Turned into abuse, then misuse, then absolute disuse. I abandoned this blog for a long time, then an epiphany had me searching for a place to record old, dangerously forgotten thoughts into.
So here we are, my dears. A collection, dating back to 2006. Love, F.
PS. Leave me some hearts, mmk?
Fictionpress
Fanfiction.net
RPGC - Fluff
June 2nd, 2012
(via lady-oneiromancy)
May 31st, 2012
Oh god, oh god, oh god! T_T
My first reaction was ‘Nice thought but there’s no way, Coulson is much younger than…’ and then I stopped mid-thought.
Because you know what.
You know what.
After Steve, the US government had to keep trying to recreate the Super-Soldier Serum.
And who
and who
would be the FIRST DAMN PERSON IN LINE to volunteer?
They told us it never worked again. And that was kind of true. They never again recreated the super-strength or the gleaming pecs. But other things, they got right. They got the vastly delayed aging. And the kind of reflexes that make a man able to take out two armed thugs with a bag of flour. And the talent for leading through example. And they got the most important part, Erskine’s favorite part: the magnification of moral fiber, taking the loyalty and selflessness of a loyal and selfless man and making him into something spectacular.
Coulson didn’t buy those vintage cards on Ebay.
He’s had them since he was a little boy.
That little boy right there.
(Source: yourerightinthemiddleoftheroad, via ianisourqueen)
May 31st, 2012
![victoriousvocabulary:
HAEMOLACRIA
[noun]
a physical condition that causes a person to produce tears that are partially composed of blood. It can manifest as tears that are anything from merely red-tinged to appearing to be entirely made of blood. Haemolacria is a symptom of a number of diseases, and may also be indicative of a tumour in the lacrimal apparatus. It is most often provoked by local factors such as bacterial conjunctivitis, environmental damage or injuries.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m4st865kfg1rnrss4o1_400.jpg)
HAEMOLACRIA
[noun]
a physical condition that causes a person to produce tears that are partially composed of blood. It can manifest as tears that are anything from merely red-tinged to appearing to be entirely made of blood. Haemolacria is a symptom of a number of diseases, and may also be indicative of a tumour in the lacrimal apparatus. It is most often provoked by local factors such as bacterial conjunctivitis, environmental damage or injuries.
(Source: rebel6)
May 31st, 2012
(Source: ravenclawhousepride)
April 19th, 2012
I’m a con, a stealer of hearts. I only keep this facade to keep you on your toes.
April 19th, 2012
Voices (A Dream)
You know when you speak
(I find your words
lost in translation)
Everything about you;
your brown eyes, your lustrous soul-
your whole paints the room
in extravagant colours
that are not to be ascertained
of anything less than beautiful
Your footsteps create a rhythm
that hold a melody so dear
I can hear you coming
(from miles away)
Seep into my pores,
become what I have wanted(and hoped for)
Become me, please
(I am not desperate, I swear)
I have fallen for you-
I have fallen for you
April 19th, 2012
amateur cartography
i wrote your
poems on the
back of my
eyelids so i
could chase their
meaning, even
in sleepbefore i knew
the music of
your name i
dreamt the
music in your
hips, soothing
tones to collapse
standing armies
give up your
hands, they’re
hers. all they
do is draw maps
to her heart
April 19th, 2012
The romantic in me loves this. <3
(Source: neededintroductions, via lady-oneiromancy)
April 19th, 2012
This. Lesson still being learned.
(Source: imagequotes, via irrelevanceisbliss)
April 19th, 2012
It was the three of us, and it was kind of screwed up, really. We loved and hated together in our own way, one after the other. It’s weird, and kind of gross when you choose to see it from the wrong perspective. You were my brothers. You were family. Even he— But I digress. I miss this, most of all. That you were the protectors I longed for all my life, my sentinels, and I lost that when I left. I always felt safe around either of you. I mean, I’m sure I can fend for myself. I’m fine. But I can’t seem to shake my feeble mortality right now. I’m so physically weak, despite all the great accomplishments I’m collecting. I feel tiny. I’m relearning how to negotiate heights and heavy lifting. Four-foot-ten, and rendered even more fragile by years of complacency because, hey, my knights would always be around to keep me safe, wouldn’t they? It’s the little things that remind me of my limitations and the absence of both of you from my life. Opening a tightly-lidded jar. Realizing a desired grocery item is too high up for me to reach. Walking alone after sunset. It’s strange. This realization (because, frankly, I didn’t realize how much I missed the three of us until now) is far more melancholic and poignant than the explosive ending of the relationship. I guess that’s because this loss is more genuine. I had been saying goodbye to P. for years, though I might not have known it consciously. But the friendship — what I had in the two of you — I really, really wish I hadn’t lost that. I wish I could still make us dinner, and we’d stay up all night playing board games and getting pissed off at each other. Wish I could come home to Glee and Battlestar Galactica, and we’d all just sprawl out in the living room because the day was just too damn crazy. Wish we could still amuse ourselves at Isabelle’s expense. That was really nice. Now that I’ve shaken the obligatory heartbreak off, I can finally miss those days. And, oh, how I miss them. Terribly. But it’s over now, and this longing will fade, too. I think that’s one of the saddest facts I had ever written. Those days are gone, and we probably would never get them back. I miss you both. I wish I could tell you.
(via lestranges)