AND ˢʰᵉᵖʰᵉʳᵈˢ ʷᵉ ˢʰᵃᶫᶫ ᵇᵉ

❛ man is born broken. he lives by mending. The grace of god is glue.❜ independent & selective murphy macmanus from the boondock saints I & II; written by hannah. semi-hiatus due to college.

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I’VE MOVED.

you can catch me on here - same url, but blog is still under construction!

[exaequatioarchived-blog]

I’VE MOVED.

you can catch me on here - same url, but blog is still under construction!

[exaequatioarchived-blog]

I’VE MOVED.

you can catch me on here - same url, but blog is still under construction!

[exaequatioarchived-blog]

I’VE MOVED.

you can catch me on here - same url, but blog is still under construction!

[exaequatioarchived-blog]

I’VE MOVED.

you can catch me on here - same url, but blog is still under construction!

[exaequatioarchived-blog]

I’VE MOVED.

you can catch me on here - same url, but blog is still under construction!

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( MAFIOSOS. ) Gettin’ caught with twenty kilos. Gettin’ out on bail the same fuckin’ day. Kill ‘em all. Admit it. Even you’ve thought about it.

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( MAFIOSOS. ) Gettin’ caught with twenty kilos. Gettin’ out on bail the same fuckin’ day. Kill ‘em all. Admit it. Even you’ve thought about it.

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   out of business. It’s official: I’m going to revamp Murphy’s blog,     starting now. I just gotta transfer everything and refollow folks     on the new blog, so keep an eye out for the promo ‘cause I’m     going to repost it over there.

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B) 'as God gave ye a counselin' call yet? if not, t'at's okay, laddie. Anot'er day.

     ❛ go. away. ❜

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Norman Reedus talks about Daryl and Murphy - The Wrap

[awestiles-deactivated20140221]

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and so we watched you disappear 

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pluresx:

   he watched with baited breath as his brother began to open the contents of the box. if he’s not careful, he’ll give himself away that the box is not what murphy will expect it to be. he sits back, forcing his posture to be casual. the real treat was on top of the fridge, the perks of being up way earlier.

    oh, how he was deceived so easily! the moment he opened up the box, the first thing he saw was a bunch of confetti shooting straight up at his face. one arm was used as a shield, blocking the colorful mess from getting into his mouth and eyes. though, that only lasted for a couple of seconds before the box released the entire package of confetti. whilst the carpet and his bare feet were covered, he lowered his arm and immediately glanced back at his brother. ( the stare filled with confusion. where’s the pop-tarts? )

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feohtn:

@exaequatio / ♥

                    “     do you think it’ll be rude to just                take pictures of the saints in that church ?     ”

    “takin’ pictures durin’ service o’ mass is considered       rude, unless ye’re a photographer f’ t’e news channel.”

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❝god has never answered many of my prayers.❞

the prince of egypt. ( ACCEPTING. )

     How can God keep in touch with so many ‘children’ of His, even if it took Him more than a few unanswered prayers to reply with a mumble? A word? Or, better yet, a sign that will lead to good fortunes and solutions to the struggles of mankind? It took the Irishman more than a decade to have a response from his Father – even in his dream – and he couldn’t help but to grip onto this belief strongly to his steadfast heart. Though, his experience was often disregarded: it’s practically impossible to have Him come forth, from a million miles away from the land of the Holy, to speak of his will. This secret was sealed behind his lips, swallowing the blessing until there was nothing left on the palate of his tongue. Both he and Connor had many things they dared not to speak of, despite how devoted they are to their religion, and it was best to keep them that way.

      “One of t’ese days, He shall.” But when? That’s something he couldn’t answer on behalf of the holy being, for he was just confirming his assumption without diving deep into the pit of doubt. Miracles often come and go: they were produced through endless prayers and selfless acts. Some people were meant to help others as well, especially in times of need and desperation - a plea for someone to listen. ( They were born to become a people person - a guaranteed ‘job’ to be admitted into Heaven, as some would say. ) By now, Murphy was aware that his words may be meaningless because of Chib’s lack of hope. No other words were needed to register the fact he’s having difficulty connecting to his faith, copious amounts of guilt, blood, and sweat upon his own shoulders to carry for the rest of his life.

     Although he did not stir from his seat upon the pew, he grasped the presence of his friend ( an unlikely one because of the old rivalry between the Irish and Scottish ) out of the corner of his eyes. The environment was tranquil, silent enough to hear his own thoughts during his morning ritual of prayers and self-evaluation. For a moment, he took a break to lap up the corner of his mouth with his tongue then to unclasp his smoke tainted hands that settled at the top of the pew in front of him. Straightening his posture after leaning up, the Macmanus boy released the tension and anxiety within his muscles that disrupted the gracious flow of his walking pattern. ( It was a long morning: he has work in an hour. ) 

     “He always listens t’ yer prayers, even if He’s unable t’ reach ye at t’e right time. It takes patience an’ more hope, even t’ough t’at’s t’e difficult truth t’ bear. I understand ye ‘ave so many questions f’ Him an’ it’s practically normal an’ reasonable t’ feel doubtful. We always want answers whenever we need t’em, whet’er we wait a long time f’ a word out of Him.” 

[exaequatioarchived-blog]

:* (dat meme)

first three in inbox gets irish kisses! ( ACCEPTING. )

     He lost track of the number of times the tip of his tongue ( burnt from taking a sip of freshly brewed coffee much too early ) trailed along the roof of his mouth, although it wasn’t an important factor to take into consideration. Early in the morning, he allowed his mind to just drift away: the sun rose slowly but the clouds already moved in to cover it, bringing forth the usual soft wind. For certain, Murphy had no need to step outside to feel the familiar chills that crept through the cracks of the windows and parts of the building he resided within. It took some time to adjust to, especially when he and his fraternal twin both were forced to take full advantage of whatever clothing they’ve brought with them from home. Mug in between tattooed hands, his eyes lowered to the cement flooring whilst he inhaled a deep breath. ( Perhaps a sigh. ) He exhaled through his nostrils, clearing his throat but cut himself short as a knock disrupted the typical morning silence. Now, one of his hands placed the mug upon the small nightstand before he rose up from the edge of his mattress, his perception now directed towards the door to open it. He tightened the rope of his bathrobe, wiping the palm of his hands on it before walking to the door. To his surprise, Natasha arrived: how long she was gone was unknown to him, but that didn’t seem to matter because she was in good shape. 

     “Bless t’e fuckin’ Lord ‘imself. ‘m glad ye’re a’right, lass.” Ever so gently does the Irishman extend arms out as if he’s about to hug his dear friend. However, his hands had done the work to place themselves upon her shoulders. Without a second thought or hesitation, he leaned in to place a chaste kiss on her left cheek. Then, her right cheek. ( He knew a thousand and one prayers and blessings of hope would deliver her to safety. ) It took him a moment to realize what he greeted Natasha with, in which he, with surprise, pried his hands away from her shoulders before she’d have a say on his actions. He had no intentions to frighten her or bring offense in any form: he was much too grateful and relieved she managed to get out of trouble.