20, university student
This is my uncontrolled spiral down the vortex of alcoholism.
My blog sucks sweet sweet dicks and I'm not too much of an asshole.
Rooster Teeth + Fight Club + The Eagle + movies + music + stuff
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aww jeez maria you can’t just walk up and start messin with a man’s map like that
this is the first part of a commission (that only took me fOR FUCKING EVER to actually get started on wow sorry) for lifeoftechpriest who wanted malik and maria being besties and i figured they could bond over maps or something idk
![myantiquehabibi:
[x]
It hadn’t been till Desmond had even gotten to work that he even remembered what day it was. “Doing anything fun today Jonny?” Fred had asked as he opened his bar till.
“Huh?” reasonable question, it was just Tuesday, his work day. “Why would I be doing anything fun?”
“It’s the thirteenth,” Fred said. Desmond just continued to stare at him in confusion, why was his manager bringing this up? Had he done something? Had someone complained about something? “Jonny, it’s March thirteenth.”
“Oh,” Desmond said and only then did he get it. March thirteenth, his birthday. He turned away from Fred, “No, I’m not doing anything,” he said, finishing with the touch screen register. The way he said it made Fred not ask more questions, like why not, or if he wanted to go out and do something. Desmond didn’t even think about it as he started his double shift and it wasn’t even a thought during it until Carol, the night manager, showed up. Apparently it was her daughter’s birthday too and she’d made cupcakes. Too many cupcakes clearly since she brought some in for the staff.
“Jon, you want one?” Carol asked him during his break. He stared at her a second, she had a tupperware in her hands with three cupcakes left.
“Yeah,” he took it because he was always interested in free food, “Thanks,” he said with a smile. She smiled back and left to try and get someone else to take the last two. Desmond put it aside, his break was over, he needed to get back to work. He put it under his bike helmet so no one steal it before going back out to the bar. The cupcake and the date left his mind while he worked.
He only remembered what the day was when he picked up his helmet after shift, dressed back down in his normal clothes, and found the cupcake. He found a to-go container for it and put it carefully into his backpack before leaving work. The ride home was uneventful, the roads almost quiet, or at the least free of most cars beyond taxis, the normal side of the city asleep for the night. The clubs he passed were still banging though, and lights rose high up the side of tall sky scrapers as though it wasn’t midnight.
Desmond’s apartment was dark and empty when he came home, the bed and a folding tray table the only furniture in the one room apartment. He turned on the lights, locked his door, set his backpack down, peeled off his jacket, and checked all the locks on the windows. He checked the closet and checked under the bed and in the tiny pantry that could actually fit a person. Old paranoias were hard to kill. Once he was secure he changed into his night clothes, the shirt old and worn, and grabbed his backpack, taking the to-go container out. He took the moment to rummage through the suitcase he still hadn’t unpacked from his move from Chicago last year, and found the box of cheap candles that had made it into the suitcase from Andrew’s birthday thirteen months ago. He threw away the others but kept one candle.
He turned off the lights, put the cupcake and the candle on the tray table next to his bed and crawled into it. Blanket around his shoulders he assembled the cupcake and candle and found a matchbook he’d gotten from work. “Nine years tomorrow,” Desmond said to himself as he lit the match. He sort of smiled to himself as it lit the candle, it wasn’t a very happy smile. “Happy birthday me,” he said and watched the candle burn, the flame flickering. When it had burned down half way Desmond finally blew it out. He wished something would happen.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/07bdba4b789735490c93cc7d6863a9ff/tumblr_mjltva1m0H1qgxdolo1_500.jpg)
[x]
It hadn’t been till Desmond had even gotten to work that he even remembered what day it was. “Doing anything fun today Jonny?” Fred had asked as he opened his bar till.
“Huh?” reasonable question, it was just Tuesday, his work day. “Why would I be doing anything fun?”
“It’s the thirteenth,” Fred said. Desmond just continued to stare at him in confusion, why was his manager bringing this up? Had he done something? Had someone complained about something? “Jonny, it’s March thirteenth.”
“Oh,” Desmond said and only then did he get it. March thirteenth, his birthday. He turned away from Fred, “No, I’m not doing anything,” he said, finishing with the touch screen register. The way he said it made Fred not ask more questions, like why not, or if he wanted to go out and do something. Desmond didn’t even think about it as he started his double shift and it wasn’t even a thought during it until Carol, the night manager, showed up. Apparently it was her daughter’s birthday too and she’d made cupcakes. Too many cupcakes clearly since she brought some in for the staff.
“Jon, you want one?” Carol asked him during his break. He stared at her a second, she had a tupperware in her hands with three cupcakes left.
“Yeah,” he took it because he was always interested in free food, “Thanks,” he said with a smile. She smiled back and left to try and get someone else to take the last two. Desmond put it aside, his break was over, he needed to get back to work. He put it under his bike helmet so no one steal it before going back out to the bar. The cupcake and the date left his mind while he worked.
He only remembered what the day was when he picked up his helmet after shift, dressed back down in his normal clothes, and found the cupcake. He found a to-go container for it and put it carefully into his backpack before leaving work. The ride home was uneventful, the roads almost quiet, or at the least free of most cars beyond taxis, the normal side of the city asleep for the night. The clubs he passed were still banging though, and lights rose high up the side of tall sky scrapers as though it wasn’t midnight.
Desmond’s apartment was dark and empty when he came home, the bed and a folding tray table the only furniture in the one room apartment. He turned on the lights, locked his door, set his backpack down, peeled off his jacket, and checked all the locks on the windows. He checked the closet and checked under the bed and in the tiny pantry that could actually fit a person. Old paranoias were hard to kill. Once he was secure he changed into his night clothes, the shirt old and worn, and grabbed his backpack, taking the to-go container out. He took the moment to rummage through the suitcase he still hadn’t unpacked from his move from Chicago last year, and found the box of cheap candles that had made it into the suitcase from Andrew’s birthday thirteen months ago. He threw away the others but kept one candle.
He turned off the lights, put the cupcake and the candle on the tray table next to his bed and crawled into it. Blanket around his shoulders he assembled the cupcake and candle and found a matchbook he’d gotten from work. “Nine years tomorrow,” Desmond said to himself as he lit the match. He sort of smiled to himself as it lit the candle, it wasn’t a very happy smile. “Happy birthday me,” he said and watched the candle burn, the flame flickering. When it had burned down half way Desmond finally blew it out. He wished something would happen.
“lorne balfe was a crappy composer for ac3 !!!!”
the assassin’s creed fandom is pissing me off again
#these ever revolving arguments about slash fans and this assassin is better than that assassin #and character bashing #and the ‘his name is not connor’ #i think that since ac3 came out this fandom has been taking a slow and steady descendence into hell #and it makes me sad
everything I ever
have you ever experienced such a plot twist that you go to cover your mouth but you accidentally slap yourself in the face
i have
shoutout to giovanni auditore for being the only father in the ac series who wasn’t shit at his job
