bitch!

nobody ever gets shot at taco cabeza! 

[quoted-books]

“No one tells you it’s all about to change, to be taken away. There’s no proximity alert, no indication that you’re standing on the precipice. And maybe that’s what makes tragedy so tragic. Not just what happens, but how it happens: a sucker punch that comes at you out of nowhere, when you’re least expecting it. No time to flinch or brace.”

— Blake Crouch, Dark Matter

[weltenwellen]

Richard Jackson, from “What It’s Called”

[rytfujgkuhhgmjgh]

What you said in the desert, I get it. What you meant. I deserve whatever happens.

[borneoarchive-blog]

detectivekidd‌.

His hand slaps over his mouth like Jesse caught him in his underwear. Muffled through his hand:

          “Don’t look!”

Kidd turns around a little, to give himself some privacy while he rubs the stick-on mustache back into place. From over his shoulder:

          “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to stare at a man’s naked lip?”

     saving face, ‘ i’m not, i’m not. ’ it might be overkill, but he drapes his forearm over his eyes anyway. if it makes him feel better, what’s the harm? ‘ didn’t i tell you not to get that cheap shi-- ’ right, right. he has fucking morals, alright. they’re skewing further and further with every passing day, but they’re there and they’re reminding him to try not to drop a bomb every four seconds. ‘ -- stuff? ’ he motions blindly with his free hand. 

     ‘ should’ve gone to walmart like i told you, man. ’ 

[borneoarchive-blog]

@brainfare​.

     i know what you’re thinking. there’s a bruised up weirdo standing just a little close to the insect display case. he hasn’t passed the boundaries, but he’s close. he’s close. one wrong breath and he’ll be tucked in between the stags and the longhorns. it’s a good thing jesse has a second sense for authority. (or whatever comes close enough to lift the fine hairs on the back of his neck. the owner of a business, for instance. this business.) 

     jesse near bounces on his feet when he angles himself for a glance behind him. ‘ i’ve always wanted a collection like this. ’ there’s a wide, spirited gesture toward the majority of the display. ‘ whole fuckin’ wall of ‘em. ’ it’s one of the simmering thoughts (hopes, wishes) that linger in the back of his mind, one of the purer ones that surface in the fleeting moments of peace late into the night. (like, what is he going to do with himself when mr. white finally calls it quits? but a little less existential. what is he going to do with his share? sometimes, how much cool shit can he collect?) 

     he finally pulls his eyes away for a direct stare. the grin at his mouth pulls at the stitches on his cheek, but the sting doesn’t dim the light in his eyes. ‘ how much’d this all cost? ’ 

[borneoarchive-blog]

@detectivekidd​.

     far be it from him to discourage the machinations of a good caper, but: ‘ yo -- dude, your mustache is falling off. ’ jesse lifts his hand and mimes at his own upper lip, tweaking the air like a cartoon villain might stroke their unreasonably sick looking handlebar mustache. 

[whitepeopletwitter]

[idjit]

#protect him