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luveline · 8 months

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hiii!! i saw that you wanted some roan & eddie & reader requests sooo,, becuase barbie is trending so muchh i was wondering if you could write reader watching roan play with her barbies and instantly taken back to her childhood and getting very emotional ??

i mean its whats happening to me being reminded how much ive grown and how much effect those dolls had on me soo yeah 😭

tysm ♡ eddie and roan

A long, creaking squeal sounds from Roan when you come home. Eddie plugs his ears, knowing exactly what it is you have in the huge plastic bag at your waist —Roan's special treats, as previously discussed, for being such a lovely girl lately.

It might be a silly thing to treat her for, but she deserves toys before any amazing behaviour, and you have the extra money to buy them. Why shouldn't she get them? You and Eddie chatted some while you were at work that morning, trying to choose what toys to get.

"I haven't bought her toys by myself since we first met, what if I pick something crappy?" you'd worried.

Eddie gave it a little bit of thought, hand twined in the curling wire of the telephone, slouched as he usually does against the back wall of the shop. "Hey, she hasn't had any new dolls since Christmas. They'd go over nicely. Or she always likes a new dress. I'm sure you'll find something when you're there. You can get me something fun at the same time if you want."

You'd laughed at his joke and, if the light in your eyes now is anything to go off of, managed to find some presents you're happy with.

"Naddy's Toy Emporium!?" Roan shouts, rocketing off of the couch where she'd been standing waiting for you.

You've a nightly routine, hugging her when you come home like your life depends on it, but clearly Roan has decided the hug can wait. For once, Eddie's finished dinner before you're return, so he has a good seat on the couch to watch everything unfold.

You let her grab the bag's sides but lift it a touch when she tries to take it. "Hey, they're for you, I promise, but let's come inside and put them on the table!"

Roan squeals and knocks into Eddie's knees. He sits up and grabs her gently by the waist, hoisting her onto his lap. You sit on the couch cushion trampled flat by Roan's feet, pulling the play table where she likes to eat her snacks closer.

"Are you doing the speech?" you ask Eddie, putting down the bag.

He grins. "Ro," he begins, turning skewiff, her back to the couch to allow you both a great view of her face, "you've been a really good girl, lately. Do you know that? You've been eating all your dinner, no tantrums before school, and now you're even starting to help clean up around the house. So me and Y/N just want you to know how proud we are and how awesome we think you are."

"And we think all this awesome deserves some presents because we love you," you say. "Do you want the smallest or the biggest one first?"

There's lots of nice presents. You've stayed within the confines of the agreed budget, which is a feat for you (as you love to spoil her). There's five new barbies, one of which comes with a car, and the other a puppy dog. They have clothes, accessories, and an abundance of plastic he needs to cut away with scissors. His hand is welted red by the time he's through.

You also bought her a glittery lip gloss to replace the one she lost a few weeks ago. The proof of it sparkles on your cheek and Eddie's, twin thank yous.

You go quiet as Roan retreats to her satin princess tent, driving the pink corvette back and forth as she makes the barbies talk to one another.

"You okay?" he asks. You'd been wearing this huge smile for the last twenty minutes and now it's gone, he hates it. "I've been thinking maybe you deserve something nice, too."

You smile weakly. Okay, so you're not wanting anything.

"Dinner should be ready soon."

"Thanks, Eddie."

He gives up. He's about as subtle as a feather boa and you love him that way, drifting down toward your arm, his face smashing into your shoulder. "What's wrong?"

You put your head atop his. "Well, I'm just thinking."

"I may not look like it, but I think too, occasionally. Share with me."

You push his arm until he sits up and sinks down into his side instead. Eddie supposes you're allowed, even if usually he'd call it sexist or selfish. "I had a lot of fun picking those out today, and I kept thinking about the look on her face…"

Eddie hums to show he's listening. Kisses the top of your head 'cos he can. "Yeah?"

"I just remembered being her age. Do you remember wanting something really badly? There was something so nice about getting to grab a kart and– and to just stand there debating which ones to get."

Eddie toys with your pinky finger. "That's not everything, is it?"

Your smile presses against his arm, a deep emotion in your voice that's hard to pin. "Watching her makes me remember. Being a kid, playing make believe. I'll never be that young ever again, and there's no way to go back. But I," —you take in a steadying breath— "don't mind. I love seeing her so happy."

He intertwines your fingers between his, shorter and a little bit softer than his. He soaks in your presence for a moment, the smell of you, your tiny sounds, the secret you've shared with him. You're a mixture of sad and happy. He's not sure which one overpowers which, only that they're hitting you hard.

"There's lots of cool shit that comes with being a parent. You know the best one?" he asks you, raising his eyebrows at you with a fondness lining his lips.

"No?"

"You can play games without anyone judging you. I know it's not the same as being a kid again, but it's close."

"Yeah?" you ask, sitting up. "You'll come play too, right?"

Eddie casts his gaze to his daughter where she chit chats on the floor. "Hey, Roanie? Can we come play with you?"

Roan is almost as pleased as when she first laid eyes on her treasure trove of dolls.

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littleresinpeople · 8 months

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I slaved over sewing this plushie pair all last week to give to my brother on his wedding day. Should have begun so much sooner tho!

He's always had a soft spot for all things Pokemon, especially Pikachu, so I thought why not create something unique for him on his big day?

And why not make a bride and groom pair of Pikachu that you can't just go down in your local shop and buy willy nilly?

Made from scraps of fabric I had laying around, with only enough for the bodies while having to resort to some cream coloured wollen fabric for the tails.

Sadly don't have pictures of the back of these plushies, but the details I made from some stretchy golden fabric, same of which the little hearts on the front are made of.

Had wanted to embroider the mouths but, because of timeconstraints, I had to settle for drawing them on with a textile marker.

Chose not to fully embroider the cheeks, tried with one and it just looked like too much for the clean concept I was going for.

Had thought of making the headgear (hat and veil) both removeable, but only the hat got to be in the end. Initially the tophat would have only been black cardboard,

but got the idea to wrap the three parts in satin ribbon before gluring them together. Glad I did as it would have looked tame and halfassed in a way if not.

Had so many things I wanted to do, so many details I wanted to add, but that's what you get for not thinking of it sooner and being so sure that one week would be more than plenty of time.

Still, quite pleased with the outcome and when I told my brother I had made them from scratch he almost didn't believe it as they looked store bought to him.

At that point all of my self-critique of my handiwork melted right away. Biggest compliment I could have wished for!

Spent quite a while trying to come up with an idea of how to present them. First I wanted to make a huge heartshaped box, but that would be too timeconsuming with

the wedding looming right around the corner. Then I thought of making a heartshaped platform instead, but then how to wrap it all up? and wouldn't it just look odd

when I still wanted a wire-heart in the back? In the end I went for a plain circular cardboard platform, decorated with glittery "snow", a length of pink feather garland and leaves,

and towering behind them a wire heart wrapped in deep red satin ribbon, pearls and more of those green leaves.

Would definitely sew them again, was fun even though it was a constant battle with time and making things up as I went.

Pattern: https://cholyknight.com/2020/11/06/pikachu-plush/

#sewing #handsewn #hand sewing #plushies #stuffed animals #pokemon #pikachu

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gfitzwillsebastianz3rd · 3 months

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This is my OC Ash Lee Davenport back for Bloodbound Book 2, made with assets from Sims 4 Custom Content creator @mnvlz, as I used their Top surgery scars.

Since there's another six months between the first book at the second, I think Ash would have relented and allowed Adrian to help him afford Double incision top surgery.

Then this three-piece suit from America's Most Eligible matches close enough to the blue suit that the female MC wears in the boardroom, though there are no pink accents. I was going to colour-match the handkerchief to pink, but the smaller an item is, the harder it is to recolour and edit in Photoshop.

The kidnapping scene in book two is more straightforward to colour a suit for, as MC just wears a red satin dress labelled Scarlet Stunner. For that, I just used the maroon suit from Nightbound and recoloured it in Photoshop.

I have to say, I love putting Mr Davenport in blue clothing for regular mortal things and red for vampire-related events.

I find that more books that have darker tones have a red premium outfit option, so it fits well.

I seem to like editing these, so here's the Gold Rush outfit, edited from America's Most Eligible, with a glittery black texture from Adobe stock. I also debated using the white tux, but it's not glitzy enough for Vegas.

I think it was my hardest to edit so far, though. There's only so much I can trace floral patterns in Photoshop before I get cross with how fiddly it is.

It's why the floral part of the left cuff is missing. It didn't even look right when I mirrored it, So it's asymmetrical instead.

For the next Chapter, I had the idea that since Cal wolfed out, Ash would give him his jacket since his shirt is ripped beyond covering him.

It's rare to see the MC's in Bloodbound in anything that doesn't have a Blazer since it's an Executive romance book, but to achieve this, I took the black shirt from Foreign Affairs and copied the gold leaf pattern onto the belt, as well as making sure I copied the gold buttons onto the shirt.

For the Tribunal about Gaius, Ash and Adrian had a serious revelation about their relationship, so I recoloured the Waistcoat to be like Adrian's because He claimed Ash was his boyfriend out loud during a fight (He's not realised the implications yet...)

But I thought it would be nice to make it look like Ash borrowed one of his, no doubt, many black waistcoats.

It's the same suit as the one from AME, but the watch that resembles the one Adrian describes to Kamilah, that he bought in the 1920's is from Foreign Affairs.

The next outfit is almost cheating, but it raises an important thing for me.

What if we could add Hats, like we could hair and other things like Watches or different trousers/boxers for the MC in Wardrobe?

Since we have another encounter in the 1920's-themed Shrike (whether you chose to let the Prisoners go so they could set it on fire or not), I couldn't help but add the trilby to Ash's already Adrian-centric outfit.

So, For this next chapter, there's a bowling scene, and there are not enough clothes in book 2 for me, so I made a bowling shirt from the polo and chinos in AME.

Choices need to make more variants of light-coloured clothing; they're all really dark and hard to recolour...

The next chapter to have a new outfit is the Paris chapter, but it was super hard finding a light-coloured shirt. The one I used was from Foreign Affairs.

By this point, Ash has been running all around fighting against Prejudice from Vampire hate, homophobia and transphobia, so he's tired. He's also discovered many a secret about himself being a Bloodkeeper, and one other I won't spoil for now 😉.

His outfit for the Vampire crypts is much more relaxed and informal, originally from AME.

I didn't edit this one, as I love it as it is. The starry-looking hoodie matches the narrative of Adrian and Ash travelling around the Paris night scene under the stars.

For Serafine's club, Ash is just wearing a simple black shirt from Foreign Affairs to emulate the strappy dress and choker that the MC wears, but also Adrian's brand pendant, with the cord from the Flamingo shorts and the striped shirt with a crystal necklace.

I just used the cord to add to the pendant and made the shirt wider for Ash's physique change, but it's not edited any more than that.

The next one is seriously fun, though I'm sure Adrian would baulk if Ash wore this outside of Victoriana vampire balls. It's so... cliché!

It's from the romance vampire novel Immortal Desires. Some of the clothing for the more Vampire-themed stuff is pretty useful for this, even if it's a highschool themed book.

Ash only wore it for Dracula's party, and I guess you'd be inconvenienced by the cape, so It's not an outfit we'll see him in until the Solstice ball, at least.

For this next outfit, I actually took the shirt from Foreign Affairs and then warped the Puffer jacket from the Bloodbound Female MC Outdoorsy outfit to make something that I'm sure Ash would wear to be touristy.

His expression is worried because the Island of Midieya also has The massive Order base on it, but also because Prague was another layer of stress on top of New York under siege. His Cousin Parker is still in New York, after all...

For the next couple of Chapters, it's hard to know which of the outfits Ash Lee would have packed in his suitcase as they rushed around the world on their crusade.

In fact, this was the hardest outfit to put him in for the story, as a mixed trans guy doesn't really fit with the whole white-knight-against-the-Darkness stuff that reminds me of the Knights Templar but has a Neo-Nazi flavour to it. The original later chapters it's based on have little representation for each of the Order soldiers unless you look at the sprite files, and even then, there's hardly any that look anyone like him.

It's clear this is terrible for Ash to have to do, and he's terrified to wear it for the mission.

For the evening following the counter-raid to the Order, Ash would be- as I would be grateful to change clothes, and I was getting tired of writing him in the same outfits I've already edited him in, so we have a new one!

They're still in Greece, but Ash is feeling the breezeless evening, so there's this gradient T-shirt combo from It Lives in the Woods/It Lives Beneath.

I removed the bead necklace, as Ash doesn't usually wear much jewelry except for the Brand pendant that Adrian gave him, and it seems a bit too young for him since the books are teenager based and he's twenty-six.

Because when they return to New York, all they have is what's in the suitcases, I put Ash in his hoodie from Paris but edited the black hood that goes with the hoodie in It Lives Beneath to be Grey Marl so Ash could have it up as protection from the dust and light debris.

For the Abandoned Mall fight chapter, the original MC outfit is denim and lace. I just swapped it for an outfit from Ride or Die, which also appears in America's Most Eligible. The double denim and chains combo.

(Peep the engagement ring from Adrian on his left hand. I edited it from the ring box in the Bloodbound Solstice files but changed it to a silver band in Photoshop by removing the original ring and adding a styled filter in Photoshop, so it looked painted like the other assets.)

#Ash Lee Davenport #Bloodbound OC #Trans!MC #Bloodbound

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diegos-butt · 3 years

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Electricity Chapter 2

Summary: For the first time in her life, Melody Williams is moving out of her hometown to Minnesota where she got a job as a crime journalist for the Minnesota Daily. But this city does not only have a new job for her to offer. What will happen when she crosses paths with detective Walter Marshall? Heads up, a little electricity is involved ✨

Walter Marshall x Melody Williams (Curvy OFC)

Warnings: alcohol, we’re going out people

Wordcount: 2.9k

A/N: chapter 2 here we go! Hope you enjoy 😘

Chapter 1

•••

“Mel you have to come!” Gia said while jumping up and down. “You have been here for over a week, and not once we have gotten a drink. I need to know what you’re like drunk.”

“I absolutely agree with her,” Carmen said, grabbing her purse. The three of us were still in the office, everyone else had already left. It was Friday, 6pm, and they wanted to get drinks after a long week of work.

“Alright, alright! I’m coming with you guys!” I laughed as we walked towards the elevator.

“Good, because the bar will probably be packed with detectives since they closed that difficult case today. Sometimes they go out and celebrate afterwards,” Gia babbled, “I hope the hot ones will be there tonight. It has been way too long since I had a good shag,” she said mischievously while playing with a strand of her pink hair.

We stepped in the elevator while Gia and Carmen decided we all needed to hook up with a hot detective tonight. They were already getting excited and discussing horrible pick-up lines.

“I think I should let you guys know, I am terrible at flirting,” I say. “I just start to make stupid jokes no one but me finds funny and I get so awkward.” The elevator has reached the ground floor, and as we stepped out, I noticed it was already getting dark outside.

“It’s a good thing you are going with us, because we are masters at flirting, aren’t we Carmen?” Gia said as she nudged Carmen in her side with a spark in her eyes. Next thing I knew she ran towards the door that led to the parking garage.

“Carmen, I’m coming with you. I need something to wear and tonight I’m borrowing that cute little black dress you bought the other day,” Gia yelled.

Carmen and I looked at each other and laughed as we followed her into the parking garage. As we walked to our cars, we decided that I should go home and change before going to Carmen’s place where we would order some take out.

I went home and quickly freshened up. I decided to wear a pair of black jeans with a dark green satin blouse. I completed the outfit with my black leather jacket and white chunky sneakers. I reapplied my make-up and added some glittery eyeshadow. Once I was ready, I grabbed a bottle of wine and drove to Carmen’s house.

We ordered pizza and had a few glasses of wine. Unfortunately for me, they became noisy after a few glasses of wine.

“So, tell us about that guy you met at the supermarket Mel. We need to know everything and so far we haven’t heard enough details!” Carmen said with a big smile.

“Yes, yes, yes! Tell us!” Gia yelled as she jumped up to grab another bottle of wine.

“Alright, alright! So, I had forgotten to buy groceries and realized that like half an hour before the store would close. I jumped in my car and drove there. It was late so there were just a few people inside,” I told them as I got into a more comfortable seating position.

“I grabbed the stuff I needed, but I remembered I needed some cereal. I walked to that aisle, it was empty, but I had had a long day and I was so tired I just stood there staring at all the boxes. Completely zoned out for a moment. I finally regained my conscious and wanted to grab a box, but at the same time someone else grabbed the exact same box.”

“You didn’t even know someone was behind you?!” Carmen yelled while her eyes nearly popped out. “I just met you, but I already know it is impossible to sneak up on you.”

“No! I was completely zoned out there! And when I turned around, I bumped into him and I dropped the apples I was carrying,” I said while I hid my face behind my hands. “But then, I got to take a good look of him. And I swear, he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen.”

“We need more details girl. Way more,” Gia said while shoving the last piece of pizza in her mouth.

“Well, first of all he is so tall. And he is big and muscular. He made me feel small, and that doesn’t happen very often,” I explained and took a sip of my wine. “Besides that, he had gorgeous blue eyes and brown curls. I seriously had to slap my hand away so I wouldn’t touch the curls.”

“That might’ve come across a little weird,” Carmen chuckled.

“Just a little? I would have to move again! It would be that humiliating,” I laughed. “Anyways, then he picked up the apples and handed them back to me, but me being my clumsy self, I almost dropped them again if it wasn’t for him. He grabbed my elbow to prevent that. Oh God it was so awkward.”

“Tell me you at least spoke with him?” Gia asked.

“I obviously thanked him and we exchanged a few words. Nothing really interesting though. Well, then he said he needed to go and started to walk away.” I took a deep breath and continued. “Of course, I had to say something to embarrass myself.”

They looked at me waiting for me to continue.

“I said, and I quote, ‘see you around?’. I swear I could hit myself in the face once that popped out of my mouth.”

“What did he say?!” Gia and Carmen both yelled at me.

“He said, and again I quote, ‘I hope so’.”

“Girl, I am proud of you. He’s clearly into you,” Gia said while she raised her wine glass.

“I’ve met this man once Gia, and we barely spoke. It is practically impossible to know if that’s true. Besides, while I was driving home, I remembered I forgot to do something.” I added.

“What did you forget? To check him out properly? Because I think you checked him out pretty well,” Carmen gave me a wink.

“I forgot to ask his name, so it is impossible to track him down ever again. There are so many people in this city,” I murmured.

Apparently not so impossible I thought as Gia, Carmen and I walked through the doors of the bar. He was hard to miss. I recognized his massive shoulders and curls immediately. He stood there with some other men around a few standing tables. He had his back towards me, but I knew for sure it was him. I believe he even wore the same sweater. Or he has multiple of those.

“Look, that booth is still free,” Carmen said. “Go sit, I’ll grab us some drinks!”

The bar was packed and some rock music blared through the speakers.

Gia and I walked through the busy crowd and sat down in the booth. I made sure I could still see him. From this position I could actually see his face, and it was indeed him.

“What are you looking at?” Gia noticed me staring. She turned around and scanned the crowd.

“Nothing. Just looking around,” I lied, but then I remembered I was a terrible liar. Oh no, I have to tell them. This is not going to end well.

“You’re obviously lying so spill it.” Gia narrowed her eyes.

“What is she lying about?” Carmen asked as she placed our drinks in front of us.

“Alright, don’t look but I think the guy from the supermarket is standing over there.”

“Where?!” They both turned around at the same time.

“I said don’t look around!” I hissed. I scooted over so I was leaning against the wall and took a big sip of my drink. “Oh wow, what did you give us?! This is actually pretty good,” I said while I felt my throat burning from the alcohol.

“That is an irrelevant question right now Mel and you know it. Is it that guy over there?” Carmen pointed at the standing tables. He had a beer in his hand and he laughed with the guy next to him.

“Sit down! Now! Don’t point, but yes that’s him.” I could feel my cheeks burning already.

Gia and Carmen sat down and sipped from their drinks.

“He is really handsome, but dear, you have no idea who he is? Really?” Carmen looked at me suspiciously.

“No, I don’t! Remember, I just moved here not too long ago,” I said.

Carmen and Gia looked at each other and laughed before Gia spoke. “First, as I predicted, there are some detectives here. Second, your guy over there, is one of them.”

Wait, what? Well that explains why I felt safe around him. And why is has such an authoritarian vibe. I looked over at him and noticed his glass was empty. No, no, no don’t get a new beer now. You have to walk past us and I am not ready for you to see me. Carmen and Gia saw the panic in my eyes and they looked over at his group.

Gia also noticed that they were all out of drinks. “Wait here.” She said before standing up and walking towards the bar. She came back in a few minutes with a tray full of shots.

“Follow me,” she instructed us and grabbed her own drink. Carmen got up and grabbed my arm, making me stand up.

“No, we are not going over there!” I protested but it was already too late. Gia placed the shots on the standing table and started talking to them. She waved at me and Carmen and gestured we had to come over.

“Come on, what could go wrong?” Carmen laughed. We grabbed our drinks and I looked at the ground while we walked towards them. When I looked up my eyes locked with his and I felt something familiar. I felt the same shot of electricity going through my spine as the one in the supermarket.

“These are my friends! We all work for the Minnesota Daily,” Gia said. “We heard you guys solved a case today, consider these shots as a thank you for protecting us from all those creeps out there.” She batted her eyelashes at the man next to her.

Everyone grabbed a shot and I couldn’t wait to have one myself honestly. Gia shouted a toast and we all took the shot. I might need 5 more of these. I was getting nervous from just being this close to him again and I had no idea what Gia or Carmen might do. They could easily embarrass me right now.

But they were already talking to some guys before anything embarrassing could happen. I looked around and felt a little uncomfortable and insecure between these guys. I always seem invisible to men, which is ironic since it is kinda hard not to see me. The friendly looking detective next to me seemed to sense my insecurities and started a conversation with me. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and answered his questions relieved.

We chatted for a couple of minutes when his boyfriend walked in and greeted him. I looked around for Gia and Carmen. Gia was still talking to the man next to her with a new drink in her hand. Where did she get another drink?

Before I could ask her, Carmen showed up with another tray of shots and a deck of cards. “Who knows a drinking game?” she shouted. The group answered by cheering and pointing at one of the guys.

“Make sure Walter needs to take some shots, he always finds a way out!” another one shouted. They all laughed and looked at the man from the supermarket.

“I play fair and square guys, I can’t help it I always win,” Walter says. His eyes lock with mine again and I quickly look away. Why can’t I just look at him? Why am I so awkward?! At least I know his name now. I thought while grabbing a shot and pouring it down my throat.

I should not have played this game. I gave all the wrong answers, so I had to take a few shots too many making me drunk. And drunk me? Well, drunk me gives even worse answers. I embarrassed myself so many times I thought the night couldn’t get any worse. I was wrong.

After the third tray of shots we ended the game. Most of us were drunk, especially Gia. She wobbled on her legs and had her arms wrapped around the guy next to her, John I learned.

A few guys started to leave, but Walter and the guy next to him, Liam, stayed. Carmen stood next to me, she looked at me with a smirk and walked towards them while dragging me along.

“Hi guys! So, tell us, what’s the weirdest case you’ve had?” she asked.

Liam starts telling a story, but I couldn’t focus. I stood next to Walter and I could smell the same musky cologne he wore in the supermarket. I smiled at him and I received a small smile.

We looked at Liam and Carmen and see that they were already making out.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” I chuckled. Oh no, it’s just the two of us now. Mel, act like a normal person for once please.

He nodded and awkwardly took a sip of his beer. Silently we stood next to each other. I opened my mouth to say something, but I had trouble with forming a sentence. He looked at me and I laughed nervously.

“So, you look less tired than the last time I saw you,” I blurted out. I need to have a chat with drunk me tomorrow. I mentally slapped myself across the face.

He blinked a couple of times with a confused look on his face.

Wait, maybe he doesn’t even recognize me. Of course not, why would he?! I anxiously fiddled with a paper coaster in my hands. I should say something.

As he opened his mouth to say something, I beat him to it. “You probably don’t remember me or anything, but we met a few days ago in the supermarket. We grabbed the same box of cereal and I dropped the stuff I was carrying,” I started rambling.

He looked at me amused. Is he smiling?

“Yeah, I remember. The stuff you’re referring to are apples in case you forgot,” he responded. “Did you drop them again?”

“Nearly, when I put the groceries in the trunk of my car.” I felt relieved he did remember me. That would’ve been very awkward.

“I have never seen you here before, you are new in town?” he asked. I explained I had just moved here and why. We actually had a quite decent conversation until I had to pee really badly. I grabbed my drink to take the last sip, but it slipped out of my hands and fell on the floor.

“Shit!” I yelped. “Oh well, I have to pee so maybe I shouldn’t have tried to drink it anyway.”

Again, he looked at me amused. Why do I say I have to pee?! Why am I like this?

“Yeah, so, I’m going to the ladies’ room now. I’ll be back.” I want to walk away, but somehow, I forgot I had just spilled my drink a few seconds ago and that the floor is slippery. As I turned around to walk I away, I felt my shoes slip away and I started to fall.

“Careful out there, don’t fall like those apples,” he says with a smirk while he prevented me from falling as he grabbed my elbow. I immediately felt the heat from his hand on me. My cheeks burned and I felt my head spinning a little. I regained my balance and chuckled nervously.

“I wish I could say I’m a lot less clumsy sober, but we both know that’s not true,” I joked.

I quickly walked towards the ladies’ room and luckily there is no queue. Once I peed, I look into the mirror. My hair is a mess and my cheeks are burning. I tried to make my hair look a little more presentable and take a few sips of water.

I am actually having a conversation with the most handsome man I’ve ever met. And it isn’t even going that bad! Alright, time to go back. I check my make-up one more time and walk back out there.

I almost stood next to Walter again when Carmen came up to me.

“So, Gia is way too drunk and is about to throw up,” she said with a panic look in her eyes. “I can’t help her because I will throw up myself! You need to help me get her out of here. I’ll grab our coats, you get her,” she ordered me.

I wanted to question her plan, but she stormed off. Walter looked at me with question marks in his eyes. Suddenly I heard a girl laugh loudly. Gia. I looked at her and I saw she is not fun drunk anymore.

“Shit,” I muttered and walked towards her. She clung to John and I apologized to him as I took her over. “Come on, let’s go home Gia. Please don’t throw up now.”

Carmen showed up again with our coats and I felt how Gia clasped her arms around me. I practically lifted her up as Carmen pushed us outside.

We were almost outside when I heard a deep voice from behind.

“Hey, what is your name?!”

I looked back but couldn’t answer because Carmen closed the door of the bar behind her.

•••

> chapter three

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rosepompadour · 5 years

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tag game

I was tagged by @sabrinafairs

♡ nickname: My good friends call me Golds (short for my last name).

♡ zodiac sign: Aeries, but I don’t put any stock in the zodiac, which I realize is sacrilege on this site.

♡ height: Tiny as hell at 5 foot 1 and ½. (5 foot 2 when I’m feeling generous!)

♡ last movie I saw: I watched The Umbrellas of Cherbourg on TCM this morning. For the billionth time.

♡ last thing I googled: Sezane’s “Phillipine” blouse, because I couldn’t find it on the website and I NEED IT. I found it and bought it immediately. It has a giant bow!

♡ favourite musicians: Bruce Springsteen, the love of my life. Also: The Beatles, Simon & Garfunkel, The Velvet Underground, France Gall, The Beach Boys, Billie Holiday, The Zombies, She & Him, George Gershwin, Edith Piaf, Tchaikovsky, The Ronettes.

♡ song stuck in my head: ‘Moi je joue’ by Brigitte Bardot.

♡ other blogs: Rest in peace, @nicolebonnet.

♡ do I get asks: I do, but most of them go unanswered.

♡ following: 35

♡ followers: 1,088

♡ lucky number: Don’t have one!

♡ amount of sleep: Oh, god. I’m the world’s worst insomniac. I only weigh 95 pounds, but it still takes 2 mg of Xanax and 300 mg of Trazodone to knock me out.

♡ what I’m wearing: pink and cream Natori pajamas, matching rose-pink silk robe (also by Natori), and a pink satin eye mask by Kumi Kookoon that is shoved to the top of my head so I can fill this out.

♡ dream job: I want to work in a year-round Christmas shop in Bruges, the most magical city on earth. Oh! Or programming director at TCM. Also, I’d be an amazing editor-in-chief of Vanity Fair, because the new one they have is not cutting it. Graydon Carter, you are missed!

♡ Dream Trip: St. Petersburg, so I can traipse around in the snow like Natasha Rostova. I’m going to Italy in March, and I’ve never been (!!!), so I’m prepared to eat my weight in pasta as I travel from Milan to Naples. Places I’ve been that I consider dream trips: the French countryside (but not Paris. I loathe Paris!), Vienna, Amsterdam, London (always always always), Bruges. And I’m from New York, so I don’t know if it counts, but it’s always nice to go home.

♡ play any instruments: I played the clarinet for a week in fourth grade. Impressive, I know.

♡ languages: English, fluent in French, passable in Yiddish.

♡ favourite food: My mom’s chocolate chip fudge brownies!

♡ favorite songs: ‘Romeo and Juliet’ by Dire Straits is probably at the top of the list.

♡ random facts: I was supposed to go to finishing school when I was younger so I could make my “debut” in Atlanta society, but I refused because I didn’t want to be a debutante. / I have an ever-growing collection of classic Hollywood autographs. / I own over a hundred headbands and sparkly barrettes (mostly from Bendel’s when it was in its prime...Jennifer Behr! Stacey Lapidus!), and they’re decorated with jewels and bows and crystals. I keep a few favorites out on my vanity, but the rest of the collection is packed away in boxes in tissue paper. / My father built me my own library in our new house, and it has French doors, a thick carpet, a chaise lounge, a mirrored writing desk with a curved lavender chair, and a Beauty and the Beast-style rolling ladder for reaching the highest books. / I have a film degree, but if I could go back in time, I’d major in something more useful! / My favorite historical figures are Marie Duplessis and Nell Gwyn.

♡ describe yourself as an aesthetic: glittery dresses in black-and-white films, New York at Christmastime, milkshakes, first editions of classic literature, silk hair ribbons, the ballet, French actresses from the 1960s.

#sabrinafairs

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honeyparker · 6 years

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homecoming — p. p.

summary: five seconds ago, you were happy to place your heart into his hands, thinking he would take care of it as best and as long as he could, but you could’ve sworn he dropped it and left it in the busy streets of sweet new york.

Homecoming wasn’t supposed to be a big deal for you. It wasn’t. It was just a stupid dance on a stupid night with stupid alumni. But you loved formals and you loved the dresses. The sole idea that Peter had wanted to take you had made something blossom, like a little pink tulip on an April day. The question wasn’t a big deal. Just a small would you, maybe, wanna go with me and a grin on your part and it was decided — Peter Parker would take you to your sophomore Homecoming. Homecoming would finally be the night you would laugh and talk and dance with Peter Benjamin Parker, as something a little more than friends.

And it was, for a while. For the minutes you stood next to each other in his warm apartment, talking adimantly about something that didn’t really matter, not to Peter. To Peter, the only thing that mattered was the white flower sitting on your wrist, and the white rose pinned against his suit, and your smile as you talked with your hands excitedly to Aunt May who would shoot Peter a wink every few minutes. Nothing mattered but you and the smile that had reached your eyes. He laughed with you in the car as you moved your head widly to some song on the radio you didn’t even like, but you were just that excited. You leaned over and kissed his cheek and right then and there, he decided that if you would have him, he’d stay. Stay as long as you wanted, and you wanted him to stay. You wanted to hold him tight and listen to his fears and quiz him with flashcards and kiss his cheek in front of classroom doors. You wanted to hug him when he cried and wipe his tears with your thumb. You wanted Peter Parker, not just his good parts. You wanted it all.

Homecoming was on a cold night. The parking lot was filled with teenage girls taking pictures and juniors getting drunk in the midst of it all, clutching onto flasks like a lifeline. Blue and yellow streamers hung from the roof and light posts as a cold wind brushed past your ears. Peter slowly pushed the door open, motioning for you to go in before following in tow.

Scattered balloons lay alone in the gym, some loud song playing and obviously spiked drinks were being poured into white plastic cups. Your friends laughed and waved you over, and you grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him with you as he gripped your hand so tightly you thought it would fall off — it didn’t matter. You liked it. Everything was going the way it should.

You danced for a while, or what was meant to be an attempt at dancing. All of Peter’s nervous twitching seemed to go out the window with the wind whenever he’d see your bright smile and hear you laughter as it reached your eyes. Sweaty teenagers. Bored teachers. Pretty dresses and sparkly eyeshadow. An adolescent nervousness only a high school could capture. Music so loud it should’ve given you a headache. Only semi-edible food. Everything that made Homecoming so high school, and everything that made you burst with excitement.

“You look really pretty!” Peter shouted over the pounding bass.

“What?”

“I said, you look really pretty. You look really fucking pretty and you don’t deserve this.” And with that, Peter took of running.

He left you there, with nothing but a gotta go and something about not deserving this. Like he always did. Like he did in class, after school, lunch. Running farther away each time he took your heart with him. You wanted it back. You didn’t want to love Peter Parker — beautiful, loving Peter Parker — anymore. You didn’t. Five seconds ago, you were happy to place your heart into his hands, thinking he would take care of it as best and as long as he could, but you could’ve sworn he dropped it and left it in the busy streets of sweet New York. You still wanted him. Sitting there all night, with nothing but a little nod and something that was meant to resemble a smile once or twice at Ned, who looked apologetic, and right then and there you knew that he knew something. Something neither of then wanted you to know. And you didn’t push because Peter Parker’s friends were not your friends and maybe you would’ve found out something you wished you hadn’t. You let it be. Your friends eventuallt gave up and left to dance with their dates - dates who hadn’t ditched them and who were still there. You picked at the hem of your dress, a little red satin thing you had bought just for tonight, (that dress is really beautiful Y/N) (Thank you, Peter. You look real handsome), another thing that had gone to complete waste.

You let it be and stayed there until Aunt May came by to pick you and supposedly Peter, and she gave you a sad smile. You stayed silent, except for something that was meant to resemble a thank you when she parked the car, the car you had sat in with Peter as you kissed his cheek and he looked at you like you were the brightest star in all of the universe, and you took off into your apartment building. You fumbled with the key, dropped it, picked it up, turned it - robotic motions that seemed all too difficult for the simple tasks they were.

“Hey honey,” your mom shouted from the other side of the apartment. “How was the dance? Did you say thank you to his mom?”

“Aunt,” you took off your shoes, kicking them into the pile of earlier discarded ones, “Tired. Talk in the morning?” You knew you would dodge the subject, even then.

You slid against your door, covering your face with your hands to muffle a cry, no doubt smudging the makeup you worked so hard on earlier. The white rose on your wrist seemed to poke you every second, although it was thornless and small. Everything seemed to poke at you. Your dress became itchy all of a sudden and the bobby pins in your hair stabbed into your scalp.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. Smudged red lipstick that fell to your chin, glittery eyeshadow that now reached up to your eyebrow. Flakes of mascara covered your nose and undereyes. The wind had blown your hair out from atop your head. It seemed like you were being torn at the seams. Pulled in every direction and wanting neither of them.

That night, the lights of Queens’ buildings seemed more sombre than ever before. A sad rythym filled the night. One of disappointment. Of anger. Of fear. Of worry. Of all the things normal teenagers didn’t have to expeirence on their Homecoming. Of all the things you prayed you wouldn’t have to look on. Of all the things that made you lose your hope in Peter Parker, the boy with soft brown eyes and too many secrets.

You relished the time you spent with him. You searched and scanned your memories until every single was vivid, playing on replay, until it made you want to scream. You slowly dragged a makeup wipe across your face. Across your eyes, wiping eyeshadow, mascara, and tears. Across your quivering chin and bottom lip where the red lipstick sat there, smudged and ruined. Across your forehead which burned with a headache only he could cure. One you didn’t want him to cure, but you knew you would because you would do anything for that boy. You didn’t want to.

Maybe you would learn your lesson. Don’t expect too much from anyone. Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t put your trust in boys you barely knew and fully loved. Last night, your mind had painted a pristine picture of what Homecoming with Peter Parker would be like. It included none of this. Homecoming was supposed to be perfect.

But for now, you would sink into the fluffy duvet covers of your twin bed, begging, praying for a sign of what to do. Praying for a sign to forgive Peter Parker. Praying he had a good reason for flaking on you. Praying.

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iamcarriesoom · 7 years

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All the clothes I wished I owned

As described in Hanson fanfic circa 1998-2000. So many chunky-heeled shoes. So much Delia’s. I can’t tell if this is indicative of my awful fashion sense, or of how weird fashion was at the time, or both.

(The main character was named Seileen, which was pronounced Shayleen, because apparently I named my characters like a bougie Park Slope mom.)

She changed into the outfit she had picked out to wear on the plane; black, flared jeans, and a navy blue sweater.

“Then wear the black shirt, you know, the fake Adidas one , with the white stripes down the arms?” Marcy told her.

Sei slipped her feet into her orange plastic Vans and somehow managed to find her rust-colored corduroy jacket.

She changed into her pajamas. The top was white with stars and moons printed on it, and the pants were white with blue stars printed on them. She put her blue bathrobe and slippers on and went outside onto her balcony.

She put on tan corduroy wide-leg pants, and a green Union Bay sweater with a tan and orange stripe down each arm.

She found her funky orange and tan plaid socks. She pulled those on and her blue plastic skechers sneakers.

She found a maroon, v-neck, long-sleeved velour top in the back of her closet. The maroon in that perfectly matched her maroon corduroy flares that she’d bought on boxing day.

She rummaged through the piles of new shoes that she’d accumulated with her many shopping expeditions with Marcy and finally found her black and silver platform saddle shoes from Delia* s. She slipped them on over her black and silver plaid socks and grabbed her jacket.

She slithered out of bed like an old snake.* She decided to wear her purple, wide-leg corduroy pants that day, with a long-sleeved, ribbed lavender shirt.

She dug through the top drawer of her silver, metallic dresser and found purple socks with silver threads woven in throughout. She pulled these on her feet, which were freezing on the cold, wooden floor. She found, after much searching, her favorite shoes, her custom-ordered, grape-purple Doc Martens, with a chunky heel.

She wore her wide-leg jeans from old navy, and an argyle sweater, knitted by her mother.

She put on a maroon, grey and navy plaid, pleated skirt with maroon tights and a navy, long-sleeved polo shirt and her incredibly high platform clogs.

She grabbed her wide-leg, american eagle jeans from the floor of her closet and hastily pulled them on.

She shot out of bed and hurriedly dressed in her maroon corduroy flares , grey velour t-shirt and navy blue fleece. She brushed her hair back into pigtails and slipped her feet into her doc martens.

Sei laughed as she pulled her purple chenille sweater over her head.

She was wearing a floor-length, dark purple velvet long-sleeved dress.

———————————————

She stood up slowly and stuffed her feet into her comfy old pink fuzzy slippers. Slipping on her satin bathrobe she tottered down the stairs and seated herself at the familiar kitchen table.

Marcy reached into the closet and pulled out khaki cargo flares and a pale blue, v-neck sweater.

Taylor kicked off his doc martens as Sei slipped her feet out of her too-big brown leather chunky-soled shoes.

She meandered back to her room, threw on a pair of jeans and a black v-neck short sleeved shirt.

“Want to go the mall? I need to get something to wear under my meshy sweater for the Hanson’s new year’s party.”

With her black vinyl skirt, she wore a red v-necked shirt with three-quarter length sleeves and knee high boots with a small platform.

Her red tankini top clung to her stomach while also covering enough to make her feel comfortable. The waist of her matching red boy-cut bathing suit bottoms stuck out a bit over the top of her orange and yellow tropical print wrap-skirt, tied loosely at her hips. She took a swig of lemonade and pushed her glittery red cat-eye sunglasses off the top of her head to rest coolly on the ridge of her nose.

———————————————

The fans began to leave the room, giggling, talking in hushed, excited tones, and giving Sei dirty looks as they glanced at her swollen belly, half camouflaged by a red hooded sweatshirt with glittery flames down the sleeves. Her hair was pulled back into a high, messy bun on her head and she wore a visor her friend had made her, covered in duct tape with a star on it.

“Isaac can tell you everything some other time, ok?” she told him, staring at her bump-toed shoes with flames on them.

*”She slithered out of bed like an old snake” is by far my favorite sentence I’ve ever written.

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lighthouseofthewanderess · 5 years

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Childhood

According to UNICEF: Childhood is the time for children to be in school and at play, to grow strong and confident with the love and encouragement of their family and an extended community of caring adults. It is a precious time in which children should live free from fear, safe from violence and protected from abuse and exploitation.

If it weren’t for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, I would’ve made a movie about myself. The curious childhood for Priya Bala. My bestie from school, Uthra, always said that I grew up too fast. When others were doing silly stuff, I was being an adult. And the more adult I needed to be with time, the more childlike I got. I don’t particularly regret it; it was what I needed to be to survive each phase but lost years are still years. I was constantly out of sync, and learning to swim even before I sprouted feet.

I was in 4th grade when I found my mom in the kitchen past midnight. She was staring hard at the stove, in the burnt yellow glow of a zero watt bulb. When I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked at her from the shadows, she had a knife in her hand. My 10-year old body had a 20-year old mind. I walked up to her and took away the knife. As if the puzzle pieces didn’t need to fit for me to read the picture I took a deep breath and set into motion the next challenge in our life. “Mom, divorce him. We don’t need this dad.” Ok, maybe the phrasing of ‘this dad’ was like a 10-year old. But I meant the words. I knew this much that we had moved from US to Chennai only to give this marriage another shot. I also knew that there was no love in the house, just struggle to keep a broken bond from breaking further. It was unfortunate that she was given this man as her husband and more so that I was given this man as my father. If this was the person by relation we had to make ends meet with, well, we were better off alone. I had seen mom do a hundred super stuff and this was easily something she could brave. Till day my mom says, “You showed me a door when I thought I was all walled in.” And till today I’m really glad we both walked out through that door, hand-in-hand.

This was just one of the things that got stuffed deep down inside me. I wanted to cry, I wanted to show what I felt for my dad. I wanted another dad; I wished this hypothetical new dad would bring gifts from the places he visited on work like the other dads I knew. I wanted to be proud and show off both my parents. I didn’t want to be strong, I wanted someone else to take care of me. But I understood reality all too well, always have. Mom had me and I had her. I had pushed her in a direction and I would be a fool to not be there when she needed me the most. And so I became her pillar of strength. ‘You’re my amma’, she used to say. What she expected her mother to do, I did -- for the longest time in life. When our visa was about to expire, we decided to make that a student visa. That meant mom had to write TOEFL and GRE. I made flashcards for mom and sat with her through the nights, helping her practice. When she was feeling sleepy, I would make tea and ethuse her with stories of how we’d earn our permanent residency. If I shut my eyes, I can remember the cold carpet, the spot by the window where she sat and the warm cup of tea I handed over to her. Life was wearing us down to the bone.

When we went grocery shopping, mom was torn between the life she wanted to give me and the what life she had to settle for the time being. She would see me gazing at the clothes section and would ask me if I wanted a new dress. Pretty pink. Trims. Satin sashes. I could count the number of outfits sitting in my wardrobe on my little fingers. More than ten was a luxury. Now’s not the time. And it wasn’t that I was simplistic. I yearned for more. Toys. Books. Underwear with bows. But I knew this part of life wasn’t meant for that. That time will come too, and when it does I will be able to relish it more because of being held away from it now. I shook my head and smiled at mom. I reassured her she gave me everything I needed and that she was a great mom. The look of relief that washed over her was more than enough for me. I think through these trying times, the only worry she had was if she was being everything I needed. Mother. Father. Friend. Family. She needed to be all that. And what she didn’t know was I had to be all that as well. She never voiced it, but I the only way this two-woman army was going to work was if she had a support system too.

I forwent all the childhood drama over sleepovers and best friends. Or better put, I stuffed all that emotion within me. If there was a get together of people, I instinctively found myself drawn to the adults and their conversations. Comic books. Pencil books. Sidewalk chalk. It felt trivial. I had seen the real world, and I got a headstart into fitting myself there faster. The first rule of doing this was building a wall around you to keep yourself safe. This was the only logical reason why adults didn’t act out of character. They didn’t process emotions like children because they never felt them in the first place. It stayed outside an invisible circle and I needed to do that. I remember the moment went my wall was built. I had gone to a jungle-themed arcade. There, someone was standing on an inverted bucket and pulling a hoop around them - bottom to top. And when they did, a huge balloon closed over the person. My wall wasn’t going to be made of bubble but doing that again and again, I could visualize my safety wall.

The next thing to be done was not say everything you meant. The defense system had to work both ways right? If you’re going to keep yourself safe from fires, you also have to not cause any back fires. I would count to ten, and calm myself down. If I still felt angry, I hit a wall. I pushed over things in my room and cleaned it up later. I did have my outbursts, especially over men, but they were over adult stuff mostly. Someone not showing up at grandpa’s funeral. People bullying a classmate because she was American-black. The 9-11 attack. I was so used to hanging around the adults and people older than me that things they considered as problems were the ones I classified as problems too. In doing this I ignored clear indicators that were problems for my age. Abuse. Bullying. Anxiety. Neglect.

In my eyes, I was already an adult. And I was pretty sure life only got harder, my problems were peanut-sized. The shit was yet to come. How wonderfully wrong I was. When I hit 18, I mentally prepared myself for the real world to hit me with its biggest punch; it just didn’t come. I spent 3 years waiting before I realized that the hard times were already over and I had sailed straight through it because I was rock-hard inside. Then I learned to finally let go. Cotton candy. Elaborate sleepovers. Balloons on birthdays. There was this landmark moment where I discovered what a bobble head was. It was stuck onto the dashboard of someone’s car and I just couldn’t stop myself from poking it and giggling. I did that for almost an hour and everyone around me found it kiddish. It didn’t feel odd to me at all. In fact, I felt that I had earned my pass to childhood now, not then. Yes, earned. Not something you take for granted, but something you look forward to for good behavior. I bought dominoes just to set them off, collapsing over each other. While cooking I let things get messy, my hands dripping of brownie mix. I did ballet in the bathroom, slipped and fell. I made my mistakes, I bawled my eyes out over boys. It still was painful but not as painful as I remember my early years to be.

Luckily, I had the eyes to pick out other Benjamins. Those with young bodies and old souls. With them I could strike deep conversations and feel at home. Neha Kriplani was one of those. Together we fretted over our little stomach bulges, but we also stressed over the meaning of life. The importance of gratitude. The slightly complex books that were like bibles to decipher what life had dished out to us earlier. We shared the need to be understood, accepted yet try and do the normal things. Sometimes we stepped into things that were exciting for other people our age and found that a night in over some chick flicks was good enough. Give us bottle of Glenfiddich and a coloring book - we’d spend hours in silence still building that bond we had. Trauma, I found, had this immense power to make you stronger and age you within. It gave you the option to switch between two parallel lives in the same timeframe; a blissful chameleon effect. It widened our outlook and removed the glittery filter over the world. We saw it for what it was and we said ‘Bring it on, I’ve seen worse.’ Trauma brought people together, in ways that therapists wished they could.

Till today when I find myself really low that’s the same thing I say to myself. You’ve been through much worse, this too shall pass. And when you have a dialogue like that with life, you only come out stronger. So did I really miss out on childhood? Maybe not. If the phrase ‘there’s a child in all of us’ stays true, then it also holds true that we’re always living our childhood. It’s just lucky for some to have done adulthood first. Because now we have the spending power and freedom to gift ourselves things we always wanted as kids. That had more value than powering through the early years, half not remembering most of it, painting a pretty picture of life and finding out the bitter truth when you’re all ready to conquer the world. I see kids today living out their childhood with glazed eyes and think to myself ‘they have no idea what’s going to come their way.’ That innocence is bliss, but it only saves you for one quarter of life. I don’t want to burst their bubble and tell them ‘Hey, you need a fortress not this bubble shit.’ But then again, how life tells them that is their story. Not mine. Here’s my definition of childhood: the few years in your life where you’re lucky if you’re surrounded with a family, truckloads of love, and a safe space to find yourself. If not, then it might as well be an army boot camp but you’ll turn out fine, soldier.

#nanowrimo #nano writing #nano 2018 #writedaily #writers #wrimo #loveforwriting #day10 #writing challenge #life story #lifestruggles #life stories #anecdote

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