount of time you could share with Anakin. You can't help it, you have always belonged to him, and for that, you have suffered.
He is the Jedi Order's first. Before you can call him yours. You're not even sure if he is his own's anymore. Because you've watched how this war takes so much of him.
Be smarter, Be more cunning, Be more ruthless. Offer yourself again and again and again.
There's so little of him that remains.
You blinked, sighing once more. You reminded yourself that you are here, tangled in his embrace. It was enough to know that here he lies, with you.
Anakin shifts and you hold your breath. You begged the Gods to not wake him, not yet, let me have him, just for now.
Anakin mutters something. Huttese, the language he grew up on. Your eyebrows furrowed, you never really got to understanding the language even after studying it.
His heart paces under your touch. You kept your gaze on his face, deciding whether you should wake him up or have him rest.
He has been having so many nightmares lately...
His eyes abruptly open and you lent your weight on your elbow to better survey him.
"It's alright, Ani, it was just a dream" You spoke softly, careful not to startle him.
Anakin's wide-eye terror softens at the sight of you, his chest heaves trying to catch his breath.
"It's alright" You coo once more, placing a kiss on his forehead.
He presses his eyes close, and his eyes are intent in yours as he follows your breathing.
You can't help but feel a sting in your heart. He is reaching his limit, and it worries you that whenever he's away, he is close to blurring the lines and crossing it.
Anakin presses his face to your clavicle, and your hands find a way to tangle in his hair. Noticing his silence, you spoke soothingly "What's on your mind, Ani?"
Anakin's breath felt warm against your neck. You used to be able to read Anakin's thoughts. Like he'd write it down in words on pages of a novel for you to be able to understand him. But now, he's been more distant, more incoherent, and you feel as though you have to decipher every little thing that he allows you to see.
"mmm—just tired" Anakin's voice was gravelly and of resignation.
Stop turning me away. You wanted to say. But you already know that the more you try to push him, the further he'll hide away.
You take a deep breath, wishing you could take away some of the weight off his shoulders. "You know you speak in Huttese when you're asleep"
"I do?" Anakin tilts his chin, his eyes are still half-asleep.
"Yeah, I could never understand it though" You managed a wan smile.
"That's probably good for you, Huttese is a very coarse language" He claims.
"Still—" You held back your tongue, deciding it would only drive him away if you asked about his dream.
"I fear that you dream in a language I can't understand"
The silence hung. Anakin must be asleep.
Your gaze moved faraway— deep in contemplation. Wondering if you being in his life made any difference at all.
"You know, I only ever feel like myself when I'm with you, right?" Anakin speaks, voice barely above a whisper.
Your cheeks flushed scarlet, realizing your force signature may have revealed your anxieties.
"I know"
Anakin shifts his head, eyes latched on to you like he was memorizing every detail of your face.
"Ani" you began, "If there's a life after it all, will you come with me?"
Anakin's eyebrows flashed at the suddenness of your question.
"What do you mean?" He places his hand on the small of your back, tracing small circles.
"Well, I'm only wondering, will you come with me, even then?"
Anakin's expression softens, recognizing your fears. You were losing him, slowly, bit by bit. And if you're bound to him in this life, why not in the other?
When you can finally feel like you're not constantly the only one holding on.
He doesn't answer for a while, you feel the need to ramble, to withdraw.
It was silly of you to ask, he is free to choose whatever life he wants to live after it all, besides, if he decides to want to rest, you won't take that away from him, if he ever wants to—
"I'll go wherever you go" he declares, halting the thoughts plaguing your mind.
His eyes drift away from yours "I can't... I know what my duty requires of me and I'm sorry if I haven't been here for you."
"But, I'll love you in a time that isn't stolen" he promises, tucking your hair away from your face.
You felt tears glistening in your eyes. You smiled, leaning in to tenderly kiss Anakin.
The hope of it all would be enough to keep you going.
Just a little while longer.
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© to @cafekitsune for the borders as always !
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bebemoon · 6 months
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look for the name: MIEN
@byayavich
no/faith studios flight leather cropped bomber jacket (handmade)
ann demeulemeester velvet patterned long skirt, a/w 1994
yohji yamamoto recycled pe/b furry socks in khaki color
a.s. 98 black platform ankle boots w/ leather strap and buckle detail
diesel textile shoulder bag w/ peasant girl print
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mote-historie · 4 months
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1930 French Art Deco Wedding illustration for Harper's Bazaar by Andre Edouard Marty (A. É. Marty).
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lovecatcher · 2 years
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https://www.instagram.com/p/COlJe7FHWya/
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andmaybegayer · 6 months
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File under "things I saw on Wikipedia and decided I wanted to go see in real life": the Tesla (no, not that one) stained glass window in Pasáž Světozor.
This Tesla is a memory of what is now the remnants of a Soviet era electronics manufacturer. They currently have a commercial and military branch that makes radar and radio equipment, and a consumer branch that rebadges vacuum cleaners and rice cookers.
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phantomrin · 7 months
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Inktober 2023
Day 9 - The Swan-Princess
"Then she spread her wings, to soar O’er the waves towards the shore. There, amid a clump of trees, Folded them with graceful ease, Shook herself, and then and there Turned into a maiden fair — In her braids, a crescent beamed, On her brow, a bright star gleamed; She was sweet in form and face, Full of majesty and grace. When she spoke, her sweet voice seemed Like the flow of tinkling streams." (A.S. Pushkin "The Tale of Tsar Saltan, of His Son, the Glorious and Mighty Knight Prince Guidon Saltonovich, and of the Fair Swan-Princess")
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diana-andraste · 16 days
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Human nature, or, Men and Women Exposed, A.E. Willis, 1901
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oakys-sideblog · 29 days
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of COURSE Vimes's solution to having a state inspector asking questions at the most inconvenient time is to conscript him into the Watch
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