#also funny buggy baby angels

[grimdochdraws]

hadriel is a wonderful big sister i think

[hauntingblue]

BACK TO ONE PIECE LETSGOOOOO

[babyjakes]

darling dangers.

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event | kinktober 2022

prompt | vibrator

pairings | mean!dark!best friend!ransom drysdale and soft!dark!best friend!jake jensen x innocent!reader

warnings | non/dub-con (reader is reluctant and resistant.) ran and jake are absolutely taking advantage of reader. ran is an asshole, jake is a little better. heavy humiliation, babying, dumbification, mocking and degradation. crying kink. ransom holds reader down. pussy slapping. forced fingering and use of vibrator. heavy clit focus. multiple forced orgasms. squirting. overstimulation. jake is doing most of the work, ransom's just there to be mean lol.

word count | 2,312

an | um oh my godddddd, ,,, this idea has been swirling around in my brain for so long and finally, finally i get to bring it to fruition >:-)) welcome to kinktober, whores <333 also sorry if this one feels awkward or rusty? i've been writing whump for the past month so getting back into the filth felt a little clumsy :-((

As soon as you see the small black box sitting out in the open on the counter between your two best friends, both of their faces drawn in expectant expressions as they stand just waiting for you to walk in on the perfect scene they've orchestrated- you know you're in deep, deep trouble.

Ransom's crossing his arms, a small smirk forming on his face when he sees how wide your eyes have gone. Jake's giving off more disappointment than amusement, which honestly hits deeper than the twisted pleasure his counterpart's apparently finding in the whole ordeal. Gulping as you take a step forward into the kitchen, your voice betrays you by trembling as you dare to speak up. "R-Ran? Jakey? What's going on?"

"You know, it's funny, princess. We've been wondering the same thing," Ransom jests as he places a steady hand on the counter, crossing one ankle over the other as he pauses to glance at the blonde standing beside him. "Right, J? We never would've imagined our precious little angel- our sweet, innocent y/n- turning out to be such a whore."

Tears prickle in your eyes at the remark; bottom lip puffing out slightly in a pathetic frown, you shake your head in defense. "N-no, don't say that. S'not true."

"Aww, look at her, Jake. Think she's gonna cry already. Go on then, sweetheart. Know you can't help it, you've always been such a sensitive little thing."

Brow stiffening in anger, you glare at the brown-haired boy. "Stop it," you whisper through your hurt and confusion. Why are they doing this to you? They're your best friends, your Ran and Jakey. What would ever drive them to humiliate you like this? You would've never seen it coming. "Wh-why were you going through my mail, anyway? You have no right."

"Well, it helped that we were expecting the package," Jake finally breaks his silence, letting out a small sigh as he crosses his own arms. "An email popped up about your order status while I was helping you fix your phone last week. Couldn't believe it, our sweet y/n, ordering from a site like that. But it looks like there was no mistake here." Turning slightly, he reaches out to pick up the little box with a single hand. Eyeing the picture on the lid, his disappointment only seems to grow as he looks back at you, "Buggy, d'you even know what these are made for? You have no business buyin' something like this; you're much too little, y/n."

Cheeks burning at your friend's patronizing words, your eyes narrow further. "Of course I know what they're made for, Jake. I... I'm not stupid, I'm a big girl. I can order whatever the hell I want," you shot back.

At that, Ransom chuckles as Jake can only manage to shake his head in further disappointment. "A big girl, huh? We'll see about that, babycakes."

Everything happens so fast, you're barely able to process it. Before you know it, the pair have whisked you away to your bedroom, Ransom laughing cruelly as he carries you over his shoulder. In the blink of an eye, they have you surrounded on the plush duvet of your queen-sized bed, the brunette coming up behind you to trap you in his arms. As he leans back against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed, he brings you with him, pressing your back up against his broad chest as you squirm in haste. Jake approaches the two of you on his knees, the box with your new toy still clasped in his hand. Writhing a bit as Ransom tightens his grip on you, you finally find your voice. "What the fuck-? Let go of me, let me go! What are you doing? This is-"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Jake tells you sadly as your other friend eventually gets a good enough hold on you to overpower your resistance. "This is for your own good, y/n. You need'ta learn not to mess around with these things. It's not safe for a little girl like you."

"Learn? What do you mean?" you cry as Ransom's large hands come up to pry your knees apart, using his own strong legs to hold you open. As soon as you feel the cool air of the apartment hitting the thin layer of fabric covering your delicate mound, you freeze. Peering down with wide eyes, you see that your little tennis skirt has flipped up in the most unfortunate of ways, leaving your lacy pink panties on full display for everyone in the room's viewing pleasure. Heart pounding heavily in your chest, you clear your throat.

"R-Ran, Jakey... please..."

"We're not gonna hurt you, baby. Just gonna show you how dangerous these things can be, that's all. You're safe," Jake hums as he lays down on his tummy before you, scooting up between your widespread legs to come almost face-to-face with your now quivering core.

"Pink lace," Ransom snorts from behind you as his hands rest greedily on your inner thighs. "She really is a little slut, isn't she, J?"

Tears pool in your eyes as your cheeks burn in embarrassment. "P-please, please don't look," you beg, your tears earning a sympathetic frown from the blonde beneath you as he reaches out to run a tender hand over the lace of your panties.

"We're gonna be doin' a whole lot more than lookin', sweet thing," he admits as his fingers press against your dampness. "And would you look at that, someone's already gettin' wet." Squeezing out a few more tears as the man prods at your thinly-covered heat, you can only whimper in response.

"Doesn't surprise me. Bet she likes us being all rough, holding her down and spreading her open. You like that, sweetheart?" Ransom teases as he brings a hand up to cup one of your breasts over the flimsy yellow tank top you're wearing. "Never wears a bra around us, either. She's just asking to be played with." At the feeling of his cool hand slipping under your top to search for your beaded nipple, you cry out, straining against his wicked hold- but it's no use. Compared to Jake and Ransom, you're nothing in terms of size or strength. And now that they've got you where they want you, you're completely at their mercy. And you're not sure how much you can trust their promise of safety, not after all they've just done to you.

The meaner of the two laughs darkly as he finds one of the little knots of flesh, pinching and rolling it between his fingers as you cry softly to yourself. "Responsive little thing, isn't she?" he marvels as Jake takes to dealing with your panties; for a moment, he pushes them aside, but then after a few seconds of rethinking, he instead just decides to simply take the thin strip of fabric in his hands, pulling harshly until the band snaps apart completely.

"There we go," he murmurs as his eyes settle down on your dripping folds. "Such a pretty little pussy you've got, sunshine. It's a shame you didn't decide to share sooner."

Looking down over your shoulder to take his own peek, Ransom groans at the sight of your untouched petals. "Fuck, y/n. You've been keeping that all to yourself? Bet no one's ever done anything like this to you before. This your first time, princess?" Your words only continue to fail you as you lower your head in shame, your response giving the two boys all the answers they need. "Well too bad it has to be wasted on a punishment. Dumb little girl thought she could order a big girl toy- these things aren't made for you, baby. You're gonna realize that very quickly."

Pulling his hands away to fiddle with the box, Jake takes his time removing the little blue bullet from its packaging. The friends were smart enough to make sure to charge it before their little ambush, meaning they now have the benefit of its full battery life to spend on teaching you your little lesson. "Here it is," Jake hums, clicking it on carefully to the lowest speed. "Now sweetheart, I'm gonna give you one chance to get yourself outta this," he bargains.

That catches your attention. Raising your weary gaze to meet the blonde's soft set of eyes, you nod reluctantly. "I want you to show me and Ran exactly what you were gonna do with this thing. Want you to use it just like how you were planning when you bought it. And if you're honest with me- with us, and show us everything it was gonna do for you, we'll let you go."

Blinking, you take a moment to think. It's a good offer, you will admit, and he even seems genuine about keeping his end of the deal if you follow through with it. But there's a part of you that just can't bear the thought of demonstrating the crude acts you were intending on performing with the toy, at least not to your two best friends in the entire world. He left it unsaid, but it was implied: Jake wants you to make yourself cum for them. And you just can't do it, you know you can't. So you decide to do the only other thing you can think of: play stupid and pray they buy it.

Swallowing thickly, you nod. Shifting a little, Ransom releases one of your hands, still holding your breast hostage beneath his fingers, almost as an impending threat. Watching you carefully, Jake hands you the buzzing bullet, the strength of the toy's vibrations causing your hand to tingle ticklishly as you suck in a deep breath.

"Go ahead, cutie. Show us," Jake encourages.

Trying to keep your hand from shaking, you brace yourself as you bring the object down between your legs, searching a little to find your glistening hole. Squeezing your eyes shut, you push in, letting the low rumble of the vibrator settle into your core.

"Alright, that's enough," Ransom snaps, causing you to jump as Jake rips the toy from your heat and grasp. "Stupid fucking baby, that was a big mistake. Are you really too dumb to know where it goes? Or do you just want us to punish you?"

Shaking his head in disappointment, Jake sighs heavily. "Good girls don't lie, y/n," he states harshly as Ransom resecures both of your arms down against your back before reaching between your legs to land a few forceful slaps against your bare pussy.

You sob at the sting, gasping as his hand comes up to pull back the hood of your clit. "Give it to her, she was asking for it," he nods to Jake.

Turning up the toy a few clicks, the blonde focuses in his gaze on your little bundle of nerves as he gently collects some of your wetness on the twitching head of the tool before easing it up against your button, earning a strained gasp from you as your whole world's set on fire. The burning is unlike anything you've ever experienced, heat blooming in your core as you burst into more tears at the sensation. Shaking his head knowingly, Jake's voice is full of disappointment as he chastises you, "I gave you a chance, y/n, but you either lied to me, or you're just way dumber than I ever imagined."

"Look at all those tears," Ransom all but moans as he twists and pulls at your nipple, grinding subtly into your back as he holds you down for Jake's torment. "Keep it right on the head, pal- don't cut her any slack. What's the matter, sweetheart- huh? That too much for you? I thought you were a big girl who could handle big girl toys. Of course you're not," he laughs darkly, only egged on by the feeling of you writhing against him, "you're just a stupid little baby who needs to be taught a lesson."

"Think she's learning pretty quick," Jake comments as he practically drools at the sight of your wetness leaking out onto the bed beneath you. Using his free hand, he gently eases a finger into you, curling up gently to rub at your soft, spongey ceiling as your eyes roll back in horrific pain and pleasure.

"Please, please..." you're reduced to mere sobs as you feel the pressure of your orgasm building up more and more in your tummy. "Please, n-no-... wait-... stop-..."

"There it is. C'mon, baby. Cum for us, it's okay," Jake coos as he twirls the head of the bullet over your swollen clit. "That's it, there you go," he sighs with a small smile as you're forced over the edge, your back arching painfully as you squirt out onto his waiting hands.

"Fuck," Ransom curses from behind you, his cock bulging needily at the sight of you being forced to cum. "She's a fucking squirter, would'ya look at that. Better than anything I was dreaming of," he groans as your little toes twitch from the overstimulation, your sobs growing louder as you come down from your high.

"P-please, please, no more!" you hiccup, the continued vibrations against your now engorged button enough to bring you to your knees.

"You think she's learned her lesson, Ran?" Jake asks doubtfully, already knowing what the answer will be as he stretches you open to add a second finger before turning up the bullet another few notches.

"No, I don't think we're anywhere near finished," the brunette responds cruelly as he slaps his hand down a few times against your throbbing heat before pulling back on your lips again to spread you out once more. "She needs at least one more, maybe two. Gotta really show her how dangerous that little thing can be."

[trentslfcc]

Eye to eye 2

Chapter 19🤍

-

Ella opened her eyes to discover the next day had presented itself. Trent had seemed to be already awake, scrolling through his phone while cuddling her. Deciding to get up after laying comfortably in his arms for a few minutes, she went to the nursery to say 'good morning' to the twins. They were so adorable with their big boba eyes, inherited from their father, and their chubby little cheeks. Her heart melted whenever she looked at them. Being a mother had changed her so much as a person and she couldn't even remember how life had been without out her little ones. They were the people she loved the most in the entire world. Tahj and Tayah pushed her to become the best mother she could be for them and made her maturity develop. Tahj was a sleepy, calm and content baby who enjoyed anytime he spent with his parents. Tayah was a little drama queen who was filled with energy and joy. It was funny because they both were similar to their parents. Tahj was like his dad but acted more like his uncle Jobe and Tayah was just like her mum as Ella was also a drama queen at times. It was learned behaviour. Ella quickly went the the bathroom so she could complete her morning routine before going back to the babies so that she could change and feed them, taking them downstairs.

"Morning my angels." Trent joined his family downstairs and held the babies once Ella had finished giving them their milk. She stayed in the kitchen so that she could make him breakfast due to his strict diet as a footballer and being the only one in this relationship that knew how to cook. Trent played the twins in the living room, putting on their favourite cartoons at the same time. Ella had forbade him to put on 'cocomelon' and said that they weren't allowed to watch it because of how annoying she found it, so instead he put on shows like paw patrol, care bears and such.

"Here you go baby." She gave him his plate and a tissue so that he could eat, afterwards playing with the babies herself. He thanked her straight away and began eating. It was midday so they would have to get ready in an hour so they could proceed with the plan they had hatched out last night.

"How do you think it's gonna go?" He asked her softly before taking another bite of his food. This was going to be interesting to say the least. He still couldn't believe he was going along with this but when it came to Ella, he would always have her back. Adding on to that, Sabrina needed a talking to.

"I don't know. I'm gonna tell her to leave my family alone and stop with this nonsense. She needs to sort herself out." Ella responded, taking the toy Tahj was playing with out of his mouth as both of the twins leaned against her. "Tahj, we don't put toys in our mouth." She continued calmly, making Trent chuckle because of his dirty mind. Tayah was more focused on the TV but would occasionally play with her brother. It was important that they began playing as it was crucial for babies around their age. Ella was going to make sure that her children were developing correctly.

"I just hope it works and she leaves us alone." Trent voiced as he was nearly finished his food, about to make his way to the kitchen.

When it was time to get ready, Ella took the twins upstairs so that she could change them out of their pyjamas and into their clothes. The buggy was always packed with nappies and feeding supplies as always which meant that it left more time for her to get ready. She put on a pair of black leggings and a black hoodie while Trent just wore his tracksuit. It was going to be eventful.

The journey didn't last long. It was only about 20 minutes and when they had arrived to the shopping centre parking lot, Ella wished it lasted longer so that she could really rehearse what she was going to say. It was going to be her first time meeting her and hopefully her last, if Sabrina didn't stop. It needed to be done and to be honest, it was a little overdue as Ella should've spoken to her before. Trent took the double buggy out of the boot and helped Ella put the twins in carefully. Before they even entered, a text had come through...

*I'm here. I'll wait for you*

Of course, Sabrina still thought that she was meeting Trent but she was going to get the shock of her life soon. He told Ella that Sabrina was there to which she made him reply..

'I'll be there in a second'

Now, Ella knew that she had to go about this in the right way because she knew that people like Sabrina were definitely reactionary and delusional. It was going to be a challenging conversation. It wasn't everyday that a woman had to speak to the person who was stopping at nothing to get her boyfriend. However, she was going to try her best to be classy. She also hoped that paparazzi wouldn't be around or called because the internet would have a field day over this. After those pictures had come out of Trent going into Sabrina's house, she was tagged and spammed, so she imagined how people would react and they would see Ella confronting her. All she could do is try to resolve the issue then and there but she knew it wasn't going to be easy at all. Trent quickly gave her a kiss before going into the stores while Ella took a deep breath and began walking towards the park. Her mind was telling her to turn back but she was going to have to disobey. As she reached the park, she could see a blonde woman sat on a bench, scrolling through her phone, alone, away from everyone and out of sight. 'Great'. Ella told herself sarcastically, walking towards her.

Ella was getting closer and closer which Sabrina heard and turned to face her. Suddenly, a look of fright and shock appeared on her face. What a turn of events for her. When Ella reached the bench, she took a seat near her and faced her. Sabrina didn't know what to say.

"I thought..I-" Sabrina stuttered, not expecting this in the slightest. If ever there was a moment where she wanted to run away, it was this one and Ella was just sat there, intimidating her unpurposefully.

"What? Can't speak?" Ella asked rhetorically. Sabrina was a pretty girl and it was upsetting to see that someone like her would go through such lengths for a man who didn't like her.

"I thought Trent.." She let out again, lowering her head in what looked like shame but Ella knew better.

"You thought Trent was gonna be here to meet you. Well, you got his girlfriend instead." Ella was going to get everything off her mind and tell her what she was doing was disgusting, even though Trent had already done that.

"What are you doing here?" Sabrina's shock was replaced with a stare of annoyance and frustration as she processed what was going on.

"Look Sabrina, I'm not here to fight. I'm not here to argue or intimidate you or whatever. I just want you to leave Trent alone please. It's really getting irritating and I'm tired of this whole ongoing situation." Ella disregarded her attempt at being rude and stated her reasons for showing up.

"I can't push my feelings to the side and let you two be happy. I like him Ella and I don't care if it's not what you want to hear. It's how I feel." Sabrina shot back with the same vexation as before.

"Well, I'm trying to be nice here Sabrina but you're gonna be feeling my fist if you don't leave my family alone." Ella was calm, not really giving attitude but speaking to Sabrina in a teacher kind of manner.

"I haven't done anything wrong. I haven't split you guys up or anything. I've handled the situation as best as I can." This is was made Ella want to scream because how could she see no wrongs in her actions?

"If that's as best as you can then girl, you need some help." She retorted, causing Sabrina to roll her eyes. "In your mind, what's going on between you and Trent? Be honest, because I know all about your little attempt to kiss him and how you called the paps when he came to your house and stuff."

"First of all, I never called the paps. And I know that Trent feels some type of way towards me because he used to flirt with me at training." Ella thought Sabrina was out of her mind.

"Your definition of flirting and the actual definition of flirting are two different things." Ella remarked. "You guys were friends then, which I had no problem with by the way, and Trent acts differently with all his friends. If we're going by your logic, then I guess he flirts with Virgil, Ramsdale, Ibou and Curtis aswell."

"Ella, you're not even understanding me-" Sabrina was cut off immediately. What could she possibly mean?

"I've studied people like you. I know how your brain works and I know why you act the way you do. I'm a psychologist for fuck sake. I understand you very well Sabrina." Ella let her know.

"Listen, I know you probably hate me, but it's hard." Sabrina lowered her head again, knowing that she was being defeated.

"I don't hate you. I don't like you but I know better than to hate, especially since I have children to be a role model for. To be honest, I feel sorry for you. You need to stop. Trent doesn't like you like that. I have no problem if you fix up your behaviour and you two become friends again, but he's my boyfriend and you need to respect the fact that he's in a relationship. A real friend wouldn't be trying to sabotage a friend's relationship, they would be happy for them. I know you like him but there's better ways to go about it Sabrina. You're being a psycho." Ella responded truthfully.

"How am I being a psycho?" Sabrina shrugged her shoulders with more annoyance. In her head, she was only trying to be with Trent.

"You literally stand infront of our house with your stupid mask. My kids- his kids are in there and you're potentially putting them in danger. A friend wouldn't do that."

"I would never do that-" Sabrina was cut off again, but this time it wasn't by Ella voice, it was by a gasp.

As Ella's attention was pulled by a familiar figure, Sabrina's head snapped too. Ella was beyond confused as to what was going on. She thought that the stalker had been next to her this whole time but she had been wrong. Or had she? Everything was not adding up.

"What the fuck?" Sabrina cursed out, collecting her thoughts as she was seeing the creepy mask. It was something she had never seen first hand but she had been accused of.

"What- is this your little friend?" Ella was genuinely fed up. It was enough. She turned her head slightly towards Sabrina, who looked like she was really frightened and paralysed with fear. Ella used her head and realised that she was most likely not the person who she thought it was. Without notice, the figure began running towards them. "Come on." Ella uttered out loud before grabbing Sabrina's arm and getting them out of there. She was faster then Sabrina which worried her because she didn't want her to get hurt, despite everything. "Hurry up." They ended up running through the back streets, not even realising when it had been a few minutes.

"Ella." Sabrina called out when she had tripped over, feeling as if the figure was going to get her. Ella instantly turned around and saw Sabrina on the floor. She immediately ran to her and helped her get up so that they could continue running. "It hurts."

"You'll be okay." Ella reassured her, starting to run again as she saw that masked person was still following behind. "We need to get to the shopping centre." She alerted her. Everything was emptier than Ella had wished, which made it difficult for someone to see what was happening. The park had been empty, no one was on the streets so hopefully Trent was in a packed area, but he probably wouldn't be due to his fame and status. He liked to stay out of slight, especially when he was with the babies so he could protect them. "We're almost there Sabrina."

Once they reached the shopping centre, Ella couldn't spot the stalker anywhere but she could see that Sabrina was bleeding. She took Sabrina inside and rapidly called Trent to see where he was. Of course, he was in an area where no one else was and it was quicker to go through the back. Ella was now taking them through the back doors before she was met with Trent's wide open eyes.

"She's not the stalker." Ella spoke as soon as she got in, holding Sabrina's arms around her, helping her walk.

"Did you guys fight?" Trent saw Sabrina's leg bleeding and immediately became very confused. Yes, Ella was protective, but he would never hurt anyone unless they had started it and was a hundred percent going to stick by Ella.

"No, this sick creep chased us all the way here. Sabrina's not the stalker." Ella was still helping her, walking closer to the woman's bathroom. "Can you go buy a big plaster or like, a first aid kit please?" She asked Trent but it was more like a command.

"Yeah." He answered, before pulling the buggy towards him and making his way to the stores section. Ella then took Sabrina into the bathroom which was empty, unsurprisingly.

"Why are you helping me?" Sabrina was grateful that Ella was here, but couldn't understand why she would want to help. She had tried to take her boyfriend and hadn't been kind to her, so why was Ella being kind to her?

"Because you need help. I'm not just gonna let you bleed am I?" She responded, aiding Sabrina in sitting on the counter, getting the bin so that she could lay her leg straight. Ella didn't like her, but she wasn't cold.

"You should." She said, lowering her head once again. Ella could tell that she felt bad so she was prepared to let this situation go.

"No." Ella replied with a serious facial expression. It was out of character for her to not help someone in need of help.

"Babe, I got it." Trent could be heard telling Ella that he had got the first aid kit. Ella quickly went over and got it from him, thanking him in the process. Trent was angry that stalker could have potentially harmed Ella but he was proud that she was taking care of Sabrina's wound. He then went to go and wait outside with the twins. She went to go and wash her hands throughly and returned to where she was and began cleaning the cut carefully, making Sabrina close her eyes at the stinging sensation.

"It's gonna sting but it's gonna pass soon." Ella calmed her down a bit. It seemed as if her life was a movie, packed with horror and drama. No one would expect a footballer's life to be filled with these types of events, but here we were. A few minutes of silence possessed the conversation.

"I'm sorry." Sabrina broke the quietness. She really did feel bad. "For everything." Ella was more focused on stopping the bleeding than listening to her apology.

"You've said that before Sabrina. I don't want an apology, I want you to respect Trent and our relationship." Now that they knew she was not the stalker, it was easier to see that Sabrina was just a woman going through a lot.

"A while ago, I went through a very messy break up. It left me..heartbroken and depressed I guess. I wasn't doing well mentally at all. I ended up getting fired from my job because of it. So I tried to do what I could to distract myself but it didn't work. Then I got offered a place at the club which I took obviously cos' I don't wanna be unemployed if there's no reason for me to be. Trent was the one who helped introduce me to the team and eventually, I opened up to him about everything. He was the one that helped me when I needed it most." Sabrina confessed to Ella, feeling comfortable enough to tell her.

"That's what he does." Ella replied in a non judgmental tone. It was upsetting to hear but also touching because she could see that Trent was a good friend. She could empathise with her.

"Yeah. He was a very good friend to me. I guess with all the time I spent with him and the team and with everything he did for me, I started liking him. From day one, he was very vocal about how much he loves you and how excited he was to be a father. It made me jealous because I wanted him..to like me. So I found ways to be around him more and you know, just get him to try to like me but obviously it didn't work. He was the one who distracted me from what I was going through mentally and I didn't realise that I was being such a bitch."

"You're not a bitch." Ella tried to correct her but she didn't even believe it herself. She even earned a 'really?' sarcastic look from Sabrina because there was no way after everything that she didn't think she was a bitch. "Okay, you are a bit of a bitch but I appreciate you being honest. I can be a bitch too sometimes."

"You're a good person Ella. Honestly, I don't understand why you're being so nice to me. I don't get how you didn't beat my ass because I was would understand if you did. I deserve it. You're definitely a girl's girl." Sabrina chuckled a little.

"As a mother, I need to learn to be more responsible and calm in situations. I did wanna beat you up but you're a woman who's struggling and I'm a woman who's struggling too. We both have work to do mentally." She was done cleaning the wound now and patted the cut with the little towel inside the first aid kit.

"Thank you so much Ella." Sabrina was more than thankful actually. She was going to be as respectful as she could. "Do you think he'll ever speak to me again?"

"I'm sure he will, but you need move on. I know that you fell for him because he helped you but you need to heal properly. Maybe you could get a therapist, they would talk to you about your break up and find ways to channel your emotions into something else. And one day, you'll find the man for you. You're a beautiful girl and the fact that you admitted what you did wrong and apologised shows that."

"Can I atleast be his friend after?" Sabrina questioned Ella again. Ella understood that she didn't have many friends and being alone was the worst feeling. Ella applied a sterile adhesive wound dressing to her cut which meant that they were finally finished.

"That's not my decision to make. You need to apologise to him and actually mean it this time girl." She told her. "And I'm sorry for accusing you of being the stalker."

"I don't deserve an apology." Ella helped her get down from the counter, washing her hands afterwards. She made sure to put the wrappers in the bin and take the kit with her. The pair then made their way towards the door.

After what felt like an hour, Trent saw Ella, holding the door open for Sabrina while she was exiting the bathroom. This was not how he thought today was going to go at all.

"Trent, I'm sorry. For real this time. Ella is a lovely girl and I was being such a b-" Sabrina was about the swear but immediately remembered that babies were present and so she censored herself. "I was being so stupid. I understand if you don't want to be my friend anymore because how I acted these past months was unacceptable."

"I appreciate your apology, but I need a bit of time before I can trust you and be your friend again." Trent was being nothing but truthful.

"I understand." She responded lowering her eyes. "Thank you again Ella for everything and for not beating me up."

"Just make sure you do what I suggested please so that you can get better." Ella was referring to when she recommended Sabrina to go to therapy for her break up.

"I will." She agreed. It was what she needed and what she was going to get to improve herself as a person. "I'm gonna go now."

"Bye. Be careful." Was the last thing Ella said to her, taking seat next to Trent. She had managed to resolve the situation.

"I will, bye." And with that, they felt slightly better. They didn't know who the stalker was but they were going to figure it out eventually.

"That got sorted way faster than I thought it would and you were a lot nicer that I thought you would be. I'm proud of you baby." Trent gave her a little hug before they spent the rest of the afternoon in the shopping centre.

-

Chapter 20

Guysss Ella's a girl's girl👏🏽

Also, why did I make this a horror story?-🤦🏽‍♀️ But I like it🤍x

Chapter 20 is coming out tomorrow!

[erodasfishtacos]

Can we get a cute bonding moment with all of the siblings (MLB!Harry, Gang!Harry or CEO!Harry with the future kids whatever you want). Your writing is amazing thanks!

“She’s little,” Ivy piques up, eyes wide as saucers as she looks at the tiny baby in the cradle of her father’s arms.

“Yeah, she’s really little, huh?” Harry smiles softly, heart bursting over and over again with his two baby loves.

Ivy clambers up onto her fathers lap, hesitant finger coming to touch the baby’s cheek, “Pretty.”

Harry just constantly feels like crying with how fucking happy he is, “She is really pretty. She’s very beautiful just like y’Ivy. You’re so so beautiful.”

His daughter smiles up at him, “You’re pretty too daddy. Just like sissy.”

—

Briar was teething with an ear infection. It was a double whammy and the seven-month old was miserable.

They were visiting Anne and YN was in the pool with the older two while Harry lounged on a chaise with a sad baby girl.

“I know, it hurts,” Harry coos softly when Briar gnaws aggressively on the frozen tether they brought along for the trip.

Ezra was concerned about Briar, playing with his toys close to his father, and occasionally looking over when she whimpered.

It could be difficult because when one of the siblings were struggling with something, they also needed to comfort Ezra who would become anxious.

When Briar starts sobbing after her tether starts to thaw out, she replaces it with nibbling on her father’s fingers.

“Daddy,” Ezra squeaks loudly, standing up and toddling over and looking at his baby sister, “No bite!”

Briar just looks at him curiously, still moving her jaw to find comfort for her sore gums.

“She’s okay, Ezzie,” Harry soothes, combing his hand through his son’s curls, “Her teeth are hurting her.”

“She’s sad,” He states, looking at his father for approval.

They’d been working very hard with him, in particular, on identifying emotions.

“Good job. She is sad but that’s okay,” His father assured him, “She’s about ready f’a nap.”

“I help!” He says happily

Anne and YN find Harry, two hours later, passed out in the guest bedroom with Ezra tucked onto his chest and Briar sleeping in the pack n’ play.

—

“Can I bloody help you?” Harry barks with annoyance at someone staring at him as he pushes a buggy through the grocery store with two toddlers in it.

It was a funny sight to see - to be fair.

A man with chocolate locks pulled up in a bun with a black tee, black skinny jeans, and black leather boots on.

He is covered from his neck down with tattoos. No single free space - down to his knuckles.

Even tiny tattoo of the number, ‘26’ on his cheekbone ( he was married on the 26th and his babies were born on the 26th of another month).

He was downright terrifying, some knew exactly who he was which made it worse - knew he had a pistol tucked in his waistband (he did).

But he had these two little angelic toddlers in the cart who were well behaved, friendly, and giggling when their dad made faces at them.

“Daddy, please can we get those?” His daughter asks politely, pointing at a package of cookies that was taunting her.

Harry could feel eyes on him but he could give one fuck, “Y’mumma doesn’t buy y’cookies when you’re at the shops.”

Olive frowns a bit dejectedly even though Harry’s not done talking.

“But…mummy’s not here so let’s get ‘em,” Harry smirks before snagging the package and handing it to his daughter.

He loved to rile up the missus.

“Thank y’daddy,” She chirps, showing her twin brother the package and he smiles widely at her.

—-

God that last one makes me want to do a curious gazes for gangrry

[terror-that-flaps-in-the-evening]

The Perfect Gift

                “Well, if you need me, I’ll be lying on the ground in the fabric section,” Gosalyn started to skip off, halted only when her dad snuck a hand into her hood, yanking her back.

             “Not so fast little miss!” Drake snapped, putting his free hand on his hip as he stared down at his daughter. “There are so many things wrong with that statement! First off, the floor?! Honey, a department store is no place to lay on the floor. Secondly, you can’t go wandering off where I can’t see you! What if something happened? I’d never be able to forgive myself, cupcake!” Drake paused and squinted down at his daughter, who was opening and closing her hands to mimic talking while she stared quite literally anywhere but at him, a deep scowl accompanying her sass.

             He took her face between his hands and tilted it up towards him. “Lastly, Darling, I always need you. Especially right this very instant, because oh man, I haven’t the slightest idea what we’re going to do!”

             “Ugh, Dad,” Gosalyn huffed, but Drake could see that she was trying not to smile at his theatrics – which he had to admit were only partially to get her to smile. He really was lost in a world where he knew nothing.

             “We’ve nearly been around this entire store and I still don’t know what to get,” Drake sighed, releasing his daughter only to flop dramatically on the empty shopping cart he had been pushing around for nearly an hour.

             “Wow, look at all this amazing stuff,” Gosalyn’s voice was flat and sarcastic as she gestured to the store around her. She pepped up a little bit to add on, “We could, get this,” she held her hands out in front of her as if to brace herself, “buy something and not spend the rest of our lives in a store.”

             “I just want it to be perfect,” Drake sighed, raising his head from the shopping cart that he’d still been flopped on. He had to be honest, Gosalyn had a point. They’d been shopping for a while and he was pretty tired too. But he couldn’t leave without the perfect gift.

             “Dad, he’ll love literally anything you get him! I picked up a leaf from the ground on my way home from school like, months ago, and he still has it in his coloring book. He’d be over the moon if you brought home like, a burrito.” Gosalyn rolled her eyes and picked up some random trinket from a shelf, “He’d like this,” she tossed it back down and picked up something else to wave in her dad’s face, “or this.”

             Drake snatched the keychain out of Gosalyn’s hand and hung it back up on the display. “Your father would not like a random keychain for his birthday!” Drake buried his face in his hands, wishing that he knew what to actually get the other for the ever-so-quickly approaching birthday.

He and Gosalyn had already picked out a few cool fan-drawn Darkwing Duck posters for him, but those gifts would be labeled, “From Drake and your Cupcake.” Drake was the one who decided to go with the rhyme. Gosalyn was vehemently against it. Too bad Drake was the one with the wrapping skills. Nonetheless, Drake wanted to get him something that was just from him. A little something that he could relish in seeing Launchpad’s face light up when opening it. The only problem was that it seemed every store they visited was conspiring against him.

“Actually, Dad,” Gosalyn said, sorting through the keychains again, “I’m pretty sure that he’d like literally any of these. Some of them spin. He’d loooove that!” She glanced up at her dad, who was busy wallowing in his own failure to pick out a gift. “Yeah, he’d love it nearly as much as I’d love to be home right now,” she muttered, kicking the bottom of the display as Drake started rolling the cart forward again – to a place in the store they’d no doubt already been to.

“Behave,” Drake’s words were quick, but his tone was softer than expected. “I know you don’t want to be here. We’ll be done soon…” Drake sighed, turning to see Gosalyn with her hands shoved in her pockets, practically stomping along with no trace of her usual contagious smile. “Well, the floor might not be the best place to lay in a department store,” Drake knelt down in front of her, “But you know what is?”

Gosalyn huffed a huge sigh before spitting out, “Where?” She spoke the word as if it had personally done her wrong.

“In the buggy!” Drake exclaimed, picking Gosalyn up despite her protests.

“Dad isn’t even here! He’s the one who puts me in the buggy!” Gosalyn squirmed, trying to escape her dad’s grip. “And don’t you think even for a second that I’m going to sit in the dumb little baby seat like you always try to make me! I’m not a baby!”

“Don’t worry. Don’t worry,” Drake sighed and plopped her in the metal cage of the buggy. “Remember last time I tried to get you in the baby seat? We almost had to call the fire department because you couldn’t get out!”

“Because I’m not a baby,” Gosalyn sighed, standing up in the shopping cart and adding on, “Let’s at least catch some speed and make this trip a little more exciting…”

“Catch some… What have you and LP been doing when you go to the store?!” Drake screeched the cart to a halt, which wasn’t hard considering they were barely even moving at walking speed. Keeping herself balanced was the most fun Gosalyn had had the entire store trip though.

“Oh, yeah, well… Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing that concerns you at all. Wow, would you look at all these things in this aisle? Wow, Dad would looove this…” Gosalyn plopped herself down in the buggy, her smile now present again as she pointed to random things of no consequence and went on and on about how much Launchpad would love them.

“I knew there was a reason I never let Launchpad push the buggy when we all go. Y’know, other than the fact that he likes to ride on the end,” Drake muttered, but despite it all, he was still grinning at the thought of his husband pushing their little girl around the grocery store at breakneck speeds. Wait… “Did you guys get banned from the grocery store near the old apartment?!”

“Banned? Now however would two perfect angels like Launchdad and I get banned from a grocery store?” Gosalyn knew she was in a position of power in this conversation, seeing as she had all the answers that Drake wanted, so of course, she said nothing.

“I knew that he wasn’t scared of the logo! I can’t believe I fell for that so many times… And all the detours I took to avoid driving past so as to not scare him… The reusable bags I bought so I wouldn’t bring home their branded bags…” Drake threw his hands up in the air, letting the buggy roll by itself for a fraction of a second, “Am I the only sane one in this household?”

Gosalyn immediately burst out into laughter so severe that she was grasping at her stomach. The only words she was able to cough out were, “Sane? You?”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” Drake grumbled, “Seriously though, gifts are really hard to figure out.”

“Well, you still have a few more days,” Gosalyn replied. “A few more days in which you could go shopping… alone… leaving me at home…”

             “I have to work the next few days. Anyways, we all know what happens when I leave you home alone.”

Gosalyn threw her hands in the air as she muttered, “Set the couch on fire one time and I’m branded for life.”

“It’s hard to forget when there’s a burn stain across one side of the couch, Muffin.” Drake lectured her once more on the safety of lighting matches when no one was home (Never, he said…) while he steered the cart around aisles that Gosalyn could probably list what was in by heart by now.

“There are like a bazillion other stores in the mall,” Gosalyn grumbled, having given in and stretching herself across the cart comfortably, using her jacket as a pillow. “Maybe one of them will strike inspiration in you. Or maybe the food court will cause you have to realize how hungry both of us are. How much we neeeeed to stop and get some Chinese food. Think about how much you love sweet and sour sauce, Dad.”

“I think someone’s projecting,” Drake replied, speaking the words every kid hates to hear. “Anyways, we have food at home.”

“Can we at least look at other, cooler, stores? Like, maybe a game store. Or we could go to the sports store!” Gosalyn threw some mock punches in the air from her comfy spot in the buggy with that one.

Drake awkwardly scratched the back of his head, the feathers on his face tinted slightly red. “Uhh, well, I don’t have a coupon for those stores, and I do here.” His words were spit out so quickly that Gosalyn could barely grasp them, but who could blame him for spitting them out so quick? They were some pretty lame words.

“You’re telling me that we’ve wasted the last hour of our lives walking around this cursed store because you have a coupon?!” Gosalyn very nearly made the effort of sitting up in the cart to fight that statement.

“Well, with all the doctor’s visits recently… Money’s been tight, Honey,” Drake spoke his words carefully as he started to root through a rack of shirts, but he quickly moved on from that one – fancy clothes had never really been one of Launchpad’s favorites.

“Then why don’t you just make him something,” Gosalyn replied, “That’s what I do. Or, y’know, pick up some stuff from the ground like his favorite leaf, courtesy of me.”

“Make something?” Drake let that thought sink in. With all that he’d been trying to find the perfect gift, he hadn’t thought that maybe he could make the perfect gift. “You’re on to something there.”

Drake pulled a complete 180 with the cart, bringing out a slight squeal of elation from his little passenger. He weaved through the aisles that he had all but memorized at this point until he came upon the one that her comment had spurred him towards.

“Art supplies?” Gosalyn asked, looking around, “Dad doesn’t really do much art, other than coloring.”

“You’ll see,” Drake said back to her with a wink that drew an eye roll out of her. He sorted through the several sketch pads that were in the aisle, picking out one that was wide but didn’t have too many pages. He also grabbed a little book of construction paper sheets, and finally started heading towards the register, which drew out quite a bit of celebration from his daughter.

“Now, just think about it, Dad. Whatever great idea you have is thanks to my great mind, so I think that definitely earns me some delicious mall food! Delicious, overpriced mall food!” Gosalyn crawled across the cart to tug on his rolled-up sleeves, effectively unrolling them. “And I’ve been sooooo good this whole trip: minimal complaining, no whining, I’ve powered through all of your indecisiveness like a real champ!”

“Absolutely none of that is true,” Drake replied with a stern face, rolling up his sleeves once more. “Except for the part about you giving me an idea, I guess… So, as long as you pick out something that can be taken to go, and pick out something for your other dad too, then I guess I can manage some mall food. Don’t think I’m going soft though, this is the only time in your entire life that I will cave to that request, okay Dumpling?”

“Yeah, yeah, you say that every time you cave,” Gosalyn replied, flopping back down into the buggy with her arms crossed and a smug smile.

They finished checking out with minimal issues (Other than Drake’s coupon not wanting to be accepted by the self-checkout machine, causing a little bit of an argument between Drake and the machine…) They grabbed their Chinese food to go, and they drove home, Drake antsy to get started on his dream gift for his husband.

“What are you going to make anyways?” Gosalyn asked from the backseat, with her mouth full of rice.

“What have I always told you about talking with your mouth full?” Drake sighed from the front seat. “Anyways, you’ll find out what your dad is getting the same time he will – on his birthday!”

“No fair! You tortured me, put me through hours of shopping, made me look at every dumb idea you had, and now you don’t even trust me with what you’re doing? Not fair at all, Dad.” Gosalyn took another heaping bite of her food to seal off her argument.

“I got you your expensive mall food as a thank you for all the whining you did while we shopped today, Sweetie.” Drake shushed her once more as they pulled into the driveway of their new home. “Don’t you dare tell your dad I’m working on something for him either! And carry the food in, since it was your idea.”

The instant they were in the house, Drake retreated to his and Launchpad’s bedroom with his mall food, his supplies from the store, and a warning of, “Gos, I better not smell any smoke while I’m working on this!”

He flipped open his laptop, pulling up an episode of Darkwing Duck and pausing it on the final scene of the theme song. He got to cutting, snipping out pieces of construction paper in the corresponding colors, and pretty soon he’d made a pretty convincing collage replication of the title scene of his and his husband’s favorite show. He fit the letters and caricature of Jim Starling onto a whole sheet of purple construction paper and glued it down on the cover of the sketchbook he had bought. With a few more snips of some orange and yellow papers, he leaned back to take in his work so far.

‘Launchpad’s Darkwing Duck Coloring Book!’ The front of the sketchbook now read in messy construction paper collage words. He took out a pen and wrote lightly on the bottom, ‘From your loving husband.’

For the next few days, every time that Drake had time before Launchpad would come home, he’d sit down and sketch out a scene from the show – leaving lots of room between the lines so that Launchpad would be able to color it. He’d always been dismayed that they hadn’t made a Darkwing Duck coloring book that he could purchase for his husband, but he’d never thought of the fact that he could make it himself. After all, they’d watched the show so frequently that of course he could sketch a few scenes by heart.

By the time it was finally his husband’s birthday, the sketch book was chock full of drawings of Darkwing, villains from the show, even a few of Launchpad and Drake in their own hero get-ups. Drake had gone the extra mile in adding typical coloring book faire such as mazes and word searches. All in all, he’d made something that he was very proud of – something that he knew that he could be happy giving to Launchpad.

So, on Launchpad’s birthday, he gingerly wrapped it up and put it in the back of the car when the three of them loaded up to go to the party. They were having it in the kiddie birthday room at Funso’s Funzone. Sure, Drake may have had to lie and say it was for his daughter’s birthday party, but still, it was worth it for how excited his husband was to go.

The night went spectacularly, with the whole crew coming together to celebrate Launchpad’s birthday. Scrooge, Della, and Donald brought the boys and Webby, of course, so Launchpad had a ball playing with Gosalyn and them in the playhouses throughout the night. Once it was finally time for cake and presents, Drake was practically bursting with excitement for his husband to open the gift he’d labored away at.

“Oh man! I love surprises!” Launchpad said as he took in the gifts spread in front of him, “Which should I open first?” he asked, looking around at the group of people in front of him. Drake pulled his gift from the pile and held it close – save the best for last one would say.

So, Launchpad started with a model plane from Donald and Della, a card from Scrooge stating that birthdays do not mean it’s time to frivolously waste money on others, a photo of the boys and Launchpad outside a plane crash from Huey, a photo entirely of Dewey from Dewey, and a bag of Funso tokens from Louie. He opened a… pile of leaves from Gosalyn, who stuck her tongue out at Drake when Launchpad was instantly excited to figure out what kind of leaves they were. From Mrs. Beakley he got what looked to be a hand sewn Darkwing Duck mask and hat, which he immediately donned, of course. When it boiled down to the end of the gifts, all that was left were the posters that Gosalyn and Drake had picked out and the gift that Drake had spent so long perfecting.

“These are from Gos and I. We picked them out together,” Drake said, passing the wrapped-up poster tubes to his husband, “Please take note of the rhyme on the tag.”

“Hmmm, it’s some sort of tube,” Launchpad said, shaking it a little bit. “Not much wiggle room in there. If I had to guess, I’d say a huge jar of spaghetti!” He ripped open the wrapping paper with boundless enthusiasm, cocking his head at the cardboard tube inside. “Ah, yes, not spaghetti, obviously. That would have been way noisier.” When he finally got the posters out of the tube and unrolled enough for him to actually see them, Drake was nearly in tears with the love he held for the man in front of them.

“Oh man! And this one is going to go right above the couch, in that empty spot that you keep saying we need to fill! It’ll look so amazing, like Darkwing is bursting into the living room through the wall! Thanks so much guys,” he pulled Gosalyn and Drake into a hug which was definitely photographed by one of the others in the room.

“I have one last gift for you,” Drake said, pulling the daintily wrapped coloring book from behind his back. “It’s not much, but I wanted to make you something.”

Launchpad took it out of Drake’s hands, weighing it to do his classic Launchpad assessment of what it could be. “I know this feeling anywhere! I really needed a new coloring book too, because my old one is very nearly a colored-in book by now! The exciting part is what kind it is though!” Launchpad was careful with the paper, so as to not catch the actual book in his excited tearing. There was nothing Drake could have done to prepare himself for the reaction that his husband let out upon seeing just the front cover though.

“No! You…” Launchpad turned towards Drake and then looked back down at it, “For me?”

“Lemme see!” Gosalyn said, squirming in between her two dads to give the gift she’d been ceaselessly asking about a glance. “That’s mushy, Dad,” she said, looking up at Drake.

“It’s the best thing in the world,” Launchpad said, beginning to flip through the pages. “Did you do all of this yourself, Drake?”

“It was the one Darkwing themed thing I always wished I could give you, but never could find,” Drake looked up at his husband, who was staring wide-eyed at the coloring book as if it could grant wishes.

“I love you so much, Drake,” Launchpad spoke quietly, but his words were dripping with pure excitement as he pulled his husband in for a kiss.

“Happy birthday, Launchpad. I love you more than you’ll ever know,” Drake replied, glad that his gift had had all the impact that he’d been seeking. And to think, he got his inspiration from Gosalyn.

[toldnews-blog]

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/lifestyle/the-chic-octogenarian-behind-barbies-best-looks/

The Chic Octogenarian Behind Barbie’s Best Looks

LOS ANGELES — Carol Spencer, 86, may be the most influential fashion designer you’ve never heard of.

In the mid-1960s, she made a red pencil skirt with a white sleeveless blouse that had red stitching and three red buttons down the front. Short white gloves came with it. Thousands sold.

In the 1970s, well aware that the counterculture’s loosening dress code and mores had made it to the mainstream, Ms. Spencer designed a red bandanna halter maxi-dress and a matching leisure shirt for men. Those designs were popular, too.

In the Nancy Reagan 1980s, Ms. Spencer aimed for high-end appeal, making a one-shouldered ball gown in blue jacquard with an organza flower at the nipped-in waist and a cape. One of Mrs. Reagan’s go-to couturiers personally approved the gown to be sold under his name: “Oscar de la Renta for Barbie.”

Ms. Spencer has made wedding dresses, saris, go-go boots and caftans. All in miniature. From 1963 to 1999, she was Barbie’s fashion designer, a career celebrated in her new book, “Dressing Barbie” (HarperDesign).

Ms. Spencer also made her own clothes, and had an easy time working with the doll’s famously unusual proportions, she said, because they weren’t so far from her own. “I have shrunk but in those days, I was tall and skinny,” she said. “I had a 16-inch waist and something on top, too, I sure did, but Barbie’s legs were better than mine.”

She was sitting in her dining room, wearing a blouse in a shade that can only be described as Barbie pink, with a Barbie brooch and a Barbie digital watch that legions of girls probably begged to get for Christmas in the 1990s.

It was a different body part that was most important for her job, Ms. Spencer said: “I have small hands.” She set down the Barbie teacup filled with lemonade she had been clasping to show her fingers. They are small and jut out at angles from the joint, a disfiguration likely caused by years of grasping little needles and bottles of glue.

In creating a wardrobe for Barbie and the entourage (Skipper, Ken, Midge, Big Jim, Baby Sister Kelly, Cara, Stacey, Christie, P.J., Steffie and Miss America), Ms. Spencer was part of a team that has inspired the work of designers including Bob Mackie, Nicole Miller, Jeremy Scott and Jason Wu, who once said he played with Barbie dolls when he was a child.

For a Moschino fashion show in Milan in 2014, Mr. Scott had a Barbie waiting on front-row chairs and sent models down the runway in blond bouffants and pink skirt suits.

Last month, to celebrate the doll’s 60th birthday, Mattel hosted a profusely pink Barbie bacchanal in New York City with Instagram-friendly Dream House backdrops, intended to draw in a new generation of fans who are too young to know that Barbie was the original influencer.

1. Ms. Spencer designed Ski Party Pink for Barbie in 1982. The sweater had Dolman sleeves and a cowl neck. In her ankle-strap high-heels, she was ready to hit the bars, not the slopes.

2. Released in 1979, this City Sophisticate outfit had a faux-fur-trimmed coat and skirt accented by a yellow soutache braid.

3. A Mattel employee accidentally ordered 2,500 yards of gold-and-white striped fabric, instead of 250 yards. Ms. Spencer’s 1965 Country Club Dance fashions made use of the excess.

4. The 1992 Totally Hair Barbie was one of Mattel’s best sellers. Ms. Spencer designed a Pucci-inspired mini.

5. Ms. Spencer wanted to create an “evening pajama” look for Barbie after Barbra Streisand wore a Scaasi version when accepting an Academy Award in 1969. Ms. Streisand’s outfit was see-through, so Ms. Spencer made Barbie special panties.

Saving the Dune Buggy

Even since her retirement, Ms. Spencer has devoted her time to Barbie. Inducted in 2017 into the Women in Toys, Licensing & Entertainment Hall of Fame, she has spent her golden years attending Barbie collectors events, doing research and amassing artifacts.

For years she has worked on “Dressing Barbie,” which is sized for a coffee table and subtitled “A Celebration of the Clothes That Made America’s Favorite Fashion Doll, and the Incredible Woman Behind Them.” Laurie Brookins, a writer and stylist, helped Ms. Spencer with the project.

The book combines styled vintage fashion photography with memoir. Born in 1932 and raised in Minneapolis, Ms. Spencer rejected the wife-and-mother path that prevailed in the American midcentury and instead made a career for herself. “I truly fell in love with Barbie the first moment I created her clothes and accessories,” she writes in the book.

Barbie has been a go-to emblem of all that has ill-served girls and young women in American culture. Living in a world that is almost exclusively white, the doll has breasts that are disproportionately large compared with her hips, and her feet are contorted into a permanent “floint” (short for flexing your toes back as you point the rest of your foot).

Her hair seems to be bleached blond, never with dark (or gray) roots. At times she dressed the part of a doctor or politician but has seemed unable to hold down a job. And there’s the place in Malibu. Does it come from a trust fund or Ken?

But Ms. Spencer would like to counterpunch the Barbie bashing. She points out the doll’s humble origins, with her proportions modeled after paper dolls cut from newspapers. She also defends Barbie as a healthy alternative to video games; an engine of imagination for girls and boys, who can project onto a Barbie doll whoever they may wish to become.

“It’s wholesome play,” she said, as she pulled from a case one of the many hundreds of dolls in her home. This one was wearing a yellow chiffon-like pleated tunic with see-through pajama pants, inspired by the Arnold Scaasi transparent ensemble Barbra Streisand wore to the 1969 Oscars when she won a best actress award for “Funny Girl.”

Ms. Spencer’s house is filled with books like “Barbie: Her Life and Times” and “Dream Doll: the Ruth Handler Story,” about Ms. Handler, who, with her husband, Elliot, and Harold Matson, founded Mattel in 1945. The Barbie fashion doll was released in 1959.

Over a cluttered desk are posters of Barbie, like one showing the same image of the original 1959 doll, displayed against four different bright backgrounds, à la Warhol. (It was made to celebrate Mattel’s 35th Anniversary Barbie Festival, in 1994.)

Ms. Spencer is a scavenger for treasures in a toss-everything world. One day at the Mattel offices, then located in Hawthorne, Calif., she noticed someone was about to throw away an important piece of Barbie memorabilia.

“It was the prototype for Barbie’s dune buggy,” she said. “They were tossing it, and I said, ‘Would you toss it my way?’”

She learned thrift as a child. “During World War II, things were scarce and I remember the family would get the Sunday paper,” Ms Spencer said. “When they’d get through with it, they’d hand me the comic pages so that I could cut out the paper dolls.”

She began to create paper fashion for these paper dolls. Soon she was making her own clothes. But being a fashion designer didn’t seem like a realistic goal in those days, she recalled. “You could be a teacher, nurse, secretary or clerk,” she said. “But wife and mother were the big ones.”

She was engaged to a medical student but when she realized she was expected to work to help pay for education before quitting to be a “doctor’s wife,” she broke the engagement. Then she enrolled at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, where she got a bachelor of fine arts with a focus on fashion design.

In May 1955, as she was about to graduate, she received a telegram from New York letting her know that her application for a “guest editor” slot at Mademoiselle magazine had been approved. Instead of sticking around for her commencement ceremony, Ms. Spencer took her first plane trip and moved in to the Barbizon Hotel for Women, for a month.

During her time in New York, she attended a reception at the home of the cosmetics entrepreneur Helena Rubinstein, visited the recently opened United Nations, danced with West Point cadets at the St. Regis hotel and interviewed the designer Pauline Trigère in her studio.

Ms. Spencer was in the same class of Mademoiselle guest editors as Joan Didion. “It was about as far from Minneapolis as you could get,” she writes.

She returned to her hometown to work, designing children’s wear for Wonderalls Company and then moved to Milwaukee to become a “misses” sportswear designer.

In late 1962, Ms. Spencer spotted an advertisement in Women’s Wear Daily. “A national manufacturer who leads its industry with annual sales in excess of $50 million seeks a cost-conscious fashion designer-stylist for its suburban Los Angeles facility.”

She sent a résumé and heard nothing back. Still, sensing this mysterious job was her destiny, she and her aunt packed up their 1959 Ford Fairlane and drove across the country to California.

In April 1963, she saw an ad in the California Apparel News for the same job, and this time her application got a response. It was from Mattel, the toymaker already known for the postwar bombshell: Barbie.

Ms. Spencer went to the company headquarters for an interview and was asked to make a suite of outfits for this creature. She made a halter-top-and-boy-short bikini, a one-piece in the same shade of orange-pink. There was a cover-up and a wrap skirt. She got the job.

Pink Pills Nixed

At that time, Mattel made about 125 different outfits a year for Barbie, and the fashion department, run by Charlotte Johnson, could be cutthroat.

“Charlotte had a theory,” Ms. Spencer said. “If you have four designers, you put them in four corners. And it was always competitive and you were pitching your product. Sometimes the competition was kind of dirty.”

How so? She wouldn’t say. “I’m out of it, I’m retired, I’m enjoying life, I’ll put it that way,” she said, and she took a sip of lemonade from her Barbie teacup.

Some of her early successes, all of which she has cataloged, included Country Club Dance (a white and gold striped gown), From Nine to Five (a midcalf blue dress with an embroidered vest and hair scarf) and Debutante Ball (an aqua satin gown with a fur stole).

Ms. Spencer took her cue from the culture around her. As the Jane Fonda aerobics craze of the 1980s took off, Barbie got a purple leotard and leg warmers. When NASA’s space shuttle exploration was in full tilt, Barbie became an astronaut (albeit one in thigh-high boots and silver capes).

And there was inspiration from her own life as well. When she needed a biopsy on her breast, Ms. Spencer was transfixed by the white coats doctors wore. The biopsy was negative, but the fashion was positive. Guess who became, however briefly, a surgeon?

There were missteps too, like when she gave Dr. Barbie a case of pink pills without knowing that at that time pink pills were known to be methamphetamines. “Let me tell you, that caused quite a stir,” she said. (Her faux pas was caught before Meth-Head Barbie made its way to children’s dollhouses.)

There are hundreds and hundreds of designs that are Carol Spencer originals, with only a small portion bearing her name. Until the mid-1990s, Mattel didn’t put designer names on Barbie’s packaging.

But Ms. Spencer remembers each of her creations, and many of them are in her home, which her sister, Margaret, 88, will be moving into soon. But even though Ms. Spencer gets out less these days, and relies on a walker to take more than a few steps, she said she feels surrounded by good company.

“You’re never alone when you have dinner at my house,” she said. “Barbie is always with you.”

[biofunmy]

The Chic Octogenarian Behind Barbie’s Best Looks

LOS ANGELES — Carol Spencer, 86, may be the most influential fashion designer you’ve never heard of.

In the mid-1960s, she made a red pencil skirt with a white sleeveless blouse that had red stitching and three red buttons down the front. Short white gloves came with it. Thousands sold.

In the 1970s, well aware that the counterculture’s loosening dress code and mores had made it to the mainstream, Ms. Spencer designed a red bandanna halter maxi-dress and a matching leisure shirt for men. Those designs were popular, too.

In the Nancy Reagan 1980s, Ms. Spencer aimed for high-end appeal, making a one-shouldered ball gown in blue jacquard with an organza flower at the nipped-in waist and a cape. One of Mrs. Reagan’s go-to couturiers personally approved the gown to be sold under his name: “Oscar de la Renta for Barbie.”

Ms. Spencer has made wedding dresses, saris, go-go boots and caftans. All in miniature. From 1963 to 1999, she was Barbie’s fashion designer, a career celebrated in her new book, “Dressing Barbie” (HarperDesign).

Ms. Spencer also made her own clothes, and had an easy time working with the doll’s famously unusual proportions, she said, because they weren’t so far from her own. “I have shrunk but in those days, I was tall and skinny,” she said. “I had a 16-inch waist and something on top, too, I sure did, but Barbie’s legs were better than mine.”

She was sitting in her dining room, wearing a blouse in a shade that can only be described as Barbie pink, with a Barbie brooch and a Barbie digital watch that legions of girls probably begged to get for Christmas in the 1990s.

It was a different body part that was most important for her job, Ms. Spencer said: “I have small hands.” She set down the Barbie teacup filled with lemonade she had been clasping to show her fingers. They are small and jut out at angles from the joint, a disfiguration likely caused by years of grasping little needles and bottles of glue.

In creating a wardrobe for Barbie and the entourage (Skipper, Ken, Midge, Big Jim, Baby Sister Kelly, Cara, Stacey, Christie, P.J., Steffie and Miss America), Ms. Spencer was part of a team that has inspired the work of designers including Bob Mackie, Nicole Miller, Jeremy Scott and Jason Wu, who once said he played with Barbie dolls when he was a child.

For a Moschino fashion show in Milan in 2014, Mr. Scott had a Barbie waiting on front-row chairs and sent models down the runway in blond bouffants and pink skirt suits.

Last month, to celebrate the doll’s 60th birthday, Mattel hosted a profusely pink Barbie bacchanal in New York City with Instagram-friendly Dream House backdrops, intended to draw in a new generation of fans who are too young to know that Barbie was the original influencer.

1. Ms. Spencer designed Ski Party Pink for Barbie in 1982. The sweater had Dolman sleeves and a cowl neck. In her ankle-strap high-heels, she was ready to hit the bars, not the slopes.

2. Released in 1979, this City Sophisticate outfit had a faux-fur-trimmed coat and skirt accented by a yellow soutache braid.

3. A Mattel employee accidentally ordered 2,500 yards of gold-and-white striped fabric, instead of 250 yards. Ms. Spencer’s 1965 Country Club Dance fashions made use of the excess.

4. The 1992 Totally Hair Barbie was one of Mattel’s best sellers. Ms. Spencer designed a Pucci-inspired mini.

5. Ms. Spencer wanted to create an “evening pajama” look for Barbie after Barbra Streisand wore a Scaasi version when accepting an Academy Award in 1969. Ms. Streisand’s outfit was see-through, so Ms. Spencer made Barbie special panties.

Saving the Dune Buggy

Even since her retirement, Ms. Spencer has devoted her time to Barbie. Inducted in 2017 into the Women in Toys, Licensing & Entertainment Hall of Fame, she has spent her golden years attending Barbie collectors events, doing research and amassing artifacts.

For years she has worked on “Dressing Barbie,” which is sized for a coffee table and subtitled “A Celebration of the Clothes That Made America’s Favorite Fashion Doll, and the Incredible Woman Behind Them.” Laurie Brookins, a writer and stylist, helped Ms. Spencer with the project.

The book combines styled vintage fashion photography with memoir. Born in 1932 and raised in Minneapolis, Ms. Spencer rejected the wife-and-mother path that prevailed in the American midcentury and instead made a career for herself. “I truly fell in love with Barbie the first moment I created her clothes and accessories,” she writes in the book.

Barbie has been a go-to emblem of all that has ill-served girls and young women in American culture. Living in a world that is almost exclusively white, the doll has breasts that are disproportionately large compared with her hips, and her feet are contorted into a permanent “floint” (short for flexing your toes back as you point the rest of your foot).

Her hair seems to be bleached blond, never with dark (or gray) roots. At times she dressed the part of a doctor or politician but has seemed unable to hold down a job. And there’s the place in Malibu. Does it come from a trust fund or Ken?

But Ms. Spencer would like to counterpunch the Barbie bashing. She points out the doll’s humble origins, with her proportions modeled after paper dolls cut from newspapers. She also defends Barbie as a healthy alternative to video games; an engine of imagination for girls and boys, who can project onto a Barbie doll whoever they may wish to become.

“It’s wholesome play,” she said, as she pulled from a case one of the many hundreds of dolls in her home. This one was wearing a yellow chiffon-like pleated tunic with see-through pajama pants, inspired by the Arnold Scaasi transparent ensemble Barbra Streisand wore to the 1969 Oscars when she won a best actress award for “Funny Girl.”

Ms. Spencer’s house is filled with books like “Barbie: Her Life and Times” and “Dream Doll: the Ruth Handler Story,” about Ms. Handler, who, with her husband, Elliot, and Harold Matson, founded Mattel in 1945. The Barbie fashion doll was released in 1959.

Over a cluttered desk are posters of Barbie, like one showing the same image of the original 1959 doll, displayed against four different bright backgrounds, à la Warhol. (It was made to celebrate Mattel’s 35th Anniversary Barbie Festival, in 1994.)

Ms. Spencer is a scavenger for treasures in a toss-everything world. One day at the Mattel offices, then located in Hawthorne, Calif., she noticed someone was about to throw away an important piece of Barbie memorabilia.

“It was the prototype for Barbie’s dune buggy,” she said. “They were tossing it, and I said, ‘Would you toss it my way?’”

She learned thrift as a child. “During World War II, things were scarce and I remember the family would get the Sunday paper,” Ms Spencer said. “When they’d get through with it, they’d hand me the comic pages so that I could cut out the paper dolls.”

She began to create paper fashion for these paper dolls. Soon she was making her own clothes. But being a fashion designer didn’t seem like a realistic goal in those days, she recalled. “You could be a teacher, nurse, secretary or clerk,” she said. “But wife and mother were the big ones.”

She was engaged to a medical student but when she realized she was expected to work to help pay for education before quitting to be a “doctor’s wife,” she broke the engagement. Then she enrolled at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, where she got a bachelor of fine arts with a focus on fashion design.

In May 1955, as she was about to graduate, she received a telegram from New York letting her know that her application for a “guest editor” slot at Mademoiselle magazine had been approved. Instead of sticking around for her commencement ceremony, Ms. Spencer took her first plane trip and moved in to the Barbizon Hotel for Women, for a month.

During her time in New York, she attended a reception at the home of the cosmetics entrepreneur Helena Rubinstein, visited the recently opened United Nations, danced with West Point cadets at the St. Regis hotel and interviewed the designer Pauline Trigère in her studio.

Ms. Spencer was in the same class of Mademoiselle guest editors as Joan Didion. “It was about as far from Minneapolis as you could get,” she writes.

She returned to her hometown to work, designing children’s wear for Wonderalls Company and then moved to Milwaukee to become a “misses” sportswear designer.

In late 1962, Ms. Spencer spotted an advertisement in Women’s Wear Daily. “A national manufacturer who leads its industry with annual sales in excess of $50 million seeks a cost-conscious fashion designer-stylist for its suburban Los Angeles facility.”

She sent a résumé and heard nothing back. Still, sensing this mysterious job was her destiny, she and her aunt packed up their 1959 Ford Fairlane and drove across the country to California.

In April 1963, she saw an ad in the California Apparel News for the same job, and this time her application got a response. It was from Mattel, the toymaker already known for the postwar bombshell: Barbie.

Ms. Spencer went to the company headquarters for an interview and was asked to make a suite of outfits for this creature. She made a halter-top-and-boy-short bikini, a one-piece in the same shade of orange-pink. There was a cover-up and a wrap skirt. She got the job.

Pink Pills Nixed

At that time, Mattel made about 125 different outfits a year for Barbie, and the fashion department, run by Charlotte Johnson, could be cutthroat.

“Charlotte had a theory,” Ms. Spencer said. “If you have four designers, you put them in four corners. And it was always competitive and you were pitching your product. Sometimes the competition was kind of dirty.”

How so? She wouldn’t say. “I’m out of it, I’m retired, I’m enjoying life, I’ll put it that way,” she said, and she took a sip of lemonade from her Barbie teacup.

Some of her early successes, all of which she has cataloged, included Country Club Dance (a white and gold striped gown), From Nine to Five (a midcalf blue dress with an embroidered vest and hair scarf) and Debutante Ball (an aqua satin gown with a fur stole).

Ms. Spencer took her cue from the culture around her. As the Jane Fonda aerobics craze of the 1980s took off, Barbie got a purple leotard and leg warmers. When NASA’s space shuttle exploration was in full tilt, Barbie became an astronaut (albeit one in thigh-high boots and silver capes).

And there was inspiration from her own life as well. When she needed a biopsy on her breast, Ms. Spencer was transfixed by the white coats doctors wore. The biopsy was negative, but the fashion was positive. Guess who became, however briefly, a surgeon?

There were missteps too, like when she gave Dr. Barbie a case of pink pills without knowing that at that time pink pills were known to be methamphetamines. “Let me tell you, that caused quite a stir,” she said. (Her faux pas was caught before Meth-Head Barbie made its way to children’s dollhouses.)

There are hundreds and hundreds of designs that are Carol Spencer originals, with only a small portion bearing her name. Until the mid-1990s, Mattel didn’t put designer names on Barbie’s packaging.

But Ms. Spencer remembers each of her creations, and many of them are in her home, which her sister, Margaret, 88, will be moving into her house with her soon. But even though Ms. Spencer gets out less these days, and relies on a walker to take more than a few steps, she said she feels surrounded by good company.

“You’re never alone when you have dinner at my house,” she said. “Barbie is always with you.”

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Baby Thrown Onto Freeway

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