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noise dept.

Andulka
macklin celebrini has autism
Mike Driver
TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
occasionally subtle
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Xuebing Du
Cosmic Funnies

blake kathryn
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵

tannertan36
Cosimo Galluzzi

Origami Around
todays bird

pixel skylines
The Stonewall Inn
Noah Kahan
seen from Australia
seen from Venezuela

seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from T1

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Singapore

seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from Vietnam

seen from Türkiye

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@blcckbirds-blog
“It’s easier. Other stuff, you’ve gotta work it out. History’s just remembering.” Even when she looks up at him properly, the face rings absolutely no bells. Jane’s certain she’s never met this boy in her life before, which means he has to be new, which means that asking him who he is won’t be considered rude. Head tipping to one side so as to indicate that she should follow, she takes another step towards her locker. “So, uh– you been here long?”
Huh. That sounded almost philosophical – which, in turn, only went to widen his smile. Then came the inevitable question and, though readily admitting she had absolutely no idea who he was, she did not ask for his name. He was not sure it was relief he felt, as he was not sure he had ever felt it, nor would he mind telling her a lie as much as he would telling her the truth -- amusement, perhaps, or gratitude. ”Just got here today.” He replied as, abiding, he followed her own the hallway.
Billy Kidd - Decaying Flowers
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Detail from Saint Edmund the Martyr King of England. Luc-Olivier Merson. 1874.
WHITE BIRD - WOVENHAND
teeny tiny plotting call
Do they know each other? Jane doesn’t recognise him – but then again, she walks around with her eyes lowered a lot. He’s probably a new kid. She tucks her hair behind her ear, shrugs off the compliment; unused to hearing anything positive about anything other than cheer or ballet, she has no idea how to take it.
“It, uh– I don’t know, it just… Came easy to me, I guess.”
”Don’t see a lot of kids giving much of a shit about history.” Sometimes, they were too shy or embarrassed to admit they didn’t know him. Other times, when they’d ask him for a name, he’d lie, merely because it was the easiest thing to do as not to upset them. On more rare occasions, he would allow him to choose a name for him. Curious to see which this might turn out to be. “It’s… refreshing?”
“Christ on his throne —- ”
Hissed and under his breath, while a hand, instinctively, tucked behind his back to reach for a handgun that most certainly was not tucked into the waist of his jeans.
Which turned out to be just as well, because Dag recognized the voice at once, and it was only his few days bereft of sleep and an itchy need to redirect some pain that had him reaching at all. Better he didn’t hurt this man — this friend. Especially when it seemed he had so few around willing to tolerate his surliness. Or, even fewer, who he was willing tolerate.
“Hm.” Voice relaxed, even if the hair on his neck and shoulders seemed to stay stubbornly erect. “As a fella’ who plays a big part in the comin’s and goin’s, reckon it’s a bit fucked to call it trivial.”
While his lips twitched, smirk growing slightly wider, dimples deepening; his brow furrowed, seemingly unsure what to make of the other’s words. Was it not trivial?
Perhaps he had gotten too used to being misunderstood or, much more often than not, misunderstanding – because that particular claim went by unchallenged. Instead, he shrugged, hands leaving the small of his back and falling to his sides before he reached one of them to gently run over the petals of one of the geraniums.
”I don’t play any part at all. You know that.” At least he thought he did, or thought he ought to have, for someone who seemed to detest his presence half the times he came around.
teeny tiny plotting call
For @loveruined.
“I thought that thing you showed in History was pretty neat.”
He seems to come out of nowhere — no introductions, no greeting — as though having manifested out of thin air. The smile on his lips contains no mockery, small and — gentle, maybe? Yet it seems off, nevertheless; crooked or ill-set or whatever — just, really, plain eerie.
"I mean, as far as the civil war goes."
teeny tiny plotting call
White ravens of Qualicum beach
Which was your favourite scene in We’ll take Manhattan
Snowflakes drifted down. Something had happened. Death looked at the duck. She’d stopped breathing. She lay quite still. Death stroked a few rumpled feathers back into place, then he carried her to the great river. He laid her gently on the water and nudged her on her way.
For a long time he watched her.
When she was lost to sight, he was almost a little moved.
But that’s life, thought Death.