Fai_Ryy
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imyourlastbreath:
"Bragging about your connections is highly unappealing unless you got a pair of boobs to go with it."
"Yet, you have last cup of coffee, and I have new cup," he pointed out to her before he held out the undrunk, freshly brewed cup of coffee to her. "Last cup of coffee is always from old pot that has sat. Next time, ask them for new pot to be brewed."
imyourlastbreath:
"I got the last cup of coffee because I’m prettier." Not that he had asked for an explanation, but a simple gaze was enough to make her start talking.
"They gave me first cup of fresh brewed coffee because I am regular customer to this establishment."
He saw her from his peripheral vision. He knew her. His brother had been married to her once.
“My Illarion says you should let me sleep more. I have yet to understand why you blond people are always so demanding.”
"I'll let you sleep more when you decide that you want to stop proving to the entire ship that you have me firmly under your control, kyria."
aeghia:
”Sometimes, I wonder that myself, sir. I believe… Val put it best when he told me that it was because we both had something the other needed. Needed badly, in order to be whole. I agree with him.”
"My name isn't "Sir" - it's Jack Straw, and if that name is too imposing for you, then simply R. Hunter will work. Don't ask me what the "R" stands for, I don't remember." He pauses. "My son hasn't found someone that he liked in years. I wonder what you have that he needs, other than a good face and a large family."
”I would meet with you, sir. My name is Malcolm MacDonald, I am — your son’s intended.”
"I needn't ask which son. I've only one. I wonder though, why you, Blacksmith in an Iron Crown."
Travis Fimmel as Ragnar Lothbrok in Vikings
Crazylobby by jameschg
Les Catacombes - Paris 2012
400 ft below the surface of Paris exists one of the scariest and coolest places on earth. The bones of over 6 million people are still interred here. Now they are organized and placed respectfully, but in the beginning the officials of Paris were just cleaning up the surface of the city by dumping the remains from full graveyards into the old rock quarries that built the city. Spooky! Great place to pop the question to your girlfriend!
All of the photos in this set were long exposures with no flash. If you ever get to go, don’t forget the remote and/or tripod!
aeghia:
”Or maybe we’re both found or still lost, and at least there is camaraderie to be found in two souls existing in the same state of being together. It’s not as lonely,” he replied, placid and melancholy as ever. He was always quiet, somber, perhaps a bit pessimistic though he meant no harm. Malcolm had a quiet strength, and something more that he held back under his guard.
Striking a match, so that he could light the cigarette he was guiding to his mouth, he added, thoughtfully: “Would you like one?” It kept his nerves in line, most evenings, and he really only ever smoked when night fell, keeping his habit in check because the addiction was not easy to feed all the way out in the depths of the moors as he was. He held another cigarette out to Val, waiting for him to accept it or decline while he took a breath — and tipped his head back, breathing out into the air, long and slow.
A small smile crossed his eyes, curled at the edges of his mouth and he wondered: “You brought it with you? You’re kind. Though I can’t remember what I forgot, I’m sorry.”
"Sounds like a country song. I hate country songs. Do you know what they're about? My wife left. My tractor won't start. My dog died. I need beer. Let's not live a country song." He wasn't pessimistic. He was barely a realist. What he was - was a devout Follower of the Thirteenth God, who loved his charge who was off living his own life and had a strange connection to Jack Straw (namely, he called him 'dad').
He accepted the cigarette and lit it with a snap of his fingers and a quick flame. It wouldn't kill him.
He opened his arms and looked incredously at Malcolm, showing off the offset black tie, half-untucked white shirt, black suit jacket that was missing its middle button, wrinkled black slacks and black canvas sneakers.
"You forgot me."
new head by soft-h
aeghia:
”Of course he can, though now that I’ve found you, you’re no longer lost.”
Malcolm remembered this man. The one from the city who’d been generous enough as to help him when he’d been lost to the streets and the sounds and the deafening silence. Val. Val was his name, and that was all Malcolm knew him by. When he was told he’d forgotten something at the shop, a shop he couldn’t recall setting foot into, he balked cautiously, eyes wary and suspicious before he relented because Val had helped him before.
”Is what I forgot at the shop, Mister Val? If it is, I’ll have to beg a favor from you. I can’t remember the way, and I’ll have to ask you to lead me.”
"Or now that I've found you - you're no longer lost. It depends on your point of view, doesn't it?"
He remembered Malcolm. There was few that he took a genuine interest in beyond his but since his was gone with Owen, he had more free time on his hands than he was used to, and people weren't dying fast enough to keep him occupied.
"Lucky enough for you, you don't have to go to the shop to get it."
aeghia:
”It’s you. I mean — of course it’s you. I didn’t mean — harm, no not at all. You just startled me.”
"What? A bloke can't get lost?" We're talking a few planets lost but the devil was in the details. "Don't worry, I've got papers and all the needed shots. I came by to tell you that you forgot something at Dhalion's shop. Something that you need. That's his rules, you know. He prides in having something that people need. Or was it want? I don't know. I only pay attention if what he's saying comes with pictures."
aeghia:
”Your mom went to pick up your sister, she just came in today on the portship,” he explained, and smiled broadly at the young man. There was unabashed love in the way he looked at his son, the same way he looked at his daughter. Like his whole life had been waiting for the moment they came into the world, and he lived for every day after that. “She wanted to come in and see you, since she was going to be local.”
He fashioned words here and there with his hands, joining Ronan in his signing even though he spoke aloud: “What do they have you doing? Come here, come here. Sit down and tell me all about it. What are your responsibilities, who’s your supervisor, any thought to how you could better run our little home? You sing so well to GEHENNA, I trust your word and input.”
Ellie is coming home? he inquired, picking up bits and pieces as his father signed and spoke. Lip-reading was something he got good at quickly after the initial stages of hearing loss came into play. A few genetic tests later and it was determined to be just that, a fault in the genes, curable had it been screened for in embryo. The doctors had given a disapproving look to Crow for that. Who didn't run such tests to see at least what the threat level would have been? Ronan didn't mind though. He found other ways around what he didn't have. Though, his sister coming home put him in a good mood, even as he teased his father: Good. She owes me money from the last card game we played.
He sat down with his father, twisting on the couch to face him, as he pulled one leg up to his chest and laughed at his first day. Right now, they have me learning how to make mistakes. A lot of mistakes. Plenty of them, they said maybe medical, if I could manage it, but I like the hum of the ship, how she feels. I want to learn how to take care of her. So maybe if I mess up enough in medical, they'll put me over with the engineers.
aeghia:
Exactly like a parent who has just seen their child off to their first day of preschool, he sat up straight, immediately after spotting Ronan step into the room. Trying his best to refrain from smiling broadly and perhaps embarrassing him, he tried for a more modest approach, inviting to him to come sit down with him.
” — how was your day, Ronan? Did you make out all right?”
"..." /‘opà.../ he thought-spoke with obvious fondness, as he stepped inside their living quarters. He set down the bag that held his tools and brushed his hands off on the knees of his pants before he gestured: I thought that you'd be out with Ahm. Sometimes, it was easier to sign than connect. The technology made telepathy muddled at best.
Everything went well, he promised, smooth sailing, as it goes.
imyourlastbreath:
"If I am half of you, then why can’t I turn into things as well?"
He falls quite as soon as his father’s mask falls down, brain taking a moment to process that change of faces, of body, of persona. “Thank you.” Because Dante couldn’t imagine his father showing his true form just to anyone who asked, and there had to be a reason beyond why he used someone else face. Reaching out, he pokes his father’s chest with one finger, making sure he still feels like a person and not…well, mushy or unstable due to the sudden particles change. “Then I hope he doesn’t pop around any time soon; I wouldn’t like to be taken for anyone but your son. Even with your rather…extravagant glory.”
"I don't know. You're young yet. My kind couldn't turn until they reached a certain age. I don't know if you take after me or your mother in that sense."
He doesn't look uncomfortable in his own body, even if he hasn't worn it in eons. "You asked," he said truthfully, for his kind couldn't lie. He did smirk a little bit as he answered: "he's a god now, on Amara. He wouldn't recognize me even if I stood in front of him and looked like him. I wouldn't worry about it anyway. Gods rarely walk among their people anymore."
"But still, this is why most asked me to look like a cat when I wasn't expected to look like their kind. Gold eyes, among other things that they attributed to being feline like."
"Since I don’t think mom is into bestiality: I know you are not. But you can still turn into one, and with that I suppose comes some animal instincts, so you must want to clean yourself and therefore, ingest some of your own hair." Dante is going to bounce on the ball of his feet. "Of course I want to see it."
"I can turn into many things, it's why my kind were treated as they were." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm a cat when I am a cat. I don't have the same thought processes. But as far as I know, I haven't ... hacked up a hairball. Ask North or Alexander, they'd know better than I would."
The change from one to another was instantaneous with no blend from one to the other. He wore his first master's face one second and his own the next. "You see? With one to the other, everything changes. If you were to see the man that I look like normally, you'd be genetically considered his son."
