One Nice Bug Per Day
RMH
The Bright Sessions
Color Me Curious
The Bowery Presents
tumblr dot com
Mike Driver
noise dept.
official daine visual archive
Sade Olutola
Doug Jones
No title available
occasionally subtle
if i look back, i am lost
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NASA
Product Placement
The Stonewall Inn
𓃗
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
seen from Russia
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seen from Türkiye
seen from Brazil
seen from Singapore
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Pakistan
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Singapore
@naomh-a-peacach
@naomh-a-peacach cont. from [x]
“Oh, not normal?” It takes some effort not to laugh but she manages to keep her face neutral. “I’m hope you’re not implying my hair is cursed. I’d personally call it ‘messy and in need of brushing’.”
"Ye know I've not'in' but love...but I feel fer t'e brush." That last part? It's mumbled. Not out of fear, but more to add to their little back and forth. "Tell me, does it roar on its own or d' ye need ta do like ventriloquist type shite?"
❝ I hope you’ll excuse my cheap wit, but the hour is late and it’s all I have left. ❞ - Connor @aintinsaint
"Ye act like yer wit's been any better. Truly, brother, 'tis t'e best ye've got!" He means it. Kind of. But lovingly, as only family could. It shows in the way he grins and nudges at the blond's shoulder as he says it.
❝ I’m not majestic on weekends. ❞ - from mic
"Not majestic? What would ye call it, then? 'cause that hair inn't normal!" He loves her, he does, but man does that put a lion to shame and lions are majestic as hell.
“Guide to Troubled Birds” sentence meme
❝ The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math. ❞
❝ I preen for Satan. ❞
❝ I disembowel. It’s what I do. ❞
❝ He gave them the heebie-jeebies. He had nothing else to give. ❞
❝ I’d sell you to Satan for one corn chip. ❞
❝ I love you despite the warning signs. ❞
❝ I’m a dirty bird. ❞
❝ This was a topsy-turvy world of anguish, shame and self-torment. ❞
❝ I’m three ounces of whoop-ass. ❞
❝ Dealing with you is like herding cats. ❞
❝ My mating dance is mostly seizures. ❞
❝ This jackassery will not stand! ❞
❝ I’ve been through hell and come out singing. ❞
❝ Your love has made me a drunk. ❞
❝ I’m not majestic on weekends. ❞
❝ God can’t help you now. ❞
❝ That’s a crazy idea. Insane. It doesn’t make sense. ❞
❝ I had on my prettiest dress and he never even looked at it. ❞
❝ He had a violent, uncontrolled temper, which sent him literally insane when he was annoyed, but he was good looking. ❞
❝ This might have passed a very pleasant evening had shit not gotten real. ❞
❝ Perhaps you can do something about the evil spirit in my head. ❞
❝ My emotions have three outlets: haughty silence, tears and rage. ❞
❝ I do not go to my happy place, I go to my high lonesome place. ❞
❝ I am often seized by the fatal American need to have a pretty good time. ❞
❝ I’m addicted to shiny things. ❞
❝ The ability to remain sober and gracious is, indeed, a mild form of insanity. ❞
❝ My modus operandi is dial up the awesome and break the knob off. ❞
❝ Looking for trouble and if I cannot find it, I will create it. ❞
❝ The drinks came. I wasn’t about to be sobered by anything like regret. ❞
❝ Foie gras this, motherfucker! ❞
❝ The whispery groans in my mind are beginning to issue orders. ❞
❝ Unicorn of love, impale me! ❞
❝ Oh. You’re an artist. ❞
❝ I hope you’ll excuse my cheap wit, but the hour is late and it’s all I have left. ❞
❝ As always, all I should’ve said was, “I love you.” ❞
.
warrioressofhell:
@naomh-a-peacach
“I think we should steal a car,” she said. They shouldn’t steal a car but it was nice to think about. Driving down the road, leaving everything behind - her parents, their anger and disappointment - with no destination in mind. “I still don’t know how to drive, though. You’d have to do it.”
Honestly, the blurted statement doesn’t surprise him at all. Consistently, they both spout off stupid ideas out of the blue and, usually, they follow through.
Stealing a car...
They could. He knows how...how to steal one, at least. The driving portion...not so much. “I’ve always preferred stowin’ away on a train.” He offers by way of compromise.
"...an’ th’ man says wit’ a frown ‘That’s not a lion. It’s a giraffe!”
Okay...admittedly it was a stupid joke...but hey, he found it funny! It could just be the booze, though. Both times...
Hey, it was a bar. Bars are for stupidity and good times.
Best Laid Plans
brazenlass:
Her thoughts felt sluggish, head a thick haze of sticky nothing that kept trying to drag her back into blackout. Somewhere in the darkness of her skull, she thought she felt something that wasn’t pain. Eyes shifted behind shut eyelids, breath drawn in-stop-out-in-in, all too shaky. Impossible to move.
Awareness trickled in like ice water, leaving shock in its wake. Pain. Too much. Pain. God… memory blissfully failed her but she was terrified.
Whimper caught in her throat and turned into a cough. Now her eyes opened, wide and panicked as her chest shuddered and her nerves were on fire and she didn’t know where she was– god that was too much blood wasn’t it? Couldn’t breathe—
There’s a shift in that unsteady rhythm, a hitch in breathing that is a switch-flip tell from unconscious to aware, and for a moment relief is a warm rush through his system--she’s alive--but it dies out in a flash as reality once again snuffs the feeling. Alive definitely doesn’t mean well. Not with that much blood. For all he knows too much has been lost and she’s not going to make it. This could all have to end with a mercy bullet.
It’s not his call.
It’s not something he’d ever truly want to decide anyway.
Though he probably shouldn’t, that light touch to an almost too pale frame firms with the intent to still the girl. “Hey, shh...calm down, he’ll not be hurtin’ anyone again.” Moving could make things worse, especially frantic ones. Still...she can’t stay here. Calling the cops to his own murder scene...he needed time to get away clean.
“We’ll get y’ out an’ get y’ an ambulance, okay?”
Getting Better in the Worst Way
warrioressofhell:
She could smell blood. That wasn’t unusual. Anyone could. But she could smell blood and she knew immediately whose blood it was. Mic cursed herself mentally. When he left this morning, she should have been more insistent on coming with him. But Murphy had always taken care of himself despite how much she worried.
There had to be a limit. This must be it. Copper filled her nose as she pushed into the bathroom - the sign on the door doesn’t apply to her. She didn’t have to wait for her eyes to adjust which was another perk. Dots of shiny blood stained the floor.
“Murphy?”
Of course...
Privacy isn’t something he’d expected, can’t get something like that when using a public restroom after all, but picking a pub at least gave him the hope that whoever came in would be too drunk to notice or just enough not to care. It’d been a safe bet, even. He could clean up a bit, pack on some paper towels and cinch up his belt over them to hold them in place...it just might have worked well enough to last until he could patch himself up properly.
He hadn’t even considered that it’d be someone he knew. Someone that shouldn’t be in here...at least, no one else would think she should be and if they did then they had a completely different problem that she’d fix real quick.
There’s no sense in pretending he’s not there. Not with her.
“Aye?” It’s almost hesitant anyway, but he steels his resolve and clamps a hand over the wound, swiping the other over a dry patch on his shirt to clean his palm somewhat so that he can re-open the stall without leaving too much mess.
warrioressofhell:
@naomh-a-peacach 👀 👀
Oh heyyyy, pretty lady.
Getting Better in the Worst Way
Fucking hell...
Never before has anything made him feel like an amateur quite like this. It’s not his first fight, not even one of the first dozen, but it is the first one to leave him retreating as soon as his opponent started fighting dirty rather than trying to stick it out.
His shirt is tacky, sticking to his skin, and his stomach burns in a way that says nothing good but it’s too dark to tell. Thankfully, there’s a pub not too far and no one pays him much mind as he makes a beeline for the restroom. Probably just think he’s really got to go with the way he’s carrying himself. The door’s just clicked shut behind him when he elbows his way into a stall and leans against one of the walls, finally pulling his hands away and grimacing at the streaks of red tracking over his fingers to look first at bloodied palms. Not a glancing blow, then. It wouldn’t be bleeding this much if it were.
Okay. It can’t be that bad. Stop shaking and focus.
Best Laid Plans
“Hey. Hey, it’s o’er. Ye need ta wake up.”
None of this had really been expected, honestly. Axing the whacked out serial killer, yeah, that’d been not only expected but properly planned, but the victim on the table? He thought he’d made it in time.
There’s a good chance that they’re not going to wake up. There’s blood--he should have been faster--and there’s no telling if they’d been drugged first, but as long as that chest keeps rising with uneven breaths he has to try and rouse what he may very well have to put down as a mercy.
An innocent...
The warehouse is eerily silent, well-kept and the body too subdued to even breath heavily, and the quiet has pale skin prickling as chills crawl over it, hyper-awareness in full effect as he subconsciously waits for something to flip the scales again. Or for a pin to drop.
Something.
Anything.
Moving ever closer to the table where a thin white sheet is pulled aside to reveal a face lx in forced slumber and a bloodied torso, Murphy clears his throat and tries again as he reaches out to touch a shoulder.
“C'mon, man. Beautiful day out there.” Somewhere. “Don’t wanna miss it, do ye?”
Much Like Suffocating
His chest is on fire, lungs burning up with how hard he’s pushing himself, and though he tries to focus on his breathing, on the steady slap of his sneakers on concrete, the uneven gaits and snarls threatening to overtake him are at the forefront of his mind. They’re fast. He was careless. Stupid, so stupid. They’re always faster in groups, somehow smarter, and when every turn could have another group lying silent in wait to rip him apart there’s no time to catch his breath, no chance of finding a safe place in unfamiliar territory to hide out. He’s got to make it back, can’t stop even for a second or bony, gnarled fingers’ll snag on more than just the cloth of his tee. It’s a straight shot now, the old brick surrounded by chain-link a beacon of hope that's just out of reach, and though he'd been all in since the moment the horde got the drop on him Murphy takes a shuddered breath and pushes himself just that much harder. The gate's chained shut, been that way since he'd found it, but there's just enough slack in the chain that he can squeeze through...if he sacrifices everything he'd gone out for. It's not even given a moment of consideration. The backpack's shrugged off in a heartbeat and dropped as he skids to a stop, nearly falling flat on his face with the abrupt change, and the fence rattles as he gives the gate a shove and pushes his way through the small space. Grasping hands are right behind him, skimming his boot before he's sprawled on the ground on the other side of that barrier and taking a precious second to try and catch his breath. Too little, too long, the bodies are piling and every crash-rattle bows the chain-link in just that much more as it creaks in protest against the accumulating weight. A foreign curse slips as he spares a final glance to the discarded supplies and pushes to his feet. Safety's a few yards and a brief climb away through a broken out window Any longer outside, in sight, and his temporary shelter will be fucked. It's already fucked. "...well that was fuckin' pointless..."
Hmm.
aintinsaint:
( @naomh-a-peacach || cont’d )
A frown forms– like a shrug for the mouth– as Connor gives the proposed state more thought. Even knowing shit, he didn’t know everything.
“–Aye, I think all of Americ’r’s nice this time of year.” March in Boston was cold as balls, or so the dearly departed Rocco would’ve put it. “When’s the last time ye’ve seen a REAL weather report, ‘uh, Murph?”
Sadly, Sally only covered Suffolk county, MA.
New York...
New York holds so much promise. They’d talked about it before, just an idea rolling around in the stale, smokey air...but this is more serious. Connor might not have meant it to be, but it is.
“Maybe not all.” He muses, fingers finding themselves pressed to lips in lieu of a cigarette, and it’s only after a moment of consideration that those tiers tip upwards in a smirk. Fuck it. “Can’t get much worse though, now can it? When’re we leavin’?”
“We're moving to New York. It's getting a bit hot for us here... Get your head out of the oven!" @aintinsaint ((It bugs me how All Saints Day never discussed whether or not the bros' plans for NY panned out... I guess once Il Duce came in, he just took his boys straight back to Ireland and said fuck it to NY?))
Well this is....sudden. And yet...
“New York, mm?” Straightening, broad shoulders roll in a shrug. “ ‘s nice now, innit?”
45 Starter sentences from song lyrics
“Are you gonna be my girl?”
“But you were with another man…”
“Can’t stop ‘cause they tell me so.”
“Cheer up!”
“Don’t talk to girls they’ll break your heart.”
“Feelin’ as good as lovers can.”
“Get your head out of the oven!”
“Go back to screaming, and cursing, remind me again how everyone betrayed you!”
“Here comes the love anxiety.”
“Hey baby, won’t you look my way.”
“I’m going to the doctors on Friday.”
“I’m moving to New York.”
“I’ve got troubles with my sleep.”
“I’ve met someone that makes me feel seasick.”
“I could be your new addiction.”
“I didn’t believe them, when they told me that there was no saving you.”
“I don’t know why I want to voice this out loud.”
“I feel it in my soul.”
“If I die, don’t wake me.”
“I love you every day girl, you’re always on my mind.”
“It’s just the end of the world.”
“It’s nine in the afternoon.”
“I walk to the sound of my own drum.”
“I want a girl that stays up late.”
“I want a girl with a mind like a diamond.”
“I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket.”
“Let me do my job.”
“Oh, what does it mean?”
“Oh what a skill to have.”
“Should I stay or should I go?”
“Sorry, I don’t know what I said, but you’re crying now, again.”
“That only makes it worse.”
“The hardest part is not to repent for someone else, it’s letting people in.”
“The world is a cold, cold place to be.”
“They give me pills and all sorts.”
“They say I’m a walking dreamer, baby.”
“They tell me to stop smoking, but I’ll do it anyways.”
“We’re terrified of one another, and terrified of what that means.”
“You’re out of my league.”
“You’ve got my heartbeat racing.”
“You and I will die unbelievers.”
“You are more than just a dream.”
“You don’t need money with a face like that, now do you?”
“You made me sleep all uneven.”
