nightlock:

for beatrice - lemony snicket

(Source: bllanchedubois, via )

(Source: the-golden-fifties)

* sociopathiques.

                            To say the woman is in a bad mood would be a massive understatement. Her feet ache, her right wrist hurts anytime she moves it & the insufferable ding, ding, ding of the bell on the counter has finally managed to give her a migraine. Not to mention the fact she’s managed to get into yet another pointless fight with Donovan. Shoulders slump in some sort of defeated pose. Was the sun always this goddamn bright? She’s not sure, & to be completely honest, she doesn’t care. She just wishes the damn thing would stop shining in her eyes. A hand moves towards her face, pushing her large glasses upwards towards her hairline. Iris rubs her eyes, turning her back to the counter, in an attempt to make the sharp throbbing pain behind her eyes go away. The sound of tall heels clicking on the flooring & the shorter woman resists the urge to look over her shoulder, she’s just too tired to argue or engage in a round of friendly bickering with the other woman, so she doesn’t say a thing. She simply straightens her posture and resists the urge to let out an aggravated groan when she feels Liz’s prying gaze burning a hole in the back of her head. “You need something?” She tries for her usual irritated huff but it comes out more like a disappointed huff.

                        ^{WITHIN   THE   BLUE   PARROT   does   she   perch,   bustling   (   maybe   ––   once   upon   a   time   )   bar   as   dead   as   ever,   with   a   worn   paperback   clenched   in   a   feather   grip.   but   once   fingertips   that   reach   for   her   pack   come   up   empty,   novel,   glasses,   &   all   are   set   aside   as   she   moves   to   stride   away   from   the   lounge   &   down   the   carpeted   stairs   to   the   lobby  :  steps   grand   in   their   effortless   elongation.}

                       ^{SEEING   IRIS   AT   THE   front   desk   was   not   an   unusual   occurrence,   but   to   walk   up   to   such   a   potent   air   of   irritation   &   defeat   came   as   a   slight   shock.    brow   furrows,   riddled   with   age   &   curiosity,   as   she   stops   before   rounding   the   desk   to   retrieve   what   she   came   down   here   for.   with   palms   placed   haughtily   on   chiffon,   extended   hips,   she   waits   (   as   long   as   patience   will   allow   )   for   the   other   to   take   notice   of   her   presence.   &   upon   such   a   happening,   iris’s   exasperated   tone   aside,   liz   replies   with   an   inkling   of   nonchalance   &   a   whole   cache   of   interest.      ❝        ––   my   cigarettes.        ❞       answer   comes   easily.       ❝         but   it   looks   like   you   need   one   more   than   i   do.         ❞}

(via sociopathiques-deactivated20200)

* hismortem.

   ^{❛       IT IS BEAUTY  within the soul that lasts eternally. i can assure thou of it with no hesitation.       ❜}   

              ^{❝       WELL,   I   SUPPOSE   that’s   good   news.   when   i’m   six   feet   under   somewhere   a   few   years   from   now,   at   least   i’ll   know   my   soul   will   still   be   beautiful.      ❞}

(via hismortem-deactivated20170427)

You will always fall in love, and it will always be like having your throat cut.

Catherynne M. Valente

(Source: thelovejournals, via thelovejournals)

suollac:

*switches language to talk shit about you*

(Source: axsha, via alderaanheir)

* blondeslave.

_{❝ SUIT YOURSELF –––– humour me … what are you a fan of ? ❞}

        ^{❝      QUITE   FRANKLY  ?   ––   an   extra   dry   vodka   martini   with   olives.     ❞}

(via blondeslave)

(via timcurrry)

* clownzilla.

          _{wasn’t everyday blonde got the opportunity to haul up in such an ESTABLISHMENT ( the odd one in the narrows, perhaps, yet considering CHEAP furnishings and numerous ambiguous stains painting every surface possible, to grant them such a title as hotel was INSULTING ), let alone one so grand and o so far from home. little dorothy had certainly stumbled far from kansas ; a forty or so hour drive away, to assign some precision. when duty does call it screams till eardrums BLEED and skull hums.}

          _{doll walks the length of lobby, decked out suitcase barely clipping heels, as though bought and SOLD under her very name ( one of them, at the least ), all the while ROUGED grin gracing pallid features. a single blanched forearm is laid upon reception desk, painted nails tapping away ; if she weren’t to stop one may fear indentation would be left in their wake, and rightfully so. WOLF does whistle from pursed red tiers, cerulean gaze alight with PROVOCATION.   ❛ my, my, my ! what’s a lady like y’rself doin’ behind th’ desk ? ❜}

             ^{A   PRECARIOUS   BALANCING   ACT   is   in   play   behind   the   hotel   cortez’s   reception   desk.  the    bridge   of   liz   taylor’s   nose   acts   as   a   beam,   upon   which   reading   glasses   rest   at   the   flesh’s   edge,   centimeters   from   slipping    ––    while   aurelius’s   meditations’s   spine   perches   atop   the   inside   of   her   palm’s   protruding   knuckles,   thumb,   plastered   with   the   black   oval   of   a   faux   nail,   gripping   the   novel’s   pages   lightly.   such   a   routine   straightens   shoulders   with   decades   of   practice   weighing   on   a   chiffon - clad   spine,   &   attention   remains   focused   on   the   task   at   hand.}

             ^{IN   CONSEQUENCE,   ears   remain   blissfully   ignorant   of   the   guest   entering   &   parading   the   length   of   the   lobby   ;   until   said   guest   stands   before   her,   book   remains   sheltering   a   made - up   face.   slowly   does   the   literature   retreat   to   the   familiar   position   of   being   sprawled   out,   face -  down,   atop   the   wooden   desk,   &   eyes   of   hazel   drift,   ever   nonchalantly,   to   the   decorated   stranger.      ❝     ––    reading.     ❞        answer   remains   short   &   curt,   though   some   semblance   of   a   smile   manages   to   tweak   rosy   lips   upwards.        ❝         do   you   have   a   reservation  ?         ❞}

(via clownzilla-deactivated20170911)