#dsvivian

[leopoldds-blog]

wakeup call &vivian

@dsvivian

[#wakeupcall] [@ leopold] [START!-]

groggy, gruesome and ghastly is the alliteration leo would use to explain his morning from the hazy and incoherent memories of the binge alcoholism the night before. a lanky handsomeness dangles pathetically on top of a stranger’s mattress, an arm and leg dipping off the bed, the very charming body belonged to the equally, very charming prince leo. 

and a rather ‘un-princely’ groan escapes him. 

he wakes up with bed-head so alarmingly handsome with a dry mouth and a thundering repetitive poundings of a taunting hangover. his body, under the unpleasantries of substance abuse mere hours ago, has shut down and the (in)famous charming charm can’t seem to switch on. and when he’s feeling like this, leo is always certain that the sweet cheeks vivian is within a five-metre radius. 

after all, she’s the reason why he always finds himself under such brutal altercations of himself and dribble drying at the edge of his lips. she is the root of all his un-charming, un-princely endeavours. 

“viv, you absolute psycho.” you pompous unreliable brat, oh how leo hated his compliance towards her and her prowesses of stripping him away form the abilities that create his perfection- “i’m going to kill you if this hangover doesn’t kill me.” 

[dseth-blog]

+ we only go backwards

@dsvivian

he lowers his snapback to cover his eyes as he spots a police car driving away from the bridge he had seek refuge under. with a bag of pot stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie and a burning joint in between his index and middle finger, seth makes sure to not get the fucking amazing shit confiscated. 

in his possession is the organic deal, and losing it to the authorities would mean a big hole in his wallet and his heart, because that bag costed slightly more than what he can extort a day. the flashing police lights disappear from sight, and he heaves a sigh of relief before taking another long drag. the night was fairly young, and with the amount of joints he has done already, the effect were starting to kick in.

the level he wanted to get to mostly depended on his mood. feeling particularly empty that night, he had rolled himself a good three pure joints just so he could feel that sense of illusion that everything around him was in colour, vibrant and happier, no longer the bleak, trashy streets of isle that etched itself deep into his mind even though he was now living in escoria with the help of some ‘caregivers’ that had brought him here in the first place.

leaning his head back to rest on the brick wall of the bridge, he hears slow footsteps approaching him from the right. the world had already begun to blur, and he swears he saw a orange frog hop out of the murky puddles of water that were spread out around the area. “probably just the weed.....that’s...too good....” he thinks to himself, before pressing the joint to his lips and inhaling deeply once more.

[dsbeaulus-blog]

“Keep looking at me like that and we won’t make it to the bed.”

She seems a little tense, oddly because she is always a little confident. But Beau continues to stare at her, jutting his lower lip out for a moment 

“but you suit that hickey”

he goes back to his usual mischievous grin, insisting that she’d nod and say okay, let’s play. 

[dsbeaulus-blog]

*; nympho maniac

A little grin pulls on the corners of royalty’s lips. One shot, Beau’s camera steals a shot from a creature of the Enchanted Lake; a Nymph-- dampened, as if the drops seem to compliment and knot the strands of her hair together. He takes another shot and nods and smiles in all the right places, laughing softly. Of amusement maybe or of the thought of one whole collection to view again later. 

He admits baldly to the most offensive crime poor Beauty would never think her son would be-- a Nympho Maniac. He doesn’t understand either, maybe It started on a summer day that was too hot that he figured to take a bath with a Nymph and the rest was history? but as work always does, that is sitting idly behind his parents before the people, he had never gotten the right amount of time for this--but now he does.

Everything seems perfect, until he just forgets to make a mental note that maybe someone’s watching him just like how he watches the creatures of the lake-- and that one might be no stranger. 

[lyssads]

“You can hold my hand if you need to.”

[ x ]

[lyssads]

“You can hold my hand if you need to.” @dsvivian

      [ ★ ]  She laughed, shaking her head. “Please, I grew up with puppies more frightening than this movie.” They were sprawled out across the couch, watching what was supposed to be a horror movie. Lyssa was unimpressed with it all; the blood looked like day old ketchup and none of the wounds were properly placed in such a way to actually kill anything except for the mood. “I mean, granted my dogs had three heads, but still. C’mon, really?” She whined as yet another throat was slashed. “Okay, I can’t take this anymore, I’m turning it off.” And that’s exactly what she did. “Let’s do something that won’t rot my brain.”