gracie abrams
todays bird
The Stonewall Inn
Cosimo Galluzzi
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
Mike Driver
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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
official daine visual archive
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Not today Justin
Monterey Bay Aquarium
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Kiana Khansmith
shark vs the universe
#extradirty
The Bowery Presents
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RMH
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@gabviel-blog
prayhavoc:
Belial grinned as he took the picture, then sat back on his heels to upload the image, with the proper filter, to instagram, “Make you do what, brown eyes?”
“Know what this feels like.” Her words were barely audible before her fist closed and swung for the jawline of the lame horse, would-be man as her disdain for the mere presence of the other was worse than a bitter taste in the back of her throat. “Guess you do have an effect on others.”
occultsandcrafts:
“I mean if you’re going to basic enough to use paper and not even constructed in a sturdy way so it won’t fall down - I think you deserve judgement,”
“Right. So you’re the type to tear someone down than help build them up then? Costume wise, of course. We wouldn’t be talking about anything other than that here.”
mynameis-kiara:
“Awh, you think there’ll be a world in seventy years? Bless your heart,” Kiara replied with a mischievous grin. “So, tell me – should it be instantaneous? Or slow and painful? I could have her bleed out from every orifice in her body. Or… or… or… I can liquefy her organs. Mm, maybe both. What do you think, darling?”
“I already told you what I think.” Gabriel crossed her arms. “Not that I believed for a moment you were listening, bless your heart.”
quatervoisms:
Zack flinched as the popcorn bounced off of his forehead, and he rubbed at the spot with a frown, “Actually, we don’t. I’m not sure where…” He trailed off with a shrug, then went back to cleaning the rest of the counter off, sparing her another quick glance, “So when you say few hundred thousand days you…uhm, you really mean, hundreds of thousands of days, right?” Which meant she was either a demon or an angel, and Zack was really hoping for the latter.
“I meant what I meant.” She told him with an off the cuff kind of glance before she watched him attempt number whatever to clean up the mess that’d been left behind by some customer. The popcorn was a nice touch. Out of place and highly questionable when she picked at another kernel, sending it flying off the counter and onto his side as she leaned against it with her elbows on the edge. “Why, what do you think I meant?”
quatervoisms:
Zack’s eyes widened in surprise, before he let out a sharp braying laugh. Quickly he covered his mouth to stifle the rest of his laughter, and hide from curious eyes behind the nearest clothing rack. Perhaps it was a little gauche to laugh at the image of himself as a cadaver, but when you’d already died, and nearly every waking moment was a reminder of what had happened–it was nice to laugh. “Not going to lie, that sounds like an amazing idea, but I’d have to go either naked, or wrapped in a sheet, to sell the whole image–and I’m not quite there yet on LA’s ‘scandalous’ scale.”
At least he had a sense of humor about it all. She couldn’t say many did when they died and came back again, especially when it was brought up in idle conversation so his laugh was much appreciated. “What’s the scale even matter? It’s not like it’s going to be there much longer if some get their way and if they don’t,” she trailed off with a shrug. It wasn’t like it would matter than either. “Naked and Afraid is more than a show, it’s a way of life.” A crooked grin on her features as she perused another length of costumes that did little to garner any interest.
prayhavoc:
Belial sent a pout towards the damaged phone, “Hey, I paid full price for that.” He’d always known the angel could be a little testy, but that was just petty. “How would you like it if I smashed your phone, hmm?” A quick eyebrow raise was sent her way, before his attention was brought to the body beside him, and with a quick rummage he pulled their phone from a bloodied pocket. One quick finger press, and he was once again posing with the carnage for a picture, “Do you want in on this Gabey?”
It was only a momentary pause before he was posing with the bloody remains once more, highlighting what little he had to contribute to an already eventful world of death and destruction but it seemed it wanted a show. Or an audience. Both of which was disturbing on too many levels. “You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?”
noahjackson:
WHEN: 31 OCTOBER WHERE: ROSE ROOM WHO: OPEN
“So, like, are there projectors or something going around here? Ain’t no way some of these costumes are real.”
“Right because it’s the costumes that’re hard to believe in.”
catastrophically-aware:
Maria scratched the corner of her eye carefully, smiling sheepishly at the person beside her. “I really should have thought about how much work this makeup would be to keep up before deciding on a costume. Did I smudge it much?”
“Mask.” Gabe had it slung in her hand, barely concerned with the authenticity of the costume or the night, having only put it on both as a morbid joke and to make sure she wasn’t barred from the party. What could she say? She was a sucker for a good get together that came with a promise of violence to break out. “Next year, wear a mask and then it won’t matter what you look like when you’re wearing it all night.” Though even as she spoke, Gabriel sent a quick look in the other’s direction over the rim of her glass before adding. “It looks good.”
Stephanie Beatriz - Maggie West’s Slutwalk Portrait - 2017
countingbluecars:
Location: rando coffee shop Date: sometime in october Availability: open
Isaiah tapped the tabletop beside his laptop for a beat before letting out a sigh. The sources that he’d been tracking for what seemed like years were slowly blipping out one by one — their blogs getting a final, fearful post of riots or disease or both before going stagnant; before becoming archives.
He was getting more and more concerned emails with a side of terrified from his fellow conspiracy bloggers.
‘—I.F., I know you’re in the centre of some of this shit (at least from what you’ve been posting on BCOM) but I have to tell you I’m going dark; this is what I prepped for….’
‘—I.F., I went looking for answers and I found your blog. This is the end times isn’t it? You’ve been talking to demons. This is what we need to do — we need to get off this corner of the web and go dark we need to spread the message of….’
‘—I.F., I’m scared. What do you….’
‘—I.F., I’m terrified. There are too many patients and not enough resources; the govt has abandoned us to save themselves….’
Isaiah clicked out of the emails as fast as he could, one right after the other. He crouched over his laptop, bringing his hand to his forehead and rubbed. The world was going to shit, people were dying, this was— this was real. It wasn’t just some sandwich board preacher on the street corner yelling about the end times ( though they’d gotten more frequent, Isaiah had noticed, he saw them screaming while looking ill ).
“Fuck,” he said, blinking rapidly as the weight of the post he’d just made hit him, “the world really is ending isn’t it? We’re three down, one to go.”
“Wanna take bets who it’s going to be?”
Gabriel didn’t ask for an invitation to sit, didn’t even announce her approach rather than dropping down into the empty seat across the small table from the Saint before she propped up her legs on another chair. A drink a bit harder than coffee was comfortably resting in her hand as she took a sip before placing it on the edge of the table between them. “Seems like the masochist thing to do,” she added with a shrug, eyeing him before turning the laptop to read what he’d been working on when she’d entered and watched him physically start to fall about. “Deep shit.”
mynameis-kiara:
“Eenie, meenie mi mo,” Kiara sang out while her eyes flickered around her surroundings, a glint of amusement swimming in them. “You see that trio over there?” She slowly canted her head toward the person beside her – she had chosen them for a reason. Her index finger pointed out the trio of women chatting amongst themselves. “They’re best friends and love each other to the ends of Earth and back. I heard the brunette tell the redhead that she was such a Sutton, whatever that means. Anyway, one of them is going to die and you get to choose.”
Gabriel cast a cursory glance in the direction the Horseman was gesturing before turning back with a dismissive glance to their reindeer games. “That one. Heart disease. In about seventy years, did I choose right?”
occultsandcrafts:
“The construction of those Halloween decorations offends me on a personal level,” Tabitha murmured, eyeing the cardboard with the disdain of a regular crafter. Her fingers were itching to put that right, but she was all glue gunned out for the day and possibly for the week - due to her own Halloween costume.
“It’s the construction that offends you? Not the actual themes of them?”
Greater Good
torchscng:
Location: 111 Arden Date: 3pm, October 13th, 2017 Availability: @gabviel
When her buzzer went off to let her know that company had arrived and was at the building’s front door, needing to be let in to go up to her apartment, Magda breathed out a shaky sigh, unsure where this was going to go, or if it was even a good idea, or—well, honestly, she knew it wasn’t a good idea, but she knew it could work—and isn’t that what mattered? Who cared about her feelings or her life if it meant getting the information that would actually help save the world? How could Magda say no to that possibility? Her anxiety was at an all-time high, but after she received texts from Maria, the Prophet knew she had to at least ask. It was her birthright and her curse: prophecies, whether or not she wanted them—or how she wanted them. It seemed almost fitting that the conversation should happen on Friday the 13th.
Standing, Magda went to her apartment door, knowing that soon her doorbell would go off, and on the other side of the door would be the angel bartender she’d done such a good job of avoiding at work. The one that, even though they barely knew each other in this life, her whole body felt hot when she was around her; something between shame and attraction and confusion. Something inside her remembered. Magda was lightning and Gabriel, the grounding rod. A cosmic connection that drew them undeniably together, the Revealer and the Prophet, down the ages, like soulmates, whatever they became. They were tied. And all Magda wanted to do was run from all of it, especially her, but instead she was inviting Gabriel into her apartment to ask the most unwise of propositions in the name of the greater good. Magda was terrified on a completely different level from anything to do with Satan.
The doorbell went off. Heart pounding, Magda unlocked the door, and smiled. “Hey, Gabriel,” she breathed, her voice somewhere between her heart and throat.
It was a singularly bad idea to spend any time near the Mary of this lifetime, whether she remembered Gabriel or not — Gabe hadn’t forgotten anything that even centuries hadn’t been able to tamper with yet. Try as she might to rid herself of the regrets and choices that she’d made, her inability to completely let go had left her trapped in a world that was in between everyone else’s. She didn’t commit completely to one or the other, not since Adon and even before that —Mary. But she’d been the one to call, to ask a favor, and left Gabriel on the other side of her door once more as if time had never passed between the last time they’d seen each other. ( the time when she ran away when called to return to her duties )
Whichever way Gabriel looked at it, the angel had made her decision then and now once more, finding it harder to knock than it should have been when she swallowed down the lump in her throat and stood a bit straighter. All her trauma was a thing of the past, pushed back into the darkest crevices of her mind for as long as possible until they arose once more, not dealt with at all and making her regret once more in acting like she was fine. Everything was fine. The world was only ending, Horsemen were wreaking havoc, and no one had a clue how to stop them —yet.
Word spread that Magda ( her Mary ) had a way of seeing things that hadn’t happened yet, but if she’d been able to see Gabriel on the other side of this door then Gabe was certain that she wouldn’t open it. Instead, Gabe knocked and was greeted by a face that both hit her like a ton of bricks as well as gave her a chance to breathe when knowing that this woman didn’t remember her. Yet. “You called?” Nice. Real nice. “Would have been here sooner but traffic was a nightmare. Birds everywhere.” Not much better.
Challenge 030: Danse Macabre
"Let’s beat a dead horse. With a trumpet this time to make it slightly more entertaining.”
What’s more in the spirit of Halloween and the supposed world ending than a dead Horseman? Gabe’s sense of humor is on point, coming in with her signature style of black on black on black but paired with a horse mask and a deathly pallor to her skin. She thinks it’s funny because there’s nothing funnier than a dead Horseman.
prayhavoc:
“Of course it wasn’t.” Standing Belial turned his attention from the mess at his feet, to find Gabriel standing not too far away with a look of disdain. “You put up your sword and shield long ago, didn’t you?” Belial’s hands were bloody, but he’d grabbed the latest victim of their own rage’s sweater and proceeded to wipe the blood from them. “If you’re going to stand there and judge, could you at least move a foot to the right? You’re blocking the sun, and I want to get a good shot of this for the Instagram.” He dropped the sweater and moved to pull his phone from his pocket so he could take a shot of the broken and dying people stretched out before him.
Gabriel glanced over her shoulder, the carnage was obvious when there was much of it going on that people left and right were spouting their praises to both God and the Devil. If only they knew the truth. that it was neither Heaven or Hell that was simply losing it’s touch on the balance of things but another entity altogether. Still, thee sound of the one’s voice in her ear was enough to snap her attention back into place with a flick of her wrist and his phone went flying and landing in a neat little pile of broken plastic and glass. “I’m sorry, you were blathering on about something?”
quatervoisms:
“Oh! Uhm–no, actually it was–” Zack broke out of whatever day dream he’d been stuck on to realize that half the counter was covered in sugary sweet strawberry sauce, and popcorn. Where the popcorn came from, he honestly didn’t know, but the fact of the matter was he’d been caught, lost in his thoughts, when he should’ve been focusing on work. “Sorry, it’s been–long day, and all of that.” He looked at the woman standing across from her, not immediately recognizing her, and gestured to the sign as he finished cleaning the counter, “Can I get you anything?”
“Try a few hundred thousand of them, before they start to blur into the same shit, different day.” Gabriel merely shrugged, but not before snagging a bit of the popcorn that was as stale as it looked. Oh well. Nothing gained, nothing lost. Still, his eyes in another world had led to the disaster that she saw before them both when she took another piece and threw it at his head. “Better popcorn? Do you even serve this stuff here?”
Wicked Game
torchscng:
FLASHBACK Location: OMFG Date: May 30th, 2017 Availability: @gabviel
Fucking Tuesdays. By now, she really only came in on Tuesdays as a favour for Raziel. There was shit for money on Tuesdays and only when too many other girls had bailed, would Magda deign to show up on a fucking Tuesday. She hated Tuesday shifts almost as much as she hated Satan. She wondered which girl had done it, which dancer had been the straw to break the camel’s back: which one had the family emergency, the busted car, the hangover from the seventh circle of Hell, the one who couldn’t be arsed. Which girl had made Raziel pick up the phone and dial with his business-casual voice, asking Magda to fill in. That girl was owed a few choice words and french fries thrown at her. Magda had the right to say no… but she wouldn’t. Raziel was Raziel—and now God—and money was money.
To make it up to herself, Magda had slipped the DJ a $20 to play a few specific songs so she could at least use the time to practice some of her sets for better nights, when OMFG was less dead. Coeur de Pirate’s seductive cover of Wicked Games filtered on loud through the speakers and Magda went to the stage, not overly dolled up for the night. Her hair was on point, as always, but she wore a less complicated, two-piece outfit, her comfy Bordello heels, and less makeup than usual. She was focused on her art, not the club around her, as she stood with her back to the majority view and began with some basic movement and floor work. Swayed her hips, worked through her stretches, and then took off from the ground. The lift, the inversion, the spin, and it felt like weight was lifted from her shoulders when she did it.
There was something about dancing that always did, and would always, release Magda into herself. Both separated her from the world as well as grounded her in it. It was the closest she ever felt to holy.
When she finished, she was finally in tune with the club around her, better prepared to read the energy, more honed and less pissed off than she had been when she entered. Stepping off the stage, she closed her eyes and sensed, the way she did when she wanted to find some money in a sea of no-chancers. What she felt wasn’t green, the way she felt when she tried to sense this way—no, instead there was a catch in her throat and a knot in her stomach that only came up a few times before in her life. Narrowing her eyes, Magda looked around, wondering who said the name, or if it mattered. Trying to shake it off, she paused her hunt to get a drink at the bar, sidled up and said, “St. Germaine and champagne,” only to raise her eyes and feel that same feeling, confusion crossing her features. Gabriel. Gabriel stayed after the Ascension. And she was working in her bar.
If life was a party, why not stick around to see what it was like in the after party? Though as Gabriel glanced around her latest place of employment, one that’d pulled her out of the dredges she’d been mulling about in with her very own pity party of one — Gabe wasn’t sure that she was ready to be back, quite yet. A new God, check. A new Horseman, check. Plenty of reason to drink, double and triple check. Why she was there? It only made sense that her invitation had extended a bit longer than the ascension when there were plenty of able bodied Angels and Demons alike to have to deal with it all.
Leave her out of it. Or not. Not when she caught a flicker of redhead come into view, catching her attention out of the corner of her eye when pouring another double for a soon to be regular customer if she kept giving them a bit extra to the rim. ( any good sign of a barstaff was the ability to keep them coming back for more but so was the entertainment ). That was why most came, for the ones who worked there up front and center while her spot behind the bar gave her ample of opportunity to disappear when the need called for it.
And the leave fucking called for it when she wished in that moment that she could drink as much as the customers, eyes unable to take their gaze off the woman coming towards them until it was too hard to deny that she’d been staring before dropping her gaze along with her stomach into the pits of an empty glass with a particularly nasty spot. It didn’t last long, not when the voice that she could have sworn hadn’t changed in lifetimes was there again as if it had never left before. Mary. Her Mary. She stood there, On the other side of the bar and asking for a drink as Gabe complied without comment ( a rarity in all forms ) before sliding it across with a quick glance along with it.
“Ordering off menu means tipping your bartender double, I hope you know that. New policy. Came with the tip jar that’s addressed to angels only. Too bad no one here takes it seriously, bastards.”
So the silence didn’t last long, sue her.
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