⠀

[travelling for work isn’t an activity most would deem enjoyable,  but preston has had optimism jolting through his veins ever since he came a screaming mess into this world.  the train is his favorite form of transport because of the views they storm by:  the blossoming farmhouses amid the meadow flowers,  marriages of rainbow hues congregating with green landscapes,  and fields of long grass kissing up to the lakes.  car journey’s were more urban than this rural experience.  and provided less of an opportunity to interact with interesting characters.]  1408.  i’ve read carrie,  too—  really good.  the movies are a bit off though.  [book,  with several hundred white pages,  is slid back into his satchel and zipped up tight for a later read.]  i could read that shit in a day,  for sure.  i’d probably get a nasty migraine from it,  but still.  [smile grows almost unnoticeably at her offer,  which is taken in a matter of seconds as he acts in swift movement to get comfortable in the free seat beside her.]  you ever punch these seats before?  i did once.  the amount of dust and shit that came floating out of it was fucking gross.

@trckrd ⠀ ⠀ ✿              [the story is a circle. she keeps meeting weirdos. the city’s perpetual overcast aligns perfectly with gigi saltzman’s overwhelming loneliness. home, all—american suburbia, had been painful, but it was brim—full of things. every corner of the tree—rendered town held some memory: good or bad, always something.]     what is it? pet cemetery? christine?     [earbuds discarded, latched on for their lives around the curves of her pinkish ears, does she find sudden interest. some trash track from the two—thousands blasts from them.]     —  my sister,      [susie. one of four, can you fucking believe?]     read carrie in like, a day.   you wanna keep me entertained too?     [legs cross. she’s not chipper exactly, but a grin plays on her nearly—done chapstick nonetheless. hand approaches to pat the seat, now made available, next to hers to dust off all its exhaustive particles. perfect for seating. ish.] 

[a once approachable-looking guy burdens the paling complexion of a worry and curiosity at the penny drop:  eyes bestow upon a sad girl,  her sad face and her sad..  aura.  as embarrassing as it was to leave her attire go unacknowledged,  preston had never been much of an observant guy anyhow.]  i can talk a fucking lot if you want me to.  i’m good at holding conversations or whatever.  [a pause for an awkward clearing of the throat.]  ..if not then i’m good at shutting up.  i,  uh—  [lithe fingers scramble to unzip the satchel strapped across his chest and pull out the stephen king book he had packed for the journey,  half-way read.]  i brought a book.  to keep me entertained.  i’m basically the ideal seat partner.

@phantxmz ⠀ ⠀ ✿              ‘m hearing a lot of yapping and not enough flipping, danny. 

my mom is a 9th degree black belt of course i know how to do a backflip . if you just wanted to see me look handsome and heroic you didn’t have to disguise your intentions :]
            
            * ; LOL

*   i love Roleplaying. i love serious extremely literate roleplaying

@phantxmz ⠀ ⠀ ✿              um, base notes of neroli, sandalwood and vanilla don’t kill you. having poor taste probably does though.     [gigi saltzman’s room exists in a world completely of its own. wherein plastic jesus’ are scattered around mindlessly and all that is worshipped is a box of hand—me—down shoes for the upcoming summer. two sneakers, both more worn than the other, and nude, dressy sandals. donggyu sticks out amongst the faded, blushed light of the room in his blacks. she’s flopped next to him and peaked her head downwards to catch a glimpse of him.]     nu—uh. you’ve been way too disinterested to even pretend to be not impartial. 

pheromones ?? nah , i think the thirteenth test sprays of perfume killed that for me . [ after a dramatic groan danny fell back onto the bed he was sitting on . staring at a ceiling fan that also somehow managed to be girlified. ] who says i’m impartial anyway ? princess molly or whoever the f–k brand might be paying me off . 

@phantxmz ⠀ ⠀ ✿              SHH! this is helping everyone. i’m getting a third, impartial party’s opinion for my summer wardrobe and you—   i dunno. breathing in pheromones, probably?  

well  ..  aren't you gonna tell me where you got it  ?  *  giving the other an expression that seemed a little fake sweet  .  crossing her arms over her small chest  .  *   don't gatekeep  ,  its not cute  .

@he4rtlust ⠀ ⠀ ✿              thanks.     [it’s a hand-me-down. one of many. with half a popsicle melted on the bold—colored writing, making it near unintelligible.]     sounds like a total line  —     [one final lick at the now nearly dried out stick of the one dollar popsicle before it’s thrown on the nearest sidewalk.]     but thanks. 

@diregen ⠀ ⠀ ✿              [the poor tablecloth provides little to no help from shielding gigi’s pink body from the cold metal of the table. she’s rid of it for just a second after getting up before being assaulted by the quiet echo of the laboratory’s chill.]     what, you don’t like having me around or something? bethy does. /oh/,   bethy loves having me around. she thinks i’m a pretty, pretty human girl with even prettier hair. 

[a beat, putting down the tool in her hand and sighed,] all done. [change of subject, as usual. nonchalant.] tell your mom that she’s sending you here for nothing. you’ve been perfectly fine over the last few months.

@diregen ⠀ ⠀ ✿              you look at me the same way mom does. it’s creepy. 

because you’ve been quiet, and snappier than usual. [a pause, looking over their situation subtly. she knows gigi doesn’t like problems to be pointed out, but they made a promise to be better rather than just say a lousy ‘sorry’ to move forward from.  she huffs, completely forgetting about the movie and reaches for her girlfriend,] do you want me to shut up and kiss you? because i can do that.

@shewntsrevenge ⠀ ⠀ ✿              ‘m not.     [oh, but she is. has been since the movie’s been on the past hour. though the one motor skill she has developed enough in engaging with the dire situation is a maladroit pout and the arrhythmic beating of her bruised—up foot. gigi feels emi’s eyes on her. like she always does.]     why would i be, anyway? 

*     ooohhh babbyyyy

*; silly

/ plth 

@beemyvalentino ⠀ ⠀ ✿              i’m not leaving.     [arms cross. the knuckles of limp limbs reveal a consistent pink hue daring to culminate in searing bleeding. again.]     and i don’t talk to guys who like socks too much. they’re always nice   — but weird. and smelly.     [in clear reference to the pile overflowing from the wrecked basket that had long before presumed the shape of a suitcase. a hand-me-down from millie, now on its way to return to dust.]     seriously. what’s your deal?

[ in this town, he had witnessed countless strange occurrences, but she stood out as the most unexpected case yet. balancing the box effortlessly with one hand, he hoisted the suitcase before turning his attention towards her. ]   let's get your stuff to a safer place, the rest will be taken care of somehow.

@beemyvalentino ⠀ ⠀ ✿              —   no.     [her mosquito-bitten, sun-kissed arms hug both legs in sat position, one still bleeding and the other just barely scraped. she’s the sun in the solar system of trinket and tchotchkes, wherein polaroids of half–naked, drunken schoolmates and tennis skirts of a nearly impressive range of colors orbit around her and her alone. blonde and painted reddish pink with incoming tears.]     ann says that they’re total shams. and ‘m not a total sham. ‘m like, all real.     [she doesn’t move and looks at him with brown eyes on the edge of quivering out another jerked tear.]     —  what’s your deal?