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alphaderse:

he buys her a dozen roses on her birthday as a joke and she smiles that slow, easy smile and reaches out and takes them and tells him she’s allergic to flowers (untrue) but she will keep them anyway (true)

She’s never been attached to her name before. 

On some occasions she might even say she doesn’t like it – too frilly, perhaps, or maybe she doesn’t enjoy the implication that she was born to be something beautiful and delicate that would draw blood if you got too close.

But when he says it – when it spills from her lips between breathless, snorting laughter, when he sighs it into her hair in the dark, the streetlights glimmering off the posters on the walls – she wonders if perhaps Rose is not such a painful moniker, after all

known-ghost‌:

““what inspired your latest movie?” 

“well I was butt-fuck drunk and trying to make myself a good ol’ pb&j at 2 AM because fuck if I know how to make anything else and I couldn’t see the numbers on the phone straight enough to dial for take-out. And while I’m spreading the jam on my bread and simultaneously managing to get strawberry shit over every part of the kitchen one of my mortally wounded fruit-covered hands went for my glass of jack D’s but that shit’s slipperier than sloppy seconds with a two cent whore and before I knew it I couldn’t tell where the fruit guts ended and mine began — not that my guts were coming out or anything, I think I was too hammered to have done anything other than laugh if I saw my small intestines spilling out my belly button so I probably wouldn’t be here today if that was the case — but anyway I ate my sandwich without remembering to put peanut butter or a second piece of bread on it, with glass shards embedded in my heels, and after I woke up the next morning the mess on the floor kinda reminded me of Canada so it only made sense to make my next movie about basketball.””

— Exclusive interview with the hottest script writer/movie producer/director of our generation, Dave Strider.