rosyviews

[rosyviews]

hi all! sorry ive been mia! i had my final licensing exam yesterday & i turned in my resignation for my current job so ive been a little all over the place lately… add onto the fact that i’m still recovering from that work injury, i’m not doing much other than work, sleep, study, sleep 😭 with the tests done and my injury almost completely healed, i anticipate my activity returning to normal soon!

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here's a few links to some starters i've made over the past few weeks that i wouldn't mind replies to <3

misc. angst (ft. arin)

"will i ever see you again?" (ft. janessa)

you went to jail & i was supposed to wait for you but instead i got over my rebellious streak and now we're at the same party whoops? (ft. lenora)

you told me to forget that we ever happened, so i did. no take backs. (ft. pacey)

[rosyviews]

here's a few links to some starters i've made over the past few weeks that i wouldn't mind replies to <3

misc. angst (ft. arin)

"will i ever see you again?" (ft. janessa)

you went to jail & i was supposed to wait for you but instead i got over my rebellious streak and now we're at the same party whoops? (ft. lenora)

you told me to forget that we ever happened, so i did. no take backs. (ft. pacey)

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sorry i’ve been mia! my work injury has relapsed in terms of pain and i haven’t done much other than sleep and lay in bed…. i got a new rx & modified work status so hopefully life will be easier to live! i’m going to reblog some links to starters & will be mobile for plotting ✨

[rosyviews]

going through my likes to find something only to see that i liked some random thread is arguably my biggest nightmare

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            ( 💔 )     ⋅ ⋅ ⋅    very rarely do you see a smile this genuine on the bartender's face while at work. or, well, maybe it's only rare when zora isn't in the vicinity. "it's exactly what hollywood needs right now. so, if you suddenly stop seeing me here every week, just know i'm in a more sandler place." pausing, rowan begins wiping down the bar with a towel from underneath. "that is until i come back with the rv, of course." they speak as if the plan is set in stone and could happen anyday rather than a pipe dream that's spoken in jest. but that's the fun of rowan's conversations at work... almost never do they mean anything substantial. "it's cute how you think you've got me wrapped around your finger and it's not the other way around, zor." there's a teasing undertone as she speaks, smirk inching its way back onto her lips. "besides, i'm the only bartender tonight. can't exactly 'give you up' but still serve you, huh?" they shake their head as the grab the other's glass and take a few steps away to put it in a bin. "i think the real challenge would be to see how long you could last without coming in... 'cos that little twinkle in your eye says you're hooked."

zora snickers into her hand, fingers brushing under her nose like she's trying to stifle the full laugh that threatens to break loose. "okay, so adam's got a spot on the 'hear me out' cake. honestly? valid. he's got that weird, loyal energy—like he'd buy you a house and still ask if you need gas money." she shakes her head, smiling to herself as she watches rowan spin the fantasy like it's a business plan. "and yeah, you'd absolutely eat up the fame. tabloids would be all over it—'bartender turned comedic muse ruins hollywood marriage.' i'd read every article." zora lifts her glass in a mock toast, eyes narrowing fondly. "passenger seat's mine, though. don't forget that when the rv's rolling and your fan club's following behind in minivans." there's a beat where the grin between them lingers too long, that teasing ease bending into something warmer, before zora leans forward slightly, elbow on the bar, voice a touch quieter now. "then test it," she says, eyes steady. "go ahead, take a break from me. see how bored you get." and just as quickly, she straightens again, knocking her empty glass forward with a soft clink. "but let's be real—you'd miss me by closing time."

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            ( 💔 )     ⋅ ⋅ ⋅    "okay, fair..." words come out in an amused tone as his head drops, looking down at his hands for a second before returning his gaze to the other. "i mean, i fear it's probably far less interesting than you're hoping." their romance was fairly transactional... but it looked good for his public image and it made his daughter happy. "shockingly, the overlap between where we met and where she and i met is virtually non-existant." a curt laugh as he pauses, a deep breath being sucked in his chest. it feels weird to relay this information, but it's far too late in virgil's life to start getting a conscience. "it was a little over a year ago. i was fulfilling fundraising obligations, there was some big banquet for the investors of the team so i had to be there... unfortunately." arm reaches down to go for the bottle, refilling his now empty glass as he continues with the story. "which apparently her father is huge on soccer, met him a million times before actually, but she had joined him that night... a reason she chalks up to fate but..." he trails off, rolling his eyes slightly as he waves his hand in dissmissal. "in reality it was because her mother was out of town and her father had bought two tickets. but alas, it ended up being she was at our table. i barely talked to her during the dinner, i think my daughter talked to her more, curious about the lipstick brand she had been using... which, bit me in the ass 'cos why the hell am i buying a thirteen year old hermes lip oil?" he sighs, a laugh spilling out of his mouth. "while the two were in the bathroom at one point, her father started a conversation with me and invited me for golf the following week. which was apparently celeste's doing, and she essentially asked me out. the rest went down as much as you can imagine. manufactured romance solicited by a socialite family." he takes a drink from his glass before letting a long breath out from his chest.

margot lets out a laugh, low and amused. “that was the big guns? please. that was a gentle nudge at best. i could've asked how meeting her parents went. i bet that's a story on it's own.” she teases, eyes glinting. she’s curled sideways on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, the tv mostly background noise now - her focus clearly on the far more interesting company next to her. "oh, i’m definitely up for it,” she says, lips quirking. “i mean, it has to be a hell of a story, right? celeste is all.. ironed clothes and five year plans. she once spent half the night cleaning the bar at a grimy little place i took her to for drinks.” she pauses just long enough to be smug about it. “in fact, it was same bar where you and i, you know... got acquainted. so, yes. color me curious on how you landed her. ” if she was going to spend an entire weekend pretending this dynamic wasn’t weird, margot figured she might as well enjoy the little jabs while she still could.

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            ( 💔 )     ⋅ ⋅ ⋅    "that's a role i take with grave responsibility," she laughs, easily playing into the banter. "we'll have to go to the drive-in sometime soon. it's my go-to given the closest mom-'n-pop theater is like an hour away." perhaps it's ambitious of her to suggest they hang out again before they even spend time alone for the first time... but based on the way they've interacted thus far, she's sure more hangouts are on their horizon. "i am both terrified & intrigued to hear that story." another laugh slips from her lips before she's walking back inside, closing the door of the patio behind her. pacey looks at herself in the mirror, eyes narrowing in on various points of insecurity. "take your time, cly. i'm not plannin' on going anywhere." he could finish at three in the morning and she's pretty sure she would still come over... far too much time is spent in solitude as it is, any chance to coexist with someone is appreciated-- let alone someone she enjoys as much as him. "i'll give you a couple hours and then head over, yeah? that'll give me time to get ready & everything." despite the platonic nature of the hangout, she finds the same amount of jitters running through her body as she does before a big date. yet, there's no thought given to that just yet-- that's a level of digger deeping she'll have to do another time. "see you soon, cly." lingering on the call for a moment, pacey hangs up the call. eyes glued to the screen for a second, mind torn between what she should do, before she's sending a quick "???" follow-up text to her boyfriend.

clyde chuckles under his breath, the sound low as he toes the bathroom door open wider, glancing towards the mirror. he’s definitely not in any condition to host someone -- let alone her. any other night, he wouldn’t think twice -- wouldn’t care about the mess or the fact that he looks like he’s been dragged through a paint factory. but knowing she’s on her way? yeah, that hits different. gets under his skin in the weirdest way -- makes him all tense and excited at the same time. "i know, the horror of modern day technology. but, if you’re offering to educate me on the classics, i’m open. i mean, if anyone could convert me, it’s you." not that he knows anything about anything, hardly ever has the tv running unless it's to tune out the sound of his roommate and his girlfriend. even then, he usually has some random over-done movie on. clyde groans the second she mentions mrs. harbor, tipping his head back against the doorframe like the weight of that name alone just added another hour to his day. another hour added until he see's pacey again. “god, her car,” he mutters, pushing himself off the doorframe and back out the bathroom. can't really shower then mess with oils. "thanks for reminding me. if i let it sit and rust in her garage another day, i'm afraid she'll beat me with her cane." a pause. "again. but, that's a story for another day. anyway, i’ll handle it quick and shower right after. just head on over whenever you're ready, i should be done by then. if not, well, i'll leave the door unlocked."

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            ( 💔 )     ⋅ ⋅ ⋅    there's a coy smile evident on his face as he drives, glancing over at her every so often. "that's what you think of me, huh?" a laugh, shaking his head. "yeah, i'm sure you would have made it very far... granted you'd have to drop your typical 'damsel in distress' act, which from what i've seen might not be something in your skill set."

she rolls her eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck. “ugh, fine. congratulations on your one good deed of the year.” she gestures vaguely around them, eyes darting towards him. “you want a medal or something? maybe a parade in your honor?” her tone drips with sarcasm as she shifts in her seat, arms crossed tighter before she glares out the window. “i would’ve just walked, by the way. if i wasn’t wearing heels that cost more than your car.”

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   ( 💔 )     ⋅ ⋅ ⋅        several moments pass before tace finds herself within her body again. chest taking in ragged breaths, she tries to figure out what has her in the position she is currently in. what on earth could have her in a crouched position that she so frequently used for protection as a child? then, just as she's asking herself this question, her mind lulls enough for marley's words to break through the roaring white noise of her blood pumping through her body. tace doesn't dare move, not when the memories of the previous few seconds return to her. "please, just step away from me." words shake & voice cracks as they're spoken--- head not moving from it's current position just yet. she can't see the other girl, not with the way her chin and knees are both tucked into her chest... but she can feel the other's proximity, one that is doing nothing to help her deescalate her mind. after enough time passes for marley to move, tace finally lets her arms drop from the way they were wrapping around her neck; palms flattening against the wood floor. an action that helps her continue to ground herself, reminding her own mind that she is SAFE. that despite the aggression displayed by marley, she isn't going to be hurt anytime soon. finally moving her head, eyes dart towards the girl in front of her --- eyes that exemplify her feelings as tears pool & pupils remain dilated. it's a glance that barely lasts a second before she's looking down at the floor.

marley’s still fuming, fists clenched so tight her nails dig into her palms, but under the rage there’s that same damn heat -- vibrating low in her gut. every time she looks at tace, it gets worse. and maybe that’s why she lashes out, why the sharp words come so easy, because it’s easier to hate her than admit what’s really going on. so she argues, bites, claws out with every sharp - witted words that screams from the back of her throat. for a beat, marlene thinks maybe it’s working. she’s in control again, vibrating with leftover adrenaline, and she thinks tace is about to fold under pressure and leave. but she doesn't. she folds. suddenly everything inside marley screeches to a halt. what the fuck just happened? she watches tace’s body curl inward, and suddenly the heat in marlene's face is gone, replaced with something cold. “uh -- fuck,” she mutters, her voice small now. her hands feel wrong at her sides, so she rubs them against her jeans, awkward. “tace,” she tries, crouching down slowly, awkwardly, like she’s approaching a hurt deer on the side of the road. “hey, i’m not -- i didn’t -- i wasn’t gonna…” words fall flat, feeling useless, so she pauses, swallows hard instead as her gaze drops down. "i'm sorry, that was shitty." the apology feels strange in her mouth, too honest for someone who’s usually all edge and deflection, but she means it. eyes lift to look at tate again, head tipping sideways, eyes narrowing. “can you just… say something? or look at me? i don’t know if you’re okay, and i don’t -- i don’t know what the fuck i’m supposed to do right now.”

@rosyviews continued from here.

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            ( 💔 )     ⋅ ⋅ ⋅    "listen, i don't go for men often... but adam fuckin' sandler? he's definitely on my 'hear me out' cake." a faux grimace is made to accentuate her words. "nah, i think i would let the lime light go to my head a little too much and wouldn't be able to give it up enough to go all gone girl on him. besides, rv's need maintenance & i hear car shit ain't cheap. so i gotta at least string him along for some time..." she speaks as if they're discussing a serious matter -- something that deserves to take all of her attention. "if my adam sandler-sanctioned rv ever happens, i promise to let you be the first one in the passenger seat." eyes are rolled as a laugh rolls from her chest. eyebrows raise as zora speaks, "you just say the money's fake?" concern & suspicion is feigned as they look onto the other. "if that's the case, i'm thinkin' your many love affairs might be the least of your problems." the facade washes off after a moment or two, smile returning to her face. "bored? maybe. i suppose i haven't gotten the chance to test your hypothesis in a while."

zora hums around the rim of her glass, head tilted like she's giving rowan's fantasy the serious consideration it obviously deserves. "i mean… adam sandler is a bit of a zaddy in that effortlessly chaotic way," she says, swirling the last of her drink. "but you? you'd steal every scene. i give the affair six months, tops—he falls too hard, you fake your death for the drama, and happy madison's never the same." there's a grin curling at her lips now, brighter than before, loosened by the alcohol and the rhythm of their back-and-forth. "and hey, if the rv ever becomes real, i'm calling shotgun. fair warning." she shoots a look at rowan, that teasing glint in her eyes softening when they linger a second too long. her smile falters—barely—but she covers it with a scoff, waving a hand at the comment. "please. the money's fake, the banter's decent, and the looks are a fluke. you just like having someone to torment between shifts." it's easier to keep it playful, to lean into the banter and not the way her chest tightens when rowan walks away, or how the bar doesn't feel right when she's not on this side of it. so she knocks back the rest of her drink and slides the glass forward with a smirk. "besides, you'd get bored if i wasn't here crying over dumbasses named ryan."

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   ( 💔 )     ⋅ ⋅ ⋅        he's quiet for a moment, letting the other speak as she seems to be processing out loud. marcos does not enjoy seeing her in this state, the anxiety evident in her form that seems to be lashing out in ways atypical for him to witness. it doesn't seem as anything he could think to say would actually help the situation... despite how much he wishes he could just fix it all (not that he's wrapped his mind around everything going on just yet). "okay." tone remains soft as he nods, patting his pockets to find his keys quickly. "i can do that, sure." marcos agrees despite his hope for them to hash things out at a second location, to find some sort of common ground that could salvage the foundation their friendship rests atop. habitually, he reaches out an arm to wrap around her shoulders, to lead her through the crowd, but it's a movement that stops dead in its tracks as he instead puts his hands in his pockets. "i parked around the corner, it's not too far."

“michelle,” she says, slower this time, the name feeling dirty on her tongue. “of course she is.” her mouth twitches like she might laugh, like she wants to make light of it, but it dies before it ever gets there, her head dropping with a quiet, embarrassed breath. “fuck me.” she rakes a hand through her hair, rougher than necessary, frustration and panic knotting beneath her skin. hates the way she sounded. bitter, jealous, small -- it makes her cringe. that’s not who she is, or who she wants to be. she doesn’t talk down on women she doesn’t know, doesn’t pick them apart just to feel better about herself, but michelle had been an easy target for all the feelings she couldn’t face -- but now she just felt gross. heavy. her shoulders slope inward like she’s trying to fold into herself, eyes locked on the dirt like maybe if she stares hard enough, she’ll disappear. “yeah,” she says, quieter now, steadier, even with her fingers still trembling when she tucks her hair behind her ear. “can you just take me home?”

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            ( 💔 )     ⋅ ⋅ ⋅    "not to rain on your parade or anything, but remind me... who is helping who here?"

OPEN TO   : all genders. PLOT   :  source  link-ish,  but basically autumn was left on the side of the road by her jock bf and your muse offers her a ride. could be an enemy, ex, or just someone she doesn't like cause she's.. a b word :/

“ hey, if you tell ANYONE about this, i’ll make sure your social life goes from slight to NON-EXISTENT. got it? “

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if i had a dollar for everytime chloe replied to a thread and i realized i never finished writing my last reply i would have two dollars... which is not a lot but i hATE THAT IT'S HAPPENED TWICE NOW.

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PSA: i don’t give a flying fuck if your blog is “DEAD DOVE”… if you’re posting starters in the tags, then you need to put CONTENT WARNINGS IN YOUR POST!!! rpc is not your personal ao3 where everyone you find is looking for the same content. even a “note: linked plot includes X themes” is better than just linking plots about forced conversion, non-con, or m*lestation…

be a decent human & respect the rpc community

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BENJI WITH THE GOOD HAIR ♫ Love, Victor · S2·EP4 · ‘The Sex Cabin’

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i need to get some studying done and then ill be on!