Peter Solarz
dirt enthusiast
shark vs the universe
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
styofa doing anything
Three Goblin Art
d e v o n
occasionally subtle
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Janaina Medeiros
Stranger Things
#extradirty
No title available
Origami Around
@theartofmadeline
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
h
Cosimo Galluzzi
AnasAbdin
Xuebing Du
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Singapore
seen from Netherlands
seen from Italy
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Canada
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from Luxembourg
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from United States
@cordun
27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 58: Favourite weather?
27. Have you ever broken someone’s heart?
I wanna say no, but that would probably be a lie.
58. Favourite weather?
Sweater weather.
37. Is it easier to forgive or forget?
I find it easy to forgive, impossible to forget. But hey, that's what drugs are for, right?
How many people have you fist fought?
A handful if we're talking strictly fists. Feel like I've been involved in more fights that involve glass bottles, than ones that don't.
Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?
In my life? No. In general? I'd go back somewhere between the paleozoic and mesozoic, see what was kicking around back then. That would be neat.
Horrible questions
Headcanons meme
"I heard of Michigan!" Minho insisted, because they did know! They did make an effort to memorize the layout of the country they partially moved into before doing so. But if Minho were to be asked what was generally known about Michigan, well that's where they would kind of start to struggle. They smile brightly when the other man seem to relate to running away from work, it was always a good start when in a conversation two people can find things they could mutually sympathize with.
"A pleasure to meet you, Corey." They return, with a practiced carefulness of one learning to be polite and friendly in a new language. They sit back when the handshake is over. "Yes! I like it very much! It's very, um... welcoming!" And Minho genuinely felt so, they kind of felt like it had been much easier for them to make acquaintances in Ennora than anywhere else. Could be because they were allowed to have a completely different persona in this town, one quite different from the ones they'd constructed for other places. It was a yet to be fully defined persona, a foreigner in a country that's not their own, a clean slate aside from the past they could never quite escape from, a person that felt closest than any other to what Minho truly might be deep inside even if they were still on the road of discovery for that person.
"Yeah... welcoming. It's got that uh, small town feel where everybody is up in everyone else's business," Corey said with a swipe of a finger against the tip of his nose. He was being a little facetious, he couldn't help himself. He took another sip of beer and, as often was the case, not wanting to talk about himself, he flipped the conversation back to his new acquaintance. "So your work, it's back in Korea? The one you're running away from." He had mentioned a stressful job that warranted running from, but not what the work was. Corey pondered if he was some kind of executive at a tech company, or similar.
"No, more like... we're so far from the exit. Even if they come for the others, we're going to have to walk through them," she said after thinking on it again for a second. She continued finding this topic strange, not something she would have ever thought she'd be speaking about on a random day. "I mean... it could be worse, maybe," she looked over at him once again. "And at least it's warm in here."
"Do you think it would feel cold? If you had to walk through one. Or like nothing at all?" He had given thought to the question more than once, this wasn't the first time. "Yeah, least it's warm." That much he could agree on, half of the reason he was here in the first place. "Heating in my place... not ideal. Lowkey why I'm here," he explained, even though he didn't need to. But he found her easy to talk to, and certainly more interesting than the dull as fuck movie.
Calder snorted at the joke, shaking his head as he pushed himself off the side of the trailer. "Yeah, sounds about right. I'm fucking freezing my balls off in the office, no idea how you handle it here," he muttered, already moving toward the door.
He stepped inside without hesitation, the shift in temperature barely registering as he dropped the duffel near the entrance, nudging it further in with his boot, getting it wet, but that was fine, shit inside was bagged. "Nothing urgent," he added, glancing back at Corey and the joint in his hand. For someone driving so much of it and heavier shit around, he rarely actually used it. "Just figured I'd come by, bring you some of the good weed before I head to Reyes'. He got the better cut last time," he huffed a low laugh out and put a hand up to brush away a stray strand of blonde hair.
"You can tag along, get some heat in those scrawny bones," he added, a crooked grin pulling at his mouth, his way of offering without making it sound like it. "Play some poker, have a drink."
"I find burning trash helps," Corey replied, half joking but also not joking. An empty banana crate had served as kindling for an evening, coupled with some chunks of coal he had scavenged when a train passing through'd had spillage; he made do. Like a feral creature foraging for scraps, he was usually busy doing that, when not hibernating or working.
"Oh. You didn't have to," he said, rummaging in a cabinet for something. Something inside of the cabinet rustled, responded back. "I got a rat. That was the last thing I needed, right? He lives somewhere in here." He pulled out a plastic bag, rat forgotten, and straightened up again, the joint in between his lips, unlit. If a rat wanted to shelter with him against this freezing cold, who was he to object? It wasn't like he had anything of value here. At the suggestion, Corey gave Calder a funny look. "You came here to invite me to play poker?"
Ethan watched Corey for a moment, weighing the words the way he always did, simple, straightforward, exactly as they were said. Then he gave a firm nod, the kind that carried quiet certainty behind it. ❝ Alright, I appreciate that. Takes a lot to admit when something’s not the best call and decide to do better next time. That counts for something. ❞ There was no trace of suspicion in his expression, no hint that the promise might have been anything but sincere. If Corey said it, Ethan believed it. That was just how he was wired. He offered a small, approving smile before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a card, holding it out between two fingers, ❝ Name’s Ethan, Ethan Hale. If you ever need anything, help, a ride somewhere warm, whatever, give me a call. Number’s on there. ❞ Only then did he step back toward the aisle, ❝ Good talk, then. Enjoy the rest of the movie. ❞ With that, Ethan turned and started heading back down the row toward his own seat, shoulders a little lighter now that the matter seemed settled. In his mind, it was simple: Someone made a mistake, owned up to it, and promised to do better. And as far as Ethan was concerned, that was good enough.
The slight undercurrent of sarcasm had not been picked up by the guy, which added to Corey's amusement. Christ on a bike, he might really be hallucinating. And then a card was produced. Corey stared at it for a second too long, then reached out and took it with two slender, long fingers. He looked down at the card when the guy stepped away, trying to read what was printed on it but it was a tad too dark for that. He spent a few more minutes with his attention darting toward the row where the guy sat, a little stunned as to the exchange that took place, its oddness. And then, he stood up to leave, before the movie was out, slipping out of there the same way he slipped in.
"No thanks, is okay!" The gesture of head bowing was repeated, more casual this time but not less enthusiastic. Minho still had some of their cherry flavored drink left so they continued to sip on that. As Corey replied to their question, it seemed to grow a tad bit too complex for a minute there for Minho, who'd started to adopt that blank, rapidly blinking expression of someone not entirely understanding what was being said to them but were too polite to interrupt with questions. "Local but not local." They repeated what was confusing them and then followed up with a clarifying question. "American, but not from New York?" At least that was what Minho had concluded.
At the second part of their conversation, Minho let out a little chuckle, shaking their head and waving a dismissive hand. "Not study, too old for school. Done." Genuinely, Minho had far too much schooling to ever want to study anything ever again. "No, you okay! I'm here because I run away from work. Too much stress. Here, I'm on holiday!" And as if to solidify that statement, they lean back against their seat in a more relaxed manner, exhaling contently after a sip through their straw. But it hadn't been a second before Minho straightened up again, leaning over to reach a hand at the other man. "Ah, sorry! Min-Ho." They introduced themselves, waiting for a handshake.
His beer was served up, and Corey promptly took a sip. "Yeah," Corey nodded, realizing that maybe his tablemate was not as fluent in English as he'd assumed. He'd try to speak less cryptically than usual. "I'm from America, but not New York. A sinkhole in the Midwest named Michigan. You probably haven't heard of it." People knew about Detroit, but not the state it was housed in, more often than not. He didn't know why he was offering up all this information about himself, not usually one to do so. But he didn't want to seem unfriendly.
"Running away from work? Been there," he said with an acknowledged nod. He went in for the handshake as well, unable to recall the last time he so formally introduced himself to anybody. There was something endearing about it. "Min-Ho. I'm Corey. So...Ennora...a good place to vacation?" He never would have guessed, but then again, he didn't spend much time in the nicer parts of town.
Despite her own slight anxiousness, Aurora couldn't help but laugh too in response, as if the idea of calling the cops, or not, was indeed funny. Or maybe the returned laughter was because of the anxiousness she was ignoring. She shrugged at his question. "I have no clue. But it's kind of nice," she glanced around at the near-empty rows, lowering her voice to match his. "There's no random clapping or reactions," she clarified, thinking of theatres in New York.
Tapping a foot on said floorboards, Aurora shifted in her seat. Did she believe in ghosts? not really. Did this dark and mostly deserted movie theatre seem like a good place for them to make themselves known? Unlikely, but not impossible. "If they do, we're kind of screwed being so far back..."
"You mean they'd come for us first? That would be sick. I've been trying to summon some for so long." It was one of the big disappointments of his life, that whenever an Ouija board was brought forth, he never felt a single thing, any kind of stirring. Yet he had friends left and right with encounter stories of their own. It wasn't fair. "At least it would be fitting for this movie. So dull, everyone in it might as well be dead."
Where: Trailer park With: @cordun Outfit: click
The trailer park looked frozen. And not only in time, literally damn frozen under all the snow and frost that it seemed some residents hadn't bothered cleaning. Calder stopped but kept the engine on, hands resting on the steering wheel as he glanced toward Corey's place.
That one-time supply run he'd made a week ago was still getting him money, so he was now not feeling so bad about wasting time waiting for his tyre to get changed. He grabbed the small duffel from the passenger seat and stepped out, boots crunching over gravel and old ice as he crossed the short distance.
He didn't knock, both hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He leaned against the side of the trailer and called out, voice carrying easily through the thin walls. "Yo, Corey. You alive in there or did the fucking cold get you finally?"
It didn't take long for Corey to emerge. His being a one room trailer, there wasn't exactly a lot of swinging space or far for him to go, and so he emerged, long dark coat over slouchy house clothes. His dark jeans were shoved into darker boots, one of which was unlaced, and the boots left prints that crunched underneath the compacted snow. He gave an involuntary shudder, adjusting to the outdoors, albeit it wasn't that much of a difference between it and his frosty interior. And he had thought Michigan winters were rough.
"My tongue froze to the tap when I went for a drink of water last night. Had to stay that way until morning thaw." He deadpanned the whole sentence, meaning of course, that he didn't mean it. Then again, maybe he meant it. He'd been sitting inside, killing time reading, the book in his hand folded over, the spine bent.
He had been running low on weed, but he found just enough dregs by the counter to make a micro joint. The book shoved under his armpit, he set to sealing up the paper, his breath misting in the cold. Just prepping the day's healthy, nutritious breakfast. "So what's on the agenda?" He noticed the duffel and tilted his head toward the open door, indicating that Calder was free to step inside. If they had business, he wasn't going to conduct it outside, where nosy eyes could see.
Ethan huffed a quiet breath through his nose, almost a laugh but not quite, folding his arms loosely over his chest. ❝ Do I look like loss prevention to you? ❞ he asked, one brow lifting, tone dry but not unkind. Ethan didn’t take being mistaken for loss prevention as anything offense, only that someone else would’ve suffered from the otherwise selfish act. ❝ No badge. No flashlight. Just a guy who saw you getting clocked by the world and figured I could at least cover twelve bucks and a small popcorn. ❞ His jaw tightened a fraction, disappointment settling in softer now, less sharp and more concerned. Ethan realized he didn’t have the right to get mad at the kid. After all, he didn’t know what he was going through exactly. ❝ You shouldn’t have to wonder if someone’s out to nail you every time they look your way. But that doesn’t mean you get to cut corners either. ❞ Ethan stepped a little closer, lowering his voice so it didn’t carry past the row of empty seats, ❝ I’m not here to bust you. I’m here because this town’s small enough that one mistake sticks. You don’t need that on your record, and neither does the kid tearing tickets out front. So no, I’m not an usher. I’m just someone who expects better from you. And I know you can do better. ❞
Corey shrugged with ease. "I haven't exactly given much thought to what you look like, friend." Only that the dude was here, talking to Corey, and possibly somewhat harshing his high. "Maybe I am looking to get nailed," he quipped back, a tad facetious and he couldn't help it. Anybody attempting to exert any sort of authority over him got the same.
But then the guy kept going on. And on. And Corey had to suppress laughter, because what he said bordered on the ridiculous. In his mildly high state, it was downright hysterical. But he did his best to suppress any show of that. "That's uh... kind of you to look out for my...record." You can do better, the guy said. Was this actually happening? He wasn't even that out of it. For all effects and purposes the opiates had done their job and long faded halfway into the movie. But he felt like he was being visited by a manifestation of Smokey the Bear or Woodsy Owl — complete with his Give a hoot, don't pollute! slogans.
"I promise I'll do better from now on. I'm positively reformed. Not a day will go by that I won't look back on tonight and reflect on my poor choices."
When the confession rang out into the quiet theater, Ollie blinked and leaned back in his seat with a soft huff of a laugh. "Dude," he said gently, keeping his voice low so it didn't carry. "That wasn't what I was thinking at all, I wear. And even if you didn't, I don't care. I can't even count how many movies I used to sneak into here, art least when I was a teenager." Ollie tilted his head slightly toward Corey, the faint glow from the screen catching the edge of his face. "I was mostly trying to figure out if you were actually enjoying the movie or mentally rewriting the plot to make it better. You had a very intense expression going on, and this movie is pretty terrible. But I promise I'm not the ticket police. I don't even work here. I just have a really bad habit of people-watching when I'm bored, sorry." He gestured vaguely to the screen. "Which this movie is absolutely encouraging."
His eyes dropped briefly to Corey's boots on the seat, then back up to him without judgment as faint smile tugged at his mouth. "Besides, if this movie doesn't get any better, I'm kind of regretting paying for it. I think you were the smarter one of the two of us."
His lips quivered into a half-smile expression when the stranger mentioned an intense expression. "I was mostly just dissociating... it is terrible indeed. Who the fuck wrote this shit? And who bankrolled them to do it? Hollywood is a money laundering scheme from top to bottom, this movie proves it," he said, waving vaguely at the screen. He didn't mean to go on a rant, not that this was a rant and more like a vague amble towards some point he both had and did not have. There was absolutely nobody here but the two of them, and some man in the second row with his neck craned at an uncomfortable degree to catch the show. To each their own. "You paid for this, and you came alone? Yeah, you're in a worse state than me." Said jokingly, of course. But maybe also not. At least he wasn't enduring this shit completely sober.
