skull on the porch

Like Silver Glass

Part Two to this Part One!

ITS FINALLY HERE! The much awaited second installment to the Merman!Bucky fic that was originally a drabble, then grew to become a series is finally updated haha! I’m truly sorry for making you all wait so long, I’ve been in a weird funk lately which is why none of my fics have been updated and why I’ve been pretty silent over messages! Forgive me? Anyway I hope you enjoy xx

{also this music vid was inspiration for this part xx}

Chapter II - Wet Sand, Dry Sand 

Something calls for you. 

The wind whispering through the open window washes over your hot skin, brushing sure fingers through your loose hair and kissing your sticky temple, pressing cool palms to your burning cheeks and caressing its invisible lips against your ears. There’s an elemental inhale and –

The world narrows then stills. 

Thick silence engulfs you, like your head slipping underwater; your eyes softly close at the esoteric sensation swirling in your chest – ink in water, magic in blood, staining your insides. Awakened by the touch of invisible tender fingers your soul floats to a place far away, below crashing waves and rocky cliffs, down down to secret depths of blue darkness. Only once you’ve reached this place, sense the yearning that throbs under the deceptive layer of quiet peace, only then does the wind sing it’s song to you.

Go to him, it lulls in your ears like waves lapping at the shore, Go to himGo to him…Come to me, the wind hushes now with a new twist in its tone, Come to me

From the clench of your heart you know that the voice the wind carries is his. Basking in the brilliant belonging of his call you open your eyes and know that your soul is no longer yours. You feel it, feel him, in the very core of your being. There’s an elemental inhale and –

You go to him.

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imkerf-uffle-d  asked:

♡: Accidentally falling asleep together (for pynch :)

Angst with a fluffy end, set post TRK but before the epilogue.

When he had control of his body again, Ronan stumbled into the bathroom. He had to rely on muscle memory to carry him there because his eyes still flashed with the memory of murders both real and dreamed. Except, with his dreams, it was all real in a way. He had his father’s blood on his hands. His mother’s. Matthew’s, Opal’s, and Adam’s. All of them killed again or unmade, until he was all that was left and he was unmade, too.

He fell to his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then spat when he tasted blood. He swiped blindly until the toilet flushed and got shakily to his feet. He ran his hands under water from the sink, waiting for the water to run clear instead of red.

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Been thinking a lot about liminal spaces

I’m filming a short on them for my media course so that’s gotten me wondering

The Midnight Hotel is the ULTIMATE inbetween place. Imagine all the odd little occurances that Anton’s just learned it’s best to ignore

The people who seem a little bit off who he finds standing at his desk at three in the morning. They never speak, they never book a room and they leave before the hotel moves on again.

The hotel moves to a desert for 12 hours. The sky stays blood red and the sun never changes position in the sky.

Guests go out walking and stumble back in 5 minutes later claiming they were lost and gone for hours and asking why the hotel hasn’t gone because surely it’s been more than 12 hours?

Anton wakes up to find animal skulls and antlers have been arranged on the hotel’s porch.

The hotel arrives on a shore. It has never been here before and the tide on the beach is red. People are walking on the shore and they all turn to watch the guests through the windows. Shudder closes the curtains. No new guests arrive and no old guests leave. The hotel moves on again at midday and never returns.

Doors occasionally appear on walls of the hotel. They are always locked but sometimes you can breathing on the otherside. Sometime something on the other side knocks. The doors disappear when the hotel next moves on.


 Found two sweet mummy girls yesterday.Collected both their heads but both skulls are damaged so Im not sure how well they will turn out.Debating keeping the more complete head as a mummy.Also found a bag of fish someone threw out their car and it got stuck in a tree and a cute little birdie.On someones porch they had a coyote skull and a spike buck skull I wonder if they are a hunter or new competitor for roadkill or perhaps they will be a future friend ya never know my dudes.

once you was quiet

hey singing thunder crack-cackling your propeller holler - ice water and thorns in cloud smeared apple skies -once you was quiet as kaufman kept - a space for crows to dash mad and dry - you bellow deep and down pitched sighs and piss on the leaves below - sounding watery blue percussion that taps on skulls and porches

this is for Casey (@jeremykncx) as part of the @uselc’s end of summer challenge! hope you like it ❤️

andreil zombie apocalypse au 
“When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it.”

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my latest DIY project: a messenger bag with patches on it :) I feel this this bag would be the cutest accessory to wear with my spring outfits. here’s where I got everything-

all these shops are super adorable and perfect, definitely check them out when you get the time :)))

I said I would never
Drink because I never wanted poison
On my lips. But I still let the alcohol scorch my throat,
I still kissed you after the walk home.

I never wanted any of these poems to be about you.

It’s a storm,
It’s another cliché.
It’s you and me, lips locked in a coat closet.
There was lightning and sirens and
Everyone at the party left.
(I hope you don’t sleep well with anyone else in your bed.)

I scratched your telephone number out of my head,
It scarred over, so I still call you drunk on the weekends.
On your front porch,
My skull in my hands,
Muttering, “God
I don’t want to feel like this again.”

Don’t open the door.
Don’t pick up the phone.
Don’t give me another sad excuse to say,
“I love you.”

—  “Enabler” - Nishat Ahmed
Nothing has changed. Jake Mcelfresh is a pedophile

admitting to having sexual relationships with girls via text and justifying it by saying “they were willing to” does not make it okay if they are 13-15 years old and you are 23. fucking scumbag, you deserve a bullet in your skull for your lack of self control and morality.

I found this skull of a three year old horse while on a hike in Roubideau Canyon near my family’s cabin in Colorado 2 years ago. I had to get across the creek and up the steep side to retrieve it. The orbital bone is broken from when it fell to it’s death. I love this skull so much and keep it on my front porch at home in Texas next to y mother’s boar skull. I took this picture when we got back to the cabin.