#silver strand

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in Irish History | 5 April:

456 – St Patrick returns to Ireland as a missionary bishop. 584 – Death of St Ruadhan (Ruadán), one of the twelve ‘Apostles of Erin’. He died at the monastery of Lorrha, Co Tipperary. 1605 – Death of Adam Loftus. He was Archbishop of Armagh, and later Dublin, and Lord Chancellor of Ireland from 1581. He was also the first provost of Trinity College, Dublin. 1806 – William Dool Killen,…

View On WordPress

[lovenikkiclothes]

Based around the coat ‘Billowing Dust: Epic’.

[rampartsquad51]

[mostly-history]

Photochrom prints of the mountain of Ben Venue (Scotland, c. 1890 - c. 1900): Loch Achray and Ben Venue; Silver Strand and Ben Venue.

[fashionbooksboozefeminism]

The Silver Strand in Malin Beg, Donegal. I have so many photos of me on this beach with my siblings and we’re the only people in every one, it was always deserted when we visited. My aunt and uncle’s cottage is right at the top of these steps.

[moominsean]

Silver Strand SB, CA by moominsean Via Flickr: Colorpack III, Type 661

[claraxbx]

Silver Strand

He had tried this before. After four years as a marine, word had come down that military involvement in Vietnam WOULD end. He had hesitated, had wondered about the truth of those rumors, had wondered if that meant the draft would actually end or if there was still a possibility, still a threat. But when it was time to re-up again, he hadn't been able to. It felt like he was hiding behind the rumors of withdrawal, felt like he was cowardly clinging to any excuse to get out. And he was. He shipped out, catching a ride with a medevac transport full of guys swathed in bandages, and by the time the transport touched down in California he was convinced he should re-enlist. There were too many, too many young, fresh faced boys who cried in pain and reached for limbs that weren't there and looked at him with wild, empty eyes. Luck, fate, something had been on his side, however. The flight landed in Los Angeles, and when Trowa disembarked he was almost immediately attacked by civilians- eggs were thrown at him, some missing and hitting the other new veterans and a fight broke out. He had sat in a jail cell overnight, squeezed between five irate and bloodied hippies and two former Army Rangers. By the time local MPs arrived at the county jail to bail out Trowa and the two Rangers, Trowa's desire to re-enlist had passed and his uniform had dried and hardened haphazardly with egg yolks. Cathy hadn't know that he was coming home, had been in the middle of helping a customer when he walked into the bakery. She had stared at him with wide eyes and then thrown herself at him, hand clung to him so tightly Trowa could barely breathe and her sheer joy and relief had left his belly rioting in guilt and despair. His reunion with Duo had been more subdued. Trowa showered, pulled on clothes he hadn't worn in years, and he had found Duo at a party, a little drunk and definitely high and Duo had grinned at him, Duo's slow, deep grin of intense satisfaction that was in too many ways just as overwhelming as Cathy's relief. He couldn't stay. Not when Cathy and Duo still loved him, not when they thought he was someone they SHOULD love. They didn't know. They COULDN'T know. Trowa had gone to Vietnam so green and so naive it was laughable to look back on the nineteen year old who thought enlisted as a Marine would keep his best friend and the love of his life safe. And maybe Trowa had saved Quatre and Duo, maybe he had done some good by sacrificing himself, but the Trowa who held Duo's naked body tightly and watched the sun rise wasn't the Trowa who deserved to be alive. Who deserved Quatre's friendship or Duo's devotion or Cathy's love. Four years in Vietnam had shown Trowa the absolute worst that humanity was capable of. And he had not been a silent, disgusted observer. He had fought, he had killed, he had tortured. He had done what he had to and sometimes he had done what he wanted to and every day he had done what he hated. His knuckles were sore as he brushed them over Duo's cheek. There were raw spots that would no doubt scab over. He was sure the hippie's faces were in worse shape. He had hit them hard, had shrugged off the beefy Ranger who tried to hold him back and Trowa had hit the civilians right there- right where he now caressed Duo. Trowa didn't know what felt worse. Regretting almost everything he had done over the last four years. Or not regretting what he had done that very day. He couldn't stay, hadn't even made it a full twenty four hours before he packed a bag and took off. Two years later he was back, had managed to fill the despair and disquiet in his soul with nothingness. He hefted his bag and approached the bakery, and he wondered how Cathy would greet him this time. ------ @amberlyinviolet @kangofu-cb @maevemauvaise @remsyk-blog @renmaxwell @simulacraryn @helmistress @downwarddnaspiral @chronicwhimsy Were other people following???

[cosmostar]

Daily Boosting

Taking the opportunity that @claraxbarton proposed/ instituted a daily boosting, I’d like to recommend @dingyfeathers because I really love the wild, sexy, vintage, stylish and honest content present all over jacqueline’s blog (which I follow since I joined Tumblr) and many, many, many things on its archive match the Silver Strand aesthetic I get when I spy the teasers…