Mike Driver
i don't do bad sauce passes
Cosimo Galluzzi
titsay
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
d e v o n
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Misplaced Lens Cap
cherry valley forever
Origami Around
DEAR READER
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
PR's Tumblrdome
I'd rather be in outer space šø
YOU ARE THE REASON
shark vs the universe
if i look back, i am lost
NASA
Claire Keane
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Canada
seen from Indonesia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Germany
seen from Poland
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from Israel
seen from Belarus
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@walkonthe-wildside
for a bit i thought i was gonna give him like a sharkās tail but then i realized that itās probably the outlanders that look like sharks bc theyāre ~*~dangerous~*~ and that makes them easier to spot
but if you think simba would tie on a pretend dorsal fin when he was a kid to look ~*~*~cooler~*~*~ youād be exactly right
secrets don't make friends (or boyfriends probably) | sambi feat. kanye
Kovu: /Relieved that at least nothing was broken, Kovu raised an eyebrow as Simba continued to āumā and āahā. Wait. Wasā¦ was he about to say what Kovu thought he was about to say? It seemed like he was. Kovu ducked his head down to hide the knowing smirk growing in the corner of his mouth. The guy was actually /nervous/ about telling him. It was almost adorable. He was tempted to tell him right then that heād known all along, but he also kind of wanted to milk the moment for all it was worth. Kovu lifted his head back up, trying to maintain a shocked look on his face. /What do you mean, thatās not /entirely/ true? Youāre either Kopa or youāre not. You've been lying to me?/
Simba: /Oh fuck this was already going terribly and he hadn't even said anything yet. This is why Simba didn't do anything anymore. This exact reason. Because bad things happen when you do things. He took a deep breath and tried to chill the fuck out. If things went south after this he had no idea what he was going to do. Why did he even think this was a good idea? Why did he have to be so fuckin noble?/ No! No, no, no, no, no, not, like, /lying/ lying. Just like. Saying something different than the truth. It's--it's not even a big deal, honestly, I just figured that like...you should probably. Um. Know?
secrets don't make friends (or boyfriends probably) | sambi feat. kanye
Kovu: /When Kovu had dragged Simbaās pitiful, beaten up body back to his place, he had had no idea who he was. The guyās face had been bruised beyond recognition, his nose slightly askew from a particularly nasty punch, blood and dirt covering up most of his face, and all Kovu knew was that the guy would either find himself penniless the next day, or dead. It was only when Simba had cleaned himself up upon awakening the next morning that Kovu realised exactly who he had brought home. The sheer irony was laughable - heād just saved the life of a guy heād been trained his entire life to kill. He almost said something - but what would be the point in keeping him safe for one night only to kick him out (or potentially have him leave in shame) and let the guy die the next? Simba was certainly doing all he could to hide himself - meaning, heād gone out and gotten himself some hair dye - and Kovu figured the easiest thing to do in the situation was to just not mention it. It was hard keeping a straight face when Simba introduced himself as Kopa, but it got easier after a while, a lot easier than heād expected. At some point, heād practically forgotten that the two of them were living with a lie. So when Simba nervously came up to tell him he had something to say, Kovu assumed the guy had just gotten the toilet blocked again or something. /What did you break this time? I know my place is shit, but that doesnāt give you license to trash the place, man.
Simba: /If this was 6 months ago, he woulda sent a message out to the Kings of the Past to make sure he didn't get his ass beat. But this wasn't 6 months ago. He wasn't a prince and the stars were just stars. The world moves on. He still felt like he was gonna shit a brick, though/ What? Oh, uh, no man, nah. It's--it's nothing like that. It's like. Um /Oh, Christ he just had to spit it out, already. He could do this. He'd bungee jumped off the palace in Agrabah, broken his leg in the Elephant Graveyard--hell, he grew up with /Nala./ This was nothin' really. That's what he kept saying anyways./ Ok so it's like. You know how I've been tellin' everybody that my name is Kopa? Well it turns out that's not, um...entirely...true.
secrets don't make friends (or boyfriends probably) | sambi feat. kanye
Simba: /The list of things that Simba actually 100% hated was surprisingly short, but admitting he was wrong was probably at the top of it. With that being said, his time in the Outlands had changed him. He was more laid-back, carefree, not really worried about much of anything. So he had less trouble than he expected admitting to himself that Kovu was actually a pretty good guy. He seemed to be one of the few people in these parts that actually might have a sense of compassion. He had looked out for Simba when he first arrived, clueless and dragged down by his own self-hatred, and he had continued to do so ever since, even though it would've probably been easier to kick him to the curb. So yeah, he was grateful to the guy. He could say that--with a straight face and everything. But after everything they had been through so far, he couldn't escape the gnawing guilt he felt when he was alone with his thoughts. Kovu had stuck his neck out for him multiple times, even around his own mother (who was probably the scariest person Simba'd ever met), and the more he thought about it, the more he realized it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair for Kovu to be doing all this shit for him without truly knowing who he was doing it for. It was becoming more & more clear to him that he was going to have to tell him the truth--at least a little bit of it, anyways. He owed him that much. It was just...well...he really just hoped his sudden chivalry wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass./ Uhhh...hey Kovu? I kinda, um. Well. You see, the thing is. The--the thing is--You're gonna think this is hilarious, man. So, um. It's--it's just. Uh.
i saw your ghost tonight
Heās running but heās not moving.
Heās screaming but nobody hears him.
He can see it all unfold in front of him, his father smiling, the cameras flashing, a man in the crowd raising his arm...and he canāt do anything to stop it. He canāt even shut his eyes. Heās forced to watch, frozen in place, as fails to save his own father again.
He hears the pop, so loud it almost bursts his eardrums. He sees the splotch of red blooming from his fatherās chest. He watches, helpless, as he topples over towards the ground. He tries so hard to just get his legs to move for godās sake, his dad is dying and heās not doing anything, but itās no fucking use.
Slowly, the crowd turns until theyāre staring at him. He realizes everyone he loves is there, and theyāre all looking at him with disdain. His mother, Kiara, Merida, Nala, Ariel, all of his friends, and they all have pure hatred in their eyes.
He can hear his father on the ground, coughing and sputtering and wheezing for help and heās fucking pushing himself just to take one step, please just one step but nothing happens besides him getting more and more frustrated until he lets out a desperate roar.
āPlease, god, somebody help him, please. Heās dying, canāt you see? Heās dying! Why are you all just standing there, please!ā
Itās no use, nobody moves, and suddenly all he can hear is a low, ominous chuckle. He looks up and sees his uncle standing over his fatherās body, a deadly grin resting on his lips.
āUncle Scar, please, just help him.ā the words, pained, leave his lips in a desperate gasp.
Scar only continues to laugh.
āOh Simba, canāt you see? I canāt do anything for him. The only person that could have saved him...was you.ā
He falls to his knees, begging and swearing for his body to please just move Iāll do anything, please, but it doesnāt matter. Heās too late. Heās always too late. He raises his head, praying to the Kings for some sort of miracle, but notices only too late that the sky above him is completely dark. The stars, it seems, are dead too.
&&
Simbaās awakened by a pillow thrown at his face and for a moment he forgets where he is. Heās covered and sweat and his hands are shaking, but he tries to ignore it as he looks up at Kovu, whoās currently laying on the couch above him.
āOw, dude, what the hell? Iām trying to sleep.ā
āSo was I, but you were fuckinā yellinā.ā
Heās glad that his face is obscured by the dark. āHeh, really? Mustāa been dreaming of your ugly face.ā
He can see Kovuās outline roll over and hears him mutter under his breath, voice thick with sleep. āYeah whatever, man. Just shut up and go back to sleep.ā
Simba lowers himself back down to his pillow and sighs. He can still feel his hands shaking and he knows for a fact that he wonāt be going back to sleep tonight, but he squeezes his eyes shut anyways and waits for morning to come.
burning bridges || for the man whoās still a boy
(8tracks)(youtube)
almost is never enough | lionscot
Simba holds Merida close as they spin slowly around the dance floor. Heās in his best tux, custom fitted just for today, and sheās in a dress thatās absolutely perfect for her. Understated, sure, and maybe a little short for the occasion, but still completely beautiful, and still completely her. They meet eyes and smile shyly and he feels a dull ache in his chest. The pain isnāt as white-hot as it had been once, but it still hurts, and he knows now that it always will.
Itās Simbaās wedding day, and heās dancing with the love of his life. But she isnāt his bride.
There had been a time when he was sure this day would take place with Merida meeting him at the end of the altar. Merida next to him at the sweetheartās table. Merida hiding in his chest from the embarrassing family toasts. Thinking about it now just leaves an empty feeling in his stomach, forcing him to remember how different everything was then. How impulsive heād been. How naive.
It seems so long ago now, although he knows only a few years have passed. They were inseparable then, almost attached at the hip. If he tries hard enough, he can still see it all as if it were yesterday. The way her whole face lit up when she laughed, the flush of her cheeks when they kissed, the special glint she would get in her eye when she was ready to do something adventurous and stupid. He knew her like the back of his hand then, which only makes looking at her now feel even worse. Sheās a stranger, the person in his arms, but her face is still so familiar. He thinks that, more than anything, is what makes him say it.
āI had this all planned out for us, you know.ā
It slips past his lips without a second thought and for a moment he thinks heās ruined everything. Thinks sheās going to walk away and leave him in the wake of her whirlwind, just like before. But she surprises him--she always does--by smiling softly, meeting his gaze with kind eyes.
āSo did I. You were going to wear a kilt.ā
He laughs then, a real belly laugh, and it hurts but itās a good hurt. A hurt he can recover from.
āI guess I couldāve worn a skirt for you. I always thought youād wear a short dress, though.ā When she asks him why, he chuckles again. āA compromise with your mom. Figured itād be the only way to get you into a white dress.ā She gives him a wry smile and he knows he was right. He also knows her mother forced her into a huge tulle princess dress on her wedding day, but he decides not to bring that up.
āI was also dead set on a chocolate cake.ā She makes a face at that and he smiles. āI know you donāt like it, and youāre wrong by the way, but I figured itād be the only thing either of our mothers would let me have a hand in choosing.ā
She doesnāt respond then, just gives him a fond smile. He returns it with one of his own and for a moment theyāre happy not saying anything. Just being with each other is enough. She squeezes his hand and when he meets her eyes again, the sentimental look on her face is gone, replaced with something that he hasnāt let himself feel in a long time. Her voice is low, but thereās no mistaking what she says.
āWe were so close, werenāt we? So close to having everything.ā
He takes in a deep breath, his next words laying heavily on his tongue. Theyāre true, they know that now, but it doesnāt soften the blow any less.
āIt wasnāt enough.ā
Their eyes bore into each otherās, and he doesnāt even think theyāre swaying to the music anymore, just standing in the middle of the dancefloor with the weight of their past sitting in between them. For a wild moment, he thinks about kissing her, just one last time. But almost as soon as the thought enters his mind, Eric and Nala are next to them. Heās asking if he can steal his wife away and Simba feels himself nod.
He knows somewhere in his mind that they switched partners, that heās now holding his new wife by the waist as she leads him around the dancefloor (heās always had a thing for strong women). He knows that Meridaās been whisked away to God knows where. He knows that everything is different now. He knows that too much time has passed. He knows all of this, sure, but he feels like heās 19 again. He feels like he wants to run and never look back.
Nala rests her head against his shoulder, pulling him into a comforting embrace. She whispers softly in his ear, turned away from the crowd so it onlookers will think theyāre enjoying a romantic moment together. He registers cameras flashing around them and heās struck by just how wrong it feels.
āIām so sorry, Simba.ā
He sighs, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment as he squeezes her tight. This isnāt what he had imagined when he was younger, but heās glad he has his best friend to face the future with him. Nala is concrete. Sheās solid in a way that heās never been and he loves her so much for it. She and Merida were different in that way. Nala was always. Merida had been...
āWe were just...almost.ā
ā¦.Whaās it ta you where Iām from? Anā thereās nothinā wrong with my accent. What if I had a speech impediment? Youād be very rude and insensitive then wouldnāt ya?
Thatās a very nice thought anā all, but I donāt have a sister. I donāt have anybody.
Gee, Iām sorry to hear that kid.Ā
But you always have something to be grateful for huh? At least you werenāt the one in the fire. And listen, people with funny accents always get jumped quicker than the locals. Just a tip. Iām Peg. You got a name?
Ehh, thatās life. Or death. I kinda getĀ āem all jumbled.
You know, depending on who you talk to, I have actually been on fire before. Gotta say? Wasnāt that bad. Coulda been worse.
...Iāll remember that. I guess.
Um, you can call me Kopa if you want.
Woah, woah, mellow out. Touchy touchy.
Iām not makinā fun of nothinā, Iām sayinā someone should probably handle that whole thing, anā then I asked a follow-up question. Thatās how conversations start, ya see.
Hey now, I really donāt appreciate your stigma. We are a wide anā varied bunch anā donāt deserved to be pigeonholed, ya know.
ā¦Youāre not from around here are ya. Whatās that accent?Ā
And youāre not funny. People were getting hurt out there. For no reason. What if it was your little sister or somethin out there gettin hurt. I bet you wouldnāt be asking about lunch then.
....Whaās it ta you where Iām from? Anā thereās nothinā wrong with my accent. What if I had a speech impediment? Youād be very rude and insensitive then wouldnāt ya?
Thatās a very nice thought anā all, but I donāt have a sister. I donāt have anybody.
Somebody should probably do somethināĀ ābout that fire
Or not. Whatever.Ā
ā¦.Did I sleep through lunch again?
Hey pal, where do ya get off makin fun of stuff like that? I saw it on the news, little kids trapped on the tops of burnin buildings and stuff. It was horrible.
You Outlanders I swear. Budding psychopaths each and every one of ya.
Woah, woah, mellow out. Touchy touchy.
Iām not makinā fun of nothinā, Iām sayinā someone should probably handle that whole thing, anā then I asked a follow-up question. Thatās how conversations start, ya see.
Hey now, I really donāt appreciate your stigma. We are a wide anā varied bunch anā donāt deserved to be pigeonholed, ya know.
Somebody should probably do somethināĀ ābout that fire
Or not. Whatever.Ā
....Did I sleep through lunch again?
breezeblocks | simba & ariel
She always leaves at night.
She peppers feeble excuses in between kisses down his neck, seated in his lap like a puzzle piece that doesnāt quite line up. She moves quickly, with a wild sense of purpose and he tries his best to hold her still, gripping at her hips until they bruise and a large part of him feels proud of himself for leaving his mark.
She never notices, or if she does she ignores it, just kisses further down his neck, lips gliding along his collarbone as she toys with the buttons on his shirt, moving as far away from his mouth as possible. She never kisses him there anymore. The fear of tasting someone else on her lips keeps him from doing the same.
He knows he doesnāt really have her, not even now when sheās seated on his lap, lips swollen and cheeks flushed to match the vibrant red of her hair. Sheās the most beautiful thing heās ever seen when sheās like this and the thought makes him angry because he knows, god, he knows that thereās someone out there, someone with dark hair and deep brown eyes thatās making her look this beautiful, too. He know sheās already someone elseās before sheās even stopped being his but he just canāt fucking let her go.
He pulls her face up to meet his and kisses her, hard, all teeth and tongue and take, take, take. Itās selfish and spiteful and it feels more like a cinder block in a bathtub than a romantic gesture, a weight pulling her down, forcing her to stay with him. This was toxic--they were toxic--but all the best drugs are and fuck if sheās not the best drug heās ever had.
He canāt get enough of her, even when she has nothing left to give and he can see it in her eyes when she breaks the kiss that heās killing her, keeping her with him is killing her, but itās not enough. Itās never enough, and when he feels her start to pull away, mumbling something incoherent about how she really does have to go, he canāt even help himself when he lowers his head to the junction between her neck and shoulder and sinks his teeth into her flesh, not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to bruise. She gasps and he knows that heās hurt her and he smiles before soothing the mark with his tongue, leaving a few soft kisses in his wake. He wants her stranger to know that sheās his, but more than that he wants to make sure she knows heās not letting her leave without first eating her whole.
When she finally untangles herself from him, she kisses him on the cheek, quickly, like it had burned her, and then sheās out the door in a whirl of red hair, tripping over her own feet and picking herself up before he can even reach out to help her. She spares a glance back at him as she shuts the door behind him and she wishes she hadnāt. Heās smiling. It doesnāt reach his eyes and yet thereās something manic in it. Something lost. She realizes she doesnāt know him anymore, but she also knows she canāt leave him to drown on his own.
Heās still smiling as she shuts the door behind her. She always leaves at night, yes, but she always comes back in the morning.
we bleed the same blood || closed para
Simba had ditched his phone at the hospital that day. On accident, of course--in retrospect he remembers setting it down on the front desk of the ER and not picking it up when Scar led him out of the room--but as he had returned home that afternoon to grab just a few changes of clothes, he realized it was probably for the best. His next stop had been to get a disposable phone, paid for in cash of course, and then he was on the next bus to the Outlands. As despicable as he considered it to be, he knew it was the only place in Disney where someone could disappear without a trace, and that was exactly what he wanted.
He spent his first week holed up in a seedy motel, eating chips and candy bars from the lone vending machine at the end of the hall and avoiding all news stations while he grew out his facial hair until it was long enough to dye. The box stuff wasnāt as good as getting it done professionally, sure, and he probably made it a little too dark, but he was officially a brunette. The first time he looked in a mirror, he couldnāt even recognize himself. His stomach dropped a bit at the finality of it all, but he knew couldnāt afford to be upset. This was what he wanted. This was the choice he had made.
Ending up with the Kalis was a situation even he didnāt fully understand. He had gotten sick of the silence in his motel room; sick of counting the cigarette burns on the sheets, sick of pretending he didnāt see the nest of cockroaches living in the closet, sick of avoiding that weird stain on the bathroom tile, and sick of the voices in his head, reminding him of what he did. The guilt seemed to be closing in on him at every waking moment and he couldnāt take it anymore, so he left. He packed his very small bag, paid his bill from his slowly dwindling amount of cash, and went to the only bar he knew. The one Merida had went to the night she told him everything.
But being inside only made everything ten times worse. Imagining Merida here, scared and upset and alone, and all because of his own stupid fucking mistakes, just made the already crushing guilt that seemed permanently wedged deep in his chest feel even heavier. He got himself completely shitfaced before sizing up the biggest dude in the building and punching him square in the jaw. The guy practically picked him up by the scruff and threw him out the door and onto the sidewalk before tearing into him mercilessly. Simba didnāt even fight back, just let himself get pummeled into the cement. Every hit felt like some sort of fucked up sense of atonement. He deserved this. He deserved to have the life knocked out of him for the pain and disappointment he had caused everyone he cared about.
The next thing he knew, he was waking up on the floor of a tiny apartment--it couldnāt even be considered an apartment, really, it was more like a shack--and Kovu, of all people, was standing over him, looking at him like he was one of those sad looking three-legged dogs you see at the pound. When Simba realized Kovu couldnāt recognize him, he immediately felt a sense of relief. He was too disgusted with himself and too distracted by the pain from the night before to bother to be disgusted with him. When he was asked for his name, he decided on Kopa. It was one he and Merida had been considering for...when they were considering the future. If anyone had asked, it was just because it was the first name that came to mind, like it had been waiting on the tip of his tongue. But the weight in his chest that often left him feeling breathless knew it was to remind him of where he came from, in hopes that he wouldnāt lose himself entirely.
But Simba--Kopa-- found it all too easy to do just that. The Kalis were intimidating, sure, (not that he would ever admit that out loud, even though they all knew it) but they seemed to accept him in their own way. They didnāt outright call him family or anything (although from what he could tell they didnāt seem to do that with each other, either), but they did things to him that he learned were considered to be affectionate. Dying his hair blue, jumping him in the middle of a street for a brawl, shaving off an eyebrow in his sleep, getting him drunk and tying him to a chain link fence in his underwear until somebody came to cut him down the next morning. Things were surprisingly alright. He liked being Kopa. He liked being with the Kalis. He liked the fact that the guilt that had been eating him alive was slowly disappearing. He usually only thought about his family at night, and a lot of the time he was too drunk to even say their names correctly in his own head. It wasnāt a healthy lifestyle, sure, but Simba had never really be one to play it safe, and there was no reason for Kopa to be any different.
He was in a bar when he saw the news. A different one than the first night, but really they were all the same. A hole in the wall the size of his thumbnail filled to the brim with big, sweaty men whose stench was barely covered by the smell of alcohol radiating from the building. When the announcement came over the big screen tv in the middle of some basketball game he couldnāt care less about, everyone in the bar began to cheer. They shouted and hollered and clinked their glasses together. People were buying each other rounds as they said things like āthank godā and āgood riddanceā and patted each other on the back. He felt a nervous sort of energy begin to build up in his chest and before he realized what was happening, he was laughing. He laughed so hard his stomach began to hurt and tears came to his eyes. His lungs were burning from the strain but he couldnāt stop. It was like something inside of him had finally cracked and it was all bubbling out with reckless abandon. When he calmed down enough, he finished his half-full beer in one swig, calling over the bartender with one hand to order another. He slammed his empty mug on the counter, letting out a loud belch before he began chuckling again, although much more subdued than before.
āGood fucking riddance.ā
to: kovuĀ ā
kopa: hlep
hELP
yuresistre teidmero atree
toko mypntas
dnot thik she lieks me vmuch
idotn lejke omonshine
to: kovuĀ ā“
kopa: WHAT THE HELL DID YOU PUT IN MY SHAMPOO
MY HAIR IS /BLUE/
HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE
IS THIS SOME KIND OF FUCKED UP OUTLANDER INITIATION
I CAN'T LEAVE THE HOUSE LIKE THIS
7, 14, 18, 29... 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 11, 13, 19, 20, 21, 25, 26, 32. I don't know where you are Simba, but fer God's sake, just come home. Please. ... I love you.
#2, #5, #9, #11, #18, #20, #21, #25, #26, #31. Simby, I miss you.
