𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐏 𝐇𝐈𝐌.

ind. priv. sel. peach salinger.

[beckaleash]

pertlips‌.

“  𝐢’𝐦  𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭  𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝  𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡  𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥  𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝  𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬,  𝐡𝐮𝐡. ” she  lacks  a  certain  seriousness which  would  otherwise  make  her  arrogance  disagreeable.  but  she  doesn’t  care,  really,  about  most  things  she  says,  and  it  somehow  adds  to  her  charm.  just  as  before,  she  stretches  back  across  peach’s  bed  like  some  glorious  feline,  tilting  her  head  as  she  twiddles  her  thumbs,  eyes  aimlessly  following  peach  around  her  bedroom.  she  is  just  about  to  get  out  her  mobile  to  flick  through  instagram  when  peach  drops  her  robe,  and  zelda’s  phone  grows  slack  between  her  fingers,  dropping  against  the  silk  sheets  under  her.  she  lifts  her  chin  slightly,  the  tip  of  her  tongue  touching  the  roof  of  her  mouth  as  her  eyes  trace  down  peach’s  spine  to  the  line  of  her  thong,  then  lower.  

she  thinks  peach  has  nice  legs,  and  a  nicer  ass.  a  sort  of  yearning  coils  tightly  around  zelda’s  body,  and  she  adjusts  her  hips  where  she  lies  with  barely  concealed  enthusiasm.  restless.  she’s  about  as  sexually  strung  as  a  dog  on  heat.  colour  rises  to  her  cheeks.  but  it  feels  wrong  to  stare,  so  she  pushes  one  hand  through  her  fair  locks  and  goes  back  to  scrolling  on  her  instagram  feed,  flicking  away  the  messages  asking  if  she  is  out  tonight.  a  few  booty  calls  she’s  suddenly  considering.  when  peach  is  dressed,  zelda  lifts  her  head  again  and  flashes  the  other  woman  one  of  her  smoother  smiles.  large,  bright.  her  cheeks  dimple,  her  eyes  gleam.  she  gives  her  new  friend  a  once  over,  then  slips  from  the  bed  to  do  as  she’s  been  asked.  “  this  is  nice.  your  dress.  you  look  hot.  ”  but  peach  already  knows  that.  “  you  should  let  me  take  you  some  place  more  fun  sometime.  ”  none  of  peach’s  usual  places  where  a  beer  costs  an  arm  and  a  leg.

her  steps  are  quiet  as  she  comes  up  behind  peach,  one  hand  reaching  for  her  hip  whilst  the  other  hand  seeks  out  the  zipper.  it’s  the  smallest  zipper  she’s  ever  seen  on  a  dress,  but  she  dips  the  tip  of  her  forefinger  just  beneath  the  material  of  peach’s  dress  and  pinches  the  metal  tongue.  her  fingers  grip  peach  just  a  little  tighter  to  steady  her  as  she  pulls  the  zip  to  the  top,  aware  of  how  close  she  is  to  peach,  the  backs  of  her  knuckles  lightly  skimming  peach’s  soft  skin.  then  she  steps  away,  her  hands  sinking  into  her  pockets.  “  right,  we  going? ”  she  moves  to  collect  her  leather  jacket  from  the  end  of  peach’s  bed,  slipping  into  it.  “  we  should  go  before  i  ask  if  you  wanna  hook  up.  it’s  not  gay  if  you  don’t  touch  me  back.  ”

sometimes zelda talks and you don’t know what to make of it.  because it’s like she doesn’t have a filter  ---  and when she has something on her mind,  it comes right out without consequence.  (you can’t imagine that.  not really.  you keep your nails short because they look cleaner.  she keeps her short for a completely different,  less innocent reason.  but you say you don’t think about that.  you keep everything clean.  cut straight.  perfect.  zelda comes in and sprawls out against your bed.  and leaves beer bottles all over the place.  and you’re pretty sure she’s a fucking cat that malts or something,  because you keep finding blonde hair all over the place,  and you don’t think it’s beck’s.)

you make your life by tearing other people down  ---  you think it’s a skill you’ve learnt from your mother,  and there’s a part of you that isn’t exactly surprised that your parents’ marriage crumbled and left you in disarray.  (that’s why you throw parties.  you need the distraction.)  so the word average and mediocre come to mind,  but you keep your lips pursed and focus on the way the dress cinches your waist as she zips it up.  (mostly because you know it’s not true.  and partly because you can feel the tips of her fingers brushing against your skin and you need someone to zip you up.  that’s what you say.)

            “i know.”   you know.    “this is why you give me time to get ready.”     because you’re hot.  it makes the world go round  ---  pores to die for and not a single blemish on your face.  (that’s just luck.  and skincare.  and genetics.  but the point still stands,  and you run a hand through your hair until it drifts over the side of your shoulder,  and you turn back to her.)

                  “where we’re going is fun.”   it’s fun,  because there are thirty other girls at the bar who don’t look as good in a black dress as you do.  you kind of like the ego boost.  annika will get the first round in  --  you think it’s because she’s trying to win your favour,  but you won’t question it until she’s bent over a toilet,  trying to stop the room from spinning.

        “shut up,  zelda.  let’s go.”    she mentions hooking up and you tense.  hard.  but instead of dwelling on it,  you reach for your purse from the side table and grab your phone.

[heathcliffdarchive]

hello all, i’ve moved joe to his own blog here.

[beckaleash]

you are one of the most impressive/incredible writers i have written with. not only does the voice of peach come through perfectly in your writing, just joking about her ooc with you is a great time. so, touché bitch.

[beckaleash]

“It’s getting crowded. Here, hold my hand.”

meme.

you stare, but you’re pretty sure it comes off as more of a glare, and that would also be right; first of all, you’re not a five-year-old. you don’t need to hold someone’s hand the moment things start to get a little hairy. you’ve lived in new york for… how long now? you’d think people would know you can take care of yourself. (and you can take care of yourself. you do. you get up when you need to, and go for a run before your day starts  –  runner’s high. get the endorphins flowing. you eat only the most organic of foods because you know it’s so much better for you than whatever quick crap you can find in the corner of a coffee shop, and you go to work. easy. simple. your life is mapped out from day, one and this is the first pin along the first tile.)

           “you know i’m not holding your hand, right?”    it’s not a gesture you look for. it’s not a thought you want her to be having – especially not when there’s still a sliver of light, even in the shadows, that could cast down against their hands. it’s a resounding no – sorry, zelda. (you think about it. only briefly. you think about it, because you think her hand’s soft, and because you’re like six drinks deep and you’ve already exhausted yourself trying to spot beck in this crowd. but you push that down.)

            “just keep walking. i need a drink.”

[roy-kentt]

[beckaleash]

[kiyokonetwork]

[heathcliffdarchive]

            𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭  —  the  picture,   the  tags,   the  unsubtle  beg  for  followers  with  my  overly - brightened,   too - zoomed - in  promo,   but  i’m  not  like  the  other  blogs.  you  want  passion.  i  get  that.  but  mostly?  mostly,  you  want  to  be  taken  care  of.   so  what  can  i  do  to  show  you  i’m  not  a  maybe?  —   𝐢'𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

[beckaleash]

/ anon / aCTUAL peach salinger , who hired you

shay mitcheII did to make it even gayer

[beckaleash]

Ur alright I suppose

ur not ur shit

[beckaleash]

BITCH.............you are so talented no homo ur writing always just captivates me and inspires me

no? homo?

[beckaleash]

We haven’t been mutuals for long but I don’t regret the follow back one biT. You’re sweet amazing and cute, and maybe someday we can start writing, no? Hopefully because your skills are a blessing

.

[beckaleash]

ron:  [joe’s] a sicko. i feel it in my gut.

[beckaleash]

amazing peach, amazing and awesome person to talk to, absolutely lovely and great

[itsalec-hi]

ANONYMOUSLY TELL ME YOUR HONEST OPINION ABOUT ME. I CAN’T REPLY, JUST PUBLISH.

[beckaleash]

halechief·.

@beckaleash

             there’s a hint of the familiar about her, something which reeks of darling socialite  —  a part to be rehearsed and played to perfection. a smile which hides much more than it reveals. it isn’t that she was watching for it, far from it  ;  there was no shortage of women & girls here that carried the same glow of their various gilded prisons   —  it’s that this one reminds her of herself, once upon a time. a girl just beginning to understand the full scope of her power. of the perception she cultivates and the ways she can use it.        ❛    was it peach ?    ❜     of course it was.         ❛    your mother’s told me so much about you.   ❜

you hate these things, but you’re prepared for them. your hand slowly rakes through your hair as you wait, and watch, and you take a sip of the water that was handed to you by someone whose name you barely remember. but these kinds of things are all about image. and you have the image -- the salingers, although divorced, are still a force to be reckoned with, and not a name to clash with among billionaires.

                “peach, yes. hi. you must be claire.”     your mother has few people she’d class as friends -- acquaintances, yes. friends, well that’s a little more complicated when you’re worth more than half of new york city in itself and have a last name like salinger propping up your entire lifestyle.

      “all good, i hope. not that my mother would have anything bad to say about anyone.”

she would. she does. the quips are light-hearted, passed off as jokes, but they’re still quips, and they’re still there. but you’ve learned how to ignore them, for the most part, or face them only with a smile and the digging of nails into your palms.

[beckaleash]

“ you always know how to make me smile. ” /from a beck blog that doesn't exist yet ..... *yet*.

meme.

of course you do. you know how she takes her coffee, even if you avoid the stuff yourself. you know how she likes her hair played with when they get too fucked to go anywhere except the couch. you know how she needs you, even when she doesn’t. that’s what you do. you’re there for her. you’re always there for her. even if she doesn’t know it.

(you’re always going to be there for her, because you want to take care of her. you want to love her the way she needs, and you want to run your fingers through her hair and show her just how much you care. because you do. you always have. so when she comes to you, as heartbroken as a lost writer can be, you just sit her down and remind her of how fucking badass she is. and she smiles. because she is. and you tuck a strand of blonde behind her ear and cup her cheeks. you are amazing, becks. now, it’s time to show the world what kind of badass my best friend is. you feed her what she needs to hear – stroke her ego, pet her hair, and you dry the tears off her cheeks with the pad of your thumb.)

      you nudge her, and you smile, because you know it’ll coax another one from her.

         “that’s what best friends are for. so stop moping… you’re amazing, becks. the sooner you see what the rest of us sees, the better. okay?”