Feeling cuuteee and sceeneee:3 plez dont hate:3

❰❰ HEAD KISS ❱❱ sender kisses receiver on the forehead - @backbitches

random prompts in the inbox ( always accepting ) + @backbitches // madison ( ft @sunxsin )

LA is still a kind place for rue. even if it holds all the same OLD TEMPTATIONS that she never really could resist. love doesn't really change that for her, it's just another high on a series of, and maybe it's no good that she'll happily buy coke to do in the bathroom, despite the kitsch little sign at the people who stare when she comes out. it's like everybody knows, or perhaps it's like, because she's finally just out there with the whole relationship with ling and because of it, so comes the media circus. plus, doesn't everybody want to know what's happening with that movie they filmed and how like, nobody has any new news on it?

enter : madison montgomery.

"So glad to be done with filming, I missed you bitch."

the zombie apocalypse meme ( accepting ) + @sunxsin // dRuGs ft @backbitches // madison

The phone buzzes, the screen alight on the floor where she’s dropped it an hour ago. How many messages has she sent now? Left unanswered, Rue left alone with her thoughts, ALONE IN THE ETHER with nobody there to remind her that alone wasn’t the end. But she loses that somewhere, the thread of reality that she ought to be grasping to, because she’s been thinking this all along, hasn’t she? What would Rue do when eventually she found herself disappointed, at the wrong end of obsession, her chest hallowed out with nothing but hurt and spiralling thoughts with which to occupy it, she’s never been any good at being sober, and she hasn’t even been that, lately. Nothing really fills that particular void, and how it scratched open wounds until they were bloodied and raw, and could do nothing but choke on all that red and emotion and clogged each breath, until there was nothing left.

It’s one pill and then another. One for every fucking missed response, or text asking where he was, because Rue doesn’t know and she doesn’t want those horror-scaled flashbacks to moments where someone else did this to her, and all she ever got in response was a text about how they were FALLING IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE, and she had to fucking grin and bare it like the joke that she was. Rue’s the punchline, punched out, and she doesn’t know how to weather misery any other way, does she? Palms lifting at the mattress to the baggie she keeps, handed over willingly by Kate, by Marcus, by even that doctor and the psychiatrist, it’s all good so long as they don’t know about each other, and the supply’s always flowing, placing coloured warnings along her tongue to swallow, dry, because she’s frustrated enough, tears all welled and wiped away in her own annoyance.

                 “ how have you survived all this time on your own? “

There’s a shutter that traces hot down the center of her spine from where she’s laid out against the floor, an oppressive force pushing into her limbs until she’s collapsed whole against it. Who cares, she almost responds out loud. All these things, these beautiful halfway maybes, they’re just... temporary reminders that she’s not really meant to be here long. A dry throat, an everything that fades, in and out, the high that is fucking rollercoaster fucked, she peered at scattered yellow bottles to the one, unopened, that feels as if it’s FUCKING TALKING TO HER. Well. That’s the irony, isn’t it. She hasn’t survived on her own, it’s all been everyone else giving her support until she’d wanted to get better, but, not every day is a day where she wants to be better. Some days she wants to scrape her knees and fucking ruin herself, feeling something smear wet down her face, tracing last night’s glitter and mascara down her face, nails scratching there at the floor.

                                I have not survived. I have only ever been halfway here, waiting.

The phone lights up again, again, Rue occasionally prodding it as she felt the swoon within her chest, her breathing drawing, rattling cold and empty within her chest, fuck. She didn’t mean to do THIS MUCH, but she’s fucking here now, isn’t she, forgetting what it means to step off a cliff and fall into fucking nothingness until it’s all that she was, her head falling forwards as a name blinks to life on the screen, shaking Rue out of her reverie just long enough to read it.

MADISON : RUE

A sniff, and fucking hell, she’s crying, isn’t she? She’s gone and fucked up again, another mistake to cake on top of the rest, and for a moment, she considers it. Letting it go and letting go, which would be like. Kind of nice... right? A SEDUCTIVE CONCEPT for a girl like her, who never thought she’d make it here, this long, this high before. The uneven thump of a heartbeat in her chest begins to ache, Rue’s fumbling fingers pulling at the screen, her fingers messing up the words ( but when was her texting ever comprehendible anyways? ) but fumbling the pass, pressing send as her head thunked heavy to the floor again, concentrating on the feeling that comes with it. In, out. In, out.