Aug 12, 2021
El perrhijo tiene frijolito #perrito #oldog #cold #chihuahua #sleepy https://www.instagram.com/p/CSdRVjHF0h-/?utm_medium=tumblr
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El perrhijo tiene frijolito #perrito #oldog #cold #chihuahua #sleepy https://www.instagram.com/p/CSdRVjHF0h-/?utm_medium=tumblr
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send an emoji for a starter; @oldog
jazz is playing from the café a few stories bellow, and the orange sun blends the colors in the small room so well one could barely notice blood tainting Illya’s fingertips. he grunts and shifts, trying to get as much of light as possible through the small crack between the heavy dusty curtains. the light bulb above their head is busted; in less than an hour, they’ll bet at mercy of darkness and the three half used candles on the crooked dresser nearby. a scarlet-coated bullet drops into a metal bowl of a questionable kind. while he works quick to sew the wound up with simple thread and a blunt needle, he takes time to think.
are they far enough from the threat? can this man — the one whose blood is trickling down his left wrist — be trusted? he considers his own task abandoned —— whether it’s the same on both sides, he doesn’t know. it appears this will be yet another sleepless night, no matter how much he needs it. with the back of his hand, he wipes away the lukewarm crimson off of his own temple; split skin, blooming in blue. it stings, but isn’t bad enough for immediate care. “ that should do for now. ” without much thought, he pours cheap vodka over merc’s stitches and backs away to clean his hands. “ you’ll live. ”
"It's a dog's life, I'll tell you that much."
meme tag
@oldog
“Hnghngh I’m an old man and I’ve had a tough life and now I’m gonna whine because someone younger than me had a complaint that doesn’t effect me directly and I think it’s dumb because I never learned empathy so I’m just gonna spout off something I think is helpful but I really know is just annoying.”
This is said entirely monotone, staring blankly ahead, very much giving the impression that this is a conversation they’ve had more than once.
"Hurry up, I ain't getting any younger."
meme tag
@oldog
“So, here’s the thing. It actually takes longer when you’re breathing down my neck.” Sass starts, and the thing with that is? They aren’t that easy to stop once they start. They just keep going on and on and on until they’ve made their point.
“Legit. That’s not some kind of joke, not some kind of exaggeration. Each and every time you badger me, it takes me longer. How much longer, you may be wondering. That is totally dependent on what you ask, and how many times you’ve bothered me about it. Seeing as this is the third time it’s going to take a lot longer now. Like, see you in a few months, happy birthday, oh, shit, you’re a whole year older now! Okay, well, maybe now I’m done, maybe not, maybe we’ll see next year.”
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“ people are rather interested in making your acquaintance. ”
@oldog
prompts for those with a reputation
❝——When you own two-thirds of the tea market in Europe, everyone wants to take part in your success.❞ His leaden eyes are chasing after the droplets of rain which paint ever-transient strokes across the tinted canvas of the window his graceful figure is perched against. The silvern smoke of the half-burnt cigarette cushioned between his fingers slips through the minute gap where the glass is rolled down, leaving behind a sweet perfume of spices and chocolate.
❝——You handled yourself quite well tonight.❞ The hand which stifles the glow of the tobacco’s remains against the ashtray reaches into the breast pocket of his bespoke jacket, only to reveal the engraved surface of his favoured cigarette case, the opened lid held between them in an unspoken offering; the warm glow of the passing street lights gets caught upon its gilded rims. ❝——Of course I won’t be requiring you to accompany me to every dull event; I imagine you would be more at ease in the background.❞ There is a fleeting hint of amusement tinging the edges of his observant gaze as it brushes across the other’s looming frame. Although one would have expected the man’s foreboding appearance to become the source of every other guest’s astonished curiosity, Victor’s predominant presence had prevailed in reclaiming the attention of the room. ❝——Consider this particular evening a necessary precaution on my part.❞
❛ never underestimate the capacity of other people to let you down. ❜
( * DEXTER PROMPTS !
“I’m good,” says Vernon. It’s dawn, and he’s unceremoniously decanting the contents of a hipflask into what’s left of a long-melted Slushie. The sky is yellow. His tongue is blue. Far away, a cop car pulls out of a gas station on the corner and Vernon watches it go, not particularly interested. He looks back to the Merc and offers him what’s left in the flask with a nudge.
They’re sat on the cracked asphalt curb outside a soulless strip-mall. There are exactly two cars in the lot and one of them is up on breeze blocks. Kennedy’s legs are crossed, and he sits back, belly hanging out of his open shirt. The Merc sits beside him, looking way too big to be comfortable.
“People are people, man. And that’s okay. That ain’t your problem. Never underestimate the capacity of other people to not let you down either, you feel me?”
❛ there’s six quarts of blood in the human body. this ain’t gonna be pretty. ❜
( * DEXTER PROMPTS !
“Yeah, no, yeah, no, I uh, that’s not gonna happen,” says Kennedy, with a decisive shake of his head. At a big, swanky house in nowhere, desert county, a lot of things have gone wrong tonight. Pacing, he takes the back off the uh, decedent’s phone, breaks it in half with only mild difficulty, and throws it and the battery into the dimly lit swimming pool with a series of low splashes. Already, he’s putting back on his pink suede jacket, fringes flailing as he shrugs it on.
The Merc? He’s prepared for this shit. He stinks of military and is wider than a Cadillac and armed to the teeth. Vernon has a yoga-instructor’s ponytail and is wearing white pants, and the handgun stuffed down the back of them is only for show. He’s never even killed a deer with his car before.
“See, I’d uh, I’d really love to stick around, man, but I gotta skedaddle. Gonna have to love you and leave you. I have a baccarat tournament in Reno tomorrow and only,” despite the whole thing being fabricated, he looks to his glinting gold Rolex, “seventeen and a half hours to learn how to play. Sayonara, amigo! Hasta luego. Mwah. I’ll call you. Let’s never talk about this ever again though, amirite? Promise I’ll take it to my grave. I’m a solid guy like that. Later alligator.”
In a beeline for the gate, digging his hands in his pockets for his keys, finding nothing, he backtracks. Literally takes a step or two backwards.
“Don’t s’pose you uh, know where my rental keys are at? C’mon, tiger. I really can’t be involved in this shit. Karmically speaking, I already owe back taxes.”