#thankchrist

[thepinkcarnegie-archive-blog]

@thankchrist

“You should wear pinstripe. It would make you a look taller.”

[tvvolips]

@thankchrist

from (X) 

Her first instinct is to utter: “You won’t,” just like she used to do to the schoolyard bullies who lifted their fists at her. Of course, those boys were scared shitless of Tulip O’Hare. The girl who bit off Donnie Schenck’s nipple, the girl who lived in the trailer park, sometimes the whorehouse. This was different though—Tulip O’Hare or not, this man wasn’t like those ball-less boys; he isn’t like the racist, redneck bumpkins she’s accustomed to, not a dumb henchman. He looks at her as though he could snap her body between his pinkie and thumb, like he could rip her throat out with his bare teeth. 

Her nose scrunches at this speculation, teeth baring slightly from parted, plush lips. She’s fucked up. All’s she was out here to do was a bit of casual murdering. An easy, clean hit. A realization hit Tulip; she’d been set up. “Double-crossing sonovabitch!” her mouth had dropped open in realization, eyes looking beyond the man with the gun, with little concern of all his Bond-villain hubbub. She’d been sent on a hit to get murdered, a hunter expecting to find a deer, only to stumble upon a starving grizzly bear. 

Right, still got Humphrey Bogart and his gun here. Tulip sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. He was good, she didn’t need a goddamn sixth sense to know that. Any other man, she’d lunge at him, taking his moment of surprise to knock his gun-wielding arm out of the way and dig her knife into his throat. This fella didn’t look like much surprised him. 

And so Tulip drops her knife, holding her hands up as she casually crosses her legs. “Mmmhm, I hear ya, slick,” she blew some stray hairs from her forehead before slowly, placing her hands flat against the table. “I mean, at this point, I don’t much care about the whole baby thing,” briefly, she recalls watching blood pool from the apex of her body, reclined against a man who’s left her, her voice piercing out in a raw, anguished scream, “And it ain’t hardly fair to bring a gun to a knife fight...dick,” she spits the last insult out before crossing her arms over her chest, her expression akin to a pouting child, caught stealing money from their mother’s purse. 

[kentmansleys]

@thankchrist | continued from this.

           THE BODY OF RICHARD MILLER FOUND ITSELF PUSHED AGAINST A WALL, & eyes flew wide open, STARING down at the redhead for a good ten seconds or so with anINDESCRIBABLE emotion……… they closed eventually, & shock turned to an odd sort of ( EUPHORIA ) as he returned the kiss, even being so bold as to position a hand on the agent’s back, the other around his NECK (in a non-malicious way, seeing that this was RICHARD Miller.)

                 After a while he deemed appropriate, he leaned back, eyes big as SAUCERS again as he continued to stare, stuck somewhere between AWESTRUCK & scrupulous…. “…you know, Mister Mansley—— I was under the impression that you were heterosexual…??” It was neither a statement nor a question, but a THOUGHT, left open for interpretation.

       Oh. Oh-- Oh, shit. Kent hadn’t-- somehow, he hadn’t been paying attention to what he was doing. And for once they weren’t at some dim lit bar, or dim lit restaurant, or otherwise poorly lighted high class establishment. That was to say, there was no booze for him to blame his actions upon (and quite frequently he relied on that excuse, especially when Richard Miller was involved). Kent’s wild blue eyes traced every contour of the billionaire's non-threatening features to search for answers. What had drawn him in; where was his magnetism?  

       If it was in his wallet, Kent would have been paying closer attention to what he was doing. 

       The agent pressed his open mouth into a firm, pale line. An anchoring mark of seriousness it came to be; his brow furrowed to imitate it, to further brandish a sense of authority. He was in control of the situation. He had to be. A sigh escaped through his nose before his electric eyes trained their gaze on Richard’s in a sudden stand of steadfastness. 

       And, queerly (how appropriately so, not that Kent noticed), a smile replaced his hard expression. A shaky thumb-- a theatrically trembling appendage, an extension of fabricated emotion --traced the smooth surface of Richard’s bottom lip. 

       Oh, golly. Kent had to stop himself from saying something so innocuous out loud. His blood was still racing, despite his regained composure. All of that talk they’d shared about such illicit illegal encounters... That must have been what drove him on. The thrill of a secret. 

       How childish. How fitting.

       “...I thought so too,” Kent offered up in a soft voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to be so aggressive--” Kent tilted his head, another calculated action, to fit the shape of Richard’s palm a little more perfectly. He bat his lashes a few times to feign innocence-- right before giving the poor man’s lip a little (very little), flirtatious squeeze. “I probably scared you, didn’t I?”

[crystalpowered]

@thankchrist

“It’s always a good idea to get eight hours of sleep every night.”

[djkills-blog]

@thankchrist liked this

               ❝ if you’re as old fashioned as you appear, you should know better than to cast harm unto the messenger. ❞ steepled fingers part into a more broad gesture. ❝ --- i simply PRODUCE the music. light a few green bulbs for the audibly included. if the genre my label’s creates isn’t your cup of tea... that’s hardly my concern. ❞

[onlyjokesherebro]

{{ me: i love my son 💛 c:

{{ me: but i also wanna see him sqUIRM AS HE TRIES TO ESCAPE A PEOPLE-EATING MONSTER IN THE WOODS, A SERIAL KILLER, A CANNIBAL (ALSO IN THE WOODS)------

[thepinkcarnegie-archive-blog]

Thankchrist Started following

@thankchrist

“Are you doing alright there, sir? You look...well, tired to say the least.”

[demoliticnist]

examine..... the cutest godd damn piglet u've seen in ur lyf

Send “Examine!” and an item or person and I’ll write an RPG description of it/them.

You spot a pig wandering the streets near the abandoned factory. What’s it doing in the city? Was it someone’s pet at one point? It wanders up to you and you see it’s a baby. Where’s its mother?

The animal stops at your feet. You:

- Pick it up- Leave it be ✔️

You bend down to take a closer look, but don’t touch the piglet. The little thing is probably lost. As it gazes up at you, you smile at how cute it is: oversized ears, a curly pink tail. Reminds you of the pigs on your friend’s farm back in Sicily.

You remember there’s a crust of bread in your satchel. Do you feed the piglet?

- Yes ✔️- No

You hand the baby animal the bread and it eagerly gobbles it up. After that, it trots off on its way. You hope it’s okay.