it's all hell, we know too well;

...𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝙥𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙠...

[assumedguilt]

@ ​🇦​​🇸​​🇸​​🇺​​🇲​​🇪​​🇩​​🇬​​🇺​​🇮​​🇱​​🇹 : the full moon is a ​🇼​​🇴​​🇺​​🇳​​🇩​, a blemish on the beauty of the sky at 🇳​​🇮​​🇬​​🇭​​🇹​. it's bathing me in ​​🇧​​🇱​​🇴​​🇴​​🇩​, while you reflect its ​🇱​​🇮​​🇬​​🇭​​🇹​. you can change your ​🇲​​🇮​​🇳​​🇩​, like sun and cloud above, moving between, ​🇧​​🇪​​🇭​​🇮​​🇳​​🇩​​ — you're shirtless in the 🇸​​🇭​​🇦​​🇩​​🇪, i'm pulling down the ​🇧​​🇱​​🇮​​🇳​​🇩​​🇸​… / penned by 🇫​​🇪​​🇷​​🇧​ ​for​ ​🇲​​🇮​​🇸​​🇪​​🇷​​🇾​​🇱​​🇴​​🇴​​🇲​​🇸​.

the ​🇲​​🇪​​🇨​​🇭​​🇦​​🇳​​🇮​​🇨​ : ​​​​🇦🇰​​🇦​ ezra strauss. ​​info.

[assumedguilt]

⌗   𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋   , mariner's tavern , late at night   .  for : @butcher3d

there are weird silent moments, always, in ezra's life. he's found them to be the spots where his sister would've spoken up, or laughed, or paused to smell the roses. he'd found himself melancholy about that life — about the world as it used to be, about how his life in misery used to be happier, used to make him feel like a person and not a black hole of emotion that he cannot control at all. the world is gray these days, and he doesn't even have the excuse of the rainy season or the foggy morning to blame it on now, it's all clear — the skies as beautiful as they might look just before things begin to go horribly, horribly wrong. it's on this kind of day that ezra finds himself wandering through town. and beginning to slowly revolve around the shop that he really, really does nothing he should be going. the butcher shop has become a no man's land, to him. a place where he might be on equal footing with someone for the first time since... well, he's already waxed poetic about the things he misses of his sister today, there's no use in beating that dead missing horse. the bell rings above him, when he pushes the door open, and there stands jersey, looking the same as he did that night, down to the blood smeared on his apron. ezra feels nauseous almost immediately, before he's able to remind himself that it's animal blood, not human, as it had been on that chilly, terrifying evening. "got any specials today?" he asks, mindful of the person who's on the way out, not wanting to give away their connection to anyone. he's paranoid, still, that suddenly he'll be arrested and the entire game will be up. when the bell dings again, and they're blessedly alone, he drops the pretense and shakes his head. and then he realizes he doesn't know what to actually say, to start this interaction. god, he's a fucking idiot, because instead of something that makes sense for this kind of interaction, he just says, "how's it going?"

[assumedguilt]

⌗   𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋   , mariner's tavern , late at night   .  open to responses { 1/4 }

ezra appreciates spending these nights alone, in the quietest corner of the tavern. it's not much — but it's as close to socialization that ezra gets these days, hidden over in the corner with a paperback open and folded over in front of him, single beer he's been nursing for several hours gaining more and more condensation as time slowly ticked on, yet the glass remained half empty, or half full — depending on how you decided to look at it, at that moment. he's totally sure that his whole setup isn't inviting people to approach him. in fact, ezra has pointedly crafted the entire vibe to keep people away from him, so he can simply enjoy being out — and not sitting alone, in his house, doing the exact same thing. which is why the appearance of someone else across the booth makes him feel a little insane. he doesn't bother fully looking up, instead speaking into the book before flipping it over, and stating, "seat's taken." with the surety of someone who is very, very used to scaring people off with a minimum amount of words.

[birdwatchng]

She laughs. Loudly. Wandering a little closer just so it's clear she isn't quiet. She doesn't like to be anything anybody says she is. Probably something to bring up with a therapist, if anybody in this town cared for that sort of thing. Which they don't. Clearly.

Prime examples of that are standing right here looking at each other.

“Does anybody?” She wrinkles her nose a bit, swivelling her head around to give the place another good look. There doesn't seem to be anything of Ezra in this place at all, which she wonders about briefly before she realises that's probably the way he prefers it. “No, I actually came 'cause I loooove scrap metal and the smell of grease and your incredible social skills.”

That being said, the company could be worse. “You're lucky I'm here now to rescue you from what was bound to be an extremely boring afternoon.”

[assumedguilt]

​"it's good to think that someone does," ezra says, a smirk on his face for just a fraction of a second — he's amused by the whole thing, even if the concept of him being without anyone who likes his whims or opinions is kind of... fucking sad, when he really gets into it. but that's not the melancholia he needs to get caught up in, not right now, "i don't think the grease smell really is the highest note, though. that's the fancy cherry car scent i spray on stuff when i spill the grease. covers it all real well. sorry about your back floorboard, by the way." he claps his hands together, looking out at the horizon, and hums, "i'm not sure it'll last that long? you're bound to have something better to do in... like, an hour at most." he isn't sure of that, he's not the fucking weatherman, but he is hoping that the rain doesn't hold up all night. he hates driving in the rain, now that he's become misery's safest driver.

[bhluehour]

a  soft  smile  tugged  at  peri's  lips  as  she  shifted  the  stack  of  books  in  her  arms,  her  expression  warming  rather  than  faltering.  "  i  wasn't  worried,  "  she  assured  him  gently.  "  libraries  are  one  of  the  few  places  where  browsing  without  a  destination  is  strongly encouraged.  and i — well, i recognize your face. by, well, you said it yourself, you're here a lot. it's just ... kinda my job, y'know ? to ask. "  her  gaze  drifted  toward  the  shelves  he'd  indicated,  following  the  rows  of  biographies  before  returning  to  him.  "  though  …  "  she  mused,  tipping  her  head  ever  so  slightly,  "  i've  always  thought  biographies  to be kinda  funny.  hundreds  of  pages  trying  to  convince  us  a  person  can  be  understood  from  beginning  to  end.  "  a  quiet, contemplative  laugh  escaped  her as dark hues gaze the spines of books.  then, peregrine  stepped  aside,  giving  him  room  to  continue  down  the  aisle  if  he  wished.  "  if  one  happens  to  find  you,  i'd  love  to  know  which  one.  it's always interesting to see what book calls to the customer. "

[assumedguilt]

​"i don't like to think of them like that," he shifts awkwardly, foot to foot, feeling a bit like a freak who's been caught out doing something wrong and not a man, having a completely benign conversation with a librarian, "i think it's more — the ones i like, at least — like, trying to figure out how to define someone, with the small amount of information that we get? and i like to understand them past that — to come to my own conclusions." that's more than he's said to someone that isn't asking how to fix their car in, like, years. he's not really that talkative, and he knows that this conversation is going to haunt him later. did he say too much? did he say too little? was she freaked out? did she even care? it'll be in his head the second he lies down, and he'll end up driving around late at night again — classic ezra, "i'll stop by. if i find anything, i mean — i don't always. it's been a weird year for new releases, you know?"

[birdwatchng]

Outside, the storm rages on. Inside, it's... quiet. Somewhere in the blank space between pleasant and unpleasant. Typically, Sparrow would have no business being inside Glaucus, not since she drove her dad's crappy old Toyota into a ditch. (Ezra was there for that, she thinks, telling her the car was beyond saving and politely ignoring the way she burst into tears after.)

She has a bike now, and her own two legs, and a face and an ability to sweet-talk that convinces most people to pick her up and drop her off wherever she needs. But, well, there's not much any of that can do against a storm. And shelter is shelter, even if the interior is a bit... drab, for her tastes.

“Ever thought about redecorating?” She asks to the room at large. The smell of grease makes her nose itch.

@assumedguilt

[assumedguilt]

the storm was comforting, almost. something that keeps the thoughts from getting too loud. he likes it, loves being consumed by something much larger than himself, even for a few moments. work had been slow, and so long as people kept a handle on their cars while the downpour continued, it would remain that way. he didn't love the fender-benders that always seemed to crop up after this kind of stuff, anyways. too easy, and too quick — he didn't even want to be a mechanic, but that was practically menial. Sparrow scares the shit out of him. ​"goddamn, you're quiet," he says, trying to recover from the jump he'd done, "what, you don't like 80's corvette lover chic?" he sighs, and looks around. the place is drab, with plenty of weird posters and everything that the old man had on the walls whenever ezra took over, and he doesn't really have the cahs or the temperament to change it up, at this point, "it's fine, though. not supposed to inspire people to stick around — in fact, i discourage it, unless the rain's forced you inside."

[bhluehour]

✴︎  𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧    𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 :    𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘺.

  ⤷ 10:12   am,    with everyone ( 0 / 3 ).

the  familiar  chime  above  the  library  door  pulled  peri's  attention  from  the  cart  of  books  she  was  shelving,  a  soft  smile  settling  onto  her  face  as  she  tucked  a  forgotten  pressed  flower  between  the  pages  of  a  small  keepsake  journal  beneath  the  front  desk  before  returning  to  work.  the  library  was  quiet,  save  for  the  occasional  creak  of  old  floorboards, the chitter and mews from the library cats,  and  the  rustle  of  turning  pages  —  just  the  way  she  liked  it.  hugging  a  stack  of  novels  against  her  chest,  she  rounded  a  corner  between  the  shelves,  nearly  bumping  into  someone  standing  there.  " oh !  "  peregrine gasps before placing a palm over the place where her heart is and  smiles  apologetically before letting out a breathe.  "  sorry, i  wasn't  expecting  company  in  this  aisle  ...  did  any of the  books  find  you,  or  were  you  looking  for  one  in  particular ?  "

[assumedguilt]

it's not hard, for ezra to feel like an outsider. and it's really saying something that there is still a place left in misery that doesn't seem like it wants to kick him while he's already down — and that is this public library, which is quiet enough that no one usually speaks to him. he was off to a weird morning, and it seemed that was not going to improve, as the hours wound on. he hums, looking around behind himself as if he's not the one she's speaking to. surely not, yet she is looking right at him. ​"sorry. i wasn't — i'm just browsing. . . biographies, you know?" he gestures at the stacks, shaking his head, "i know my way around. no need to worry, it's — i'm here a lot."

[assumedguilt]

they don't buy the beers i drinkand they don't drink the beers i buy, no children and no professionwalking dead at thirty-seven. . . — holy smoke (2005), los campesinos!

       here lies 𝐄𝐙𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐒, a wonderfully 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚢 person that was known around misery as 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂. taken from us too soon, at only 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢-𝚜𝚒𝚡 years old, the town might never find another 𝐦𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜 as talented ever again, or be able to walk by 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 without being reminded of 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐢𝐥-𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭-𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐬.

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

[yuyuuyuyuu-deactivated20230726]

stop asking me how everything is going, i don’t know i’ve been ignoring it

[ngalitzine]

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING (1995) dir. Jon Turteltaub

[anxietyproblem]

[dailyflicks]

NORTH BY NORTHWEST 1959 — dir. Alfred Hitchcock

[nixscriptum]

[maliusaidh]

[thominyourside]

What could I expect from living like the tarot in the poker deck? You’re royal and you’re flush. I’m tower, swords and death

Orange peel cheeks, peach skin fuzz, adult acne stigmata comes Can you once see what you love without imagining it gone?

My eyes shine like two pound coins I found upon the pool table rail (heart swells) You’re so beautiful, the sky is blue, but we both know too well, it’s All Hell  

[freakytikigifs]

Dev Patel as Darcy Davenport RABBIT TRAP