a feeling, like being torn open. not like a body of flesh, it is not painful as such, but like a peach; and not even torn open, but ripe and splitting open of its own accord. and inside the peach, there’s a stone.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Xuebing Du

Andulka

Discoholic 🪩

★
AnasAbdin
ojovivo

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Monterey Bay Aquarium

tannertan36

if i look back, i am lost

blake kathryn
YOU ARE THE REASON

#extradirty

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macklin celebrini has autism
trying on a metaphor

shark vs the universe
occasionally subtle

seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from China

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Vietnam
seen from United States

seen from Brazil

seen from Iraq

seen from United States
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seen from Thailand
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seen from United States

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seen from United States
@haranged-blog
a feeling, like being torn open. not like a body of flesh, it is not painful as such, but like a peach; and not even torn open, but ripe and splitting open of its own accord. and inside the peach, there’s a stone.
“Kid, you got brass balls.”
THE MIST » accepting
“Is this the way you talk to all women, or just the ones you think aren’t going to complain about it?” Mary Whitney had a crass way of speaking and it would get her into trouble. Grace thinks that if men got into similar trouble for speaking crassly, it wouldn’t be called crass at all. “You’d best be careful of the way you speak or I won’t take any of it it as a compliment.”
THE MIST (2007) SENTENCE STARTERS modify as necessary! trigger warnings for violence, death, threatening language
“All the food’s gonna go bad.”
“I’ve gotta start over from scratch.”
“Well, sweetie, you couldn’t exactly know that a tree was gonna come flying through the window.”
“It’s just stuff.”
“We’re safe. That’s all that counts.”
“I really don’t want you running all over the place.”
“You have incredibly low standards.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna punch him in the nose.”
“I’m sorry. I mean it. Sincerely.”
“You’re not heading into town today by any chance, are you?”
“‘Friends’ might be stretching it a little.”
“There’s something in the mist.”
“It’s death out there. It’s the end of days.”
“Stop it, okay? Stop it.”
“Let’s just stay cool. Let’s just try to figure out what happened.”
“I hope you all rot in hell.”
“If you need anything, just holler.”
“First thing we need to do is keep our wits about us and find out what’s happened.”
“It’s Judgment Day and it’s come round at last.”
“You’ve done that to yourself by a life of sin and dissolution.”
“You don’t seem to understand, or you’re trying real hard not to.”
“Would you just shut the fuck up already?”
“The next time you’ve got something to say, you count your teeth, because I’m sick to death of your bullshit.”
“You should’ve said what you meant better.”
“What we saw was impossible. You know that, don’t you?”
“It’s not my blood. I’m fine.”
“We’re in the deep shit here. People need to know.”
“I’m just not that stupid. I mean, what do you take me for?”
“We’ve got real problems to deal with here, and this pathetic attempt at a joke has gone far enough.”
“Well, don’t I feel foolish?”
“I actually thought you were being kind to me today, so thanks for setting me straight.”
“It appears we may have a problem of some magnitude here.”
“They’re not all bad. They can’t all be bad.”
“The day I need a friend like you, I’ll just have myself a little squat and shit one out.”
“You can’t convince some people there’s a fire even when their hair is burning. Denial is a powerful thing.”
“There’s none so blind as those who will not see.”
“Open your eyes. Let the scales fall away.”
“Your tongue must be hung in the middle so that it can waggle at both ends.”
“You’ll have to stop now. You’re scaring the children.”
“The bill is due. It must be paid.”
“Kid, you got brass balls.”
“You sure there’s no way I can talk you out of this?”
“Hey, how come you never asked me out?”
“Can we just stay in here a while? Just you and me?”
“My life for you.”
“Just sleep. Everything’ll be better in the morning.”
“You can’t fuck with me on this. Not like this.”
“We have to get out of here. I mean permanently.”
“You don’t have much faith in humanity, do you?”
“People are basically good as long as the machines are working and you can dial 9-1-1, but you take those things away, you throw people in the dark, you scare the shit out of them, you’ll see how primitive they get.”
“If you scare people badly enough, you can get them to do anything.”
“As a species, we’re fundamentally insane. If you put more than two of us in a room, we pick sides and start dreaming up reasons to kill one another. Why do you think we invented politics and religion?”
“Oh, Jesus, that’s just wrong.”
“Why can’t you just leave well enough alone?”
“Welcome to Sesame Street, today’s word is ‘expiation’.”
“I’m not spending the rest of my life here.”
“I’d rather die out there trying than in here waiting.”
“You stop your chickenshit whining or I will cut your puling tongue out.”
“I heard stuff. We all heard stuff.”
“Don’t you know by now? Don’t you know the truth?”
“Let’s see how far this fuel takes us.”
“Well, we gave it a good shot. Nobody can say we didn’t.”
WITHBOX:
He’s never been here before. Although, of course, the Doctor has heard all about it. And her. Grace Marks: celebrated murderess, woman possessed. They say all kinds of things about her these days, so much of it strange, and he cannot help but hear. Perhaps it makes him as bad as the rest of them, coming here to gawk - worse, even, as he plans to do so much more. But he never thinks about that. You get wrapped up in the particulars of whether you’re worse or better than someone when you do exactly what they do, and it all goes to pot.
Anyway. He normally ends up helping… or making everything worse. He can’t wait to find out which it’ll be this time.
‘ Please - call me Doctor. I hate Sir. Sir’s my father. - Just kidding, he’s not. ’ His smile is friendly enough, and he must be the most casual looking person in here. Entirely out of place, of course, but that’s kind of his thing. ‘ Just down here, you said? Don’t worry, I can help myself, it’s all fine! You stay right there, Grace Marks, I’ll be back in a jiffy! Less than a jiffy! Before you can say jiffy - ! ’
This is a strange man, a strange man who calls himself a doctor, smiling as he does it, making jokes. Grace accepts this with a sort of grim resolution, the edge of her jaw hardening as, inside, under her skin, her skull grits its teeth. He is not carrying a bag but if he was it would be full of silver, flint-sharp instruments, grotesque and shining as they catch the light. He’d take to them with the same ghoulish enthusiasm he has now, all dimple-edged grins, hopping and jumping rather than a simple walk.
Grace takes a step back. She will not follow him into some dark, shadowy recess of the house, even if she has been there alone a thousand times before. If he has told her to stay right there – and by her full name, no less – then she will stay, but only for fear of being put in the madhouse again should she dissent. He disappears behind the pantry door and she watches, lips pitched down at their corners, head tilted at an angle slight enough that it almost doesn’t look tilted at all. When he emerges again she hasn’t moved an inch. It would be entirely plausible to look at her and think that she hadn’t even blinked.
is grace a lesbian? yes. will i accept questions on this? no
@withbox · starter call
“I’ve not seen you here before.” Is it a note of accusation in her tone, or just gentle befuddlement? Grace has learned to have a good eye for faces in these years of working in the governor’s house. There are a steady stream of visitors, come to lay eyes on her and remark on how strange it is that the thing inside her controls its body just like a human would, or to opine into thin air about the inequality of justice. Not all come back, but there are regulars. This one, in the clothes just strange enough to stand out, is not a regular.
Grace remembers her manners. He did ask a question, after all. “The pantry is down there and to the right, sir, but I don’t know what you could want down there. If you’re hungry you ought only to ask and something will be found for you.” Found, by who? By grace; by Grace.
like for a lil something!
Oh no, sir. I did not mean you!
@walkindvde
Grace is waiting for him this time. He may come creeping out of the dark like a wounded dog looking for a place to die, but Grace shuts her eyes to the dark and lies in it, and she does this every night. This makes her accustomed to it, if not immune. And it might be that he thinks himself some sort of hunter, or a prince of the shadows, but princes know their kingdoms as well as they know their own bodies, which is to say that there are places that have never been touched, not even by their own hands. Grace knows her cell intimately, all over, the way you know the inside of your elbow: there is not much to see but she has seen it all. Every brick in the wall, every unyielding inch.
So she is waiting for him. The moonlight is not strong enough for needlework but she has an unfinished patch in her hands anyway. Perhaps she’d fallen asleep that way. Grace picks him out of the darkness. She says, “Hello again.”
a feeling, like being torn open. not like a body of flesh, it is not painful as such, but like a peach; and not even torn open, but ripe and splitting open of its own accord. and inside the peach, there’s a stone.
Murderess is a strong word to have attached to you. It has a smell to it, that word. Musky and oppressive, like dead flowers in a vase. Sometimes at night I whisper it over to myself. Murderess. Murderess. It rustles like a taffeta skirt across the floor.