@bxtte-blog / bxtte-blog.tumblr.com
I’m a whole lot of things, babe: I’m a ghost, I’m your song in the club,
the ride or die chick, I’m a fucked up girl with nothing but summertime.
Throw me your worst and I’ll catch it like a pro. Swing, batter batter, and I’ll break the bat. I want you to try me.
It’s time to start this game, so go on ahead and pitch. indie oc b x t t e
i got a new laptop so all of my shit is #gone. maaaaan
Salma Deera, from “medea gives advice to a young girl with a broken heart,” Letters From Medea (via lifeinpoetry)
I sort of want to come back, really. But, where to start? Yikes.
“You don’t strike me as a bad man, not like them” “But I am a bad man. The only difference is that I’m on your side”
he made it into the pub, made sure to save an extra stool. doesn’t want some UGLY GUY to come up to him & try to make friendly conversation again; would rather not bother with that kind of attention tonight. THEN AGAIN HE’S HUNGRY. likes to eat the ugly people— nobody really misses them.
has a drink already in front of him ( has a thing for FRUITY DRINKS ), already halfway gone. some GUY tried to buy his attention; he only accepted the drink, nothing else. keeps to himself, barely listening to his surroundings. hears some AWFUL ROCK N’ ROLL song playing in the background, followed by several televisions playing obnoxious sports. hates it. NIGHTCLUBS ARE MORE HIS SCENE.
attention is snagged; thick brows lift, eyes dart to meet the familiar lady’s. FINALLY SMILES upon notice. she looks even worse. “ ah, shit, got a lil’ impatient n’ let some WEIRDO buy me one. i’ll take anutter, though, if yer gon’ INSIST. “ smiles dorkishly, pushing the stool in her direction. “ lookin’ a lil’ beat there, dahlin’. “
she laughed, wiping at the corner of her mouth with her thumb. up on the stool, she set her forearms on the counter top and nodded while looking for the bartender. he had a nice smile. the bartender wasn't near enough for bette to catch her attention, so it shifted entirely to him. she looked up and grinned. “oh, do i? “ she chuckled, shook her head. “ i insist. i didn't get this fucked up to have you turn it down. “
she glanced at his drink. it wasn't a beer or anything, which surprised her—why that was, she didn't know. the bartender was coming their way. “ so, what'll it be? “ maybe he'd surprise her again. that would be nice. she'd heard that you can tell a lot about a person from what they drink, but she had no idea what a fruity drink was supposed to mean. for all that it might matter, she was going to get corona.
“ would you like to hear the gritty details? “
I know I haven’t been around much, reasons being that my laptop died and I’ve been having a ~rough time or w/e. But, I’m not going on hiatus. I’m still here, and replies are coming soon.
Much love to all y’all.
i’m on mobile so this is an alert that i am offline
i'm on mobile so this is an alert that i am offline
If I owe you a reply, I wanted to put this up to let you know that I’ve gotten/seen it/have it in my drafts. In no specific order:
If I owe you a reply but you’re not on this list, please let me know!
please ignore
hahaha bedtime
@dismemberings
strange men and strange cars, cold nights in sin-warmed beds: that was just how things were for bette, and she no longer cared. when her a p a t h y had grown so strong, she couldn’t say, but it held her far too close and all too tightly for her to attempt an escape—
she didn’t couldn’t care enough to shake her e n n u i.
nineteen and no stranger to the world, she knew the risks of hitchhiking just as well as she did any other rules of a runaway. the penalties were always stiff, but who cared about that these days? it didn’t fucking matter. she didn’t even know where she was going—she just needed to go somewhere.
hi!
where’re you headed?
yeah? me too.
i’d love a ride, man, thank you!
she wasn’t a little girl anymore not that she’d ever really been one, she’d say; she knew the rules, the risks, she’d tell herself when she played dress-up with the sole intention of getting undressed. she took a lot of chances—always had, and it looked like she always would—but she was lucky enough to still be up and at ‘em, day in and day out despite feeling a little more dead and much less lively than her summer voice suggested.
sitting in the passenger seat with another stranger-man, looking out over a baked landscape with tired eyes and a smirk worn more out of habit than mirth, bette wondered if this new place would be any different. maybe the grass would be greener there. maybe things could get better there.
but, why even hope when it’s a tried-and-true lesson that hopes like that were dumb dreams not meant to be chased? hadn’t she learned that by now? she had to’ve.
bette didn’t know it yet, but no—no, she had not learned her lesson.
Nickname Meme: Bette'll 100% call Arthur "baby."
SURPRISED, he finds himself staring at her, unsure of what to do other than offer a shy smile. no one has ever used a pet name on him, and although it came out so smoothly and sounded so natural, he could not shake the distinctive warmth that ran through his body in response. “ i – okay. ” instead of pointing it out, he answers her statement prior and opts to avoid making the nickname into a big deal, seeing as there was no harm in letting her reapproach his innate ‘ darling ’ with the subtly of the term ‘ baby ’.
