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“The best kind.” {The STrain, Last Rites}

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*cries in spanish*

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pick your battles. pick… pick fewer battles than that. put some battles back. that’s too many 

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In alcohol’s defense, I’ve done some pretty dumb shit completely sober.

Dimitri Karamazov, The Brothers Karamazov (via incorrectrussianlitquotes)

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+ and no war in anger has ever been won

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induratizc

– “I’ve found that strangers are less dangerous than the people we love.”

Hah. A snort escaped Carly; wasn’t that the fucking truth? Actually, that’d make a great tombstone engraving. For Carly, that was her mother. A once beautiful woman with sunken in facial features, scrawny limbs and a vile tongue. An absent father and a slew of disgusting men coming in and out of the house at all hours didn’t leave Carly with the greatest of hopes for civilization. How the Veatch siblings even turned out to be half decent was a fucking mystery to them all. They were astoundingly somewhat grounded for what they were raised in, although they still had plenty of baggage. Her mother’s band of suitors left Carly disgusted with most men and left her with a shattered sense of trust. Carly would look for anything to run away from getting to know people. Strangers could never leave the impact that her mother left on her and all her siblings; then again, now Carly would never let someone hurt her again. “Tell me ‘bout it.” It were the only words she let linger in the air, not wishing to further make a point of it. Obviously, this girl had someone just the same.

“Taste is subjective. Does it get me drunk? That’s all I give a shit about.” –Impeccable taste was not a luxury granted to her. As long as it served its purpose, Carly didn’t care. She reached back to the hand extended to her, giving a firm shake as she nodded at the woman. “Carly. A first time customer.” 

The snort the brunette let out was contagious and Nadja’s smirk deepened at the sound of it, almost lost among the usual ruckus of the place. Her dark eyes scanned the bar for any larger threats than normal and, when she was satisfied, she turned her attention back to the woman in front of her--ashing a cigarette on an empty beer can ( the cowboy butts drive me nuts ashtray now appearing like an ashen replica of the leaning tower of piza ). With another disappearance of both her usual companions, Nadja couldn’t help but feel that any connection she made was sure as shit to be ripped from her, but the fault of her own tenacity never allowed her to let on the mark such losses would leave. Even having Nazlie back again didn’t really feel like having her back at all.

“Nah,” She chuckled, shifting her weight above her elbows, which rested on the bar counter top. “That’s some deep, second date shit.” A smartass response to an obviously rhetorical statement. The sound of her inhale on the cigarette was sharp, smoke slowly billowing from the corners of her mouth. “My kind of girl.” She laughed. “That’s pretty fucking much all we can ask for anymore. I swear to fuckin’ Beelzebub.” With a dwindling ration of vices, Nadja was sure that even Nazlie’s supplier would soon turn to moonshine before too long. “Well, Carly--where the fuck have you been if not here?”

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hippclytus

“and yet here i am– talking about it,” scott crooned, flashing a bratty smile. “hey, weren’t you around for the memes that came from the first three episodes?? there’re SOME good things that came from them, you gotta admit that.” he hadn’t worried about wearing a coat. call him brash but he was so confident in his ability to get back to his definition of safety that he hadn’t cared about precautions. childish, maybe, but he knew how to survive even without such precautions. he’d make it; he always did. “comics and novels aren’t movies, let’s be very real here. there’s that one animated tv show and as much as i LOVE it, it’s no movie. maybe i’m some sort of dastardly movie elitist here but that’s where you make the big bucks.” he stretched his shoulders, feeling the sun’s warmth heating up his skin. he always attributed the feeling to how a cheese melts in a microwave. strangely specific, but the sensation stuck with him since he had first thought it. “that’s the thing about comics and novels, too. like, each author and illustrator have their own interpretations and that’s what makes for different timelines and shit. you ain’t got that with movies. smooth sailing with a cinematic saga.” he wasn’t one for cigarettes nor was he really for drinking, either. but, hey, to each their own. that’s why he didn’t comment on the woman smoking ( smoking on a hot day just seemed doubly as bad– wasn’t her throat on fire?? ). “i WOULD say aayla secura is wife material but, you know, she’s a jedi and jedis aren’t about that lifestyle. but she’d be a bomb-ass work partner, let me tell you.” he went back to sifting through the debris, picking up a battered kettle and placing it in his makeshift ‘keep’ pile. discarded a painting with a hole in it. he kept the process up until he came across a star wars button pin, with only a small dent on the edge. “hey, i need your opinion– keep or toss??” he asked as he held it up for the woman to see. “i mean, this is our life now. sure, it ain’t what it used to be but talking about it all the time isn’t going to make it miraculously better. sometimes you gotta think about a long time ago in a galaxy far far away.”

“No accounting for bad fuckin’ taste, I guess.” Nadja smirked at him over her aviators, lips pursed in mock disdain. “Uh, no.” The smirk dissipated into mild annoyance. No, she hadn’t caught much onto memes. Computers weren’t something she generally messed with aside from booking shows for her bar or downloading music. Fuck, she hadn’t even gotten a cell phone until she was eighteen ( though that had had more to do being unable to obtain one as a young runaway than anything else ). “Not really a COMPUTERS kinda girl.” She muttered, searching the debris for something interesting. “Hey--” She called suddenly at him, pointing at him with a broken mop handle. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare forget the holiday special. Did you catch that shit? Everybody fucking hates it, but GODDAMN that was comedy gold.” The cigarette was almost unbearable in the sun--Wyoming was a place without the mild, temperate climate she was used to: too much fuckin’ snow and too much fuckin’ sun on either side of the year--but the habit, the oral fixation, it was stronger than the heat. “I’m pretty fuckin’ sure that jedi or not--most girls don’t give a fuck about WIFE MATERIAL.” Maybe that wasn’t true. Nadja didn’t really think about the experience of other people, but she sure as shit knew her own. The tone was light-hearted enough--a warning that said ‘I get your joke, but I don’t buy the punchline.’ Wife material was what her mom had been--a naive literature major from Nepal, and where had that gotten her? Fuck, wife material. In an attempt to hide her ruffled feathers, Nadja busied herself with looking through more debris and finding more NOTHING. “Hm?” She responded, grateful for the question. “How for-fuckin’-tuitous.” She laughed, nodding in approval. “You gotta keep it. brings out the Millenium Falcon in your eyes.” She snorted. “Yeah, I agree. I would fuckin’ KILL someone for some comics though.”

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☁️ плакать ☁️

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help me remember: not everything in life is a battle. i don’t need to carry a knife everywhere i go. help me learn: how to shed my armor without shedding tears. how to open up my arms without raising my fists. help me understand: i can be vulnerable, and still be strong. i can be made of steel, and still be soft. help me realize: if life is a battle, i don’t have to fight it alone.

even in war, i am not without allies | m.a.w.

(via incantevoles)

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