~~~~

Once more into the fray... Into the last good fight I'll ever know. Live and die on this day... Live and die on this day...

[darkkstr-blog]

fighterfrankie:

She had hoped that her comment would be enough to make him roll his eyes and move away. Perhaps he would just shut up when confronted with her annoyance at his voiced thoughts. Confrontation seemed to always work with Frankie – it hadn’t failed her yet so perhaps she was merely hitting a wall with this guy. Or maybe he was just as eager to get into it as she was. Putting down the sad excuse for a sandwich that she had in her hand, she slid the plate away from her and turned to him. Now he would have her undivided attention. Her hazel hues met his bright blue ones as the question passed from his lips, the rough lilt of his accent distracting her slightly. 

As a child, Frankie hadn’t been exposed to people that much different than herself. The only other accents she had heard ranged from Rich Prep Kid to Inner City Street Squatter. Axel being the exception, she didn’t often hear an accent that was so authentic that she had trouble understanding what the person was saying. Hell, he probably thought she sounded boring as fuck with her flat, blunt Chicago Street tone. Try as she might to change it, she gave up once she realized that the thing that was making her so crass sounding was the cuss words that spewed from her mouth like  water from Niagara Falls. But after awhile Frankie stopped giving a fuck and just embraced it. She thought it added character. 

“You were wanna know what’s got my panties in a twist, St. Patrick?” There was no hiding the challenge in her voice and she took no care to smother the cocky smirk on her lips. “I’ve been cooped up in this god damn fuckin’ shit hole for longer than I like. So, to be frank, I’m itching for a fight because I respond to situations like these with physical aggression.” She stared at him, then went back to eating her a sandwich. “If you really wanna fuck with me then by all means, continue to voice your completely useless thoughts.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, it was small but it was there, attitude was everything here-- in this new kind of world and he wasn’t exactly Prince Charming-- or whatever the term was for desirable men these days. But he wasn’t good at having a good attitude, Lance always had something up his ass or a bone to pick with someone, it was just how he was--- what kept him going, what preoccupied him. So he shifted, brows arching as he nodded at her comment towards his accent, one he’d heard most definitely a million times before. Oh how he loved the challenge in her voice, it gave him more of an edge in his shift towards her and the roll of his velvet tongue. “St. Patrick, y’need some new material love-- t’at shit is older t’an dirt.” Lance started before his lips curled upwards and he nodded in agreement. “I can feel ye t’ere, normally about now I’d be shit faced an’ eggin’ some dumbass on fer a brawl.” He meant if this were the normal world, if he had been in a bar right now with a good pint or five in his system.

Lance snorted and coughed back yet another laugh, one that would have been more prominent than before. “T’ere not t’at useless, yer j’st t’e one wit’ a stick up yer ass. But if yer lookin’ for a brawl, m’game fer t’at-- j’st take it easy, wouldn’t wanna hurt ye o’course.” It was most certainly a challenge, because like her, Lance dealt with things with aggression and sarcasm. But most definitely aggression, bruised flesh and bloodied masses were like artwork to the Irishman, they were his bread and butter.

[darkkstr-blog]

optimistv:

                      “Bad timing. Very bad timing.”

She couldn’t get all of it out just yet. It was a badly timed joke, but merely getting the words to escape her lips - Well, that proved harder than she previously thought. He was too stern. Bluntness wasn’t warranted, but it definitely was surprising to come from almost every person she graced her presence with. They were all bitter. Surely, the brunette was still stuck in this world of shock. She couldn’t make sense of what was going around her. She surely couldn’t defend herself, but by the grace of something - she was alive just like the rest of them. Maybe the world had some miracles left for her. They were just coming a bit later than expected.

Emma leaned forward, taking a seat not too far from the man. It seemed too awkward to just stand there. Oh, she was taking too much thought to this. Yes, that was definitely too much. Her gaze widened slightly, almost defeating herself in just a short span of minutes. That had to be a new record. Her lips pursed at the thought. Her expression fell into a stumbled version of both confusion and curiosity. It was the blind oblivious behavior that was comforting. She didn’t want to act like the world around them was gone. To pretend – Well, it just sounded nice.

“But let’s humor this. What else is on that bucket list of yours?”

                                    "If ye say so, love.”

People were strange, at least, the ones that actually had something to care about were-- Lance hadn’t had anything to worry about except himself, sad really, that he was so able to dismiss this disaster. When everyone else was losing their shit, quite literally, Lance was finding new ways to entertain himself. Denial perhaps, it’s what he had done when Joan had died--- that was a lie, he hadn’t been in denial, the Irishman knew that the younger O’Brennon had been dead as he fell over her body in grief; how he dealt with it was by bloodying the bodies of others in order to compensate for that huge empty hole in his chest. The place his heart used to be. It was easy to be emotionless, or at least, it was easy not to care when you didn’t HAVE anything to care about anymore.

She seemed delicate in a way and somehow Lance felt he needed to treat her as much, then again there was definitely more to the young woman who awkwardly sat down a little ways off from him. There was more to most everyone in this place, or rather, the entire world. But who was Lance to judge? He’d done so much in life that anyone could damn him for his sins. So he flashed a smile, small and genuine in nature as he nodded to her. 

“Well, I’d like t’see Egypt at some point an’ perhaps swim wit’ sharks. T’at’s j’st a couple ov’em t’ough.”

[darkkstr-blog]

                “If yer gonna keep talkin’ like ye run t’e place,                      ye may j’st end up havin’ problems.”

Lance hummed, trying to keep his voice low and stay out of the whole situation but he just couldn’t help himself. Speaking out against the person who was acting rather cocky at the moment was just half of it, he may just become the person to give them problems. Being of a humble and rough upbringing the Irishman never did like arrogant people who flaunted what they owned or had accomplished. Sure there were times when such things were acceptable but in the middle of the apocalypse and at the end of the world, well, perhaps such boastings were not the best at the moment. Especially since they didn’t mean a god damn thing any more.

                       “S’not like anyone really cares mate–”

Bringing his last cigarette to his lips Lance tried to silence himself with filling his lungs with smoke in order to push away the words that so they wouldn’t burn his tongue so much. Really, he needed to learn to mind his own business in moments like these. If there was one thing that had never worn off or had been unlearned by the Irishman it was to leave well enough alone, some how, some way Lance was always getting into some kind of trouble. This moment was no different as his gaze flicked over to the person who had been doing the talking and a smirk tugged at his lips.

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Visit Original Link

[darkkstr-blog]

trxcklist:

trip switch || nothing but thieves

[darkkstr-blog]

Lance O’Brennon 

[1/???]

[fireheartes]

[agarfield-deactivated20160309]

[darkkstr-blog]

“ shut up already, i’m not going. ”

six-word sentences.

                         “Fine t’en PRINCESS ‘ave it yer fuckin’ way--”

Lance scoffed, brows knitted together as he threw his pack overhis shoulder and secured it there, mumbling in some languagemost likely Gaelic about how this young woman was beyond juststubborn and annoying but how he’d like to just throw her over his shoulder and get them back to where they were supposed tobe. But no, he’d be a bloody fuckin’ gentleman and let her sit on her fine little ass and do whatever the fuck she wanted. 

Stubborn-- he was just that in his own right but when he hit headswith someone else who was equal parts as stubborn as he, the Irishman’s face seemed to scrunch up and turn a shade of red mostly out of his frustration but not everyone took it that way. Hewas, after all, known for his talent with his fists and everyone tendedto assume he was quick to rage. Which was quite the opposite.

Lance grew up with a man who was more than quick to anger anddespite his previous profession, Lance never wanted to be like thatman--- never wanted to mirror the scars that he had on his persononto someone else. He was a gentle man who had been forged ina world of violence, it was the only thing he understood or knew forthat matter. If it hadn’t been for his mother Lance might not have even knew how to be caring towards other people. Still, Frankie’sstubborn streak wasn’t getting him anywhere closer to getting homeand getting some sleep-- that and a shot of the whiskey he’d found.

                     “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, get off yer arse an’ move,                        I wanna get back before t’e light is completely                        gone an’ I ‘ave no problem leavin’ ye right t’e                       fuck ‘ere-- now let’s go.”

It was a last ditch effort to get her to go or even move half an inch. Lance really didn’t want to stay where they were but he wasn’treally going to leave her there. But he did make well on moving away and out of sight, if she decided to stay even still then it wasn’this fault. He’d just have to explain to her brother, who would likelywant to kill Lance if he didn’t return with Frankie, that she was a stubborn little shit and it had taken everything in the Irishman notto tie her up and haul her away. Free will, yeah, that was importantto Lance. He’d never make someone do something they didn’t want.Even if it meant leaving Frankie’s ass in the middle of some desolatebuilding because she didn’t want to ‘go’.

[wnq-writers]

I want someone to tell me that they won’t leave. That I’m worth more than being left behind.

imahumanwbu  (via wnq-writers)

[darkkstr-blog]

fighterfrankie:

She honestly didn’t mean to tune people out, but it was difficult to listen to people when she was drowning in her own thoughts. It didn’t make sense, the outbreak of all these spores that some way or another turned people into cannibalistic mushroom headed creatures. How did a fucking fungi turn people into flesh eating demons? It was something she would probably never be able to figure out because she simply didn’t have the scientific capacity to.  Besides, why would she need to? No need to understand the enemy when you’re lopping their head off. The voice next to her tugged her out of reverie, the lilt and cadence of it making her eyebrows furrow in annoyance. She had actually been enjoying the silence – it wasn’t often that a person got respite from the fucking incessant clicks and moans of the infected. 

             “Right,” she said dryly as she glanced over at the man next to her. “Well, fucking congratulations. You can probably cross ‘surviving the apocalypse’ off your list too. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even get a fucking badge.” It wasn’t her fault that he had poked a bear in the eye. Frankie being the bear, of course.

Blue eyes moved to scan the young woman who had spoken, it wasn’t like he didn’t expect people to talk back to him. In all honesty he had partially been speaking to himself, that’s what you got when you lived most of your life alone and had nothing but yourself to talk to. Sure he had friends, or at least, people he spent time with but ever since his sister died back in Ireland Lance never took the chance to allow anyone in-- to let himself get attached to any one person, it was dangerous. He’d already had everything taken from him, knowing his luck, things would end up going wrong for him anyways, that was always how it was. Call it the bad luck of the Irish. 

The world going to hell, or at least a greater version of hell than it already was, didn’t really surprise Lance. Perhaps he was still in shock, but he was one of those that hadn’t had anyone to lose, no person to see die in this horrid place. He probably should have given up, just let himself die away, after all he was just destined for disaster, it was in his blood. 

“Aye, ye ‘ave a point t’ere, I t’ink I will mark it off-- ‘owever, I don’t need a badge, ‘avin’ yer congratulations s’all I really need.” He was being sarcastic, of course, he couldn’t help but reply with it in this situation. Most of the time he was able to hold his tongue and be far less of an ass but the apocalypse had done nothing but give him beautiful opportunities to be that little shit his mum always used to call him-- at least, when he wasn’t protecting her from his father. “Who shat in yer cereal t’is mornin’?” It was a rhetorical question and Lance did not at all expect her to answer with anything less than a snarky whip of the tongue.

[beccablob-deactivated20210718]

Visit Original Link

[darkkstr-blog]

beccablob:

these so-called vacations will soon be my death I’m so sick from the drink I need home for a rest

[mercuriius-archive-blog]

don’t touch me i said because i can’t handle someone being good to me

— david levithan, “the realm of possibility” (via ofspeed)

[notsiiick]

[darkkstr-blog]

percyharris:

“You can’t prove it. It’s mine. If it were yours, then you would have it.”

“Oh c’mon lass, yer not foolin’ anyone. S’my stuff an’ ye know it.”

[emmagreenwell]

[darkkstr-blog]

         “Well, I mean, s’not like any anyone planned t’be ‘ere--”

Of course that was the understatement of the century, no one ever planned to be in these kind of situations-- one’s where the world was shit and there was very little that could be done about it. The Irishman was very familiar to this sort of thing, mostly from his early childhood and teen years, but also from living on his own after the fact. Tragedy was not unknown to him, it wasn’t unfamiliar and Lance had actually come to accept it as another blow like he did when he was fighting, it rolled off him like water off a ducks back. Sad to think that he had come to be that way, cold, almost, to the way things were-- the world had ended and Lance could have acted as if nothing at all had happened. But perhaps that was because he didn’t have anyone to protect, to care about, to watch die and mourn over; he wasn’t broken from the way things had changed, the way the world had been destroyed. That was because he had been broken so many years ago-- when his sister died.

But for now, he’d make conversation perhaps, like the world hadn’t gone to shit, like he was pretending things weren’t horrible outside these walls. That was what he was good at, pretending like shit wasn’t actually going on then fighting his way out of whatever problem he got himself into. Lance swayed, grin pressing his lips into a rather obnoxious expression before he pointed and nodded then continued with a big sigh. 

            “O’course, I always did wanna see t’is place. Not as great              as I t’ought it would be-- still, I can cross it off m’bucket list.”

[darkkstr-blog]

percyharris:

“No — this isn’t yours, it’s mine. I — I found it. I.. think you’re confused.”

“Right, right, I totally wasn’t usin’ it like two days ago.”