sick! sick! sick!

buckshot. resident gremlin of zone 5. transmissions tagged under #straightshots

[mylittlefag]

You are DEAD longer than you are ALIVE And you aree WASTING IT by GIVING IN TO FEAR FEAR FEAR IS THE ENEMY

[untidysouls]

desert demons / the american southwest 35mm film washed in the laundry

[cordspaghetti]

you wouldn’t!!

[gnawgag]

GOD BLESS YOUR TRANSSEXUAL HEART !!!

[lucky-number-8]

Fast Forward Cassette Magazine

[sweatermuppet]

walking is still honest by against me! / photo source

click for better quality (my instagram)

[image ID: in the middle of the photo, a barn is on fire. a person is walking past through a field. the photo is weathered with film grain and other similar textures. in pale yellow text, in a hazy font are the words "dear mother, this is just survival". /End ID]

[revxxero]

[alalien]

[leahberman]

artist’s drive, death valley

[revolversigns]

radiation deep in my bones!

[violentp0se]

okay but sip on this killjoys headcanon: it gets cold as hell at night in the desert. any killjoy with half a brain, which seems to say a lot for most, knows this. everyone should have a spare blanket, scrap of fabric, half a t-shirt in their pack just in case the sun goes out and you’re stuck in the sand. but you have those young ‘joys, those wave heads who are too burned out to see straight let alone feel the cold, the ones fresh out the gates of the city with their name and nothing else—they don’t know this yet. first nights are the worst. they don’t know anyone or they don’t care to know anyone, but it’s freezing and they got nothing. any gang roaming under the night sky knows it’s shit bad luck to let another killjoy freeze so they invite anyone and everyone into their dogpile or around their flare or into their car.

sometimes when they’re patrolling or coming back from somewhere far away or just out because the night is too quiet without a rumbling engine, the four will find some sad soul in the dirt, freezing. poison always gets out, always manages to find some type of something to hand to the killjoy with a hard look that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. he never says much, grunts if they say thank you, and gets back in the drivers seat. he always hums ‘don’t let the sun go down on me’ and they drive on. it’s cold out there, he’ll say when someone teases him about it. ain’t right to freeze in the desert.

[revolversigns]

guess i should get this party started.