Well, if he insisted. No more idle chatter then. Good; it was starting to grate on his already fragile nerves for more reasons than one. Did nothing but delay the inevitable and make Atlas’ hands itch to be put into motion. How they hated being still when there was a job to be done. He was only mildly disappointed with the kid’s defeatist attitude, though it was far better than having to deal with a squirming brat and his unpredictable temper. There was always the good chance that the boy was starting to come round to the idea that he was nothing but a great whopping pile of dirt without another person around to influence him. About time too – the Irishman was starting to believe there was no hope for the poor thing.


The older man breathed deep, brought the blades of the scissors together in a few ominous snaps while he stood at his back. Grabbed a fistful of his hair without a word of warning, tugging his neck into a no doubt agonising backwards curve with several easy yanks of his wrist. Left hand occupied, it was the right hand’s duty to hold the rusted scissors aloft, catching the light of the flickering bulb above them both. Came down seconds later to tap ever so gently against the chapped and torn skin of Jack’s lips, dragging themselves downwards to rest on the point of his chin.

“Open your mouth.”

The stench in that room reeked of death, nothing but festering flesh and rotting carcasses. Thick, pungent, parting from corpses and making the entirety of Rapture reek. But even so, the only thing he bothered to acknowledge was the slight musk that that came from Atlas’ closer proximity. Jack almost didn’t feel the rusty blade of those scissors tracing down his lips, stopping at his chin. But he heard that demand; He’d never ignore that strange, Irish lilt that had come to haunt him like some sort of regretful memory. Dying, disgusting, reminding him of the niceties that he had lost.

Eyes closed, caught in an almost trance like state did that mouth of his finally open at his demand. Not all that wide, not enough to strain himself as his mind seems to recede into itself. Purposefully distracting him with memories that were at least mildly more pleasant than his current predicament. Jack was already distant and maybe that was a good thing considering he was expecting a nasty jolt in the coming seconds.

posted 2 hours ago with 18 notes - via



"I could think of a couple of things—but I’m still not sure it’s worth the trouble.”

"Aw, see, now you’ve got me curious. Don’t go holding out on me.”

posted 3 hours ago with 33 notes - via



"Then quit interrupting me.”

"I’ll interrupt you all I please. What’re you gonna do about it?”

posted 14 hours ago with 33 notes - via



posted 14 hours ago with 296 notes - via
#fc #Born to queue great things



     ”This better be important.”

"—Don’t get snippy with me, sweet heart.”

posted 16 hours ago with 33 notes - via




places gently

posted 17 hours ago with 3 notes - via


"Name’s Booker…"

Familiar words in an unfamiliar setting, though while sitting up to reevaluate his surroundings, he took notice to the young man’s face, an expression of disdain and, if not mistaken, the look of one who was not happy to greet a stranger. This couldn’t bode well, but Booker was far too groggy to snap back so quickly as more grumbles were made in his effort to sit up further.

His hand reached up to clear the dust from his hair, fingers running carefully over the sensitive bump while the other wiped at his eyes, the smell of mildew and rust filling his lungs more noticeably. His gaze returned to the other in the room, “Yours?”

Jack backed up— Put off by the smell of fresh air that clung to this man’s clothing for dear life.  By that freshly sun met skin, the lack of bags beneath his eyes. The clear indications that he had come from the surface somehow, despite that all the bathysphere stations had been shut down ages ago. Needless to say, Jack didn’t understand and instead took to wavering where he stood in the process of inspecting this stranger thoroughly.

"Jack." He says, pursing his lips together firmly. His dirty face seems to contort, nose crinkling in distaste as the man before him sits up and rights himself. 

"You smell filthy.”

posted 17 hours ago with 8 notes - via , source

bleachin’ your teeth, smile & flash, talkin trash under your breath


This was it. Sally’s knuckles turned a shade of white as she gripped her syringe closer to her chest. Her heart was crawling into the throat making it hard to breathe.

M-My daddy will get you!” The child managed to spit out.
X his eyes
However, as Sally waited for her protector to save her she heard nothing but the broken babbling of faraway splicers. He was supposed to be HERE by her side. Where was he? 


He’ll be here…. Right?” Sally began to take some baby steps backwards, slowly hatching a plan to run away. As she gathered enough courage a thought came up. He had weapons. She had an oversized syringe. 

                               Sally would lose that battle.

The more Jack approaches the clearer her fear becomes; Palpable in the thick, foul smelling air. Any normal person would undoubtedly have a splitting headache the moment the pungent aroma of death wafted into their nostrils, urging them to depart from this god forsaken place. But they were not very much human anymore, were they? Monsters— The two of them. Struggling to survive as predator and prey.

Those aureate irises flicker to the weapon secured firmly in her small, trembling hand. He knows what she intends, but pays it no mind. He’d slaughter her before she very well stole a drop of Adam from his body.

"—Handing that over would be a better idea.”

posted 19 hours ago with 5 notes - via

I have new-ish tags u. u

Rapture records= Music

You had to have me; = Jack/Elizabeth

Would you kindly;= Jack/Atlas

I indulge nothing else exists;= Bad Jack musing