𝐍𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐄 @vconrxd - Tumblr Blog

⇰ RONNIE CONRAD at THE MAPLEVIEW & LESTER UNION.

❛ Ma’am ― I don’t see your name on the list. Can you repeat it for me? ❜

With a scant sigh, a bothered grin situates upon nude lips. Slender digits descending to wipe at a speck of lint upon her slacks.

❛ I just told you this, Albert ― I didn’t rsvp. So why in the fuck would they go through the trouble of adding my name, hm? There’s a grocery list of about a million other things I should be doing right now ― and knowing that, I thought there was no way in hell I could pause for an hour ― let alone a whole day. Hence the lack of an rrsp. Get me? ❜

The statement is met with a raise of a brow from the stranger gripping the clipboard. A curbed chuckle pursuing. ❛ With all due respect then, Miss ― why exactly are you here? ❜

She smirks; coyly this time. Tenderly pushing past him & through the front doors she says: ❛ Because ― sir ― bitches love weddings. ❜

#catalina: mapleview lester wedding #catalina: media

❛ ALIYAH MORRELL

“A little bit of both,” Aliyah said as she came to leave against the other side of the checkout counter as if she actually worked there. “What can I say? I missed my book dealer. Who else am I going to discuss Nikita Gill with?” During her time abroad, Aliyah spent a lot of time alone. When she was traveling to remote and possibly dangerous locations just to get the shots she needed, she rarely took anyone with her. At least not once she got used to camping in the woods by herself. Then it felt like a special kind of freedom meant only for her, peace and serenity far away from other people. Other times she actually missed having conversations. Not light discussion or small talk, but real conversations that exercised the mind.

Aliyah beamed at her. “What do you got for me? Hopefully, something a little less macabre, because as much as I love reading about a woman going insane from isolation, I’m in the mood from something lighthearted.”

A smile tugs upon the corners of her lips. Slender digits ascending to pull her unkempt hair into a high bun as she pondered over the young woman’s inquiry. ❛ Well ― I’ve got someone by the name of McGovern? Not at all familiar with her work, but I’ve heard she’s a hell of a lot like John Green in the pull at the heart strings and cry yourself to sleep sort of way. ❜ As she speaks, the pencil within her grasp moves across the white sheet of scrap paper. Jotting down whatever titles come to mind that seemed moderately fitting for Aliyah’s request. Handing it over to the other before resting her elbows upon the oak counter. ❛ I also have some of those incredibly cheesy Sarah Dessen books around here somewhere. If you can find them ― they’re all yours. ❜

❛ So ― are you going to tell me how you’ve been these days? Or am I going to have to strain answers out of you? ❜

#conversations with ✩ 𝘈𝘓𝘐𝘠𝘈𝘏

❛ TEDDY CARLSON

LOCATION: little bird books DATE & TIME: sunday / 8am

Teddy’s never been much of a reader — what free time he has is usually devoted to reading sheet music, and practicing in accord — but there’s a quaintness to local bookstores to which he is particularly fond. And so he lingers by the bookshelves, hand sifting through the titles, some of which were gathering dust but in that ridiculously romantic way that somewhat dials back his irritation. Much as he’s not in the habit of reading, however, he eventually finds a novel that sparks his interest, some Palahniuk novel about a death cult (how telling) that’s tucked under his arm the moment he’d finished the synopsis.

He approaches the counter, where he’s served by a particularly disinterested cashier until he hears the chimes to indicate someone had entered the establishment. Curious to find who else would join his pre-brunch routine, Teddy turns his head and immediately has to bite down a low groan. Sure she’d owned the place and whatnot, but did she really have to be here on a Sunday? Regardless, he stalks away to her direction, hastily-wrapped paper bag in hand. “I know I just paid for this,” he begins by way of greeting, not wasting any opportunity to be a cheapskate, “but give me a refund and I may just forgive you for a lifetime’s worth of damages.”

Veronica did not have to steer her engrossment to the utterance carried from behind to know who it belonged to. A flat chuckle departing from the repression of her lips as she continued to discharge paperbacks from the crate; stabilizing them neatly atop of one another. ❛ If I didn’t know any better, I would think you came here just too see me. Was your Ronnie meter getting a little too low for your liking? ❜ A sly grin is still etched upon crimson lips as she uses the heel of her foot to rotate. Facing Teddy before a descended gaze fixates on the novel he was gripping. ❛ Ah. Excellent choice. Very... fitting. ❜ This seemed to be routine, really. The sort of ribbing that an outsider would presume to be some sort of confrontation between strangers; ex comrades even. Or a married couple going through an especially sour divorce. Big shock for all who came to realization that the duo was neither though. Instead ― just a complicated friendship forged by a pair of individuals that had forgotten how to hate each other one day.

Motioning for the male to follow her lead, the rangy brunette guided them down an aisle of hardcovers. Pellucid beryl orbs browsing over threadbare spines of tired novels before hauling two from a top shelf. Presenting them to other before leaning a shoulder onto the ledge; arms folding tenderly across her chest. ❛ You’ll dig those for sure. Bock gives me major Palahniuk vibes and Ellis finds a way to add humor to incredibly dark, twisted situations. Which means he’s right up your alley ❜ She tilts her head; brown waves cascading to the side before closing off her statement with: ❛ You can thank me by teaching yourself how to iron a shirt. ❜

#conversations with ✩ 𝘛𝘌𝘋𝘋𝘠 #| this is #years late #and for that....... i apologize

lucifer-chloe

You want a lift? Yes I do.

vconrxd

( feat. @luckynovak )

#✩ 𝘓𝘜𝘊𝘒𝘠 #| srry i had to #it needed to be done

❛ AVERY BEAUFORT

Half of her soul resides outside her body. This she knows.

The story of Avery and Ronnie is a book bound with thread made of steel — when you know, you know, and ever since their first handful of meetings, Avery’s known that the world can end in droplets of fire from the heavens or disappear in a tidal wave or simply fade from existence altogether, and the constant of Ronnie will always remain the same. It’s like a child’s prayer that she wraps her arms around at night when things are falling to shit, the sun’s rays kissing her skin in a reminder that it’s a nice day when she sits in the middle of the water and revels in the idyllic calm of serendipity. Avery can count on Ronnie. It’s a luxury she’s not used to having reciprocated.

Writing’s kept her busy, and when she resurfaces, Ronnie’s face pops up in her brain the same way a stray text message or email might grace the upper corners of her computer in notification. She’s the first person Avery thinks of when she thinks of just because company, the idea striking while she’s monotonously brushing her teeth in the shower. The morning is already disappearing underneath her feet, but there’s still enough to make the most of it. So, she pulls herself together and swings by Coffee and Cookie on her drive, picking up the usual for the two of them. She drives with the windows down into Avalon, her fingers idly drumming against the edges of the steering wheel the entire ride up to the bookstore.

She climbs out of the car, one hand hosting the goods on the pads of her fingers and the other ready to service as the safety net. Shuffling through the lot, her back meets the door to coax it open and with the rush of cool air from indoors, the sense of home. “Look alive, Ronald,” she teases, the small bell that lingers over the door playing the harmonious notes of a relatively chaotic arrival. “I come bearing gifts.” Avery plants the drink tray onto the counter, brown crumpled bag precariously balanced in the empty spaces losing the battle to gravity and leaning against the pillar of a coffee cup. She grins, two rows of white teeth sparkling as her elbow digs onto the surface and her chin buries into the heel of her palm. “You been busy today?”

The melody of the front chime provoked Ronnie to idly boost her gaze from the spreadsheet; and the moment her mental was able to construct the awareness that the configuration was none other than Avery, it promptly dipped once more. A mere shake of the head causing strands of unkempt hair to kiss her fatigued visage. ❛ Wow. It is way too early for you to be harboring that much energy. ❜ She peers at the clock. 1:46PM.

❛ So funny you stopped by, Alfred ❜ She returns through the mischievous grin settling upon her lips. Hand encompassing a coffee before allowing the tepid brew to meet her lips. ❛ I was actually just about to sort through some shipment that was dropped off this morning. But ― now that you’re here ― you can do it. And I can supervise. ❜

#conversations with ✩ 𝘈𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘠 #| this is so short i hate it dear god #but i am falling asleep #and u deserved a reply

❛ HOLLIDAY CARLSON

for → @vconrxd location: in front of little bird books time: tuesday, 11am

Out of all the places on the island, Holly had been avoiding one place: Little Bird Books, owned by one Veronica Conrad. The woman’s almost a far-flung memory at this point, time eroding away at the exact details, but the emotions remained, tucked away in a rarely-visited corner of her mind.

A whirlwind affair that began at some random bar and ended in the bedroom — never hers, of course, but she’d always taken the extra effort to remove her ring when she’d gone to see Ronnie. An escape away from her duties as a mother and horrors of her husband, her nights spent with the other had transported Holly back to a simpler time, when all her worries were about kisses and whether someone liked her back.

But speaking on her phone, she’s hardly paying attention to where she is on the street. “Jessica — no, the second shelf from the left. The demo’s right there. Yes. Yes. No.”

Ronnie had unlocked the shop around 5AM this morning; an hour earlier than the conventional. She couldn’t sleep... and why misuse time in bed yearning for steady slumber that would evidently never transpire, when one could just ― work? Sidestep putting off the unavoidable & get an early start on the humdrum list of to-do’s instead. Though sleep-deprivation was an utmost possibility for the woman at this stage, the rangy brunette still managed to comb and categorize close to two dozen boxes of shipment by time the first scheduled employee made their way into the store. A cordial nod is then directed their way, throwing the hood of her sweater over her head before stating: ❛ I’m going to take an extremely long lunch. Might not come back today? Who knows. I’m feelin’ wild. Casey will be here to help you out in about ― ❜ She glances at her watch, ❛ An hour. Call me if you need anything. Try not to need anything. ❜

Sealing the entryway of the shop behind her, Veronica had only made it about three steps when her gaze fixated upon the especially recognizable frame what was on the brink of walking past. Eyes widening and then narrowing before a stale smile imprints itself upon her lips. A sour laugh pursuing not too far behind. ❛ You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. ❜ Those words were meant to be said to herself, but the sleep deprivation was causing the audibility of tone to be completely skewed.

#conversations with ✩ 𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘓𝘠 #| ty angel <3

❛ ALYCIA ACOSTA

WHO: Aly & @vconrxd WHEN: Thirsty Thursday, 5/14 WHERE: Ronnie’s place.

It was back to a hotel for Aly, but not the Atwater for reasons she didn’t want to admit. Most of her belongings in storage until she found a suitable place to live. She’d flown into Los Angeles on Monday, paled around with a gorgeous man in the city for a few nights, and was now craving feminine company. While scrolling through her phone she remembered Ronnie. The pretty, spitfire of a lady she’d met in an elevator. They’d gotten stuck together, horrifyingly, but Ronnie had made it bearable. The pair of brunettes struck up good conversation, and even shared a joint. It was now Aly’s turn to impart party favors. She brought her personal favorite; tequila, and of course some flower power from the local dispensary. California had the best weed. She was convinced.

Inside Ronnie’s apartment, Aly couldn’t help but look around. She was in the market, after all. “Cute place.” Although part of her wanted a house. If only for all her stuff. Of which there was plenty. But a house might be too big (read: lonely) for just her. “Thanks for having me over. The hotel I’m at has a pool,” Which might’ve been fun, except..”but also nosy neighbors.”

A delicate chuckle is discharged from the repression of her lips at the sound of the woman’s observation. Sealing the door behind her. ❛ I suppose it’s alright ❜ Candidly, the apartment was not at all deficient when it came to expansion. Herself and two others existing harmoniously with no palpable hiccup since move in. A scarcity that should probably be relished within just a bit more. ❛ But yeah ― figured my place was better than a fucking elevator? Which I haven’t been on since our little plight, by the way. ❜

This presumably went without stating, but Ronnie was not exactly the poster child when it came to making ― and keeping ― new comrades. The vitality needed when forging a bond with an unfamiliar, enforced a supply of diligence and fortitude that the brunette just did not bear. That’s what she told herself, at least. Crux of neglecting relationships of all kind going far deeper than she would ever care to admit. Apart from it all, however, even if poise was possessed, others were not exactly enamored by the woman. The assertiveness when it came to what she deemed necessary dichotomized with a slick tongue that harbored zero grace... less than ideal apparently. However, Aly Acosta, appeared to be cut from the very same cloth.

❛ I’m not giving you a grand tour, but feel free to take a look around at any point ❜ She smiles before dropping her frame onto the sectional. ❛ I do have two dogs, though. They’re overly friendly and have no idea what personal space is. Just a heads up. ❜

#conversations with ✩ 𝘈𝘓𝘠 #| thank u for starting bb <3

yeunginfp

She is a paradox. She is faithful and yet detached. She is committed and yet relaxed. She loves everyone, and yet no one. She is sociable but also a loner. She is gentle and yet tough. She is passionate but can also be platonic. In short, she is predictable in her unpredictability…

unknown (via enigmaticwrites)

❛ ALIYAH MORRELL

“Ronnie!” Aliyah called out in greeting as she walked into the Little Bird, a book in hand and an amused smile on her face. The Little Bird had been a home away from home for her throughout many times in her life. While she loved her home and her family, there were times when the complicated emotions of a teenaged Aliyah would get the better of her. During those times it seemed a break at her favorite bookstore and a conversation with its owner was the only way to break herself from her own rollercoaster of angst.

Veronica had become a good friend of hers over the years. It seemed only natural, Aliyah did hang around her store, after all. But Ronnie never made her leave. In fact, she often went out of her way to make her feel right at home, whether it was free books she wanted her to read or just her company. The vivacious photographer slapped the short story on the counter before Ronnie, shaking her head at her. “The Yellow Wallpaper? I think you might know me too well at this point because I enjoy reading about criticizing the patriarchy and male mediocrity way too much.”

Veronica’s attention was entrenched within a paperback. Leering at the words delineated upon threadbare folios. Legs ascended; lounging atop of the checkout counter. While she cherished delving into the diverse passions and predilections of the assorted patrons that penetrated through the front doors of her shop ― there was still something so proper about the reticent days. The days where she could reap the benefits of all she had sow & genuinely saturate herself in the shelves, crates, and boxes of works she had yet to bathe in. A simple woman ― but only within this sanctuary. Her happiness found behind the cover ― an entryway to a world composed of uncoated paper.

A smirk creeps onto her lips as the familiar voice resounds through the entrance. Contented nod of the head happening synchronously. ❛ Ah. A woman with extraordinary taste is exactly what you are. Knew you’d dig it ❜ In one swift gesture, the brunette sets her novel aside; body ascending to stand upright as her piercing orbs met the other’s. ❛ Ready for your next set? ❜ She inquires before pulling a pencil from behind her ear. ❛ Or are you here because you missed me? ❜

#conversations with ✩ 𝘈𝘓𝘐𝘠𝘈𝘏 #| tysm lovebug <3 this was perf

❛ RAYNA NORWOOD

“It’s fun, I promise!” Rayna insisted, arm looped through Ronnie’s as she led them towards the retro-retro building, neon lights declaring the name of the skating rink, and an old theater style marquee stating that it was adult skate night. Which really only meant uncensored music and beer. And a lack of little children speeding past as if they were invincible. Don’t get Rayna wrong. She loved kids. But she hated skating with them. Mainly because one of them would inevitably get hurt, and she was obligated to stop and help.

“We can hit up a bar after for some real drinks if you want,” she added, knowing full well that the beers they had on adult skate nights were so watered down that they were probably safe for kids as well. Maybe the offer was just a slight bit of bribery to convince Ronnie not to fight too much against the childish outing, but Rayna would never admit it. At least not sober.

It’s fun, I promise. This assurance prompted both of Veronica’s brows to elevate; a smothered sneer pursuing not too far behind as the duo drifted toward the entryway. The notion of roller-skating did not mirror a bad idea, honestly. She’s an introvert ― not a demon. But the prospect of an overpopulated, humid rink brimming with boozed up entities as they smashed into one another; stumbling over air due their two left feet... did not sit right with the brunette. Really, when did anything though? A grinch in flesh, indeed she was. And if willpower was not an element she retained, surely Ray’s idea would have been rebuffed before it even gained an opportunity to depart from the repression of her coral painted lips. Proposition of something a hell of a lot less ― spirit consuming ― filling place.

With two lithe digits from the arm not settled within Rayna’s hold snaking into the back pocket of her jeans, the woman withdrew a svelte flask. Undoing the lid before taking a swallow. ❛ You should know I always come prepared ❜ Is all that is returned before offering up the vessel to her friend. ❛ My only rule for tonight is this ― the moment anything from Mamma Mia echoes through those run-down speakers ― we’re leaving. ❜

#conversations with ✩ 𝘙𝘈𝘠𝘕𝘈 #| it was perfect u sweet angel bby <3 #thank u !!!!#also #she is so cute sjsjs

iconicgirls

#𝘝𝘐𝘚𝘈𝘎𝘌 #★#| cmon now #she cannot be serious

@masonhcrtley

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 → 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 → 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝟕𝐏𝐌

She was overworked. And she was ravenous.

A treacherous unification.

In a domain modified to conform with the desires of Veronica Conrad, the brown haired lady would have assuredly been flirting with the idea of pursuing solace within the bulwarks of her apartment. Tucked beneath the newly cleansed & pillowy comforter that brought upon the utmost joy in the darkest of times. Takeout on lap ― Law & Order on the screen. But she had already granted herself the privilege of fast food thrice this week. And despite being fresh off a fourteen hour workday ― there was a profound awareness within her that was certain of one thing: if the grocery shopping for the week did not get done now ― it wouldn’t get done; period. So, evidently, this was not the world tailored to her needs because there she was. Coupons within one grip; opposite coiled staunchly around the shaft of the offensively squeaky buggy handle. How often did they invest in new shopping carts? Really? A multi-million dollar corporation, yet they couldn’t even bother to make the shopper’s experience ― you know, the ones making them money ― slightly less aggravating? She scoffs to herself; head shaking as she made her way through the automatic glass doors. ❛ Fucking pathetic ❜ ― tone audible enough to certainly be heard by anyone within her immediate vicinity. Level of shits given ― at a zero.

Far too devoted in the array of beans advertised across a rangy shelf, it wasn’t until she ran over what seemed to be a foot with the front wheel of the dumb & stupid wagon that she opted to come back to.

❛ Oh. Sorry ❜ Barely even a glance being directed towards the unfamiliar as she reached for a can of chickpeas. ❛ Didn’t see you there ❜

#conversations with ✩ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘖𝘕 #| no idea what this is #smh #lmk if something does not work though ok? ok

@charlie-ansel

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 → 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚’𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 → 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝟗𝐏𝐌

❛ Charlie, babe, while you’re up ― can you be a dear and grab me that jar of cookie butter on the counter? And a spoon? ❜ One of the copious comforts that accompanied the fringe benefit of being a dubiously functioning individual... was the unalloyed reality that one could have cookie butter for supper ― and not damn soul could bat an eye their course. And if they did? Well. Hell hath no fury, right? This was an utterly feasible request. Well-deserved, even. She’d done a terrific job of starving her sweet tooth for a stable three weeks now. Meals that were both healthy & insipid stuffing up her belly as she attempted her luck with that new cleanse that claimed to make your skin glow and eyes sparkle. It didn’t work. Pissed was an understatement.

As the man made his way back towards the lounge she was draped across, Ronnie hoisted her legs; establishing an idle point for him to situate upon before descending them to rest upon his lap. Shoveling a spoonful of the almost desolate container of Bischoff butter into her mouth before stating: ❛ If I was in a better mood, I’d suggest a walk on the beach with the dogs. Or the wine bar up the street. But? Forced interactions sound worse than a lobotomy right now, so I hope board games for the umpteenth time is cool. ❜

#conversations with ✩ 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘌 #| trash is what this is #hope u can accept #lmk if u need me to change anything <3

princesconsuela

vconrxd

OCCUPANTS OF APARTMENT D16: @beatrizhartley & @luckynovak

#✩ 𝘓𝘜𝘊𝘒𝘠 #✩ 𝘉𝘌𝘈𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘡 #| that apt #will NEVER be boring is2g

anaprilfairy-blog-blog

Visit Original Link

lauraharricrs

luckynovak

@vconrxd

TASK #2:

Veronica Adela Conrad is the outright antipode of an open book.

Folios fixed collectively by an adhesive more tenacious than her will. A bolt ― only able to be split clear by utilizing the force of sledgehammer. Not even the balletic lineaments that rest upon her countenance would ever forsake her. But if you indulged in a stroll within Ronnie’s psyche, you’d be embraced by sunlight ― not sleet ― and all of the tenderness she has to devote. You’d meet her aspirations, aberrations, wishes, and phobias. Her favorite flavor of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream & why she loathes nachos. However ― as a result of her cynical notion that everyone is interim ― they take & they leave ― she has never contemplated on uncovering what sleeps beneath the shallows.

BUT ― if you chose to peer between the lines....

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