NICE WORK, BOYO. @meboymolloy - Tumblr Blog

revolutionbrought‌:

❝ Yes, yes I did. Close the door behind you when you come in. ❞

He motioned Felix into his office with his index finger then took a slow drag from the cigarette that was placed between the fingers of his other hand. It occurs to him that he hasn’t smoked this much since he’s been Atlas. He supposed right now it was too much of an irritant to keep up that pristine image he’s tried so hard to keep up when he’s at the bottom of a damn hellhole — plus he’s always been a bit more at ease around the company of his men than others.

Stubbing his cigarette out in the ash tray in front of him, he lets out a sigh, smoke still exhaling from his mouth from the previous drag. Over time he’s come to trust Felix, he’s shown himself to be dependable on more than one occasion. The question is how he is going to react when he tells him who Atlas really is?

❝ Molloy, I’ve come to trust you over the time we’ve worked together and I think it’s about time that I let you in on a little secret.❞ He lets the words linger, not intending to continue until he sees the other’s reaction so far.

Ever obedient, Felix shuts the door behind him, locking it for good measure. His hands then lace tightly behind his back, staved from swiping at what sweat he can feel dripping down from his temples. He keeps a neutral expression, but the word ‘secret’ peaks his immediate interest. Thick brows lift in brief and earnest surprise.

“A secret, boss?”

The room’s cigarette smoke climbs into his nose.A dull longing nags him as he inhales it deeply into his lungs. He’d quit a long time ago--Daisy hated how the smell clung to him--but the secondhand scent brings back powerful cravings. A sudden request to bum a cigarette hangs on the tip of his tongue. Felix clears his throat instead.

“I’m, uh, all ears.”

#revolutionbrought #(I'm for it)

@revolutionbrought | Fontaine’s Department Store

The entire housewares department is thick with wet, choking heat. A few vandalized pipes converted the place into a sauna overnight, and the boys haven’t been able to patch things as they try to keep from fainting. Felix is starting to feel it himself as he kneels beside the mess with a wrench, his shirt glued with sweat to his back.

Molloy’s only cranked a single a bolt into place when the call comes, murmured back and forth between cohorts before it finally reaches him it maintenance–the boss is looking for you. Felix nearly groans out loud as the wrench slips from his palm and into the toolbox by his feet. The last thing he wants to do is face ‘The Voice Of The People’ while sweating like a goddamn pig, but of course, he’s without choice.

The walk to Atlas’ office feels more like a stroll in the Sahara, and takes what feels like hours in his sluggish state. Yet, as he taps on the door to enter, Molloy straightens to full, military-grade attention despite the river flowing down his body.

“Uh, Boss?” his tone, however, remains helplessly timid, “You wanted t’see me?”

#revolutionbrought #(sorry for the delay!)

pedrospascaled

#fc

redxcollar

Once his marriage began to fizzle, Felix Molloy was quick to become a regular in the ring down at the Fighting McDonagh’s. Hell, a broken nose here or a black eye there always beat confronting the suspicions he held towards his wife. Or worse, confirming them. Besides, the extra dough didn’t hurt when he won. Still, Molloy’s no stranger to a good beating. Of course, it helps when the guy dishing it out proves a worthy opponent.

That night’s rival--Noah something--put up one helluva fight ‘till the very end. Felix almost lost consciousness in the last couple of minutes, but held on to his recent winning streak with a few determined swings. Even still, he’d barely placed first up against the newbie featherweight. In turn, they could take their split lips and battered brows home with their dignity full intact. Not everyone was so lucky.

Seated at the bar, Felix nods in thanks once his complimentary pint is placed down, then raises it to his lips for a slow, savory sip. He pauses, though, as the runner-up takes a heavy seat several stools down.

“Hey, how ‘bout a round?”

Another nod invites the guy to sit closer.

“I mean, you’ve earned it. I’m still seein’ spots.”

#redxcollar

aloneandlosing-archive-blog-dea

❝we could POP the corks off all the stuffed shirts down at the kashmir restaurant . . .❞

❏ meboymolloy ❐

#promo #self promo #(thank you so much!)#(it's lovely!)

promisedmeprctty-deactivated201

Another day, another scouting mission.

The entire group was running low on weapons and food. They’d ransacked nearly every single store in the entirety of Fontaine Futuristics looking for a crumb or a bullet. Yet, they still shared the place with a few Splicers who knew stuff they didn’t. It wasn’t hard to bring them over to the cause and get them to share with who knew how many people.

Today’s site was the Manta Ray Lounge. Diane had chosen Felix Molloy to have her back as they searched through every cupboard and behind every bar for something, anything they could have missed. He stayed downstairs while she ascended.

“Psst. Felix.”

Her head was between the bars on the stair railing. Her hand also came through to show off a bottle of Scotch.

“Look what I found!”

meboymolloy

The weight of the pistol is still foreign in his hand. Molloy hasn’t had much time to practice with it yet, but he’s a natural. His aim’s near impeccable to boot, give or take a few measly centimeters. He has Dennis to thank for that, and all the time they spent as kids shooting cans off the neighbor’s fence, or scaring strays down the alley with their slingshots, each handcrafted with boyish care. Felix could almost smile at the memory. At least he's put his former horse-playing to good use, much to the theoretical dismay of his mother. God rest her, wherever the hell she is now.

But, being good with a gun doesn’t make him any less anxious. In fact, it makes him dangerous given the way his nerves stand on end. Felix’s index finger itches over the trigger as he holds his stance on the ground floor, eyes narrowed and ears perked. He’s a faithful guard, poised to strike at the first sign of trouble. Never mind that bullets are scarce. He’d do Atlas proud with his bare hands first.

Felix’s gaze travels back and forth over the lounge, his jaw clenched in his focus. Diane’s been at her search--most likely a fruitless one--for a while now. He’s a patient man, but not keen on wasting time. With a reluctant huff, the rebel turns towards the steps to call for her. Much to his surprise, she’s already there.

“Jesus!” he flinches, very nearly firing off. A deep sigh follows as he lowers the pistol, shaking his head as he waits for his heart to start up again.

“For god’s sake, Diane, how’s about we don’t sneak up on the guy with the gun?”

#promisedmeprctty

wickedastardly-deactivated20170

#;voice of the people #;gotta get your hands dirty

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So, uh... So, Atlas asked me to figure out where to strike first when we bust outta this place, but — you know, it all depends on when we get out, you know? I mean, November 5th? There's a big founding of Rapture shindig at Fort Frolic. Valentine's Day? You know, I mean, Arcadia's real popular. Uh... And it's near New Year's Eve, then — hey, we could pop the corks off all the stuffed shirts down at the Kashmir Restaurant!

#audio