❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
pixel skylines
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
wallacepolsom
Claire Keane
Sade Olutola
RMH
sheepfilms
noise dept.
d e v o n
Xuebing Du
Love Begins
trying on a metaphor
we're not kids anymore.
Fai_Ryy
No title available
Kiana Khansmith
⁂
Keni
occasionally subtle
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from Poland
seen from Iraq
seen from Türkiye
seen from Iraq
@whisperinthewaves
@psychoanalyticmystic
“What can I get for you?”
It is a simple question, but Jersey isn’t sure he has a simple answer. He winces turning to face the young bartender. He wants to smile, she’s pretty with doe eyes and smells like sunshine but the road rash embedded in his face makes it almost impossible to do anything other than whimper. “Can I have a cranberry juice. . .just the juice no alcohol. . .and a ticket home. I don’t belong here,” his words trail off in a pained wheeze.
’ Don’t worry. I won’t hit her. ’
“She’s like eighty years old and has a walker and it’s raining. Slow down before you run her over! I hate healing people. I’m not good at it. I hate cars. I should have never let you and Malcolm talk me into this,” Remiel’s voice has raised an octave as both of his hands grip the seat on either side of him. The flesh at his knuckles is white and his eyes are round as quarters.
He heaves an audible sigh when the car does stop in time. Never AGAIN, he thinks, never again.
’ The manager's a vampire. He wanted me to join his legion of the undead. ’
“What?”
Jersey winces when his book hits the library table with a loud thud. He hunches nervously and waits for all the people glaring to turn their heads away. His dark gze drifts back to hers.
“Are you serious? I mean for real serious because I was pretty sure vampires weren’t real and why would he want you to join his legion,” he studies her, eyes narrowing, “what did you say? Did you accept that offer? Because if you did that’s really nasty. Going around sucking people’s blood.”
@fiinalgiirl
◆ —— LILO & STITCH QUOTES STARTER PROMPTS.
’ Why are you all wet? ‘
’ Aloha! ’
’ You’re vile. You’re foul. You’re flawed. ‘
’ Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten. ’
’ If you want to leave, you can. I’ll remember you, though. ’
’ I remember everyone that leaves. ’
’ You! You’re the cause of all this. ’
’ This is my family. I found it all on my own. Is little, and broken, but still good. Ya. Still good. ’
’ Oh, good! My dog found the chainsaw. ’
’ No more caffeine for you. ’
’ Did you lose your job because of me? '
’ The managers a vampire. He wanted me to join his legion of the undead. ’
’ Trust me, this isn’t gonna end well. ’
’ I’m sorry I bit you. And pulled your hair. And punched you in the face. ’
’ GIve us a sign you understand any of this. ’
’ Show us that there is something inside you that is good. ’
’ I didn’t teach him that. ’
’ Come on, what’s the big deal? ’
’ Leave my mother out of this. ’
’ You are such a pain. ’
’ Then why don’t you sell me and buy me a rabbit instead? ’
’ I hate it when you use Ohana against me. ’
’ I’m lost. ’
’ Don’t interact with her. ’
’ Oh, we can’t do that. Uh-uh. That would be a misuse of resources. ’
’ Why do you act so weird? ’
’ You look familiar. ’
’ We’re a broken family, aren’t we? ’
’ I shouldn’t have yelled at you. ’
’ You are built to destroy. You can never belong. ’
’ We need something that can defend itself. Something that won’t die. ’
’ I hear you cry at night. ’
’ Do you dream about them? ’
’ You came back. ’
’ Nobody gets left behind. ’
’ I need someone to be my friend. Someone who won’t run away. '
’ His destructive programming is taking effect. ’
’ Did you ever kill anyone? ’
’ Are you.. happy? ’
’ I am the one they call when things go wrong and things have, indeed, gone wrong. ’
’ Our family’s little now, and we don’t have many toys. ’
‘ If you want, you could be a part of our family. ’
’ We’d raise you to be good. ’
’ She likes your butt and fancy hair. ’
’ I read her diary. ’
’ Not guilty! My experiments are only theoretical, and completely within legal boundaries. ’
’ He was designed to be a monster, but now he has nothing to destroy. ’
’ I never gave him a greater purpose. ’
’ What must it be like to have nothing, not even memories to look back on in the middle of the night? ’
’ If you promise not to fight anymore, I promise not to yell at you, except on special occasions. ’
’ Stupid head. ’
’ Did you catch fire again? ’
’ This is your badness level. It’s unusually high for someone your size. We have to fix that. ’
’ Don’t leave me, okay? ’
’ Do you want to be taken away? ’
’ You’re just jealous 'cause I’m pretty! ’
’ My friends need to be punished. ’
’ Heard you lost your job. ’
’ Thus far you have been adrift in the sheltered harbor of my patience. '
‘ After all you’ve put me through, you expect me to help you just like that? ’
’ He’s very persuasive. '
’ I know you had something to do with this. ’
’ Oh, good! I was hoping to add theft, endangerment and insanity to my list of things I did today. ’
’ I prefer to be called evil genius. ’
’ You smell like a lawn mower. ’
’ I have just determined the situation to be far too hazardous! ’
’ Don’t worry. I won’t hit her. ’
’ This is low even for you! ’
’ You are all mine. ’
’ You know I have no choice. ’
‘ Please don’t do this. ’
’ You’re making this harder than it needs to be. ’
’ She needs me. ’
’ Leave me alone to die. ’
’ What is that monstrosity? ’
’ Does this look infected to you? ’
’ You’d better not have rabies. ’
’ Hiding behind your little friend won’t work anymore. ’
’ Didn’t I tell you? We got fired this morning. ’
’ That is the ugliest thing I have ever saw! ’
’ It has no place among us. ’
Blog under heavy construction...don’t judge me when it takes 2 weeks to finish
“Guy sounds like an asshole,” Cain answers with an amused smirk curling his lips, “speaking of assholes, you said your string rehearsal? You wouldn’t happen to be a new music teacher -thus implying that old krout bastard Hoffman finally died or retired?”
His thought process is evident on his features as he considers her a little more. “If you are a perminant replacement the owner of that bike could probably be persuaded to take the obboxious mufflers off. If you’re only here short term however the owner of such a bike would recommend writing a very strongly worded letter to Hoffman about how awful he is and that if he were not such a classist mysogynistic bastard there probably wouldn’t be loud motorcycles outside his classrooms.”
Remiel rolls his shoulders in a casual shrug, “I have been here for more than five centuries. I bought it after… Well I guess you would understand it as a broken heart. I wanted somewhere peaceful, away from everywhere else. I’ve been keeping the light ever since. It’s my refuge.” Remiel leads them through the short entrance way, kicking off his shoes. He rounds a corner and deposits the groceries on a table in the kitchen. The space is open for the most part and filled with a lifetime’s worth of artifacts. Not quite over crowded but not so tidy either. “I wasn’t expecting company. I would have straightened up a little,” he smiles a little, “or at least folded all the blankets. Now your room is here and the bathroom is that door right next to it. There are towels in the bathroom. Extra blankets in your bedroom closet and if you want more comfortable clothes or something I can find some? Otherwise just make yourself at home. I’ll get it warmed up and then start on dinner?”
Unspoken words are passed between them in that fleeting instant; promises to toe the line but not cross it, and trust that such vows will be kept. It leaves Malcolm feeling far more secure about the role he is about to step into, as well as the one he is going to guide Remi through. No doubt there will be a few bumps along the way, but it no longer seems as though they’ll be careening over the edge of a cliff. He purses his lips, brows slowly rising as Remi’s trunks hit the floor. “You’re dawdlin’ an awful lot for somebody in a hurry,” Mal prods dryly; the corner of his lips ticking up ever so slightly as Remi takes the hint and heads for the bedroom.
Following behind, Malcolm stoops to grab his boyfriend’s discarded garments–best not to leave any ammo lying around for Quentin to find if he should happen back earlier than expected–and drops them into the basket by the doorway as he pushes the door closed. The lock clicks, and Mal leans back to fix Remi with a mischievous look from across the room. “Y’know, I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t lookin’ forward t’ this…” With agonizing care, Malcolm toes his shoes off and slides them aside, padding on bare feet toward the bed before he sinks down to sit on the edge–never once breaking eye contact with Remi, and resisting the temptation to touch him as he passes. “Ground rules first. This’s gonna’ be slow, an’ that’s for your own good; don’t rush me. It’s also gonna’ hurt, but if it hurts more than it feels good, ya’ have t’ say somethin’–this isn’t the time t’ be a hero. You say stop, an’ I’ll stop. Deal?”
Remiel follows Malcolm’s movements with his eyes, unable to stop himself from smiling just slightly as his own clothes are dropped in the hamper. Quentin will be gone for another few days, maybe even a week but Quentin isn't remotely close to the center of Remiel's attention at the moment. He keeps his eyes locked (and his soft smile) as Malcolm explains the conditions. That overwhelming sense of affection wells up in his throat again as he steps between Mal's legs. He's uncharacteristically quiet as he takes Malcolm’s hands and places them on either one of his hips. He runs his own hands through Mal's hair before leaning down to kiss his forehead.
Remi trails kisses until he reaches Mal's ear. "We have a lifetime," he murmurs finally, "take your time tonight. I love you. I love you so much the strength of it could shatter ideologies. You’re so much more than I could have ever hoped for. So much more than I deserve. I want this. . . I want you and I will listen to you. I trust you. Now trust me. I want this." He pulls away, shifting to knee up onto the bed beside Malcolm. It’s an awkward maneuver and when he’s on his bed Remiel takes a moment to lighten the mood. Tossing his hair back and looking over his shoulder, he pouts, “Alright Mr. Brockway. I’m ready for my close up.”
crossroadcaesar:
“–The trick is knowing how to tell someone to
GO TO HELL
in such a way that they look forward to the trip…”
@razor-teeth
Remiel can’t quite bring himself to smile. He doesn’t know this angel -or at least he cannot remember them. There were too many in heaven before the war and only so many had been assigned to his care and tutelage.
He doesn’t know this angel but Remiel can tell he is fallen, fled with Lucifer and tainted by Hell. His lips thin into a firm line. He’s spent hundreds of years trying to hide, to submerge into ‘living, to be nothing more than a ripple in the ocean of humanity.
“How did you find me and why are you here?”
the Očhéthi Šakówiŋ need your help more than ever now, because trump has money in dapl and construction is continuing in secret and things are about to get a whole lot worse for natives across the country, tbh.. here is a place with donation resources, including items needed, legal funds, etc and make sure you follow @nativenews for regular updates
Starter call for something short? Probably something from Orion or Remi.
It’s past dusk and the chill in the air raises goosebumps over her bare arms, but for once the demon does not notice. Not until she shifts to wrap them around herself and feels the prickles across her borrowed skin, or the trembling of her lip; not until the searing heat behind her eyes pushes pinpricks of hot moisture over her lower lashes to spill down her cheeks.
And just like that, the floodgates open.
“Why are you doing this to me?” Marcella asks through her quiet sniffles, cursing herself–and this fucking place–for turning her into a sniveling, weak shadow of the once proud and apathetic demon. “You dangle these promises and sweet words before me, punish me when I refuse to drink from your chalice and yet as soon as I reach for it you take it away!” She chokes on a sob, reaching for the neatly folded napkin beside her untouched plate and burying her face in it. “Lucius was right–This is nothing but a game to you, isn’t it? What a bloody fool I’ve been…I actually let myself believe you.” The chair scrapes against the stones as Marcella pushes it back, hurriedly slipping out of her seat to leave, but her heel catches in the hem of her dress and she stumbles to her hands and knees; the chair toppling down behind her. “You win….You win…” She cries, not even trying to get up.
“I’m not doing this to you,” he huffs angrily, “if you saw what they were doing to you in Hell how could you possibly think being here is worse. I keep trying and you keep shoving it back in my face. You want me to just let you prance around topside, you’ll get your old territories back and hell will welcome you with open arms? Don’t be so stupid!”
He growls angrily when she rises from the table. The rage in his eyes instantly shifts to something similar to empathy when he watches her fall. He circles around the table and kneels in front of her. He tucks a finger under her chin and lifts it so their eyes meet. “Nobody wins,” his voice is firm but the anger has gone out of it, “don’t you see that? This is how we live now. This is your life, keep playing a game and you’re going to get sadder and sadder and sadder until it swallows you up. Unless that’s who you are. Quit. You’ve made it clear to me, every effort is pointless.”
His hand drops and he stands up,”get up. Go inside. There’s no point in you being out here anymore.”
He can feel her words digging into his skin like thousands of shards of glass. For a moment he drowns in them, his eyes close and his fork stills. His knuckles go white as his grip tightens and he tries to remind himself this is his own fault. Not hers. Remiel lets out a long sigh before addressing her.
“Knowing all that I know about you, never once have I used that word against you. You said it. If that is how you feel then fine. I won’t touch you again. You won’t have to lie in fear wondering when I’ll come around to take what you don’t want me to have. I wanted you to run the office, manage everyone who works here so I could focus my attentions elsewhere but don’t worry you don’t have to do anything. You can leave. Fly away pretty bird. You’ve survived worse things than being free from me.“ Remiel sets his fork down. He looks at her for a long moment in silence. “How could I ever grow bored if I am still… If despite every logical piece of sense and the suffering you have laid at my feet I am still here? Tell me how to stop.”
