BONES AND ALL (2022) dir. Luca Guadagnino
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you’re an angel, i’m a dog.
or you’re a dog and i’m your man.
you believed me like a god.
i destroy you like i am.
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𝒻𝑜𝓇 : @televanglisms ( mouse ) !
𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖗 : 1:18 am .
𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 : spider's web hq.
whereas there's not much that unnerves his peers, his siblings, really, if that, there'd always been a certain tremor in the fingertips of roman leblanc. a tell if he were to play poker that'd make him a most terrible player, but the perfect competition. though if one were to remove such a pessimistic view, it could also be an advantage. one that removed him from those that suddenly showcased their effects of anxiety: a sudden twitch in the edge of their lip, a quickened rise & fall of their chest. whereas he'd kept something moving — the edge of his pen falling victim to his nervous tics, chewing at it absentmindedly as deep thought plagues his conscious. two days. that's all they had left. just the two to truly back out, for almost anything to go wrong. he had it all planned of course, an impulse from one of the members, a retaliation that would leave them in the dark. not even the creak of a rusted door could pull him out of the everlasting thread of what if's.
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there's much to say when one's empathy has preceded the way they connect with those around them, even if facial expressions remain the same, there's a shift in the atmosphere that hints at one's true emotion. a gift picked up before kota's vision was taken from him in a blight of lightning. it materializes in the lack of word vomit from his companion, lavender herself moving on when she's�� off duty to tuck underneath samson's arms in a comforting embrace. there had always been a gray cloud overhead in a display of constant sorrow; a cinematic melancholy that clung to samson like a demon that kota kept missing, doing his best to take it apart bit by bit from what he could touch. but this, the unnerving aura of impending doom was all but too much to bear. the room soaked in agony, spritzed with the scent of dread by the lack of movement coming from the opposite side of the room — lavender struggling with roping the two men into sharing one small smile, just enough to brighten up the bedside lamp that flickers with lack of use. it's enough of an attempt to meet him here, the smell of roasting coffee & twinkling laughter of happy patrons, the cruel ignorance that the men beside them had experienced a sudden loss. even for those that knew nothing about genie, it was a wake up call. life was short. life was unfair. life could be taken from you at any time. during your lowest. during your prime. & that she was. a spitting image of the north star snuffed out before night could fall & allow its glow to be cast upon the world. ❝ hey, sorry i'm late, lavender couldn't really decide where to go. i'm assuming she might need a trim around her eyes ? ❞ he inquires before sitting down, adjusting himself so that she's able to tuck beside him without blocking any speeding busser. such eloquent rambling never ceases to surprise the older man, a small chuckle lifting pink lips at the dramatic confession of samson's forlorning. ❝ oh, are we getting married, sammie ? finally showing me the real you after all these months ? ❞ humour aside, he's more than aware the poetic blonde needs this, more than he's ever needed anything. kota leans forward, the bone of his knee touching the other's in a reassuring act of pressure. to affirm he's not going anywhere. ❝ of course i came. love saying no, but it's a little hard with you. ❞ a pause. maybe that was too much. maybe it was never enough. ❝ i was just — well — worried. that you'd never come out. have you spoken to someone since . . ? ❞
@prcphetics
setting: this lives in the pages lost from daskalos' winding tale ; somewhere in the middle, when genie's disappearance has begun to erode samson's spirit, where he has no anchor to this reality -- he is at a quiet coffeeshop, seeking salvation from the only soul he believes can offer him deliverance. but it is a crime to lay this burden at dakota's door; it is a greater forfeit, for samson to admit he needs him.
The sun rose with a full November face, painting the sky with blushes of pink clouds -- it was fine a day as Samson could hope for, but he wished it was a death scene (better to pair with his mood). Their classrooms sat empty, chairs unclaimed; the disappearance had roused fears once more, and driven all Daskalos' residents from normalcy. For Samson, there was no greater incentive to reach new heights of instability; he had never learned how to facilitate his brain during stretches of free time.
Samson gazed around the coffeeshop, and found vines laughing across the brown brick wall -- he fancied the greenery was mocking him. He had reason to abandon his coffee and engage them in open warfare, but the face of reason stepped through the front doors; deflating in an instance, Samson devoted his energy to memorizing ever inch of their visage. Dakota looked so well; he was close to him in a second, as good to Samson as a bridegroom. Samson cared for him so deeply, near enough to smite jealousy from his path. For how could he not desire the composure that allowed Dakota to weather every storm like a hero? But venomous thoughts could not rule his humour - a cordial word from his roommate was enough to do him well for a lifetime. "You came." His nerves disdained hysteria, but relief and comfort at Dakota's materialization could not be contained; he could not be subjected to his inner dialogue for a moment longer. Samson gestured for a waiter, forsaking his well-built system of oppression to tend to Dakota's needs. "I don't know if you want anything, but it's on me if you do. I know we live together but .... I just wanted to see you here. Maybe it's because I feel death in our room, maybe I was testing if you'd come. I don't know -- I'm saying that a lot, but it's the truth. And I guess that's what I wanted to give you; me, the truth."
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MICHAEL CIMINO photographed by Tang Onak
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♡ jonathan daviss for outer banks season 3
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Bones and All (2022) // dir. Luca Guadagnino
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𝒻𝑜𝓇 : @hiercphant ( caspian ) !
𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖗 : 5:32 pm.
𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 : wolfram/sasha's apartment, concluding a dnd session.
he's been doing terribly so far, curses quietly with every roll of dice that doesn't serve in his favor ( which seems to be, each damn turn ). he blames it on the weather, the open window beside him that's blowing a heat wave of muggy wind that lines the back of his neck with sweat. a cherry cooler clicks against his teeth as the match continues on, commencing the witching hour of the day where most of the clan slows down from their bouts of adrenaline after a passionate duel. a clear indication that it's time to head out soon, once wide eyes falling at half mast as the humidity hits them all at once, beckoning for a nap or a cool down on the couch with their favorite tv programs. as they begin to pack it all up he's moving to the fridge to steal a coke for the long walk home, lingering around for as long as he can in the freezer's thrum of cool air. meanwhile charlie does his rounds, making sure everyone is good to go, that they didn't drink too much for their drive home or should he need to pay for their cab, he's stealing wolfram for a bit, earning a subtle smile, a blink & you'll miss it bare of bottom canines coupled by a roll of eyes as miko spews on about how the seating chart was done on purpose. it's not until their russian peer is beckoning wolfie into the shower, that his attention is dismissed, & goodbyes are hurried with a smack of teeth & mush out the door. a snort & flush of red from the curt situational change motivates the taller boy further, coaxed on by the ayeeeee's & whistles of tipsy fellowmen. the crinkle of plastic bottles as they take their fill of water echoes down the complex's halls once they disperse with exchanged ' i'll text you when i'm home ! ' (s) — half of which are to be forgotten if it weren't for the locations they had all shared via their phone's permission settings. save for one who lingers behind as miko steps into the may sun. he's tying his flannel around his hips haphazardly as the gel in his hair slowly lets loose, onyx strands popping up like frazzled daisies.
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feel the beat ( 2020 )
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