G I R A [ap.] @aholybeast-blog - Tumblr Blog

7mangoes

forgive me father for I am back on my bullshit

#｢ † | the cursed son. ｣#crack #holy shit yep

nietzxsche-deactivated20220328

Yet no matter how deeply I go down into myself my God is dark.

Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Hours. (via vulturehooligan)

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amplitudeandexcursion-deactivat

there’s a DINOSAUR IN YOUR KITCHEN

#crack #ngl though that really is about how big he is when altered #it's lowkey terrifying

sikanapanele-deactivated2018121

#｢ † | face. ｣#my fave set of expressions

folkartfiend

American visionary Howard Finsters painting “And the moon became as blood”

#｢ † | observance. ｣

saliida:

Chef stays tense, but something in them unwinds just a bit when his hands go back up and they have the chance to survey what he’s dropped. No phone, no camera. No gun - not that the gun would be in his pocket, but watching him move, they searched for any of the signs that one might be hidden and found nothing. As it stands, his story seems to check out.

…it also doesn’t help that Chef remembers a time when they had $10 to their name, stumbling around the state like a chicken with its fucking head cut off.

With some reluctance, Chef lowers their gun to a state of hovering half-threateningly at their side. They also take a single step back.

“—-you can turn around,” They pause, forcing their eyes to stop darting and settle on his face once he does. And then Chef is directly to the point, tone less volatile as the worst of the panic begins to fade, “—you really that desperate?”

Abram wouldn’t consider this ‘stumbling around,’ per se. He’d like to believe that, even now, he has some direction -- even if that direction is a combination of numbers on a tiny slip of paper. As for the long-term, he won’t pretend to have a clue. Life has dropped him back to square one before, and it’ll happen again; this much he knows.

And turn around he does, still cautious as ever. His eyes reach theirs, hardly wavering even as they question his circumstances.

“--Not many places around here.” Finally breaking his gaze, Abram acknowledges the gun. As long as they hold it, the threat isn’t quite gone, but at least it’s no longer aimed at his spine. “I was hopin’ to avoid that... Suppose I should thank you for showin’ restraint, though.”

#saliida #ic

edenliaothewomb

Kyle MacLachlan, photographed by Ari Marcopoulos for Dazed & Confused, spring/summer 2017.

#｢ † | vengeance ; father. ｣#probably never unseeing abram's father as kmac #i'm sorry everyone #he just has the look

noisepunk

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#｢ † | ballad. ｣

“What makes y’ think I need to talk? And why to you?”

Abram folds his arms inward; knuckles caked with dried blood are discreetly tucked away into the folds of his jacket. Nobody was ever meant to take notice.

“... No offense.”

@prcdigiums

#prcdigiums #ic #any of ur muses are good!#i'm sorry he's... like this

less tentative starter call.

#｢ † | sc. ｣#how can you ignore that glorious cowboy hat

autopsiiied:

Ash doesn’t really like his tone - or, at least she’s still irritated by the way he made her heart jump into her throat. What he’s saying could easily be true; doesn’t mean he has to creep in amongst the corpses during the dead of night.

“….Oh, you’re an investigator?” Her eyebrow raised, repeating his claim with more than a hint of challenging disbelief. “…Why didn’t you go through reception; security?”

A pause, and she makes a beckoning motion with her hand.

“—Show me your ID.” Like hell she’ll answer any questions until she sees something.

“Trust issues, I reckon.” Trust issues, a rap sheet, and a family background that would make any sane person a mite suspicious, at least. The incident on the coast, however long ago it was, impacted his credibility for what might be his entire life. Accusations of brainwashing aren’t an uncommon occurrence. To make matters worse, the particular circumstances of this case could easily get him confused with the perpetrator.

“I’m tryin’ to give a troubled mother some goddamned peace of mind. There’s reasons I can’t get people like you involved. ---I’m gonna take out my ID, now. Don’t do anythin’-- unnecessary.”

Slowly, Abram reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket, and pulls out a roughened leather wallet. The ID is carefully extracted. He’s clearly hesitant, but he shows it to her. The man in the image is cleaner, obviously younger, but it’s him.

“You can hit that switch. But I’ll come back if I have to.”

#autopsiiied #ic #all my characters be like #well-intentioned... but make themselves hard to trust