Not today Justin
Janaina Medeiros
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Jules of Nature
art blog(derogatory)
oozey mess
trying on a metaphor
Keni
pixel skylines
Cosimo Galluzzi
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Game of Thrones Daily
Andulka
wallacepolsom
🪼
titsay
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
blake kathryn
No title available
PR's Tumblrdome
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from France
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from South Africa
seen from United Kingdom
@posterchildofprogress
“All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.”
Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven (via kushandwizdom)
I wish everything was quieter and softer and less often.
[[I saw @syntheticbodied request graphics and I wanted to practice and I’m really out of practice but... I tried?]]
take your power back. what has happened to you isn’t alive anymore. you own yourself.
o, foolish creatures that we are - for the sake of α ƖιттƖє ρƖєαѕυяє we have...
○ independent OC for The Devil’s Carnival, Repo! the Genetic Opera, & more ○ 10+ years RP experience, 3+ on tumblr ○ para preferred, but open to all RP styles ○ multiverse / multiship ○ friendly to OCs & characters from other fandoms ○ mun & muse 18+
нσмє ○ яυƖєѕ ○ αвσυт ○ νєяѕєѕ ○ αѕк ○ ιмg
zydratexpeddler:
Part of him was a little surprised she chose to talk to him – a bigger part was relieved. Whatever that subtle little part of Shilo that had trusted him in the beginning, no matter how much trouble he had caused her, was still there. Straightening back up, his eyes drank in the sight of her before him. Honestly, he hadn’t thought he’d ever see her again either. That was an awfully tall tower she now resided in. Trading in one prison for another, if you asked him. But what did his opinion matter?
What was interesting now, was how she was out and about – and so late, without any of the regular goons he’d often seen flanking Amber, or even Rotti. So, whatever she was doing, he had to wager wasn’t on the agenda of the company.
“Could say the same.” He mused, brow raising slightly. Making a point of looking around, noting the lack of anyone else around them. Out of line of sight to the security cameras, even. No guards, no waiting cars that he could see. “Heading somewhere?”
”Not really,” she admitted. “Just out, I guess.” She glanced up over her shoulder, where the word GeneCo blazed in neon up at the top of headquarters. It seemed to loom over the whole island, and she wasn’t sure there was anywhere you couldn’t see it from. “Away.”
She’d done it a few times now: left her guards behind and slipped out a back door on her own. The guards followed her everywhere, usually, till she threatened to fire them if they didn’t listen to her and stay put (not a threat she was sure she would ever follow through on, but it seemed to work). They weren’t the only ones--there were employees PR people and a stylist and reporters constantly asking Miss Wallace, Miss Wallace, Miss Wallace...
(There were the Largos, too, although when any of them cornered her they weren’t as likely to speak to her so formally.)
The constant press of people, the pressure of being thrust into the spotlight and owning the most powerful company in the world--a thing she didn’t have the first idea what to do with--felt like a weight forcing the air out of her lungs. She’d collapsed at her first press conference. Outside, with a little distance, she could breathe a little.
Once, she’d sneak out because there was so much more outside. Now she snuck out because there was so much less.
Either way, here he was, the Graverobber. The more things change, the more things stay the same.
“You heading somewhere?” she asked him, curious.
it's nice to see young talent blooming and I could use someone like you
@posterchildofprogress liked for a starter
“Kid– ” He paused, knowing that he shouldn’t be addressing her as such anymore. The most powerful woman on the globe, wasn’t she? Once he’d been released that night, it had been all over the papers, the bloodbath that had happened at the opera, and Shilo taking over GeneCo. That was how it had been, hadn’t it? He was still a little bitter about the short end of the stick he’d been dealt in all of that…. But what was he, other than a lowly grave robber after all?
Making a small bow, his hand sweeping out in a rolling sort of gesture. A silent sign of him acknowledging things had changed. And he should be taking his leave now, more than likely, since she knew who and what he did… and it was still very much illegal.
So many things had changed in so little time. He didn’t seem to be one of them. He called her kid the same way he had that night. He bowed, just like he had when he’d seen her home.
Well, maybe not just like it. There seemed to be something a little different to the gesture now.
The correct thing to do just then would be to call for help. Summon the GENcops. She was the head of GeneCo, and GeneCo had a very specific stance on graverobbers. Buying Zydrate from an unlicensed source is illegal. Graverobbers will be executed on sight, by order of GeneCo By-law No. 653-465.
It might have been the correct thing to do, but it wasn’t right. They didn’t know each other well (or much at all--had they ever even really introduced themselves?), but this graverobber was something familiar in a world that was changing far, far too fast.
Besides... if she turned him in, she’d have to explain what she was doing at this hour, outside GeneCo Tower, on her own.
“Hey,” she said, a nervous sort of smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I... I didn’t think I’d ever see you again...”
What If He Passed This To You
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve dreamed of performing at the Genetic Opera. Of the stage lights shining down on me, hundreds of people in the audience watching my every move–hanging on my every word.
“So witness it, people! All I have to do is sign the paper. All you have to do is pull the trigger!”
This isn’t how I pictured it.
“You want to pay me to kill my father?”
“I want you to do what is right. This man killed your mother–your mother. He betrayed you both. He’s a liar… and he poisoned you!”
It’s crazy. Impossible. Dad’s only ever protected me. He loves me. He’d never–
But there he is, in that Repo Man’s uniform. He said he was a doctor, that worked in a hospital and helped people. Now I know why he wouldn’t help Mag when I asked him to: he was the one hunting her, who wanted to rip out her eyes. He probably killed her tonight.
And Mom… that was just an accident. His own words. He really did kill her. But even if he did…
“I am not a murderer!”
“But you share your dad’s genetics–what if he passed this to you?”
“I don’t have to share his choices!”
How can Mr. Largo ask me to do this?
“Didn’t you say you were infected? Didn’t you? Didn’t you?”
I did. I did. Up until five minutes ago it was one of those truths that held the world together. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west and you have meds to take three times a day or you’ll drop dead just like Mom did.
And now I know Mom didn’t drop. And Dad’s a killer and Mag–my idol, the godmother I never knew I had–will never sing again. I’m not sure the sun will come back up in the morning now. The world is coming apart so fast my head is spinning.
I know I said I hate him but I suddenly, desperately need to know that at least his love and protection were the real thing. Please, I’m begging in my head, let there be at least that much to hang onto…
“I poisoned you.”
No. Oh God, please, no.
“I’m worse than Rotti. Imprisoned you… I couldn’t lose you!” Dad’s voice is raw. Near tears. The way it always is when I wake up from a fainting spell, those times when I miss my medicine. “What have I done? Forgive me, Shilo. I drugged your blood… oh, God, what have I done to you?”
What hasn’t he done? Locked me away from the world, prevented me from having a life. Made me hate the mother I never met for leaving me behind with nothing but a blood disease to remember her by.
Liar. Poisoner. Killer.
The gun is heavy in my hands. So heavy. People in the movies wave them around as if they weigh nothing at all.
Why does he deserve to live when he wouldn’t even let me? When good people like Mom and Mag and God knows who else had to die by his hand?
So heavy. The world is crumbling to dust beneath my feet and the weight of this gun and this choice are going to drag me down into nothing…
Bang.
[[I haven’t touched this blog in more than three whole years. What is wrong with me.
But I got hit with the urge to come back, so here I am. Anybody around?]]
Alexa’s reaction to video on Instagram. (x)
