Necronomicon: The Musical
Kaitlyn / 21 / Linguist and Semi-Professional Insomniac.

April 16 2014, 02:12 AM


Total lunar eclipse for the Americas on April 14th 15th 2014

Total lunar eclipse for the Americas on April 14th 15th 2014

April 15 2014, 09:14 PM

Repeat

ltsashakaidanovsky:

Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, and your friends call you Bucky, and you love your friends. You know this because they came back for you, of course they did, who else but your friends would hold you like this, firmly by your shoulder?

But it hurts, and you don’t know why it hurts, but it hurts but you love your friends, and they wouldn’t—he wouldn’t hurt you.

So someone tells you to open your mouth, and you open your mouth and—

{x}

Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, and your friends call you…a lot of things, they’re idiots, really, your friends are idiots, probably they took you out to drink to your not-dying, and once the fog clears from the pounding hollows of your skull, this is will all resolve into some gin joint with pretty waitresses and only a few bullet holes in the windows.

You’re with your friends, of course you are, held fast by your forearm which is something only friends do, and it—

But it hurts, and you need to tell Steve, once you work up the will to move your lips, once your mouth is not so terribly terribly dry, that just because he’s the Captain now, and just because you’re drunk still doesn’t mean he can beat you at arm-wrestling, he’ll see, Serum is cheating and cheating isn’t winning and if he would just let go of your arm, it hurts.

But you and Steve, you look out for each other, so someone tells you to open your mouth, and you open your mouth and—

{x}

Your name is James.

You know it’s James.

Your name is James, and his is Steve, your friend, and you love your friends, and you don’t know why it hurts so much, something…happened, something must have happened.

But you’ll pull through, and if you can’t, Steve will pull for you, and someone takes your hand, someone tells you to open your mouth, and you open your mouth and—

{x}

Your name is unimportant.

So is his.

The important things, the things you know are cold, burning blue cold and a bright, silvery-red pain that snakes from fingertips to chest.

There is cotton in your eyes and on your shoulder and these hurt only marginally less, and there is a voice telling you to open your mouth, so you know this.

You know this.

So someone tells you to open your mouth, and you open your mouth and—

{x}

The man on the bridge.

You know him.

You knew him.

So someone tells you to open your mouth, and you open your mouth and—

April 15 2014, 05:53 PM

1 note  Filed Under:  les mis fantasy week  

Taking fantasy prompts

April 15 2014, 03:00 PM

I’m warning you, I am a lethal killing machine.

April 15 2014, 01:53 PM

159 notes   •  VIA: thymoss   •   SOURCE: cadairs
Filed Under:  domine dirige nos  

The city’s a heart, I said, and in that a heart and a city were sutured into a third thing, a heartish city, and cities are heart-stained, and hearts are city-stained too.

 - China Miéville, Embassytown (via cadairs)

April 15 2014, 12:38 PM

To War

The Dwarves of Erebor go to war, and Dis does not go with them. If she goes, who will teach Fili to keep his knives sharp, how to braid them safe and secret into his hair? If she goes, who will teach little Kili to oil her bowstrings, how to keep her beard so it will grow long and thick like her mother’s? If she goes, who will be left to guard the line of Durin, to forge their sharp, bright axes?

Her brothers, her Grandfather, the Dwarves of Erebor go to Moria, to war, and Dis does not go with them.

Dis belts her axes firmly to her skirts, Dis weaves lapis and silver into her beard, Dis banks her forges. Dis goes to say goodbye.

This is important, she knows, important in their exile, after so much has been taken, to take something back, so the Dwarves of Erebor will go to war. And their axes are bright and sharp, and their armies have massed proud and strong, and from afar there is a flash of tattooed scalp and iron-bound knuckles, and Dis wants…

But that is a goodbye for later, for tracing the lines of the runes where his head rests between her thighs, for winding her hands in his thick black hair and /pulling/ until it hurts and he promises to come back.

Now is for goodbyes to friends, sisters; Gondul, who taught her, the only on to speak to her as if she were young still, young and beardless. Gondul with her iron-hair and braided beard and the blade of her axe stretched high over her head even at rest, who clasps her arm and says “By morning, little Dis. We march by morning”

By morning, the Dwarves of Erebor will go to war , and Dis will not go with them.
She stays.
Dis stays so they will come back.
They will come back.
They will.

April 15 2014, 08:02 AM

April 14 2014, 07:52 PM

April 14 2014, 07:32 PM

myflameofhope:

what I have gathered from tumblr: THERE IS LITERALLY NO ONE WHO DOESN’T WANT A MOVIE ABOUT THE BLACK WIDOW AND HAWKEYE

April 14 2014, 08:01 AM