[hannigram-horror-deactivated202]

She had lavender in her hair, and roses on her cheek.

(via ma-demoiselle-cherie)

[deactivated1452314523-deactivat]

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[ghostgetter]

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[helenapeculiar]

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Masterpiece | Stranger in a Strange Land • 30 Seconds to Mars

[8-bitstories-deactivated2020062]

[wojtasdsk]

[unorthodoxgal]

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Bruno Mars - Young Girls - Acoustic Demo Version

[xfearsome]

       I was created                              to strip lungs                               of their breath                      to destroy pretty little things                      and burn them to the ground.                                                  to bring the world to its knees                                                  and hear my name spoken                                                  only in fearful whispers              I was created human,               but I was made              to be a monster.

[mini-musings]

He was as dangerous as the dark                                                   on the deepest night of winter

[phuketboys]

[halseyroom]

[leytongifs]

[museinspo]

museinspo’s aesthetic series  — the male dirtbag.

i relate to the phrase “chillin like a villain” because it shows that i’m calm but also ready to sin.

[garhedlund]

[cordysummers]

[iam-dgm]

[hcwlings-blog]

WHAT YOU’RE MADE OF / IRISH & DARIO — @growlithc

It was a wonder to Irish how she ended up here: in a dingy diner in Sacramento that barely passed the cleanliness mark when it came to supervision. If it were up to her, she would not be here. If it were up to her, she would be up in front of cameras, with a smile wide enough to transgress through the hearts of home television watchers. It was not up to her though, so she did not get to choose what she wanted. It was not up to her, so instead, her days were wasted as she served people who knew little of respect and less of cleaning up after themselves. Irish Cusack was meant for a life more than this, for a future greater than this. No matter what the world said, no matter what her parents said, she knew this was the truth.

Yet, day in and day out, she put her uniform and her apron on. Day in and day out, she went through the same routines and the same phrases and the same smiles. There was no freedom in her life, and even less joy. There was nothing in this life for her, and yet she lived it. Most days, this was a figure of speech; on others, it was literal. As in there was nothing in the diner for her to do seeing as there were no customers, but she nonetheless had to stay until five in the afternoon to complete her shift. On all days, however, one thing was true: she hated what she did, and longed for something greater for herself. Today was no different as she stood behind the counter in the small diner.

While her fellow diner staff chatted and gossiped amongst themselves, Irish chose to sit alone. She always chose this, and by now, her colleagues had stopped asking her to join in. There was no reason to; she would simply say no. In the same breath, there was no reason to say anything otherwise, because Irish was not one who liked the company of others. She wanted to say it wasn’t them, and it was just her — like a classic break-up line. But the truth was that Irish did think it was them. She thought they were too noisy, too shallow, too caring for those like her who cared little about the world.

So, she sat. She sat, she sat. She tapped her fingers on the counter, and looked up when the chimes through the doors rang.

As she glanced at her fellow staff just as the man entered, they gave her the simple look that said they weren’t going to entertain him. And so, Irish, with great hesitation, would have to. This was not without complaining silently to herself, and not without dragging herself out of her chair; all the same, she managed. Once she handed the man his menu, there was a forced smile on her lips — which was as good as she was going to get, if one were asking.

[growlithc-blog]

Another day, another headache. It was astonishing, really, how Dario Delgado could go from being blackout drunk the night before to a functional human being the next morning. In all fairness, however, it was part of the lifestyle he’d chosen for himself many moons ago. One he’d grown fully accustomed to the point of it simply being routine for the young rock legend in the making. Of course, it wasn’t the career his single mother had envisioned for the strapping young boy she had tried to push toward a bright future of athletics and academics, but it was, without a doubt, what he was most passionate about, and fortunately his happiness was deemed to be far more important. So, instead of chasing a soccer ball across a perfectly trimmed field of grass, or spending long nights that reached to the early mornings by trying to crack some ridiculous scientific equation, Dario followed through with the musical gift bestowed upon him by the man who he would’ve called ‘dad’. It was considered to be a blessing as well as a curse, but he tended to focus more on the positives that came with the renown luxury of being somewhat of a star. Although, one could argue that a raging hangover was definitely not one of those positives. 

There wasn’t even a sliver of doubt that he would blindly agree, especially that morning.

Rising Dead ( a name agreed upon by all four members sheerly based on their shared love of zombies ) had just signed off on their first, official tour, which of course called for celebration. They still had a number of weeks for preparation of the cross-country journey that would ultimately be a make or break in either a long lasting or short lived career. It was terrifying, along with really really exciting .... but pretty damn terrifying was a close second. It explained his overly intoxicated state the previous night, because even though the celebratory party had been a total rager, most of this drinks he’d downed so quickly had been Dario’s subtle solution in calming his nerves.

Nevertheless, that was all behind him now. Now, he needed some grease to settle his stomach, which was what initially brought him to the very diner Irish Cusack was currently held up in, waitressing. With a pair of dark shades shielding russet irises and a slight shuffle to his step, the otherwise observant man hadn’t even noticed the woman on staff, until she was standing at his table with a menu for him, just moments after he’d slide into one of the empty booths. Although still hidden behind the sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, Dario’s wandering gaze travelled over the waitress from her legs, all the way up to her face, which held an expression he could only pin as unimpressed. With a job like hers, in a place like this, he couldn’t exactly blame her.

“Thanks.” The single word rolled off his tongue with a nonchalant ease as a small, lopsided smile began to tug lightly at the corners of his lips before he continued to speak. “What’s the greasiest dish you serve in this joint? I need that. And probably coffee.”