#redheid

It felt like she had finally reached 𝙷ell.

Which is precisely why she's in such a good mood tonight. Full of optimism, confident in her own (tanned) skin, lips overly glossy. As her cherries wrap around her joint, there's a ring of sparkle left atop pink wrapping paper ── [CLEAR EVIDENCE TO SHOW SHE HAD ROLLED IT HERSELF.] She swiftly passes it over to Mark, tongue grazing against pearls to exhale smoke from underneath, ceruleans busy scanning the inside of her Juicy Couture handbag. Bare legs are held to her chest, sat upon a concrete ledge, french tips gnawing at her keys, makeup, compact mirror... [BEFORE SHE FINDS THE PRIZE.] Jennifer looks up at him, face immediately uplifted, a wide grin spreading across dollface.

A tiny ziplock bag is lifted. Hanging in front of his face. There's a white powdery substance inside.

@redheid: YOU ARE THE FUCKING BEST.

𝕳ead tilts, cheek leaning against the soft buttery top of her shoulder, an appreciative smile slipping onto skin. ❝ Big time. ❞ She takes a deep breath, and throws it into his lap, swinging skinny fingers to get a hold of the joint again. The truth is, these substances seem to prevent her mind from achieving any peace. For the succubus inside, the high is merely a distraction, something to numb everything: THE BEAST, (the remnants of humanity), ── it all becomes waste once she inhales.

❝ You take the first hit. Y'know, incase it's like, poison. ❞

"how long you think it's been up there?" — @redheid.

and they say there's no such thing as a stupid question. i mean, really ? maaaybe i should cut the guy some slack. i've heard worse from my students ( much, much worse ) but still.

❛ what, the sun ? oh, only four - point - six billion years. ❜ and the response is enthused with sarcasm, for ryland knows little more than to ladle his words with true intent, his real thoughts unmasked. he may be good with kids, but adults is another story. ❛ about as long as we've been down here —we, figurative, that is. earth. ❜ he gesticulates with his hand as he speaks, a ruminating scientist through and through. but his company isn't the only one with curiosity in his bones.

A PEEK INSIDE     :     jon's pockets

           " rents, man, y’know i love ye an’ all bu’ i ain’ sellin’ you  shit  till you spit out whatcha owe me. “    

                     end of the month things, idnnit?? he’s sitting there rolling a rollie out a fresh pouch, new box of filters, crisp white airforce on, canadian goose for the cold breeze, telling a junkie he needs the cash. nox is fighting with himself, though, believe that. the addict in him knows the panic when your dealer cuts you off, when you’ve no cash for the debt and even less for the next shot. the dealer in him knows if he comes back to the haus with a deficit because of him it’ll be  both  their asses on the line. he hands the rollie to renton, lights it for him anawl. 

      you’re feeling sound and hearing colours ; the night sky hosts stars that seem more like planets of their own, melting into black abyss with vibrant colour from window view.    scottish boy lay beside you in bedroom, darkened space with record playing in the background.    something fitting for the occasion :  ‘ i wanna be your dog ’ off of the stooges self titled album.  [ now we’re gonna be face-to-face and i’ll lay right down in my favourite place. ]   his words sound louder than they likely are , hitting your ears as if breaking the sound barriers.      tell me we’re dead and i’ll love you even more.      shifting ‘pon mattress, slavic boy observes him with a sense of amusement.  an amusement fuelled with intoxicated intentions.    

           ‶  we’re as dead as ever, rent.  practically six feet under, isn’t that something?   the world chewed us up and spat us out, the bastard.  ″    accent thick words follow with laughter that rocks you, as you slink closer ; nudging him playfully.    a boundary to cross and you were bound to cross it.    knuckle bruised hand reaches forward to grasp his face, pulling it flush to yours.  lips met his for a kiss that felt like an eternity but lasted mere moments; rolling over to lay upon back, reaching into pocket for pack of cigarettes.    slipping one between lips, gas-station lighter sparks to life, singeing the end of cigarette which soon follows an inhale. 

memories meme --- accepting!

mark  renton     sent  a  message  /  cry for help     ( @redheid​ )    —    ‘  but  i  don’t  want  to  go outside.  there  are   people   out  there.  ’