𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕. @rosebernat - Tumblr Blog

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rosario ‘rose’ bernat ( 27, priscilla quintana fc ) is a phoenix native, who returned six months ago after five years in la. ‘ church: temple of fun. ‘, her casual fine dining vegan restaurant opens in november. NOTABLE BURN SCARS INCLUDE: contracture scars on her back / chest, upper arm. discolouration on the right side of her neck/shoulder/face (no texture change). hypertrophic scar on hip.

bio. tw: neglect, car accident, fire.

wc’s. (under construction)

stcllagarcia·:

“that’s a shame,” stella laughed, “some might say that’s what i do best. it’s kind of my job, really - “ she held her hand out anyways, a smile on her face, “i’m stella. i promsie not to give you any unwarranted advice, though i do love listening to people’s problems and trying to fix them, if you need to let it out.”

making a job of it is one thing, but extending a hand outside of paid labour is another. rose accepts the physical hand, introducing herself as, “ isobel, “ but denies the rest. “ i won’t lie, “ ( she just did ), “ i think the only thing worse than letting it out is being the listener in this equation... “ “ you must be pretty perfect, then. if you’re paid to fix everyone else. “ you know by her tone that it isn’t a flirt, it’s simply a conclusion. albeit, a naive one.

#𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔.*#stcllagarcia

spencerwyatt·:

“Do I look like I would drink this?” Wyatt questioned, arching a brow in the direction of the drink slid in front of him. “Why don’t you just go on over and dump it on ‘em?”

a lesson from mamá; “ if it gets physical, then i’ve not used my brain. besides. i don’t feel like getting kicked out during happy hour. do you feel like getting kicked out during happy hour? “ rose quirks a brow, wondering what the hell to do with this blue-coloured monster now. “ maybe the leggy blonde wants it, “ nod is directed to the woman across the bar. she’s been making eyes at the man. has he noticed?

#𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔.*#spencerwyatt

taliakavas·:

“I love it when the creeps get loose with their wallet,” Talia smirked, grabbing the glass with no hesitation and taking a long sip. She made sure her eyes stayed locked on the man in question while she did so and casually shrugged before turning her attention back to the brunette before her.

“Get me enough of these and I might have a better message to send him,” she dragged out, her gaze falling to the stranger’s lips. Truth was, Talia had been drinking for a while now and while her friend had decided to turn in early, she simply could not bring herself to go home yet. Maybe she wouldn’t be heading back to the apartment all alone after all, which seemed comforting enough to keep her sipping on the woman’s drink.

rose witnesses the power move; a brunette maintains eye contact with the man, crushing his efforts effortlessly. brows quirk up, expression reads impressed--- and she is. it works, of course. the dedicated man resigns to the exit, defeat on his shoulders. laughter tumbles its way out. rose could be kinder. but she doesn’t have to be. said message reaches rose first. the lowered gaze is clear signal, and rose’s lips, balmed brown, sit in a smirk. “ if i decide to kiss you, it’ll be all about you, “ glass raises, “ not him, “ and she sips her red wine. confidence has always been easy for rose. so has delivering on it. “ i’m stevie, “ a lie. i’ll tell you about it later. “ you are? “

#perfection !! MWAH #taliakavas

stcllagarcia·:

💄 💋

“who am i to turn down a free drink,” stella grinned, accepting the drink gladly - she would cut herself off after this one, she decided, the room a pleasant buzz from the liquor she’d been sipping at throughout the evening. “gracias. can i offer you something in return?”

the room grows warmer. its the patrons who stick and stay rather than filter through, or it’s just the wine leaving her mark. rose won’t take off her coat, of course. “ claro, beautiful. as long as it’s not 𝒂𝒅𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒆. “

#𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔.*#stcllagarcia

do you have any imaginary friends? did you have some when you were younger?

" am i a freak, and have i been all my life? nope. "

#LMAO #rose ... ur embarrasing us #𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅.*

norareed·:

“don’t.” nora warns, at the call of her name. she doesn’t like how it sounds on the woman’s lips; demanding a familiarity she had long since lost the rights to. rose had always been ambitious. “you don’t get to just–” the brunette startles at the sudden interruption, cut-off before she can begin. perhaps it’s for the best, nora wasn’t known for her compelling argumentative structure. instead, she’s met with a wave of embarrassment: a feeling familiar and potent enough to distract from her outrage entirely. “i–” i’m so sorry, she starts to say. rose has different intentions, evidently. nora finds the woman’s features again, blue gaze wide with offence. the sheer humiliation could’ve struck nora down dead where she stood. “rose!” she chides sharply, finally daring to speak her name aloud. she wonders if it’ll sting rose the same way it stings her. probably not. “i’m so sorry,” nora finally manages to get out: attention directed back towards the librarian whose face is overly familiar. oh god, she’ll never live this down. “i was just leaving.” she announces, promptly. daring to give rose one last hard look, before making a more convincing exit.

it seems all rose can do right is dig this grave deeper. nora, waving from the greener grass; still without meeting her gaze, obviously. strangely, betrayal swoops in, strikes around the eyes where brows are drawn. despite the crimes of her own, rose hadn’t expected her old friend to side with a stranger. it leaves her speechless, for a moment. nora leaves in this opportune time, slipping past the momentarily dumbfounded. there’s nothing to say to the librarian so she receives cold nothing from rose. in the fresh air there’s plenty of real estate for nora to make a run for it. no aisles to trap, enclosed wrist out of grasp, and frankly? there’s something sour on this tongue anyway. rose gives up in the sense of hands on hips, stationary. but doesn’t give up completely. “ enough running away, “ rich. “... what is your 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒎? “

#𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔.*#norareed #LMAO #they need a private island #forced 2 work it out

norareed·:

there’s barely three feet between them, but the woman still doesn’t look real – not that nora is able to steal more than the briefest of glances. she cringes away from the eye contact as if staring into the sun: the intensity therein burns her just the same. nora disagrees with her, vehemently. if rose were supposed to be here, she wouldn’t have left. the brunette would’ve argued the point further, if she had been capable of it. but rose speaks in such absolutes, nora’s attempts die in her throat. maybe she was meant to be here, just not with nora. she lives here? oh, the girl could be sick. the casual lacquer on rose’s tongue feels like a slap in the face – worse, even. “why would you start now?” nora replied, her own tone a stark contrast of dramatics. soaked in betrayal, and louder than she had ever dared to speak in a library, before.

whoever thinks reading someone is a skill, not a detriment, hasn’t stared an upset nora reed in the face. rose does. well. tries to. eyes that prefer the ground than rose’s own. teeth end up grinding, and iris’ are darker in this pained section of the library. of course, it remains beneath the surface, unlike the sea whose waves do all the talking. rose is still. stoic. “ nora, “ began in a way which doesn’t bleed sympathy. fuel to the fire, if it were not cut off by a presence requested by 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆, but not them. ‘ 𝘌𝘹𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦. ‘ a librarian isn’t met with hard eyes because rose, unbudging, does not turn her head. she’s still looking at nora. “ we’re talking, here. give us a minute. “ ‘ 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯... ‘ poor woman reeks of good intention and gentle nature. but the collected rosario has a little too much anger pent-up. patience has been prodded. it leaks in her tone, irked now and finally facing her. “ yet here we are. “

#𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔.*#every day x my muses bring shame to this family #im embarrassed this is embarrasing #norareed

randall-park

GEMMA CHAN AS ASTRID LEONG Crazy Rich Asians (2018)

#𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔.*#gottem x

norareed·:

she’s not dreaming, the hand is too cold. nora’s breath hitches in her throat, mingling with audible indignation – a quiet protest. she spins to face the woman, her soft features pulling to sharp angles. nora’s gaze jumps around: landing for the longest on her wrist, and the hand that holds it there. she doesn’t pull away, instead waiting for rose to release her. just like old times. re-meeting green eyes proves no easier a task upon second attempt. nora lingers there a little longer this time, enkindled with brief defiance. “fre–?!” she starts, cutting herself off and lowering her tone to a whisper before starting again. “‘freak out’ on you?” nora repeats the woman’s words back to her, hoping their absurdity sinks in.

“i- i can’t…” think, she can’t think. “you’re not supposed to be here.” the writer speaks with sudden certainty. not anymore rose isn’t, at least. and definitely not in nora’s library (she’ll claim it as her own) of all places. it doesn’t make sense. she considers making another break for it, but senses rose is planning on blocking the exists. “…why are you here?” nora sounds like she wishes the woman weren’t. her eyes are on the floor again.

𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒅𝒍𝒚... rose could have handled this a-- uh... little better. are we talking about the reunion or the absence? both she’s fumbled with. yet the former happens now; erosion in real time. it could be rectified. it could be. “ i... am supposed to be here, “ rose argues, without the raise of voice, nor a seep of anything raw. it works in ways and hinders in the rest. for example, she appears collected, as certain and bold as a statue. then, it reads as a woman who doesn’t care. so what have you got to say of the hands stuffing in jean pockets? its the part of her that hides, while chin rises to the occasion. “ it’s my home, too. i live here now. “ again, she means. i live here again. “ should i have asked for your permission? “ there's a first for everything, they say. but this is snide.

#𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔.*#norareed

𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓. @phxstarters

“ some douche bag keeps buying me drinks. this message you’re gonna help me send is way overdue. “ rose slides the drink to them, careful not to spill more than condensation. “ from him, to me, to you. de nada. “

#phxstart #HELLO ! assume connections BUT she's been back in town for 6 months (5 yrs in la)#she's also ... not a great friend x has VERY FEW & no close ones x #normal people: turns down the drink x rose: lets make him Pay for it

norareed·:

a pile of books teeters dangerously in nora’s hands: steadily growing despite her promises of no more. and don’t worry, she’ll have them all read and returned by next week. nora wouldn’t dare overdraw her library card (think of the horror). she studies the spines like an artist in a gallery, daring to risk her wrists with the weight of just one more book. hand outstretched, she pauses to startle: a sudden squeak disrupting the silence and drawing her gaze. blue eyes meet green. nora blinks. once, then twice. she feels suddenly as if she might be sick. she abandons not one, but all of her books: shoving them clumsily and uncharacteristically back onto shelves they didn’t fit. she’ll feel bad about that, later. for now, all nora can do is scramble: out, away, not this. god, anything but this. but rose is quicker. before the brunette can find her good sense (or an exit, for that matter), the woman appears in front of her: five years between them and no goodbyes. she calls her by a name that belongs to another lifetime. another girl. “– oh,” is all she musters. legs lock in place, blinking dumbly another once or twice. “i’m sorry.” nora’s voice makes its reappearance: formal and strange. what does she apologise for? who knows, call it habit. perhaps it’s for what she’s about to do: turn tail and run. and she does exactly that. well, maybe not run – it’s a library, after all, and she’s nora. but it’s certainly a brisk walk.

the one who shouldn’t be sorry, is. as for rose? i 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 tell you what she feels. but isn’t it just manipulation when there’s nothing done about it? she assumes too much out of this. taking what she wants is a practiced art; these days she’s the maestro. overfed and malnourished. such as now. when nora's trying flight; free and beautiful, rose is a falcon’s tragic anklet. just as diligent. and as cruel. what i’m telling you is her arm reaches out, latching around nora’s wrist. “ ---- wait, hey, nora, “ it can’t be stern. that’s an intonation too far. it’s predecessor is called demanding. and that is as she sounds. some sprinkle of a plead, too, but you know which is louder. ( both are too much for this library ) rose lets go once they’re adjacent. green exact brown. up close she sees it: astonishingly, cheeks are pinker than remembered. lips as full. in a way, five years has settled her into her looks, although she’s always been pretty. when nora tries her left, rose tries her right. it isn’t right to trap someone in, is it? “ don’t---- 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒐𝒖𝒕 on me. i just want to talk. “

#𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔.*#norareed

𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓. @norareed

rosario is no easily distracted woman. recipe books are piled; they are not splayed. honed attention dissects the library book one at a time--- though, of each, there are many . i know you urge to chide how sharing is caring. so before you do, consider how haunted the cooking isles are. rose is, perhaps, the lone woman in phoenix to refuse google for kitchen aid. --- no, she doesn’t want to hear about rebecca’s rustic shepard’s pie that keeps the kids happy! featuring the half hour of scrolling past vain anecdotes before that subpar formula. maybe she’s a pessimist... at best, a dedicated one. the one she flips through now? obscenely littered with pictures. is she a child? with a huff, rosario’s grabbed it from the spine, the groan of her chair's dismissal demands eyes. gliding towards the aisle from which it came for the sheer insult of it. what was that about distractions? the woman she can no longer call her best friend presents like a ghost, unassumed and unseen by the rest. a moment of hestiation before rose is trespassing on shaky ground. surging down the aisle. moth to a flame. what do you say in the face of betrayal? for rose, it’s: “ ...ora? “ she can tell you anything about all the other things she does. but don’t ask her about this. she who examples instant regret brilliantly.