#ofpolaroids

[lunarlegacy-blog]

When day met night

After losing his pack in the brutal way that he did and being subjected to severe emotional trauma, Elijah never fully recovered, try as he may. He still struggled socially and in most other aspects of his life; the quiet made him lonely, and busy areas made him just as much so. It was a change that had taken place over a span of three years or so, setting in slowly, but he no longer acted with a pack mentality or drove himself crazy when trying to make his own decisions. He had adjusted, for the most part, to living alone and surviving on his own, and while it wasn’t his first or ideal choice for a life, he tried to stay positive, telling himself that ‘it could be worse.’ He’d heard many stories, and met many other wolves who were forced into solitary living due to various circumstances, and none of them had been as fortunate as himself in terms of financial stability. They’d been forced to live on the streets or join other packs, where they would be treated like an outsider and scorned, forever an omega. In general, he’d always thought other wolves to be some of the best company, but they would always revert to their feral roots when dealing with newcomers that they disapproved of. He never wanted to find himself wearing their shoes.

As he usually did, Elijah spent his day alone, doing some shopping in the book store, attending his appointments at the bank, and then, finally, going out for lunch. He’d been on the fence about cooking something at home, as he was a pretty great chef, or going out, but in the end, he’d chosen convenience over effort and found himself sitting on the outdoor patio of a small Hollywood café. He eventually decided that it was a good idea that he’d made the decision to eat out, because not long after his main course had arrived, he heard a commotion coming from inside the shop; a woman screaming, another person frantically dialing a number that he recognized to be ‘911’ from the tones that he was picking up, and another coughing. Choking, rather. It normally wasn’t like him to involve himself with other people, but the doctor in him was always easily persuaded to lend a hand in a medical emergency.

Pushing his seat back to allow himself to move from the table that he’d been seated at, the cloth napkin on his lap falling to the floor, Elijah strode swiftly on Italian leather shoes through the back doors of the café, heading over to where a small group had gathered around a young, blond male. One guy was behind him, trying to give him the Heimlich maneuver, but his fists were too far up on his chest to possibly do anything at all, aside from perhaps bruising his breastbone. “Move,” Elijah instructed, waving him urgently away with a gesture of his hand. “Excuse me, move,” he repeated, pushing his way in as soon as he saw the stranger stepping away. Leaning over the boy, whose skin was already beginning to turn pale and blue, he looped his toned arms around him, positioning his balled fists properly, just below his ribcage, but above his belly button, and exerting a few small, quick bursts of pressure to dislodge whatever had been trapped in his patient’s airway. Sure enough, he coughed it out and began gasping for the air that he’d been deprived of, the color returning to his face—not that there had been much color there to begin with. Looking at him now, he didn’t appear to be in the healthiest of conditions.

“Atta’ boy,” Elijah praised him, giving the male that sat in front of him a firm pat on the back and a squeeze on his shoulder before he squatted down next to him to get a better look at his face. Clearing the area of the crowd by waving his hand and instructing them to leave, thinking that he’d want some space and the courtesy of not being stared at, he then spoke to him. “Are you alright?” He asked, his English accent thick and very apparent in his voice now that he was speaking in full sentences.

“That was a close one. What were you doing? Trying to see if you could eat like a snake?” A faint grin began to show on his face. “They can get away with swallowing things whole, but you can’t, you know,” he teased him playfully as he glanced over at the large chunk of food that he’d coughed up. He wasn’t sure what type of guy he was, if he was the type to laugh when things got grim, but he was simply trying to lighten the mood and make things a little less scary. He’d learned that in medical school.

@ofpolaroids

[acidcorrodes]

dying roommate [ @ofpolaroids​ ]

Rainy days were so often seen as dark and depressing to many, but to Leo, it was calming. He liked listening to the rain pelt against the window and the rooftop, and it was peaceful to watch too. It was different here at the hospital though. His roommate was on the side with the window, and he was mindful to try to give him his privacy whenever the curtain was pulled. He hadn’t had a chance to get to know him very well yet, but he knew that his name was Dmitry and he looked pretty malnourished. Leo had been too when he’d been admitted. In class, he’d found himself extremely tired and weak and lacking concentration. His coughing fits had become worse and worse, and when he finally began coughing up blood, he knew that the cancer had returned. It didn’t come as shocking news for the doctors to confirm it. He’d had it when he was little, he’d had it when he was fifteen, and now he had it again at eighteen. It was more severe than it used to be, but they seemed pretty confident that they’d be able to treat it. While he hoped it was true, they’d clearly stated that the case was worse than last time and surgery would be performed if they didn’t see improvements in the radiation therapy.

After returning to his room to see that Dmitry wasn’t around, he made his way over to the window to lean against the sill, watching the rain pelt against the window before running down and collecting at the bottom. God, he was bored here. He loathed hospitals and the shit channels they had on the televisions. It was just an overall depressing place to be. Sure, it was a place to make people well again, but yet there was so much sickness and death, and some people didn’t make it out alive. The walls were all white, there were people who were sad because they didn’t get visitors and were all alone in their room without any cards or flowers, and then there were the crying visitors as well. It could be a pretty depressing place to be. Alas, he had to stay here until he was in stable enough condition to leave, and that would be a while after the likely upcoming surgery. Bringing his arm up to cough into his sleeve, Leo turned when he heard a voice behind him. It was Dmitry, his roommate. He’d been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even heard him enter the room, but his comment about how not noticing the time passing because of the rain had gotten his attention. Blue hues locked with the others, his hands in his pockets while he slowly stepped away from the window.

“I’ve never minded the rain. My mother taught me from a young age that storms and rain aren’t anything to be feared. She said, last night the rain spoke to me slowly, saying, what joy to come falling out of the brisk cloud, to be happy again in a new way on the earth. That’s what it said as it dropped, smelling of iron, and vanished like a dream of the ocean into the branches and the grass below.” A small grin curved at his lips then as he leaned up against the wall. “That’s what she quoted about rain, anyway. I dared her to try to make lightning sound as beautiful and harmless. We never got that far.” Holding out his hand for the other to take, he figured now would probably be a good time as any for the two to introduce themselves. “We haven’t properly met, have we? I’m Leo. And our first conversation has been about the weather.”

The ghost of a smile made a brief appearance on Dmitry’s face as he listened to his roommate speak about rain. They were somehow not the kind of words he was expecting to hear, but they were exactly the kind he needed to hear. He liked how poetic they were. In general, he felt the universe itself was a very poetic sort of place. Poetry was nice. It was art, and art was soul.

“I’m Dmitry,” he answered, shaking Leo’s hand. His hand was cold and small, and his grip was weak, but he had a friendly disposition about him. His voice was quiet, in the same way that he seemed to want to disappear when no one was talking to him directly (and even, sometimes, when they were). He had something of a Russian accent, but even that was slightly corrupted by how he spoke slower and quieter than usual, far too sedated to really be his full normal self- not that he’d have had the energy anyway. 

“Weather’s nice,” he commented as a joke, wheeling himself closer to the window so he could rest against it too and look out. He stared longingly at the distance, and at the height. His mind wandered momentarily, thinking of what it would be like to jump right through and fall to the ground. Would it hurt? Would it be quick? Self-defenestration, he thought to himself, thinking of the fancy term for it. Throwing oneself out of a window. It sounded more final than jumping off a bridge into the river below it- and failing.

“I like rain,” he whispered. “It’s a miracle, like... sunrises... and stars. Stars are my favorite, but there were no stars the other night. It was too cloudy, so I thought... if the stars are gone, then...” he trailed off and shrugged.

 “I’ll get back to you on the lightning thing when I can think straight,” he added, looking at Leo. “It’s the drugs they got me on,” he explained. “They’re supposed to help, somehow, but... I just feel like a zombie. I guess you can’t have anxiety if you’re a zombie. Maybe you can’t hurt if you can’t feel, but... I think they’re missing the point.”

This was the most Dmitry had talked to anyone since being there, or even, since he’d isolated himself prior to trying to end his life. He hadn’t even really talked to the doctors just yet- he didn’t want to. He liked being quiet. Talking brought up all the memories that hurt. It was much easier to avoid them. But Leo seemed nice, from what he’d observed in the moments he’d spent awake during the two days they’d been sharing a room. He didn’t mind talking to Leo.

He brushed some of his hair away from his face. It was long and dyed black, for the most part, but it was clear he’d stopped the upkeep recently because blond roots were starting to show. He was, otherwise, devoid of his usual punk-rock kind of appearance, and his tattoos (which were covered in long sleeves and pants) were the only other indication of his usually fairly obvious style of dress. 

He wheeled back to the bed so that he could grab his blanket again. He was getting cold already- but that was hardly unusual for him. He pulled his legs up on the wheelchair, closer to his body, and wrapped the blanket over himself, covering his frail body with it. 

“I think our moms would’ve gotten along if they met. Yours sounds very creative. Mine’s a baker, and she makes cakes that take people’s breath away,” he described. “She’s a little Russian lady, about my height. I... I’ll show you when I can stand up again. And she’s very kind and very loving. I miss her, I haven’t seen her in a while. I hope she doesn’t find out I’m here, though.”

[perletwo]

“The 40-by-80 camera saw its last major work after the 9/11 attacks on New York. A photographer named Joe McNally was commissioned by Time Inc. to make portraits of firemen, cops, and other first responders. Since then, the stock of 40-inch-wide film has run out, and the camera has gone dark, probably for good.”

- Christopher Bonanos, Instant: the Story of Polaroid                

[mortuarymacabre]

We’ve Got Company

The weather had been acting up all week, with brief periods of rain here and there, but in general, the skies had remained cloudy and the sun hadn’t shown its face all too much. It made for a rather gloomy atmosphere in the small town, even to Brielle, who some people assumed loved ‘spooky’ settings, simply due to the fact that her house was situated in a cemetery. On the contrary, she loved hot summer days, the scent of fresh flowers and the sound of birds chirping, and her home up on the hill was especially cozy during the warm months. In the winter and fall, it could get a little eerie, especially when the fog would roll in and the hooting of owls and cawing of crows could be heard, as it was like a scene straight out of a classic horror movie, but it was beautiful if one took the chance to look at it like she did.

As she’d suspected, rain began to come drizzling down once again during her trip into town, despite the fact that she’d tried to think ahead and go in early to pick up the groceries that she needed for dinner in an attempt to avoid getting wet. Her father was busy in the morgue, finishing an embalming for a funeral that they would be hosting the next day, and she’d wanted to surprise him with something fresh and homecooked. Of course, she wouldn’t eat it herself and she had no way of knowing anymore if what she made was genuinely tasty or not, but she still liked to putter around in the kitchen sometimes. With a frown, Brielle looked up at the sky just as she exited the town’s small grocery store, a droplet falling on her cheek and another on her eyelid. It wasn’t as though she especially hated rain, as she sometimes found it to be rather relaxing, but it wasn’t pleasant when her makeup was done up and it wasn’t waterproof. Making haste, the blonde tightened her hold around the paper bag in her hands and hurried down the sidewalk.

Passing the outside of the motel, Brielle’s steps came to a slow, her attention caught by the male that stood outside of the building. She’d initially slowed because she didn’t recognize him and she was wondering who he was, but a longer glance had her noticing the distress on his face. “You alright?” She asked after she heard him cursing to himself, her blue eyes, turned bright green due to the contact lenses that she was wearing, looking him up and down. The story that she’d gotten in return answered her question, and because she felt bad for him, she offered him a place to stay. “Uh.. Yeah, well, I’d be pissed if I were you too. That sounds pretty damn shitty. You can stay at my place if you want to though. I’ve got a couple of extra rooms.”

If she was being honest though, she mostly just wanted another person to make dinner for, as she felt that she was a pretty decent chef and she liked to show off sometimes. Besides, whenever she cooked, the fridge always had leftovers in it for days afterwards because her father was never able to eat it all.

“I live a few blocks down,” Brielle began to explain, wondering for a moment if she should tell him right away about the fact that her home was located behind the gates of a giant cemetery. Nope. “A few blocks down and then up the hill. I walked down, but we can take your car so that you don’t have to leave it on the street,” she suggested, tucking some of her blonde hair behind her ear before offering her hand to the stranger, a friendly smile on her face as she walked with him to his vehicle. “I’m Brielle, by the way. Brielle Bennett.” She shook his hand politely and then returned it to the rather heavy bag that was in her arms. After their introduction, she was giving him directions up to her mansion, an old building that sat atop a hill, overlooking the town and the vast area of cemetery ground that surrounded it. “Turn in the gate here,” she instructed him, gesturing to the graveyard entrance and nodding if he questioned her on it. She guessed that he would be a little skeptical, as most people were. “Just keep going straight and then turn left at the fork. My house is at the top of the hill there,” she added, pointing at the top of it as it was seen peeking through the bare trees.

Once there, Brielle had him park the car and then she led him up the front steps and into the home, the front door creaking as she pulled it open. Despite the outside looking slightly decrepit and worn-down, the inside was well-cared for, albeit the furniture was old. It had a Victorian-esque theme to it, and in general, the place was far more cozy than it was spooky. Most people were surprised to find that out, as they tended to judge the exterior first. “Welcome,” the blonde offered, slipping her wet jacket off and hanging it on the coat rack, her shoes following suit as she tucked them away on a small shelf. “I’ll show you to your room first, but are you hungry? I was going to cook something up for my dad and I, and I’d be more than happy to make a little extra if you wanted some,” she explained as she led him up a large wooden stairway and then down a hallway, gesturing to a bathroom on the way by. “Bathroom is there if you wanted to get a shower,” she commented, before stopping at the end of a hallway and opening up a door to a cozy bedroom.

@ofpolaroids

[outspcken-blog]

ofpolaroids replied to your post:ofpolaroids replied to your post:like this if i...

hi boo

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

[cosmicisms-archive-blog]

                                                  ◤ ofpolaroids.

     ' no. i don't have a mommy kink. or whatever that      shit is. that's gross. '  and she's lying !!!  older girls,      or should we say, women are more her type than       girls. though, she bends both ways !!!

[motoshock]

ofpolaroids

  ---- don't mind him. he wasn't very good at   parties like these. he had taken some drunk   guy's phone and was browsing the web with   it, sitting in some corner of the house. 

[evcrlasting-blog]

       "love is illogical," copper scoffed, shaking his head. "it means nothing to me. so stop trying to convince me otherwise."

[acidcorrodes]

dying roommate [ @ofpolaroids ]

“So you’re saying that, to save expenses, a person should just send someone off with a bad driver and hope they get into a crash and die?” Leo questioned, the corners of his lips soon curving up to form an extremely guilty grin. It was such a morbid conversation, but it was funny. He’d always had a thing for dark and twisted humor, though. Besides, Dmitry had an extremely valid point. People got into car accidents every day, and it didn’t require any money to shove someone into a car. It was just a game of chance, though the chances of not getting into a crash were probably higher. Alas, it was still a clever idea.

“And here I thought you were so sweet and kind. You’re clearly capable of murder,” Leo playfully accused him, his eyes narrowing at the other. “They always say the quiet ones are the most dangerous. Take Carrie, for example. Shy and quiet and teased all her life. And then bam, she slaughters the whole school and her own mother.” Okay, so it was a little far-fetched, but so were the chances of shoving a victim into a car and hoping they got into a wreck. “Maybe murder is a talent we all possess. The only reason some people are alive today is because the people who want to kill them know the consequences. If murder was legalized, imagine all the chaos that would ensue.”

“All I’m saying is that you’re more likely to die in a car accident than to die... say, by shark attack, and yet... people are more afraid of sharks than they are of getting into a car and driving,” he stated with a bit of a playful smile, as if though confirming that indeed, what he had meant to say was that it cheaper to hope someone would die because of a bad driver rather than to hire an assassin of some sort. “Also more common than shark attacks: vending machine deaths. There’s a reason they have those warnings not to shake them. You’d think people would listen,” he chuckled.

And then after being accused of being capable of murder, Dmitry crossed himself and held his hands in prayer position briefly while saying: “Oh, no, I’m a God-fearing man, and murder is a sin. Impossible,” but though he really wasn’t lying about that, he also said it in a tone that went right along with the playfulness of the accusation. In truth, he didn’t really know whether he was capable of murder or not. He hoped not; or, at least, not without reasonable cause. He didn’t like to think of himself as capable of evil, unlike his father, but really, who was he to know? It wasn’t like the opportunity had really presented itself just yet. He had sworn to himself, though, that if he ever came across his father again and the man dared try to hurt him once more, he’d give him a piece of his mind. “Poor Carrie, though. I get why she freaked out like that, I mean, seriously. I’d have freaked out too, getting bullied like that and then suddenly discovering I can move things with my mind, my mother thinking I’m the antichrist or some shit... I’d have freaked out just the same as she did, I think.”

Then he pondered Leo’s last comment about whether or not people didn’t kill for fear of the consequences. It was an interesting philosophical question, and there were many possible answers for it. Dmitry enjoyed thinking about that sort of thing, even if sometimes the subject could turn morbid. He didn’t mind morbidity. It was simply one way in which he found some relief at all from the darker thoughts that often plagued his mind.

“I think even if murder were legal, people wouldn’t be half as inclined to kill as you’d think. I mean... sometimes, that one person you hate is the only interesting part of the day, you know? Like, take Nurse Mary for example,” he said, referring to one of the nurses that came to check in on them often. “I don’t particularly like her, and it really pisses me off when she’s the one whose turn it is to come in here, but if it weren’t for her, I’d have no one to mess with by being passive aggressive and peacefully disobedient,” he explained. “Sometimes I wanna kill her, yeah, but then I think about it some more and I realize I’d be so fucking bored without her, you know? So as awful as she is, it’s alright. But then, I’m sure some people really do have intense desires to kill others and are only held back by the consequences, and those... those would probably not hesitate. I think everyone is capable of murder, given the right conditions, but it’s very rare for regular people to find themselves in such a situation, so most people go their entire lives without ending someone’s life.”

[acidcorrodes]

some guy [ @ofpolaroids ]

Leo was slightly startled by the voice coming from over his shoulder, the blond turning his head to look at the dark-haired male who’d stood behind him. He’d probably had a glimpse of what he’d been googling on his phone. It wasn’t for any real important reason that he was searching conspiracy theories. He merely thought them to be interesting, and while some had extremely logical and understandable points, some of them were outright hilarious and stupid. Still, it was interesting to see how people’s minds worked; how they twisted something that seemed very normal into becoming something much more mind blowing and worth contemplating.

“I guess they wouldn’t, would they?” Leo replied, closing the pages on his phone and returning it to his pocket. “There’s a theory that AIDS is a man-made disease. It’s thought to have been created as a tool of genocide or population control. Elvis is still alive, Beyonce is a clone, 9/11 was arranged by the owners of the buildings. I don’t think it’d be very wise to admit such dangerous, secretive information on the web. But maybe it’s all in the deep, deep web. The darkest you can find. The Mariana’s Web, accessible only through Quantum computers and Polymeric Falcighol Derivation.”

Slowly, Leo began to grin. Yeah, he didn’t believe that bullshit for a second. While he knew the deep web existed and had some extremely dark websites and marketing, there was no real proof about the Mariana’s Web seriously existing. Someone could have easily just slapped that term down for the deep web, referring to the deepest part of the ocean, the Mariana Trench. Whatever the truth was, it was still entertaining material to read up on, though he personally was hesitant to access the deeper parts of the web. It probably had a shit ton of viruses just waiting to latch onto his computer, and then there were snuff videos and a lot of other gross stuff he wasn’t interested in seeing. It was the theories that interested him, not the people who posted videos of mutilation and torture.

“And the Bermuda Triangle is real?” Zakhary suggested with a sly grin on his face. “You know, if I were someone with that kind of power over secretive information, that’s exactly what I’d do: hide it in plain sight. It doesn’t even matter if there’s a Wikipedia page about it or an article in the deep web, or both, or neither. What matters is that people think it’s fake, even if it’s real. Take, for example, aliens. Now, regardless of whether you believe aliens exist or not, think about it: if some guy on the street were to tell you right now that he was just abducted by aliens and returned to Earth, and that they probed him or some shit, would you believe him? I’m gonna guess... probably not. But then, how can you know it didn’t really happen? I’m absolutely sure at least a portion of the stories about aliens are fake, but who knows if any of them are real? Some say the government is a little too keen on keeping them on the down low, you know. So you see, aliens- and there’s gotta be a Wikipedia page about aliens, for sure- may or may not be real, and everyone has heard conspiracy stories about ‘em, so... why does no one believe it? Do the same with real threats and you got yourself a very clever way of hiding information,” he explained. 

[outspcken-blog]

ofpolaroids replied to your post:like this if i owe u im lost

like always

hey now :(

[outspcken-blog]

ofpolaroids replied to your photo: “when ur feelin urself hella !”:

this makes me happy

u make me happy

[outspcken-blog]

ofpolaroids replied to your post: “alright ive fixed my blog up….„, NOW like for a starter !”:

lol no one likes

dont... be fuckin............ RUDE

[outspcken-blog]

❝ ofpolaroids

     ’ you smell funny. like flowers and annoying regret.❞

[outspcken-blog]

dibs X 300000000000000000000000000000000 like dibs forever and ever and ever and ever even after i die dibs

yOU’RE SO CUTE

[outspcken-blog]

pcrhaps replied to your post:GIVE DANNY A SUGAR BABY PLS HE WAS RAISED IN THE...

whispers me

pamperedwaves replied to your post:GIVE DANNY A SUGAR BABY PLS HE WAS RAISED IN THE...

:))))))))))))

ofpolaroids replied to your post:GIVE DANNY A SUGAR BABY PLS HE WAS RAISED IN THE...

you know you love me.

i sincerely hope ur all ok with the fact he is about as straight as rock hudson