sam-not-samantha - Tumblr blog

[sam-not-samantha]

mikayla-tilly​:

For: @slchat​

Who: anyone! 

When: Intelligentsia, 2:00PM

“Hear me out.” Nothing ever good came of those three words, but considering ‘sorry’ wasn’t and never had been in her vocabulary arsenal, it’s the best she’s got. This wasn’t the specialty order they asked for, but it’s the specialty they needed. Concocting non-menu creations can be attributed as the only thing keeping her from nodding off before four. Two pumps of vanilla, six pumps of mystery flavors, and coffee – what’s not to love? “I know this isn’t what you ordered, but this… is better. I call it the Mikayla Special of the Hour. Seriously, you’re lucky you came in when you did.”

For the briefest of moments, Sam was terrified the woman was going to pitch a business idea, or worse yet, ask Sam if she was looking to work at the café. Best-case scenario, a conversation on Gaultier archival pieces. She paused, listening, an eyebrow cocked; even if many would find themselves too inconvenienced, she had the time today. The line behind her, on the other hand... “Am I allowed a preview of events? I’m not afraid of being poisoned, so like, if you did put a dose of strychnine in here, I wouldn’t be opposed, but just tell me, you know?”

[sam-not-samantha]

tysondabs​:

“Seriously? That’s a boring fucking way to spend Thanksgiving.” 

“Because waddling around family members to celebrate indigenous slaughter over bounties of excess while eagerly awaiting the finest, non-Super Bowl nightmare of commercialism is thrilling excitement. I’m trying to find acid, that would be something to be grateful for.”

[sam-not-samantha]

mayajwilliams​:

Leave it to Sam Blackwood to get under Maya’s skin. If this comment came from someone else, she would just roll her eyes and say something dismissive in return. But with Sam, it was different; not only she was the enemy, she was also the person Maya idolized. “Is that where you get your styling tips from?” Maya stopped momentarily to look at the blonde from head to toe for that dramatic pause effect. “It makes a lot of sense actually.”

“Just because you can lead a tramp to The RealReal doesn’t mean that she can style.” Sam tapped the Sobranie, dark ash flying down towards her pointed, patent leather toe. This face reared itself up far too many times-- while she found the passive aggressive mass-liking on Instagram to be tolerable, Maya Williams made her face known in person more often than Sam ever cared for. “Case in point-- Just what the fuck are you wearing on your feet today? You don’t still shop at Barney’s, do you? They’re going out for a reason.”

[sam-not-samantha]

ftnikolo​:

he raised a thin arched eyebrow at the human of smaller stature, not understanding why they was so upset but finding it rather adorable in and of itself. “hey, i didn’t say anything other than you had a nice ass. and i fucking sucker punched the guy who was trying to touch it. i think that balances out the assholeness with a good deed, don’t you?” the words were teasing and he couldn’t help but trace their figure up and down, quite obviously but his eyes met theirs with an every cocky smirk.

“The issue is not the harassment,” Sam exhaled her words with a breath of smoke, another happily self-rolled spliff. “I’ve endured enough for a lifetime, I can handle some catcalling or creepy compliments because I know my own limits. The issue is that this makes you a fucking liar, because I do NOT have a nice ass. It’s a blank space of a great plane where there should be a curve. You’re welcome to say anything else you like as long as it’s grounded in some reality.” She glanced over at the departing figure, the aforementioned sucker-punch recipient. “But, I’ll happily treat you to a round or two back inside the bar, if you care.”

[sam-not-samantha]

mayajwilliams​:

“Unbelievable.” Maya scoffed dramatically, frustrated. “This is the third time a homeless person asked me for money.” Her eyes rolled before turning to the nearest person. “Do I look like I am running a fucking charity?”

“Oh, how unfortunate, I thought your use of Michael Kors was meant to indicate your representation of the Salvation Army.” Sam shrugged, taking a long drag of her magenta Sobranie spliff. "Perhaps try paying a Skid Row resident for styling tips. Could be a mutually beneficial exchange.”

[sam-not-samantha]

firefighterdallas​:

“A raccoon cockfight?” He repeats, snorting a laugh. The insult doesn’t go over his head, but the visual takes precedence, and he lets it amuse him a little longer as she rambles on. 

When he thinks she’s done, he adds, “Not sure about the intentions, but the delivery was damn strange. Sometimes telling me you could outdo it right quick.” 

“Context may have been key. Still sounds frighteningly American.” She shrugged, adjusting a satin strap on her shoulder. “The things that fall out of my mouth are merely a product of what surrounds me. You haven’t alienated, inconvenienced, or offended me yet, so I think we’ll both live for now. Unless you’re bored and care to change that.”

[sam-not-samantha]

“Is that even something to call someone? What’d you do, interrupt square dancing? Get in the way of a raccoon cockfight? I would’ve stuck to the term ‘drone’, because most able-bodied men rarely serve much purpose but a pair of arms, but I’m sure whoever said that to you had some better intentions.“

“I been called many things on the job,” Dallas remarks, his expression altering as he remembers some of the less complimentary ones. 

“But Hoedown Throwdown is a new one.” 

[sam-not-samantha]

Gelato. It had been the only thing on Sam’s agenda for the entire day. Two articles written in her sleep and accompanied by scathing reviews of organza in California humidity had completed her true current work load, but what she truly wanted to do was people-watch. Though prone to speeding, her Bentley had cruised through the town this time, viewing strangers and the ever-growing familiar faces alike and their respective dress choices, truly would be the highlight, until the creamy, raspberry-flavored Italian indulgence was in her hands, and promptly dripping down her manicured fingers. The brisk walk to the car was interrupted-- and with Sam’s 5′2″ (5′8″ in heels) gaze brought lower, the most interesting sartorial choice of the day had been found.

“If the rest of it looks like this, I don’t think you’re at much of a loss.” Sam squatted down to the girls level, waddling into the street to face her. “I can give you a ride if you really need, but I beg of you to consider stopping to rebuild the wardrobe along the way.”

Adina sat crossed leg on the curb of the street, her bag dangled from her fingers and she blew hair from her face. She sat in an oversized tee shirt that could have been a dress that was a little short. It had belonged to a man at one point, washed so many times in her home made laundry soap that now it smelled like wild flowers and honey and reminded her of a different time. However, right now it was the only thing on her back. Lifting her gaze she rolled her eyes, “Someone stole my laundry basket-” She hummed nodding her head towards the 24-hour laundry lit up with neon signs. “My car keys, my phone-” sighing “I’ve been contemplating how long it would take me to walk back to Oasis from here.” Adina groaned dropping her head between her knees as she took a deep breath.

[sam-not-samantha]

text; orla x sam

orla: when your hot, angles kind of just happen.

orla: it is!! i love it, they have some amazing new stuff in.

orla: they have this nice lil black number i need to go back and get. my size was out of stock.

sam: get me a print of the winning shot

sam: I have a silk negligee that belongs in your closet

sam: well there's an article I'm supposed to write about it and they sent too many samples

sam: need to return to miss Victoria any way soon

[sam-not-samantha]

soniels​:

Accidents happened – though Sophie had to admit, she felt a little lucky for not being in the other’s shoes. Baby wipes were surprisingly handy these days, even if she wasn’t carrying around an eight month old. “Are you okay? You didn’t get any in your mouth, right?” Hopefully not because that would be hard to wash off. 

“No, it’s fine, my car’s parked right around the corner.” the brunette let out, smiling warmly at Sam. She wouldn’t dare leave her out here in this state, and despite not knowing her that well, Sophie knew how Jude and her were friends. “Don’t worry about it. Seriously. I’ll just nag Jude to clean it.” She half joked, motioning her head toward the direction of her car, “It can be our secret.” 

“Oh, ew, no, I absolutely did not.” Sam feigned a gag, still wiping her face as clean as she could with the wipes she had been given, and started walking in the direction Sophie indicated. “Trust me, a bus full of people is enough of an audience. Part of me wishes I could ask you to keep your eyes on the ground but that’s not that fair. Honestly, this is very kind of you, --” Don’t you dare fuck up the name this time. “Sophie.”

[sam-not-samantha]

“I asked, when are you going to have more of those rather devilish chocolate croissants?” Sam stood up on her toes, a feat done much more easily with the assistance of Louboutins as they were. “Truly, they’ve been the only acceptable sweet-breakfast option that I can manage. Usually, I’ll get one of your old fashioned donuts. I mean, if I wanted a full, proper breakfast, I go for a full bacon-egg sandwich, but-- chocolate croissants. They happening any time soon? Give me something to live for.”

  “Sorry, what where you saying?” the baker asked as he looked at the other. One could tell that Ryan was in serious need of sleep and the baker was tried. His coffee tolerance was high and he was maybe on his third cup already. “Renovations and the bakery and also a one year old. I feel like I could sleep for a thousand years right now.”  @slchat​

[sam-not-samantha]

text; orla x _

orla: *sends snap of her chest in a v scantily clad bra*

orla: does cain look bigger than coke?

sam: Absolutely

sam: but that's only because you're turned to your left

sam: you know your angles though

sam: is that new VS?

[sam-not-samantha]

“Not weird, per se, but someone did inform me that they believed my perfume smelled of skunk, or maybe it was cat piss. Something animalic, to that degree. I thought perhaps they were smelling the weed, but honestly, even that doesn’t smell all too skunk-y anymore. I don’t blame them. I tend to wear scents heavy in civet or musk, but I usually will get ‘old whore stank’ or something. Elizabeth Taylor would be proud. I’ll take it over B.O.”

“On today’s episode of ‘What did Vienna Say” I accidentally said that one of the players pounded the other against the wall. And I didn’t realize it until the player laughed at me and asked if I should think that sentence over. My face turned red and I had to walk away so I can face palm myself,” she sighed as she shook her head. “Please tell me I’m not the only one that said something weird today.” @slchat​

[sam-not-samantha]

“Yeah, but ‘Only Good Vibes’ is like a one-way ticket into ‘Deluisional Naiveté’ territory. One second it’s, ‘Just good vibes’, then it’s 'What do you mean I’ve neglected my priorities?” Sam took a hit from her joint, realizing that even if the girl before her was far more cautious about where her smoke went, for once, she didn’t totally hate the smell of burning tobacco. “It’s surprisingly easy to let yourself become a psychic sponge. I don’t trust anyone that self-identifies as an empath, because I think it’s very human to be able to pick up on other people’s feelings. Some do it more than others, some can let it overwhelm them. But, it’s simply important to make sure that ‘only good vibes’ doesn’t become a pair of permanently-glued-on rose-colored glasses.” Sam finished the joint, crystal-covered fingers flicking the RAW cone into the street. “Name your poison, or preferred setting. Don’t worry about buying.”

( @slchat​ ) “You know what? It’s official, I’m putting in place a strict Only Good Vibes for Ayala rule.” It was a rule she’d never really be able to enforce, of course. She only had control over her own emotions. There was nothing she could do about how others felt and the energy they radiated. But she couldn’t help herself. The news she had gotten had rattled her. “Like I do every single day, I got my aura read and you know wanna know what color it was?” She paused her rant to take a long drag of her cigarette. She exhaled, directing the cloud of smoke away from the other person. “Indigo. Blurred indigo.” She was usually violet or magenta, sometimes even lavender or emerald green. And while colors change with the emotion, hers were always consistent. Besides, of course, the dark red it had been after the unraveling of her marriage. That was to be expected. But this? This was unusual. “You know what that means? I’m absorbing other people’s bad moods. No more of that.” Ayala looked at the other person. “In honor of good vibes, you and I should do something fun. Let’s grab a drink. I’ll even buy the first round.”

[sam-not-samantha]

soniels​:

It all happened so fast that Sophie couldn’t help but stare, thinking how this could easily be a scene from a movie. Had the Heavens cursed her this fine day, or was bad luck following everyone around? She couldn’t tell for sure, though as soon as the blonde spoke, she was already reaching inside her bag. 

“Yeah, um, pretty sure I have some baby wipes in here…” 

There. Thank you Val, the woman wanted to say before handing the small pack to Sam. 

“Are you okay? We can go at my place, so you can wash your face.” 

“Oh, perfect!” Contrary to what might be assumed, her voice lacked its usual sarcasm; hands reached out hastily to grab the baby wipes, and she was quickly clearing her face of Dior concealer and a mud mask that was sure to make her break out. “Thank you for actually being useful in this town full of standing props.”

Sam let out a GRUNT, which could have easily turned into a SHRIEK if she didn’t try any harder to control herself. Allowing anyone to see her in a state of weakness-- especially those she feared the judgment of-- was unacceptable. Jaw tense, she slowly nodded.

“I would very much appreciate that, if you would allow. Assuming you live within a convenient area. I can pay for a ride-- and whatever interior cleaning costs there might be as a result.”

[sam-not-samantha]

judenolans​:

Jude couldn’t help but snort. She was such a sight, the bus that had driven by hitting a particularly deep pothole. “Think you need a shower, Samantha, not a napkin.” She had a tendency to blow these things out of proportion, and before she could do that, Jude attempted to help the situation. “You can always drop that off at a dry cleaners, right? There’s about a thousand on this block alone.” 

Sam may as well have survived a natural disaster. Though, she would argue what would define a “natural” disaster in a climate where man has affected everything, but-- Where does one go from this? “I think if you ever call me that again, I’ll make sure to fasten a bath mat out of your pelt, Nolan.” She turned, stiff, as if frightened to move (or in shock), to face what could probably be the only comforting face on this side of the country. “Don’t you know all dry cleaners are money laundering locations? Or wait, I believe that’s mattress stores... Just... Start walking with me. Please.”

[sam-not-samantha]

Though it was still technically 10 days away, autumn was Sam’s favorite season. The best collections walked, the weather permitted her favorite combinations of mini skirts and thigh-highs, and fur was never more appropriate. She anticipated, though, that Los Angeles’ dryness would prevent the threat of road splatter that was omnipresent in NYC.

She would be mistaken. Somehow, amid forest fires and dry seasons, mud still existed, and one foul drive-by of a bus left her and a grey wool halter dress caked in mistakes. Eyes searched, frantic, for a witness--

“Might you have a napkin? Or something similarly useful? Before I figure out what steps to take to sue the city?”

@slchat​