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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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       SHE  MUST  CUT  SUCH  A  striking figure  ;  carmine tresses tumble  ,  lengthy  &  luminescent  ,  sunlight dances tangoes upon bared ivory flesh of delineated shoulders  .  pearly incisiors  catch deathly hold upon a painted shape  ,  no traces of vermillion lipstick upon her teeth as she rolls a plump brim  ----- -  who knew that deadly nightshade would arise in a vineyard  ?  virescent hues have been fixed on his figure since they began  ,  &  credit must be given where it is due  ----- -  the girl is determined to get what she wants  .  (  she wants a lot more than a few crates of wine  ,  he must know it from the way plush shapes curl into that lascivious smile that has yet to die.  )  narrow hips lead the way she sidles up  ,  &  god  ,  this feels so familiar.  ‘  abel, cheri  !  it’s been ages  ,  darling  .  do you still make that wonderful pinot noir that i love  ?  ’  (  the hand that rises to rest his shoulder is entirely unnecessary  .  )               
☾ ⋆ . ・ * ¨ ‘ * → @convndrums !
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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         me @ myself .. finish ur damn bios ! but hey like this for a closed starter while i work on drafts !
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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☾ * →  bcrren.
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june was the worst. just, unarguably… the WORST. her head was throbbing, her eyes felt sunken, and her shoes were god knew where. the latter a fact she wouldn’t have minded if she hadn’t woken up somewhere w r o n g. one peek behind her aching eyelids had betrayed immediately that the couch she’d managed to crash on was not in fact, her own. and really, she THOUGHT she’d gone home. june knew she had at least tried to.
so where the fuck was she now ?
adjusting was a glacial process; the too-new sights and sounds all attacking her poor, hungover brain at once. from the flats she finally spotted beneath a cracked WINDOW of all places, to the smell of stale coffee in the air – all of it was foreign. it was only movement at the far end of the room that finally urged her to sit up and take a better look.
“ um, ” she groaned, making unfortunate eye contact with what must be the place’s rightful inhabitant. “ this isn’t my flat ? ”
and her words were unhelpful at best – not even managing to come out a statement. if she were home, devon would have taken PITY on her sleeping form. instead, she was the worst, and she was here. and there were no painkillers waiting by her shoes.
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            it  feels  oddly  typical  .   he’s questionably used to brief appearances by strange women  .  the couch that his roommate owns  (   leather  .  painfully expensive  . smells like jack daniels  &  marlboro lights .   )  is usually inhabited by some kind of anomalous  ,  half - clothed figure , lipstick smudged  &  hasty in their individual retreats but this is not one of zane’s one - night conquests , the kind of girls that make no eye contact as they slide  , sheepish  &  silent in their exit  .  this is not what what he’s prepared for  .
                                         ❛    nice  POWERS  OF  OBSERVATION  there .   ❜
           clipped syllables are flanked with equally minute laughs that are not weighed with usual humour that drips  ,  like honey  ,  from bitten brims  ;  instead  ,  nimble fingers set themselves to familiar work  ,  hues focused anywhere but her obviously - hungover frame  .   (   his conscience sprints at a million miles per hour whilst he works  ;  did she get here via fire escape  ?  the fucking fire escape  .  he’s got to remind zane to get that fixed up  .  who is she  ?  why is she here  ?  why isn’t she leaving  ?   if he thinks SHE cuts a queer figure within a living room he knows too well  ,  how does he appear to her  ?  he’s shirtless  ,  for god’s sake  ,  swathes of inked skin bare  ,  unkempt tresses knotted into some hap - hazard knar atop a bent head  .  jesus christ  ,  he must’ve drank fucking furniture polish last night  ,  because this is just too bizarre  .   )
                                        ❛    do you  ,  uh  ... do you want a cuppa ? it looks                                                             like y’might need it.   ❜
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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                  SILENCE  .  HE  ENJOYS  THE  HUSH  that has fallen over this particular dump  ,  like some kind of v e l v e t e e n curtain that drapes its heaviest form across the establishment  , soaking up burbling resonations  &  buttery sunlight alike  .  there is solace in shadows that prance into inky corners  ;  they provoke SOME KIND OF MANGLED half - smile to  dissipate unto countenance that looks as if it may crack with the lightest of pressure  ,  the simplest of silvery chuckles  .  vivid pigments are nearly swallowed in their entirety by violet shapes underneath  ,  &  god knows he needs caffeine pumping through weary veins .  is it possible for one to look so tired  ,  so weary  ,  so utterly disgusted  &  bored with his surroundings  ?  apparently so  .  disparaging guise does not bother to shift into something marginally more pleasant  ,  even when the other’s own form contorts into chairs that seem infinitely too small  .  all he can bring himself to do is nod  ,  a weary transposition of weight  .  
                      ❛   you’ve done well  ,  once again  .  your ability to continually choose M I S E R A B L E cafes wherein they burn their macchiatos is truly astonishing  ,  glenn .   ❜
♡ CLOSED STARTER FOR @bcrren ! ♡
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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THE PRODIGAL SON  .  we have never discussed it  ,  but i know  .  there is a black sheep in every dysfunctional family  ,  and i suppose i might as well be  .  hedonism has never looked so good as when it wears ray bans  ,  as when hundred - dollar bills play their true role when one is hunched over a mirror  .  they say that narcissus fell into the river staring at himself  ,  and i get that now  .  why ignore something so beautiful ??
                              INTRODUCING  ZANE                               JONATHAN  DARLING !
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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A CALL FROM YOUR MOTHER  .  when was the last time you cut your hair  ?  are you coming home for christmas this year  ?  calloused fingertips  ,  calloused tongue try to avoid ripping shrewd tones to pieces and they always say you have wonderful self - restraint  .  (  i get it from my mother .  )  the phone continues to ring  ,  but you’ve learned to ignore it  ,  to choke on it the way you choke on cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey and the lump that builds in your throat when you begin to reminisce  .
                          INTRODUCING  SCOUT                             JAMES  VONNEGUT  !
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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ROSE - COLOURED BLUSH  ,  rose - coloured girl  ;  winter knits and the smallest of smiles and fleeting contact of periwinkle hues feels like being kissed for the first time again  .  silvery melodies ring from salmon - hued brims and she has galaxies under her fingertips  ,  she has stars in her mind  .  constellation freckles and an inability to conceal homebound tones and a gentle stutter  ,  how could she ever be anything but angelic  ?
                           INTRODUCING  JACINTA                                  ULRIKE  TVEIT  !
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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I’m always looking for a chance to play somebody who’s completely opposite of me, just because I find it more interesting. (x)
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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Ow, Those really do sting.
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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POWER SUITS AND MISSED CALLS  .  heels make such a melodic clatter across rosewood floors  ;  courtroom , office , it all sounds the same to her  .  it sounds like POWER , smells like the resonating fear when her name is uttered , like a chant , like an euology  .  pearly whites grit whilst the phone rings , when will the cacophany of losing battles stop learn to leave a message at the tone ?
                          INTRODUCING  FLEUR                               LUX  LOVEGROVE !
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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CHANEL NO . 5     ----- -----    your signature scent , is it not , my dearest  ??  does your name not belong in bathroom stalls and city lights alike , spelled out in luminous neon and muted moans into hotel pillows  ?  the hint of an impish smirk , the way you curl carmine petals round your p’s and your q’s , you live for the adoration found buried in the way they carelessly compliment you  .  sweet smile , sweet laugh , sweet girl but the devil plays to win too , you know .
                          INTRODUCING  BRIGITTE  ARIADNE                                CALANTHE  DESROSIERS !
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rosebleds-blog · 7 years
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ACT ONE  .  THERE IS   caution in darkened hues , there is the chiffon skeleton of humour in dimpled smiles that bear not to grace marble - carved countenance in fear of cracking that fair façade  !  he speaks in accents , in clipped vocals that rumble like thunder of an approaching storm  ;  syllables are rare and wonderfully precise , he is an enigma in four acts . 
                          INTRODUCING  ARTHUR  ‘ ART ’                             MIKAEL  O’IONNRACHTAIGH !
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