#romanzato

random text meme ( accepting ) + @romanzato // christopher

"You look like an old man who’s had to handle a lot within his lifetime.” the words CUT, but she doesn’t mean to hold it with any form of malice; Chris is simply that type; someone who’s been in the game for too long, and seen far too many things. Is that good, or bad? You handle death so gently, don’t you, it comes, it goes, they broker in it, with cash in hand. It’s also why he’s brilliant too, he knows the stress and the pains that goes into this; he’s alive. Alive, despite the perils that this career of theirs poses, how he hasn’t lost; to a bullet, a knife, or his own weighted guilt. 

             That’s the one that takes the most victims.

Perhaps he isn’t the type for advice, but at least given where he is, he’s made it, hasn’t he. His being alive, regardless of the number of vices that he gambles within a beggar’s palms, is an accomplishment, blowing smoke from the cigarette that’s held within her palms, the flicker of her amber glare. “I JUST DON’T KNOW how you did it. Maybe it’s hopeful. But also, maybe you’ve lost a hell of a lot of yourself along the way. I guess it’s up to the person living it as to if that shit matters or not. I just know for me, that I want to be able to rest easy at night.” a laugh that brings, the pause that comes as she taps the ash out the end of her cigarette. A glance towards the leg he’s lost, wondering how much sanity that went with it.

random text meme ( accepting ) + @romanzato // kennedy

Kennedy sometimes reminds her of Cassie. Everyone knows a girl like that, the one that smiles all pretty and the boys fall over; who looks for love and finds that there’s power within her sexual awakening, like Kat, too, when she thinks about it... it’s a bad combo when it all mixes together, isn’t it, that need to be loved, that desire to control. It mixes like blood and honey, all viscous and terrible, TOO THICK to be proper. Pretty, pretty Kennedy, who’d twist her hips, and curl the corner of her lips, how it all says I need this, and in the end, she’s the one left nursing a broken heart and a terrible reputation, but Rue’s the first one to say it:

             People in high school fucking suck, so FUCK THEM, honestly.

They meet up after Rue’s Weird Summer in Rehab. A bench outside, and like, Jules is busy meeting up with some guy from Grindr again, so she’s hanging out after class, hanging out by the door anxiously kicking at the wall. Kennedy’s already out here, bag sprawled out over the side of it where, over the years, it’s met the end of many a blunted knife, digging names, dates, CURSE WORDS into splintering wood... “Hey.” that nervous flutter of a smile, an anxious crunch that issues within her stomach. Kennedy, with her hazy stare, the distracted drawl.

A leg crosses, leaning into a knee, palms pressed over her face, a cigarette burning within her bony fingers. “Why you hanging out here, anyways?” as if she had anything better to do herself, hanging out like some pervert or just someone who’s trying to do anything, anything, but go home. The comment catches her OFF GUARD, a bubble of laughter bursting before she can help herself. “Yeah???” a grin spreads out, wider, and maybe for the first time today since she’d had a conversation with Jules this morning about her going off, she finds herself able to relax, her brown eyes a shade warmer, relaxed. “Honestly, fucking same. Dunno... what the fuck is happening but...” 

                               She exhales ; a puff of smoke.

random text meme ( accepting ) + @romanzato // melrose

There’s no grim emotion left on her features; she stumbles, where she stands, with, something slick and bleeding raw from her shoulder, fingers pressed over where it burns, her flesh beneath having bubbled and blistered from when she wakes, it hurts the way he intended it, doesn’t it? Teeth grit, her breathing runs on ragged ends, and out Alice goes, from unknown spaces, through a door and out, out, out. Are you sleeping or awake? Alice can’t tell the difference, when everything is overridden by a pain that runs DEEPER than a flesh wound, a nail within her heart.

          He did that on purpose, didn’t he?

No point in crying, over monsters that only come to life after midnight, a heel slips, she almost falls, save the catch of her arms around a stranger. No. A stranger, but... something else lingers beneath her, she can taste it, there against the leather of her jacket, in the seems and stitches and emanating off her VERY BEING, this was more than a woman, and everything that one was meant to be. Alice in casted pastels, but of opposite ends, even as she bleeds black from the cut left behind on a mortal figure. “Trust me... You don’t want to know.”

The words come pained, peeled out from a reluctant tongue, she pauses, if only to look to what’s been carved into her; a rotated cross, burned right above her heart, it makes her flinch, she’s LOSING HERSELF too fast. “Witch. That’s what you are, aren’t you?” a foreign pull, blue eyes that focus in on the singular. This is meant to be, she thinks, palms clasping tight about the loose pull of her clothing. “Help me get rid of this. And I will shift your trauma, and eat it whole so that you might find peace as you move. But please...” 

                        She doesn’t want him staining her existence like this.

mister    walker    !        *    girl    looks    ecstatic,    putting    her    magazine    down    to    observe    rosie's    dilf    approach.    *        is    tha'    food    ?    i    could    eat    a    whole    damn    cow.        *    eyes    leave    the    adult    to    throw    a    quick    look    at    the    clock.    but    the    moment    doesn't    last    long    enough    to    be    suspicious.    instead,    she    reorients    her    bright    smile    toward    her    caretaker    of    the    day.        *    thanks    again    for    feedin'    me.    i    kinda    burned    down    my    kitchen    the    last    time    i    tried    doin'    that    myself.

𝙴𝚇𝚃.    𝙽𝙴𝙰𝚁    𝚃𝙷𝙴    𝙼𝙰𝙸𝙽    𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙴    --    𝙳𝙰𝚈

there's    a    story    she    remembers,    a    story    she    is    thinking    about    now,    hair    still    full    of    ashes,    ears    ringing    with    screams,    and    flowers,    flowers,    the    delicate    scent    of    them    ;    gone,    gone,    gone,    no    longer    masking    the    decay.    (they    all    left,    didn't    they    ?    friends    in    a    car    going    nowhere    &    smoke    in    her    mouth    :    prophet    of    darker    times)    but    then    a    hand    around    her    wrist,    one    on    her    shoulder.    the    more    she    moves    the    more    she    meets    them.    amiable,    smiling,    a    family    !!    

a    story,    we    were    saying,    about    a    king    ;    a    king    fell    in    love    with    a    girl,    and    the    girl    wore    a    ring    when    she    died,    so    he    stayed    in    love    with    the    corpse.    the    ring    was    removed,    of    course,    soon    to    be    thrown    into    the    lake,    but    the    king    fell    in    love    with    the    lake.    and    so    the    story    goes,    and    does    not    end,    until    the    king    &    the    ring    were    reunited    deep    under    water.    DANI    remembers    the    story    with    vivid    clarity.    but    they    got    it    wrong,    didn't    they    ?    love    does    not    drown.    it    burns.

DANI,    surprised    :    sigrún    !     she    fumbles    with    the    syllable,    unsure    of    the    proper    pronounciation.    blown    pupils    following    the    shadow    at    her    feet    to    the    girl    standing    at    the    door.    a    smile    ;    tulips    blossiming    on    pink    lips.    fair-skinned    maiden,    oh    so    hopeful    now    that    she    has    company. DANI    :    i'm    ...    trying    to    clean    my    hair.     embarrassement    is    fuzzy,    an    air    around    her    person    slowly    diffusing    :    the    more    she    thinks    about    it,    the    harder    it    is    to    focus    on    why    she    should    feel    bad    about    failing    at    such    a    simple    task.    every    thought    is    a    shard    of    light    she    cannot    hold    on    to.    but    she    is    not    meant    to    hold    herself    :    harga    will. DANI    :    it's    -    it's    not    working. a    look    down    at    the    clear    water    in    the    basin    she    is    hunched    over,    soap    in    her    hand,    scalp    raw    from    rubbing    too    hard.    she    wants    the    flowers    back    ;    the    perfume    of    spring    !!    her    hand    is    extended    to    the    girl,    soap    handed    with    an    apologetic    smile. DANI,    bashful    &    unsure    :    can    you    help    me    ?