"I like beautiful melodies telling me terrible things."
-Tom Waits (via seabois)
absinthius:

Ravens

Travis Bickle from Taxi Driver

roleplayingconfessionsfromrpers:

 Something that gets on my nerves is people who constantly post about how they should delete their blog because no one cares yet keep it anyway. Don’t get me wrong, we all need reassurance from people every now & then to feel wanted, but when you post every other day about how “I don’t know why I’m still here, no one wants me”, wouldn’t it be best just to delete? If it’s really making you that unhappy, then put your happiness first otherwise you just look like an attention seeker.

roleplayingconfessionsfromrpers:

 Something that gets on my nerves is people who constantly post about how they should delete their blog because no one cares yet keep it anyway. Don’t get me wrong, we all need reassurance from people every now & then to feel wanted, but when you post every other day about how “I don’t know why I’m still here, no one wants me”, wouldn’t it be best just to delete? If it’s really making you that unhappy, then put your happiness first otherwise you just look like an attention seeker.

fenrir-the-great-wolf:

“Loki,” he replied, voice heated. “I would have the greatest of pleasures killing him. Did you enjoy slaying your own sire?”

"Loki?" she repeated the name slowly, almost amused, "met ‘im once. Sly fellow, with ugly hair," she shrugged at his last question, "dunno, was a small thing then—hated ‘im and didn’t mind doin’ it," she peered at him, "why don’t y’? Y’ afraid?"

☠: immaiaesperanza

Emilia balanced her accordion on her knee, the sad notes drifting away, down the alley. She had her back turned to it, ignoring the draft. A few people passed her, barely looking her way. She stopped to pick up the ol’ Number 7 at her side, drinking thankfully. As she set the bottle down she noticed someone approaching her, ready to listen.

captjackharknesstw:

To anyone I’ve ever had a failed rp or dropped thread with…

I still love you can we be friends?

image

Care for a Tune? ☠ O P E N

Emilia balanced her accordion on her knee, the sad notes drifting away, down the alley. She had her back turned to it, ignoring the draft. A few people passed her, barely looking her way. She stopped to pick up the ol’ Number 7 at her side, drinking thankfully. As she set the bottle down she noticed someone approaching her, ready to listen.

ofwordsandwoes:

Even as the door creaked wide his attentions focused downward tot he massive pile set silent upon an abused desk, abandoned rings of black coffee and burnt marks from discarded ashes littering the surface that had given birth to his life’s work. One hand splayed flat, fingers stained with the ink of a harsh edits, the other rose, carrying with it the salvation of a pale cigarette of a stress starved mind, “I trust you won’t mind if I smoke.” His tone sounded haggard, even to the professor’s own ears, as he addressed the unseen visitor. 

image

Emilia kept her head down. The smell of sweet cigarette smoke, faint among the pungent taste of leather and coffee in the back of her throat, thrilled her. All of her favorite things—together. Here. She dared a glance up, she gazed steadily at the sad, downcast face. When he asked her if he could smoke she shook her head, vigorously. 

"Please," she replied, digging her own pack from her jacket pocket, "I will too."

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