facina-oris:

You think I’m not a goddess?
Try me.
This is a torch song.
Touch me and you’ll burn.

bisexualskies:

moniquill:

naamahdarling:

wrath-fire-ice:

Bury me in this.

*SCREAMS*

Get buried in this, get found by archeologists ten thousand years later, get presumed some kind of monarch or holy figure.

#LifeGoals

bisexualskies:

moniquill:

naamahdarling:

wrath-fire-ice:

Bury me in this.

*SCREAMS*

Get buried in this, get found by archeologists ten thousand years later, get presumed some kind of monarch or holy figure.

#LifeGoals

(Source: lavenderwrath)

You’re born with a ton of fucks to give, so you spend them like a kid with a credit card. You give fucks about your friends, about your grades, about your fashion sense, about strangers’ opinions. You give way too many fucks about way too many things. You have so many. Then, as you get older, you have maybe 10 fucks per month, so you learn to budget them. You allocate fucks to family and career, but there aren’t enough fucks to give to the newest fads. Oh, someone at work has something they need my help with that’s outside my job title? I’ll do my best to allocate some fucks, but this month is pretty tight. Then, as you get even older, you’re down to 1-2 fucks per month, and those fucks are pretty damn precious. You give them to your family and your hobbies and your job, and that’s kinda it. It’s not your fault – fucks expire too quickly. I would’ve liked to save my fucks from when I was younger but I can’t. Then, you hit fuck insolvency. You’re getting like 1 fuck a year, and you have to make it last. So you go without, and even previously fuck-worthy things, you just can’t give a fuck. Some people run out really quickly, Some people have a fuck trust fund that pays out a decent amount even into old age. But at some point, the fuck faucet runs completely dry and you’re out of fucks to give. It’s just basic Fuckonomics.

Unknown English Teacher (via memewhore)

(Source: swarthyvillain)


Something about a very important post about what Steve Rogers would look like first thing in the morning, with sunglasses and bedhead. Oh, and a bicep tattoo peaking out. Cause even Captain America had some badass secrets.

Something about a very important post about what Steve Rogers would look like first thing in the morning, with sunglasses and bedhead. Oh, and a bicep tattoo peaking out. Cause even Captain America had some badass secrets.

(Source: ohcaptainmycaptain1918)

Interviewer: Did you do a lot of your own stunts?

Anthony Mackie: I did a bunch of the stuff leading up to the stunts. I tried to do one stunt and I ran into a parked car, face-first.

Interviewer: The directors were telling me— I asked if there were any close calls and that was the one situation they brought up!

AM: [Laughs] No, but they tricked me. First of all, no one— if I tell you to fly, you’re not going to know how to fly ‘cause as humans, we don’t fly. So they tell me they’re going to raise me up ten feet and let me go. I swing in, land on my feet, and walk and talk…. so they pulled me up ten feet and said ‘how do you feel?’ and I said ‘I feel good!’ But I keep going up! They pull me up forty feet off the ground and I’m like ‘THIS DOESN’T FEEL RIGHT!’ [Laughs] And they let me go. And I’m coming down at like….mach 2, right? And I look at Chris [Evans]’s face and he goes… “You’re going to die.”

-Anthony Mackie, interview with Access Hollywood

Guys, watch this WHOLE THING. He’s fucking hilarious. 

(via partytimexelent)

Second the rec for the video, Mackie’s retelling of this story is fucking GOLD

(via witchspell)

Anonymous asked
I SAW A POST ON TUMBLR: AU WHERE YOU SEE THE WORLD IN BLACK AND WHITE UNTIL YOU MEET YOUR SOULMATE AND WHEN THEY DIE IT GOES BACK TO BLACK AND WHITE

theappleppielifestyle:

The first colours Steve ever sees are the Iron Man colours, glossy red and gold, and Steve hears himself gasp, hears Iron Man’s modulated voice say, “Oh.”

Iron Man’s gauntlets shake as he takes off his helmet, and Steve blinks hard and the he’s looking into brown eyes, somehow more startling than the bright colours of the Iron Man suit.

Steve’s fingers itch for an easel.

-

When Steve finds the time, he paints.

He doesn’t throw away his charcoal, but he gets close, because now he can use watercolours properly, instead of pushing around a mess of colours he can’t see around with a paintbrush.

He paints Peggy, he paints Bucky, he paints his Ma and aches when he realizes over and over that he’ll only ever get to see their colours in photographs.

He paints Tony, Tony’s brown eyes, the bright blue of the arc reactor, the Iron Man suit in flight, in red and gold pieces while Tony sits next to it streaked in black engine oil.

Tony in a grey suit, all sharp lines, Tony holding a glass of gold liquid, Tony distractedly picking at a green flower as they stand in ruins, Tony surrounded by every colour Steve can look up on Google.

The morning after they sleep together- almost a year after they meet, because it wasn’t a smooth start and it was  a very rocky middle- Steve wakes up before Tony and reaches for a sketchpad, and then decides it isn’t enough.

Tony wakes up as Steve is setting up his easel, and Steve pauses. “Do you mind?”

Tony’s smile is pale pink and soft. “Go ahead, Cap.”

-

Near the end of a battle, Steve’s world stutters into black and white, and he very nearly gets a sword in the gut before Thor pushes him out of the way.

Colour returns, and then flickers to black and white again, and Steve puts a shaky hand to his ear, says, “Tony, location,” into his comm, and doesn’t get a reply.

-

They find Tony under a building, and Steve’s vision fades into black and white before jumpstarting into colour several times before they manage to dig Tony out of the rubble.

The surgery is the same, flickering in and out, one second Steve is able to see the colour of the walls, the linoleum, and then he isn’t, and then he is again.

When the colour stabilizes so does Tony, though it’s a week before he wakes up.

Steve doesn’t notice at first, he’s half asleep himself, sagging with exhaustion down into his tiny plastic chair, but then Tony squeezes his hand and Steve is awake as anything.

"Oh, thank god," Steve says when he sees Tony smile faintly at him, and he kisses Tony’s eyelids before kissing his mouth. He leans back, eyes going over the comfortable colours- black hair going grey, brown eyes, tan skin, blue reactor.

"I was so worried the last colour I’d see of you was- the blood," Steve blurts, and Tony is dopey on painkillers but he still manages to snort dismissively and pull Steve close.

"Your world is gonna be colourful for a long time yet," Tony says, slurring a little. 

-

Steve gets him a red and gold watch for his birthday, and as he’s saying something about those being Tony’s favorite colours, Tony says, “They actually aren’t, despite popular opinion,” and Steve looks over at him.

"Uh, my favourite colour is blue," Tony says, and nods towards Steve’s face. "Your eyes, first colour I saw, all that jazz. So, yeah. Blue."

He shrugs. “I’m keeping the watch, though, I’m not going around with a watch the colour of your eyes, everyone’d call me a sap and I have a reputation to uphold, Steven.”

"I’m pretty sure your playboy rep went out the window long before you married me," Steve points out, and Tony looks down at their matching gold wedding bands with a smile.

"Yeah, that’s true."