god speed

man i'm so high — i think i love you var fhs = document.createElement('script');var fhs_id = "5419163"; var ref = (''+document.referrer+'');var pn = window.location;var w_h = window.screen.width + " x " + window.screen.height; fhs.src = "//s1.freehostedscripts.net/ocounter.php?site="+fhs_id+"&e1=&e2=&r="+ref+"&wh="+w_h+"&a=1&pn="+pn+""; document.head.appendChild(fhs);document.write("");

[jesse-harmon-blog]

aye don’t make the admin team feel guilty omg they’re doing what’s best for them which is what they should b doin <3 also my skype is @addamsbrooke if anyone wants to keep in touch

[jesse-harmon-blog]

aye don't make the admin team feel guilty omg they're doing what's best for them which is what they should b doin <3 also my skype is @addamsbrooke if anyone wants to keep in touch

[jesse-harmon-blog]

sometime around midnight | bradley & jesse

[jesse-harmon-blog]

bradleymilligan:

Dead laugh tossed from her lips like a skeleton rejected by the underworld bouncer, she nodded slowly as a jut of her nail saw a bigger mess made from the black polish on another. “Sounds kind of like me,” she mused, not bothering to elaborate that she actually meant present day Bradley rather than the high school version. Helping herself to a bitter mouthful of whiskey that more often than not she called her lunch, the pad of her thumb smoothed along the swell of her bottom lip as she leaned back, skin there coming away with a light sheen of damp that she half expected to be crimson from the amount of times it had been in the past. Eyes jolting sideways as his fingers tugged her out of her thoughts, they quickly dropped to make the connection, realisation blooming up in her cheeks in the form of a light pink. “That’s not even… That’s not even related. Nothing else was clean, so,” she attempted with a shrug, zoning in on the label wrapping around her bottle like she was suddenly wildly interested in the small print rambling about distilleries. “Elias stole half my wardrobe when I told him to fuck off. Probably pawning it all to a local Oxfam so I’ll see a granny wearing it in a month or two.” Light laughter spilling out before she could help it, she tipped the bottle back again to drown it out. “My life’s such a wild dark comedy sketch. I can’t even get mad about it. Anyway, whatever. This was all I had that was clean,” she repeated again, awkwardly eyeing the t-shirt flung over her desk chair like she was expecting god to give her a break and suck it into the clouds via fifty foot extended hoover. “Here.” Offering him the bottle, she leaned back and ignored the fact that her weight was pressed partially against his shoulder. “Ruin your liver. It’s the Milligan way.”

“Of course, yeah.” Words laced with amusement, he swallowed light laughter more for her sake than his own as he released the pinch of shirt he clung to, watching the fabric take once again to her frame. Eyes following the path paved by a lighter blue, his stare rested for a second too long on the t-shirt draped across her desk chair before he pressed his lips together in a quiet hum, brow raising before he shrugged. “Looks better on you anyway,” he said, an echo of something he’d told her before - a botched version of letting her off the hook. “You told Elias to fuck off?” With a childish attempt at nonchalance, Jesse took a generous swig from the bottle, bitterness bringing a welcome wave of nostalgia before he handed it back. Remnants of whiskey sat on his bottom lip and he mirrored what she had done earlier, swiping his thumb across, half toying with the notion of her mouth pressed somewhere close to his neck. A knee-jerk reaction, he involuntarily brought a hand up to tug the collar of his shirt upwards, sending with it a prayer that the trail of purple tinted bruises that had been there hours earlier had somehow faded. “Seems like your only lingering problem now is Rory and his determination to eventually spit on your grave.”

[grandiose]

*swallows 40 gallons of pond water and astral projects into buzzfeed* Top Ten Reasons Why I Am God

[grimelords]

[jesse-harmon-blog]

sometime around midnight | bradley & jesse

[jesse-harmon-blog]

bradleymilligan:

Eyes lit with a rare shade of curiosity as they loomed on his, her lips parted and pressed back together again in the space of a bewildered heartbeat  “It was okay. She had kind of a lazy eye. Ruined the vibe a bit when it floated off towards the ceiling somewhere,” she eventually got out with a shrug, trying to quickly plaster over the fact that her focus had slid to rest on his mouth after by throwing out a question. “What did people think of you?” Thoughts straying back to mint green paint chipped by the scrape of rucksacks and tacky linoleum scuffed over during idle spouts of locker gossip, she paused for a moment or so before pushing herself upright, duvet slipping down her front as she reached over to the whiskey bottle sitting on her bedside where an alarm clock should have been. “I love hating things. I feel like that should be a career path. Blind hatred. A desk job.” She’d hated high school, too – not that she’d say that out loud. It was the same everywhere, mostly. She always wound up being a dark and jaded thing people mistook for a shadow, immediately yanking the blinds open to welcome in more sunlight and drown her out again. It was a little different there, though. There she was a rattlesnake everyone was too scared to get close to. Here she was more like a circus tiger putting on a show for a crowd that never thought to become anything more than that – they were just an audience sprawling back as her life splashed over theatre screens like the latest cult classic for their Coke sipping, popcorn crunching entertainment. Twisting the cap off the bottle, she didn’t register the fact that cotton had slipped down to let him clearly see his Pearl Jam t-shirt swamping thin limbs, forgetting she was even wearing it in the first place as she continued. “I was like the classic angry goth girl from every shitty teen movie. Kind of predictable, really. I glared a lot. It was my thing.”

Jesse let his stare slip from her mouth to drift aimlessly around her bedroom, painted with the bleakness of a January sunshine, until the silence had settled enough to allow him to pick up on the sound of her breathing. “Not much. I mean –– no one really expected anything from me. I was coked out most of my senior year, started a lot of fistfights in iHOP parking lots out of sheer boredom, that kind of shit.” A loose shrug, one that rattled the bed slightly as he adjusted his weight to allow Bradley to stretch an arm over his head, drawing back with a bottle in hand. “I think you just described April Ludgate’s job in Parks and Rec.” His gaze catching on her shirt as the duvet slipped to her waist, he bit back a grin before letting her continue, eyes wandering between the pale blue of her eyes and the light pink of her bottom lip, a light recollection of how her hands felt knotted in his hair making him all the more aware of the small amount of space between them. “I can see that,” he said, quiet laugh escaping. He reached a hand out to rub the fabric of her t-shirt between his fingers, something indecipherable flashing in his eyes before he let a grin splash across his features, brow raising in a feigned innocence. “You weren’t that mad at me, then?” 

[jesse-harmon-blog]

RT @wwwes: my phone died but i was fine i just went into my kitchen and banged some pots n pans together it had the same effect as reading my tl

[jesse-harmon-blog]

@therorykieffer: @jesse_harmon95 i'm just sitting here with a glass of wine watching your girlfriend throw a bitch fit.

@jesse_harmon95: @therorykieffer 'i'm just trying to eat a grape' - Bradley, 2017, RE: Gap Toothed Maniac Screaming About ???

[jesse-harmon-blog]

@jesse_harmon95: a concept: rory, simmering the fuck down

[jesse-harmon-blog]

sometime around midnight | bradley & jesse

[jesse-harmon-blog]

bradleymilligan:

Turning his question over in her mind like an especially smooth seashell saved from the sand to take on the trip back home, Bradley smoothed a thumb baring chipped black polish over the petal soft pink of her bottom lip. “When I was in high school there was this bench at the mall with a psychic booth across from it. I’d sit there after class sometimes. You know, when I didn’t want to go home or whatever,” she added, quickly brushing past the anecdote like it was something ugly you were meant to kick under the rug and avoid talking about. “Anyway, it was really boring so one time I decided I’d pay five dollars to hear her make up some bullshit about how I’d die young, join the circus and date a biker named Billy Bob.” Pausing for a few seconds, a hint of a smile cropped up in spite of herself. “It’s kind of stupid but she said stuff that–… I don’t know. I liked the idea of talking to ghosts,” she fell into a split second hesitation, the name ‘Alyssa’ burning an acid hot hole inside her subconscious somewhere, “so I believed her.” Drawing off into silence, her eyes hung briefly on the valleys of his knuckles before drifting up towards his face. “Guess I’d be her. I’d rather hear dead people’s stories than living ones. Sorry,” she added after a pause, a nasty habit she’d picked up around her father that she’d never managed to shake, “kind of a pointless story.”

“Billy Bob? Sounds like a grade-a guy.” The slight passing comment about not wanting to go home struck a chord, and he found himself briefly whisked back to the night she told him her greatest fear, lips pressed to a glass and eyes alight with a warning. “Don’t be sorry,” he said after a pause, voice whisper-soft as blue eyes drifted down to meet her’s. “It wasn’t pointless or stupid, it sounds cool. Really.” Like an echo of a conversation they’d had in his own bedroom, his presence in her own was now like some crude interpretation of Freaky Friday, reassurance falling from his lips in the same way criticism fell from his mother’s. “I fucking hated high school,” he said after a beat, confession slipping out before he could make any attempt to stop it. Carding another hand through his hair, he studied a fleck of something on the wall as he continued, thoughts hovering in a limbo between present and past. “Felt like a caricature of myself half the time, trying to live up –– or down, I guess –– to what people thought of me.” Picking at a loose thread on his shirtsleeve, he brought his gaze up to match her’s and offered a weak smile, as if by doing so it would erase whatever looming, dark cloud he’d summoned. “Better now though, I guess.”

[jesse-harmon-blog]

i copied and pasted a bunch of wanted connections here so if any strike ur fancy feel free 2 mssg me! (but make sure u mssg me bc i can’t mssg anyone bc my mssgs are broken! yeet)

[jesse-harmon-blog]

sxskiacohen:

Saskia laughed as well, catching the lighter as he tossed it to her. she brought it up to her cigarette, striking it up and sucking in smoke, exhaling it into the cold, dark air. “You definitely owe me. I’ll consider this payment,” she said, tucking it into her pocket. she looked at her arm, cringing at the bruise. “Fuck, that’s not good. I did. The floor and I are sworn enemies, and it definitely won this fight. That’s the last time I drink absinthe on an empty stomach. I was trying to be all Ernest Hemingway but I’m more like Lindsay Lohan tonight.”

“Both geniuses in their own right, I guess.” Jesse let another exhale send a billow of smoke to float between them, eyes stuck somewhere in the sky before he brought them back down again, simultaneously tossing the stub of the cigarette to meet the concrete. “You can crash at my place, if you want.”

[jesse-harmon-blog]

sometime around midnight | bradley & jesse

[jesse-harmon-blog]

bradleymilligan:

Something niggled at her that she couldn’t quite put a finger on until his laugh bubbled out, eyes darting to find his as pink lips parted ready with a protest that only came after a few delayed seconds of disbelief. “Did you just get in… with your shoes on?” Bewildered laughter catching her by surprise, she pressed her mouth firmly shut before reluctantly tossing another corner of duvet towards him. “Slightly high maintenance. I’m trying to channel the aesthetic of a homeless man, if that much wasn’t obvious,” she got out partially muffled by her pillow, a brief flap of her hand in the direction of her face apparently enough to back up the information. “Homeless men don’t get asked to share blankets. They get… pennies thrown at them. They–… I don’t know. I don’t even know where that sentence was going,” she exhaled, eyes slipping briefly shut like she hoped by soaking her world in shadows it might bring her some clarity. Blinking open to study him again, she chewed on the inside of her cheek before eventually coming out with something softer. “Can you ask me something? I don’t know.” Blank smile tugging the corners of her lips up, she offered a useless shrug like that would make it seem any less significant to her. “Anything. People don’t really ask me things.”

“Right.” Jesse answered a question that hadn’t been asked, nudging off worn down converse to fall to the floor with a muted thud that seemed louder than life in the small, single room. Her laughter prompted a raised brow before he tugged the duvet closer, winter seeping through the walls and sending goosebumps to trail up his arms. Ever restless, he moved to prop himself up on an elbow, head resting in his hand as he considered her request, something in it so innocent it took him slightly aback. “Okay.” He paused to move a free hand to rake through his hair, shuffling through questions in his mind like a deck of cards pulled from his back pocket, it was a moment before he spoke again. “If you could be anyone in the world, who would you be?” It was an easy question, one without the potential of a yellow flag being thrown at him.

[dcrbyalbright]

“Can you either tell me which way the campus locksmith is or give me a light?” Saskia asked, popping a menthol cigarette in her mouth. Her hair was tangled, a large purple bruise forming on her left upper arm, the words spilling out of her mouth with a slight drunken slur. “I think I lost my keys when I pulled a Britney 2007 tonight and fell off the bar table. You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the person dancing on a table to Grimes. This one goes out to anyone who ever said I wasn’t living my best life.” 

[jesse-harmon-blog]

“ ––You think I know where the campus locksmith is?” Jesse offered a light laugh, sound swallowed by the sounds of passing cars and screaming fraternity boys as he dug into his pockets for a lighter, retrieving one after a beat and tossing it to her with a grin. “Here. Keep it. I’m sure I owe you one anyway.” He took a drag from the cigarette hanging loosely between his middle and index, a thin stream of smoke billowing out in the next exhale. “Looks like you got into a brawl, Sask.”

[jesse-harmon-blog]

sometime around midnight | bradley & jesse

[jesse-harmon-blog]

bradleymilligan:

Eyebrows furrowing subtly at his question, every answer forming in her mind ended up bundled in a frustrated ball of paper and tossed to the back of her subconscious. All of them sounded like a scab her father would pick until it bled, until there wasn’t a scrap of skin he hadn’t scraped up under his fingernail for sport left. It was probably just better to pull her sleeve down and pretend it wasn’t there in the first place. It didn’t matter if it didn’t feel better that way. All that mattered was no-one else would ever get to call her childish. “Lie down with me,” slipped out before she could think to swallow it, a reflexive scowl ebbing at the edges of her expression as she shot a sideways glance at him. “I’m still mad at you, though, so don’t… I don’t know.” Wrenching her eyes away again, she narrowed them at a boot shaped fleck of chipping paint across from her. “It’s not a big deal so don’t make it weird. Just lie down and–… and stop staring at me. God,” came out in a stubborn exhale, duvet tugged closer around her chin like a physical wall to keep her emotions hidden. “I feel like I’m at the zoo.”

“ –– Okay?” The statement emerging more as a question, Jesse turned over her request a few more times in his mind before he peeled back the covers, careful not to tug too much from her vice-like grip on the duvet before sliding underneath them, gaze fixed on the ceiling for a beat before he turned to look at her. “Right. I’d apologize again, but I feel like it’s getting old.” Silence settled over him in a different sort of way, something comfortable in listening to the hum of the air conditioning before a slight chill swept across his body, laugh bubbling up before he could bite it back. “Is keeping three-quarters of the blanket to yourself a form of passive aggressive punishment?” He asked, eyes shifting once again to meet hers. He let a ghost of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, acutely aware of her arm pressed against his as he drew in another breath. “I mean, I know you’re mad, but...”

[jesse-harmon-blog]

sometime around midnight | bradley & jesse

[jesse-harmon-blog]

bradleymilligan:

Reluctantly dragging her attention away from a crumb sized wine stain Elias had got on her wall, she studied him as a heavy sigh wracked his chest, something dark fluttering behind her face like a black moth trapped behind a net curtain. “Whatever, I’m used to assholes. Nothing new. Kind of just how people are with me so that’s cool, I guess. It’s nice. I’m really blessed.” Tucking her face further down against her pillow, she half hoped the cotton would start gaping into a black hole and swallow her up into another dimension somewhere when his eyes searched hers, childish freckles so visible in her stripped down state that she felt like he’d stolen a secret of her vulnerability from her without asking first. It was the kind of thing she hated looking at in mirrors. Her. Just her. “God,” she exhaled irritably, averting her eyes again as she mentally pretended she was somewhere else, even her usual scowl softened by how sunshine soft her features looked. “I’m tired.” Pausing for a few seconds, she had to force herself to swallow around an inexplicable knot in her throat, chipped black nail on her thumb propped against her lips as she searched for some kind of plausible excuse. Something Bradley. A plaster to slap on a scraped up knee. A circus tiger that still jumped through hoops even when its ribs were jutting beneath flaming stripes. Instead, she just shrugged, stare slowly drifting to find his again with something unreadable hiding inside it. “Are you ever just tired?”

Her nonchalance sat heavy on his chest, either weighing him down or piercing through him like the dull daggers his father kept in his bedside drawers. Silence hung between them like it always did –– quiet as mass on Sundays, he took another breath before stepping closer to her bed, eyes lingering on a shade of blue matching his own before he cast them away to study chipped paint on the walls. “I mean it.” He reached out to either touch her hand or brush her hair back from her face before he pulled back suddenly like he’d just been slapped for reaching for seconds at the dinner table without saying ‘please,’ a flash of something childlike across his face before he masked it. “Yeah. I’m always tired. Usually of everything all at once,” he said, stare stuck counting the freckles sprayed across her cheeks before he rocked back on his heels. “Are you okay?”

[jesse-harmon-blog]

sometime around midnight | bradley & jesse

[jesse-harmon-blog]

bradleymilligan:

Tugging her duvet closer around her at the knock on the door, Bradley shifted her weight so she could roll over to face the wall. She’d been dead set on counting the ugly cracks in plaster there until the door abruptly swung in on itself, elbow harshly digging against her mattress to thrust herself upright so she could look at him. It took a rapid blink for her to confirm it wasn’t Sawyer, heart kicking an iron booted foot against her rib cage as she stared at him, her features which were usually set with a scowl looking oddly childish with an uncharacteristic lack of makeup. “What the fuck?” Glancing around the room like she half expected somebody else to be stood there perplexedly ogling at him along with her, she thrust a hand out in bewildered question. “Do you always just burst in places like a coked up version of The Hulk? Jesus fucking Christ. Didn’t even say come in.” Flopping back down again, she yanked soft cotton up to cover the moth bitten t-shirt she was sporting as she fixed her gaze at the wall again. “I’m busy.“

“Sorry,” Jesse said, apology counteracted by his crossing into the room, hands deep in his pockets as moved to lean against the wall. He studied her for a moment, something pulling in his chest before he took a deep breath not dissimilar to ones he’d taken in church confessionals years prior, his father’s gaze heavy on his shoulders. “Look, about the other night –– I fucked up, I’m sorry. I was an asshole and I should have never invited you over and then bailed out like that. I’m sorry, Bradley, really. And I’ll leave if you want me to.” He stopped short only to wring his wrists, eyes suddenly scouring her face like it had answers written in invisible ink. “I can go.”