raininapapercup
ʷʰᶤᵗᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ
Elwood James Armand.
American Novelist & Poet
19 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
magellan-88
plot bunny distribution center
baifengxis
when i found you again, all the colours came back;
jaem10182
Promoción-Arte
cowboysimp
Shamelessly In Love With Cole cassidy
dongparazzi
❝過労死。
Text
Send “💋” to kiss my muse out of nowhere.
15K notes
·
View notes
Photo
Armie Hammer as Ord in Ben Wheatley’s Free Fire.
239 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Armie Hammer in Final Portrait (2017), dir. Stanley Tucci
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Maybe I Know | Drabble
The dusky twilight stretched over California, beyond the tall houses, dipping far beyond what was visible to the naked eye.
Elwood sat in the wooden chair adjacent to the large window with a cigarette in one hand, and a pencil in his other. The exterior of the writing utensil had seen far better moments. Now it was half gone, and in its memory, scribblings on paper that laid crumpled around Elwood’s feet. There were also signs of a bad habit beginning to form in it: bite marks laid indented in the yellow paint that coated what was left of it.
The pencil had been in his hand all day, working actively one hour, and completely stagnant the next.
Today had in fact faded into yesterday, without the usual regret or sorrow that went along with it. In fact, the brunette hadn’t paid the passing of time any notice, not since he lodged a pencil between his fingers and put a pad onto his knee. He wrote with the passion of a aspiring poet, and stopped with the frustration of one who tried too desperately to revive a spirit in himself which did not exist. A mixture of this produced a perfectly conflicted Elwood, but, reflecting on what he had been days before this, it could be, and was, considered an vast improvement.
Elwood had a paragraph of dedicated scribbles on his notepad now. They were jottings and reflections about a life that had been his own, but felt too unfamiliar, too much like a different version of himself had lived it, that he had allowed himself to give it to another. The familiar wave of alcoholism was the tide in which the story rode, but it, in all it was currently, had formed into a story he could not relate to. This forty year old was no more like Elwood than the dog that laid by his side. This drunken, foolish and boorish asshole who drank himself into comas could not compare to him, no—but he could, and did, and to an extent, a large one, this man was Elwood.
Elwood was lodged in between a rock and a hard place—between remembering and the unfamiliar shades of emotions he did not connect with his own drunken spree—so he couldn’t write on anymore. The last sentence of the paragraph read, ‘The sun filtered through the darkened liquid in his tumbler, highlighting a particular morning craving before his eyes had begun to even flicker open to see it.’ Had he himself had this particular craving? Of course, but it was more than a morning craving; it extended to the afternoon, to the minutes before lunch, or any other moment in which he did not already have what he desired with him. Mornings were rough, but so was the afternoon, the bit before bed...and he couldn’t even remember bed half of the time.
He’d sold his first typewriter for a glass of whiskey, just one, because he needed it so badly. This man couldn’t say the same, because he had nothing to lose before he chanced it. Elwood wanted to give his character nothing because he had sympathy for this fictional man; to give him something would to be giving him everything. Elwood knew the power of having that, and the consequence of not holding it gently enough. He could not let another being experience that, even if it was one created by himself.
Elwood looked out the window, his blue orbs focusing on the scenery darkened by the shadows of the early morning. It engulfed him momentarily, the shades of black, purple, blue--they took him in, washed themselves over him, and made him feel little. The world gave him existential crisis, so he wrote, but now that gave him that, too. He couldn’t shake the inevitable so he sunk into it, deep, deep, deeper.
“ Elwood , “ came a honeyed voice from the corridor. The tap of her heels echoed loudly in the quiet flat, and he prepared himself for her presence. At least, he thought, it’d gotten him out of something he hadn’t wanted to think about anyways. Then again though, she’d trap him against the wall, ask him for an object, an affection he did not want to promise her, but that’d he’d undoubtedly would. The click of those Pucci pumps he’d bought her when she knew him when were tied inexorably to lies.
“ Darling , “ he spoke, getting up, straitening his pajamas. Elwood grabbed his notepad, and stuffed it under a magazine by the record player. He turned his back to the doorway, and fiddled with the records, creating a pretense for her. His digits picked out one, and he rubbed his thumb alongside the edge of it, before placing it in the middle of the player. Elwood turned up the volume and flicked the switch. “ I’m glad you’re up, I was just thinking about playing some music but didn’t want to disturb your sleep. “
“ Yes, well, “ she spoke, her voice closer. He turned around to view her. She was the pink lingerie from last night, covered by a transparent black slip. He hoped she wasn’t going outside in that, even if it was dark, because the man next door had grown increasingly spiritual since the India rage of 1968, and he didn’t think he could bare another rambling from the 20-something-year old.
You keep saying you got something for me
She swayed over to him, tantalizingly. He was addicted to her, in a non-committal way, a way only he could be addicted in.
Something you call love but confess
“ You got up early today, Elwood. “ She fixed his pajama robe, flattening her palms against the silky material. He, out of habit, put his hands on her hips, and welcomed her touch despite that he wanted to be left to his own devices this morning.
You've been a'messin' where you shouldn't 've been a'messin' and now someone else is getting all your best
She leaned in and kissed him on the lips and he reacted, foolishly. He pushed her into himself, and kissed her with a vigor he’d lacked the night before, and the night before that, because he felt poorly about what he’d done. He’d proposed to her, hadn’t he? How many years ago was it now...? Too many. He didn’t remember it, but she had said, and because he could not offer much recollection of the last few years, it didn’t seem too far pitched. He probably had believed himself in love with her, damn idiot.
Well, these boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
Elwood gathered some strength. He retracted and placed a hand on her torso, distancing her from himself. “ We’ve got to talk, Eve. “
She raised an eyebrow. He swallowed his fear, his pride, his...whatever what was so tied to her that he’d been unable to let her go for this many years.
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you
“ I’m not going to marry you, Elwood, if that’s what troubles you. I know it is, of course, you’re a man, “ she huffed at him. There it was, what he liked so much about Eve, what drew him in. She was stable, certain. “ I didn’t take you seriously in ‘64, and I don’t much now, and that’s what keeps us both afloat, Ellie. “
Eve leaned in and kissed him once more. She ran a cold hand under his shirt, and he was tempted to do what it was she was inaudibly asking of him. But she retracted as he had, looking at him mischievously. “ ‘Sides, “ she lifted her fingers to him to show off a ring he hadn’t noticed before, “ life continues even if you don’t. “
You keep lyin' when you oughta be truthin'
You keep losing when you oughta not bet
0 notes
Photo
Armie Hammer in Final Portrait (2017), dir. Stanley Tucci
#✕ ჻ ◣ ᵃ ʷᵒᶰᵈᵉʳ ◥ -- elwood#// okay but this is like 1963 elio which is my favoire#*favorite#// bc he's not a wreck he's just relishing in what he's got and he's at a creative peak#// like imagine the critics saying things like 'the fitzgerald of his generation' his lowkey teacher heart would soon#// so much pressure but it'd be lovely for him when he's got nothing else#*swoon
857 notes
·
View notes
Note
“No, please! You’re not well!”
✧ – accepting.
‷ what are you– ‴ he trips haphazardly over his own words, smiling, as if he isn’t. clammy hands delve into the fabric of his slacks, & he turns his back to the drinks. he will not think about having one, not even if they’re there to celebrate his latest novel; elwood will not cave to desire because he knows just how dangerous his is. ‷ i’m perfectly fine. perfectly fine, ‴ he nods, giving that sure grin once more, but is he? his fingers ache, his lips twitch, he thinks---and oh god, how that gets him into trouble. ‷ i just need some air maybe---will you come out with me? we can share a cigarette. ‴
0 notes
Text
"black swan" starter prompts
“Sweet girl.”
“Did you suck his cock?”
“The only person standing in your way is you.”
“I just want to be perfect.”
“I felt it.”
“What did you do?”
“You put something in my drink.”
“You just took off in the morning.”
“You fantasized about me!”
“Did you have some sort of wet dream about me?”
“You slept over.”
“You could be brilliant… but you’re a coward.”
“Stop being so fucking weak!”
“Perfection is not about control.”
“I never see you lose yourself. Ever!”
“I’m so sorry to hear you’re leaving.”
“What did you do to change his mind?”
“You fucking whore!”
“What happened to my sweet girl?”
“He picked me!”
“We all know the story.”
“It’s okay. I’m here.”
“My show is tonight.”
“You’re staying in here until you feel better.”
“Your role is destroying you.”
“We dance in the same company.”
“That was me seducing you.”
“It needs to be the other way around.”
“I don’t want there to be any boundaries between us.”
“You’re not a virgin, are you?”
“So, you’ve got a boyfriend?”
“Honestly, would you fuck that girl?”
“You’re in a good mood.”
“It’s my turn!”
“No, please! You’re not well!”
“Let go of me!”
“You can’t handle this!”
“You were amazing.”
“Holy shit, you blew me away!”
“I know that things got all messed up between us.”
“She walked into the street and got hit by a car. And you know what? I’m almost sure she did it on purpose.”
“I got a little homework assignment for you.”
“Go home and touch yourself.”
“Live a little.”
“This is your moment.”
“I don’t think we’ve ever officially met.”
“I would be losing my mind.”
“Are you freaking out?”
“You must be so excited.”
“Get out my room!”
“Must’ve been pretty humiliating.”
“Rough start, huh?”
“I’m not sure you’re up to it.”
“My little princess.”
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“What else have you been doing?”
“Oh, you wanna know their names?”
“I fucked them both.”
“You’ve been drinking.”
“Has he tried anything with you?”
“He has a reputation.”
“I just don’t want you to make the same mistake I did.”
“I hope he’s not taking advantage.”
“I have a right to be concerned.”
“It’s just in case.”
“No, please believe me!”
“She’s trying to replace me!”
“Nobody’s after you.”
“I’m not perfect. I’m nothing.”
“You make the most of it!”
“Have you announced it?”
“I really don’t want to talk about that.”
“I can’t believe he calls her that. It’s so gross.”
“I think it’s sweet.”
“Go ahead, jump!”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Sex. Do you enjoy it?”
“Everything will be better in the morning. It always is.”
“We sucked.”
“Wish I could’ve been there.”
“Sounds like quite an evening.”
“Give me a second.”
“I came to apologize.”
“I have my ways.”
“How do you know where I live?”
“What about drinks?”
“Sweetie, you need to rest.”
“How about I take you out to dinner?”
“Look, I just feel really shitty about what I did and I just really want to make it up to you.”
“It’s called privacy.”
“I’m not twelve anymore!”
“What are you going to do? Run home to mommy?”
“It’s a fucking disaster.”
“What’s she doing here?”
“Perfect. I was perfect.”
12K notes
·
View notes
Photo
The Nice Guys (2016) Dir. Shane Black
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
starter call–specify if you want early 60s, mid-60s, late-60s, or 70s elwood!
2 notes
·
View notes
Photo
nothing special just extremely beautiful oliver
#✕ ჻ ◣ ᵃ ʷᵒᶰᵈᵉʳ ◥ elwood#// this look for late 60s el when he’s figuring his life out again#// he looks a bit conflicted & worn out#// ive got so much to say abt late 60s elwood & he’s endless drabbles that made it no farther than the table in which he wrote them#// ‘black’ would’ve been composed of a lot of the bits he’d written previously#// and that also would be a hard time for him���in ‘72 when he wrote it—bc he’d have to remember that misery#// he’d write it in france bc he couldnt stand to be in the us when he wrote it bc it’d feel TOO real and too much#// i love ocs god bless ocs
4K notes
·
View notes
Conversation
friend: how many AU's you want
me: Just fuck me up
53K notes
·
View notes
Text
starter call--specify if you want early 60s, mid-60s, late-60s, or 70s elwood!
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
& headcannon ;
being referred to as elio or jimmy always sweeps elwood back into the familiar waves of adolescents, because, as he began to grow, fewer and fewer people called him by these names. in his last years of college, these nicknames were reserved merely for his sister margo, who’d always lovingly refer to him as ‘little elio’ whenever he saw her, & his parents. elsie called him jimmy, to lessen the confusion--because of his father’s identical name & her father’s own name being elwood-- and his father called him ‘elio.’ elwood’s father believed that they made a mistake in naming him elwood, &, had he been there, he told elwood, he would’ve made sure that they named him elliot james. for this reason, elwood started using the name ‘elio james’ as a pen-name in the seventies, instead of his real name, elwood armand; it was his simple way of honoring his father.
#✕ ჻ ◣ ʷʳᶤᵗᵉʳˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵈᵈᵉˢᵗ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ◥ -- about/musing#// alright i'm already making it sad#// someone stop me
0 notes
Text
rp sentence starters - 5 w’s
WHO?
“ Who are you? “
“ Who are you really? “
“ Who was that? “
“ Who’s there? “
“ Who am I? “
“ Who cares? “
“ Who knows? “
WHAT?
“ What’s going on? “
“ What are you? “
“ What just happened? “
“ What do we do now? “
“ What are you doing here? “
“ What do you know about me? “
“ What do you know about them? “
“ What the hell? “
“ What happened to you? “
“ What happened to us? “
WHEN?
“ When did this happen? “
“ When did you get that bruise? “
“ When did all of this start? “
“ When are you going to start telling the truth? “
“ When did you first start lying to me? “
“ When can I see you again? “
“ When’s dinner? “
“ When are we gonna get there? “
WHERE?
“ Where am I? “
“ Where are we? “
“ Where are we going? “
“ Where are you going? “
“ Where have you been all this time? “
“ Where have I been? Uh… See… I can explain… “
“ Where were you when I needed you? “
WHY?
“ Why did you do that? “
“ Why are we doing this again? “
“ Why are you doing this? “
“ Why did you hit me? “
“ Why did you kill them? “
“ Why do you hate me? “
“ Why do you love me? “
“ Why don’t we ever talk anymore? “
“ Why do I love you? “
“ Why did you do something so stupid? “
“ Why are you up so late? “
12K notes
·
View notes
Audio
Cry to Me/Solomon Burke
835 notes
·
View notes
Photo
ｗｏｒｄｓ ａｒｅ ｆｌｏｗｉｎｇ
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
tag drop: 2
#❤｡ » ᵍᶤᵐᵐᵉ « ( wanted plots )#❤｡ » ᶜᵒᶰᶜᵉᵈᵉᵈ « ( self promo )#❤｡ » ᶠᶤᶰᶤˢʰᵉᵈ « ( finished asks )#❤｡ » ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵒᵇˢᵉˢˢᶤᶰᵍ « ( ooc )#✦ *ﾟ「 ᵈᵃᵖᵖᵉʳ ᵇᵒʸ 」‣ ( 50s )#✦ *ﾟ「 ᵗʰᵉ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ ᵃˡᵇᵘᵐ 」‣ ( 60s )#✦ *ﾟ「 ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵗᶰᶤᵏ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶰᵉᵛᵉʳ ʷᵃˢ 」‣ ( 70s )#✦ *ﾟ「 ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡᶤᵏᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᶤᶰᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ」‣ ( 80s-onwards )
0 notes