sheepfilms
Sweet Seals For You, Always

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Not today Justin

Kaledo Art
Mike Driver
we're not kids anymore.

Discoholic 🪩
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
occasionally subtle

⁂
NASA
cherry valley forever
Today's Document

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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Xuebing Du

JVL
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Claire Keane
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@drwebber
@lucyxwang
He wasn’t used to escapades; not anymore. It wasn’t that he’d grown tired of any sort of excitement, or unusual opportunity it was that they seemed to have a detrimental effect on his health one way or another. Simply put, excitement wasn’t worth the risk.
This, though - was an entirely different kind of risk. His heart, whatever semblance of stability he had managed to built, and his acceptance of... being alone, were all in danger. A risk Julian found himself wanting to take despite all of it, though still found himself not quite willing to take. If it was to be a repeat of last time, he wasn’t sure anything good would come out of it. Lucy was drunk; in fact, they both were, having met at the bar. He was apparently much more sober, though and so had thankfully had his inhibitions intact enough to call them a cab. Having extracted her keys, and entered the house he had sent her straight to bed. Admittedly, it was a strange thing to do but he assured himself it was for the best. He re-entered the bedroom having been satisfied that she would stay put while he made something to drink and placed the glass of cool water upon her bedside table. Pulling a packet of Advil to leave on the side for the inevitable headache that would spring upon his companion in the morning, he took a seat perching on the edge of her bed.
Slowly, Julian reached for the glass and offered it out to Lucy. “Here, drink up. It might help sober you up a little, before I leave.” He instructed softly, somehow managing to continue avoiding her gaze.
there is no such thing as a perfect heart // ( © + insp. )
3x23 - They don’t make a loofa that scrapes out the inside of your head.
Simon took another gulp, chuckling once his hands were cupped safely around the mug once more. “Don’t call me out on my procrastination,” he ordered with a tilted smile. His intrigue only seemed to increase steadily the more he learned about Julian, a man he originally assumed to be the epitome of the lonesome dog lover trope. “Understandable. I always found it to be rather self-deprecating to dedicate all the miracles and success in one’s life as God’s work and God’s work alone.”
“You should have said that before I’d called you out on it, I can hardly retract it now.” He lifted both shoulders in an idle shrug, glancing down to his drink with a lopsided smile. “Precisely. Not to mention that kind of thing tends to lead to inaction. Something I am,” Julian breathed a soft laugh, “All but incapable of, as time has proven.” Finishing his tea, he straightened upright to place the empty mug in the nearby sink. “Do you want to come outside with me while I give Brownie a wash? There’s a chair on the porch you can sit on.”
“Interesting. I’ve always been curious in Mandarin, as it’s a widely spoken language and probably useful on my travels.” He smiled easily into the conversation, melancholic about the fact that he hadn’t had a proper talk like the one he was now sharing with Julian, in a long while. (Blind dates were only successful up to a point and then he was expected to ‘give in’ for the night.) “It’s exactly that. You seem to be the type to believe in the work of humans more than the work of God– or Gods, depending on what you believe.” Simon himself had never been religious and he too was sure that this was written on his face. “You seem like the type to take action when action must be taken and not the kind to allow fate or a higher power to shift it all into place. I suspect that my thoughts on religion are just as clear.”
“I think I read somewhere that Chinese grammar is actually a lot more similar to English than we first might think, so you have no excuse to avoid it any longer, really.” It was strange to find himself comfortable enough to begin teasing; such a light tone in his voice was almost unheard of as of late, that would explain how peculiar it was to hear himself speak in such a manner. “Absolutely,” Julian confirmed with quiet conviction. “A lot of it may stem from being a doctor; perhaps from working with the FBI, too. But; as a doctor I would find it unimaginably difficult to cope with the idea that, despite my best efforts, a patient’s life is entirely out of my hands. It would mean everything I had ever done in an attempt to help someone was in vain; to live with that thought would be...” He shrugged, releasing a sigh. “Crushing. Oh, yeah, your thoughts are pretty clear. It’s nice to have someone agree with me for a change, though.”
Simon laughed (a surprise mostly to himself) and nodded along in agreement. “Eastern languages have completely different grammatical rules to French as well so the pain is truly felt.” He took another careful sip more so to pace his sudden need to talk. “Khaled Hosseini? Really? It’s incredibly heartbreaking. But more importantly– a Catholic school. Is it odd that I find that unexpected?” Simon raised a curious brow, palms now warming around the porcelain with the tea slowly lowering in temperature. “Did you enjoy it?”
“I always thought it would be better if we could choose which language to study; I’d have taken German without a second thought, I already had a lot of basic stuff down by about twelve.” He chuckled once more, lifting a shoulder. “Not that I can recall, I guess I’ll have to look it up, though. Odd? No, I don’t think so... It’s not something I imagine you can tell just by looking at someone. Though I’d like to know why you find it unexpected; just out of curiosity.” Julian reasoned quietly, sipping his tea and contemplating his answer. “It wasn’t so bad... I wouldn’t go so far as to say I enjoyed it, though. Always much preferred science and investigating over being told I must believe something and that I shouldn’t question it.”
“Let’s be honest, most things feel like a chore once we’re ordered to follow through with it. It’s that unfortunate fact that ruins the truly wondrous and bittersweet experience of reading The Kite Runner,” he rambled before pausing. “Does it? Simon– I’d never gone around to looking up just what connotations the name meant. I realize now that it’s a Biblical name but I’ve never been very knowledgeable in Christianity.”
“Agreed, though I’d still take being forced to read a classic novel over trying to wrap my head around forms of French verbs any day.” Features softened into a warm smile, eyes shining as he listened. “The Kite Runner, hm? I don’t think I’ve read that one.” Julian nodded slowly, sipping his drink carefully. “It does. I think there’s some debate as to if its origins are Greek or Hebrew, but its certainly prominent in the New Testament. -- I went to a Catholic school.”
SEND ME ONE FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION.
“What are you saying?”
“You left me.”
“You broke my heart!”
“I don’t love you.”
“You’re beautiful when you smile.”
“Don’t pout”
“Stop crying.”
“You did this.”
“I’m just a fuck up.”
“Get out!”
“I think I accidentally walked into a gay bar.”
“Don’t call me.”
“I won’t call you.”
“Call me.”
“You’re making this harder than it has to be.”
“I’m not breaking up with you.”
“You’re breaking up with me.”
“That’s so cliche.”
“I think I’m sick.”
“I’m a little drunk.”
“Stop making this so hard.”
“Are you following me?”
“There’s no such thing as a sexy bathroom.”
“Stop being a wimp.”
“I’m not ticklish.”
“Stop touching me.”
“If you poke me one more time, I’m going to punch you.”
“I should hate you.”
“On a scale from one to Romeo and Juliet, how bad was that story?”
“You can’t lie to me.”
“This is the worst idea ever.”
“This is stupid.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I don’t eat chocolate.”
“It’s just rain.”
“I said no, that means no.”
“Come watch the stars with me.”
“It’s not a date.”
“It’s totally a date.”
“Your kiss is like poison.”
“I’m not leaving this bed.”
“I’m never showing my face to the outside world again.”
“That was so embarrassing.“
"There’s so much idiocy in this room.”
“You make it hard to breath.”
“I want a pet.”
“We could always just get wasted.”
“Come play video games with me.”
“Come have a Netflix date with me.”
“Use protection!”
“Do you even hear what you’re saying?”
“Just shut up.”
“I’m not good with small children.”
“If I never teach my kids how to shoot a marshmallow shooter, I have failed as a parent.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s my shirt.”
“We could always just make out?”
“I have a date with an ice cream carton and on demand movies.”
“Give me a chance. Or at least like, half a chance.”
“You’re acting all Edward Cullen-ish, and it’s making me uncomfortable.”
“We could always play truth or dare?”
“You’re on a roll tonight, aren’t you?”
“You’re a problem.”
“I’d be so content with never seeing you again.”
“I think I saw you in a dream once.”
“If I had to choose between talking to you and having to eat a cup of screws, I’d probably still go with the screws.”
“I didn’t mean to break it.”
“I don’t know, but I probably had sex with him/her.”
“Stop being a judgy asshole.”
“I can’t control that!”
“This was a natural response.”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, Mister Smarty Pants. Take good care of Toby.”
“Well, I’m very glad you’ve noticed my intellect. I will be sure to look after him to the best of my ability, no worry needed.”
He took a tentative sip, his teeth knowingly sensitive to the heat (his dentist had racked at him about that for a few years already). It was subtle but Simon took the specific choice of words as new fact. Now they had that in common at the very least, a deceased parent– not the most cheery of subjects. “An oddly well-picked one,” he mused honestly. “Well, I picked my name, Simon. I didn’t put much thought in it really, I’d read the Lord of the Flies back in ‘94 and the name Simon had stood out enough. Plus it didn’t hurt that my birth name had begun with the same letter.”
He welcomed the warmth the beverage offered with a quiet hum, gaze travelling from one side of the room to the other for the lack of anything else to do for a short moment. It was no wonder he spent most of his time avoiding going home; the place was eerily quiet without only one, quiet mutt about instead of the usual collection of canines. “Oh?” It was hardly something Jules had spent any time contemplating; a name was a name... He gave much more thought to the names of his dogs than his own. “Ah, yeah... I really hated that book when we had to read it in class. Simon suits you, though. Now that you mention it.”
Grace let out a long sigh and made no further comment. Was it her way of throwing in the towel? The realization that neither of them would win their argument had set in, after all. Julian was older, wiser but his fire was burning low. Grace, on the other hand, was a wildfire, passionately touching everyone around her. Yet, she lacked experience (especially when it came to making right decisions). “I’d blame them. If they left you.” The woman studied him briefly, sensing his mood darken. “It’s a defensive mechanism, I get it. Defensive mechanism designed to protect you… But how long does it take until it starts sabotaging you?” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him popping two pills into his mouth and– wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Soon after she reassured herself, they would help him sleep better. “If by eat healthier you mean eat more chocolate beause it causes the brain to release endorphin, go for it.” Grace scoffed, hands that’d previously been folded across her chest, fell to her sides. “That’s not the case, I was convinced it’d taste like the first pumpkin pie I ever made. Which is a bad, bad thing.” As he went on, an idea crossed her mind. Wasn’t the smartest one, because let’s face it, neither of her ideas was well-thought-out. “I told you I was cooking for the waiter this week, but maybe next week, if I don’t burn down the kitchen…” Gaze slowly found him as she contemplated how to proceed. “Jules, if I invited you to a nice, homemade, platonic dinner would you… Accept the invitation?” She spoke carefully, well aware of how easy it’d be for her and her strong personality to scare him off.
A rather large portion of him had been enjoying the friendly back and forth; he didn’t want to label it an argument. That had far too many negative connotations, and it had been fairly light hearted when put into perspective. Not to mention it was probably the only reason he was yet to fall asleep where he stood. Julian’s head tilted up, eyebrows lifting in response to her comment. “I wouldn’t. Blame them, I mean. No one should feel obligated to act, or not to for any reason. Not in that sort of situation, anyway.” Free will and all that, he supposed. He cocked his head to one side, silent once again for a good few moments - Grace was far from wrong; it was a defense mechanism. He had many; too many, some might say. The doctor happened to think he didn’t have quiet enough, there were still cracks in his armour. He cared too much, perhaps. Her brief pumpkin pie anecdote earned a quiet laugh, as to avoid further agitating the pounding in his head Julian made sure it was as brief as it was hushed. “You did mention that, you seemed very pleased about it too.” A smile flitted across tired features. “Uh, I don’t--. I don’t see why I shouldn’t accept... So, yes?”
Simon cupped his hands around the rim of the cup, palms warming up from the swirl of heat. “Interesting– the names and the history behind them,” he commented with surprised intrigue. There was something oddly poetic about the man’s decisions, even if they were simply about names of canines. “And what about yours Julian? What is the story behind your name?”
Simon’s response was met with slightly raised eyebrows, the expression quickly dissolving into a small smile. “Well... I’m glad you think so?” He returned his gaze to the liquid at hand, shifting after a few moments to place his chin in his hands, his elbow upon the narrow surface between them. “My name? You’d have to ask my dad about that one, my mom chose it. It means youthful in Latin, apparently. What about yours?”
“Aww, then Toby it is. I thought it was super fitting too. But if you take him home, remember that dogs are a big responsibility, Julian. You gotta feed him and take care of it every day.”
“... And here I was, thinking I could just take him home and he’d do all of the hard work himself. You’re telling me this isn’t an entirely self-sufficient dog?”