#except from one of my barbies.. but her hair is curly

[bratzfag]

Big things happening

[cgcgs43046]

"Learn about Blitzø's new and improved backstory with his new and improved childhood-to-midteens-to exes-to rekindled kinda relationship best friend! :D"

So... I kinda hated the way they did the childhood friends trope for Stoliz since you can't have a long-lasting friendship after just one day of a forced playdate between two, frankly, abusive adults and Stolas just expects Blitzø to remember him after a decade and a half;-; which is weird so I built up on that idea/refined it a little on their part in the rewrite (they won't be endgame! I PROMISE!) Honestly, the episode was horrible but I kept it and I'll later add a dramatic twist to it maybe...

So for BlitzFizz, I think the show handled it a bit better but could use a little more refining and actually show them as good/strongly-tied friends since if Fizz was really Blitzø's friend, wouldn't he try to be a bit defensive of him instead of being Cash Buckzo's lapdog/golden goose, idk maybe the whole circus was toxic except for Barbie and Tilla XD

In short, I love the childhood friends trope but if it's DONE RIGHT!

So I decided to create my own partner for him which was my OC, but don't worry, they won't have an exclusive closed-off conservative relationship.

Full backstory ft. Blitzø's POV under the cut ;) (Heavily based on the Anne and Marcy backstory with a few changes to fit the worldbuilding)

The story goes that I grew tired of performing on one of our shows at a pier in the Envy District in The Pentagram. So, I quietly left the tents, made my way to the beach, played in the water, and noticed a young girl. She had skin as pale as the Earth's moon, hair as dark as the night, and was sitting by herself constructing a large sandcastle…small wings folded behind her. Nearby, a tall man with red sunglasses, curly hair, and a top hat adorned with a big, eerie smile was watching over her.

I invited her over to splash in the waves, but she'd rather stay high and dry, working on her "masterpiece" in the sand. I laughed at first, then it caught in my throat as I saw what she'd built. A stick in her hand traced out a literal blueprint, not just any drawing - a detailed scale model of a castle from her favorite video game (the name escapes me again, you've been obsessed with it since you were, like, six years old? Still the first thing you mention to new people, well, since the last time I saw you…). Right, it was C&C, Vagabondia Chronicles, and some dark and spooky tabletop games on the side along with..."classic" fairytales. I may have been lost in translation, but the passion burning in your eyes for this game and the castle homage was crystal clear. Even as the waves rolled in closer, I knew I had to defend your masterpiece from the watery demise before it was complete. You were getting flustered, so I grabbed your hand, met your gaze, and declared with all the seriousness a kid (even me) could muster: WE WOULD DEFEND YOUR CASTLE TO THE BITTER END! That part, at least, I remember clearly. Your dads apparently saw us valiantly "attacking" the water with our little shovels. It was a doomed battle, for sure, but we went down swinging, tripping over each other in a fit of laughter and getting soaked to the bone. We lost the castle, yeah, that part sucked, but hey, we found each other. And damn, if that didn’t make all the chaos worth it.

Damn it, Darc, why did I have to push you away?! If only I hadn’t been so stupid to think our relationship could cause a war. I had a chance to escape from the shitty drama in my life earlier, from my shitty circus, from my shitty dad, from my shitty family. I would’ve planned for Mom to get cured, and maybe bring Fizz. I wish things were different, but they’re not. And, I’m sorry I had to make you go through this… but you’re strong, I’d think you’d be the only person who’d move on and not excessively hate me like the others did. One day, I’ll come back for you and I can finally sort out the shit we’ve done to each other.

Anyways, you can leave questions in the comments but if they need a longer answer from older lore-dumps, just go to my asks! ASKS ARE OPEN EVERYONE!

Bye~! :)

[adell032]

Lover Boy Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Warnings: None Prompt: The team meets the girl Rossi and Hotch saved a few years back, little do they know she's Spencers childhood friend (I hate using Y/N so I'm giving her a random name) -------------

"Rossi I'm telling you, I will be fine, I'll have you and Hotch by my side, I can handle the BAU."

"It's not you I'm worried about kiddo, we've already got one genius on the team, now we'll have two!"

You laughed at Rossi, knowing he was just trying to calm both of you down, it was your first day officially working for the BAU, alongside the two men who had saved you 8 years ago. "Audrey, remember, if at any point it feels like too much you can step out, Hotch and I will be right here." "I'm not a little 16 year old anymore, old man, I'm 24, I can do this." "I know you can."

Rossi opened the doors for you, letting you walk in first, Aaron had gave you your credentials and gun yesterday, the rest of the team were at home on their day off, but he had dragged you in to do introductory paperwork. The whole team were waiting for you and Rossi, as you could see them through the glass window, all their backs turned so they couldn't see you, though it looked as if Hotch was giving them a scolding, "he's probably just telling them to be nice, don't worry." Rossi messed your hair up, and you rushed to fix it as Prentiss turned around, quickly tapping JJ on the shoulder as you pushed the door open. The rest of the team turned to you, but you could only focus on one face, "Spencer?"

"You know Spencer?" "You know Audrey?"

The boy genius stood frozen, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before he finally found the courage to speak, "what are you doing here?" His voice cracked as you slowly walked towards him, watching in confusion as he took a step back when you reached out to him, "Spence?"

"I- I can't do this right now." He turned away from you, speeding towards his desk and burying his head in the first book he grabbed, you looked to Rossi, "you didn't tell me he worked here."

"We didn't know that you two knew each other."

"I grew up in Vegas, we went to the same school until he went to college at 14 and I, well you know." Hotch and Rossi nodded, "just give him some time, kiddo." Rossi patted your shoulder, walking off to his own desk as the rest of the team crowded around you.

"I'm Emily, this is JJ, Morgan, and Garcia." Emily pointed to everyone as she said their names, your gaze stopping on Garcia, admiring her clothes, she shrunk back under your stare, "she's so intimidating for a short person." She whispered to Morgan, not very quietly as you had heard her, "sorry, I love your dress, where'd you get it?"

Garcia copied your excitement, "I bought it at this little store in the city, I love your dress, you look like a barbie doll!" You were wearing a long pink dress, pink flats, a white bag and a white blazer, you looked like the lawyer version of barbie if her hair was black. "Thanks! Haley bought me this dress for Christmas, said it suited me perfectly."

"You've met Haley?"

"And Jack," you nodded your head at Morgan, "I spend Christmas and my Birthday with them and Rossi."

"Do you not spend it with your family?"

"My family aren't exactly alive, Morgan. Well except my brother, but we haven't seen him in 7 years really, not since Hotch and Rossi found us. It's weird really, one second he was in our hotel room and the next he was gone, haven't heard from him since." You rambled as you stared at Reid, he looked so much different now, his hair was curly, he no longer wore glasses, he was a lot taller, he was hot.

"Pretty Boy will get over whatever that was soon, I promise."

"Well when your childhood friend who went missing 10 years ago shows up at your workplace, you'd usually be happy they're at least not dead." You mumbled, pushing past the team to walk over to Spencer, staring down at him as he continued ignoring you. "Can we talk?"

Spencer didn't even look up, instead he flipped the page of his book, aggressively, "I know it's weird for me to just show up here Spence, but please." He let out a sigh, putting his book down, "we can talk at the round table."

He walked you to another room, taking a seat at the round table, you left a few empty seats between you, "I didn't just leave, Spence, I promise. I didn't just stop responding to your letters."

"Then what the hell happened Audrey? Because last time I checked friends don't ignore each other."

"My parents were killed, Spence. And whoever did it kidnapped Lucas and I for two years, Rossi and Hotch found us 8 years ago, I wanted to reconnect with you I really did, but for my own safety the BAU brought me here."

Reid looked at you in shock, his face full of guilt, "Audrey.."

"That's not all, Lucas left the hotel room we were staying in 7 years ago and he hasn't come back Spence. None of us have seen, or heard anything, I was staying with either Hotch or Rossi for at least 3 years before I moved out after finishing college. I truly did try to find you, but I guess all I had to do was ask the people I was living with, I'm truly sorry."

Spence stood up from his seat, "and they still haven't caught the guy who did this? He's still out there?" You nodded your head, "I'm sorry for assuming, I shouldn't have, fuck." Reid tripped over a chair leg as he tried to walk towards you, falling on his back with a loud bang, "fuck!"

You let out a laugh, "it's nice to know you're still the same Klutz you were 10 years ago," you walked towards Reid, offering him a hand, he grabbed your hand, acting as if he was pulling himself up before pulling you down on top of him, the two of you face to face.

"Reid?" You whispered, staring at his lips as he licked them,

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Before he could answer, Reid's hand made its way to your head, pulling you towards him, your lips connecting in a sweet kiss. It was like you were made for eachother, the way your lips moved together slowly, the kiss getting more and more eager as Spencer slowly sat up, his hand on your waist to steady you.

The room was dark, but the light coming from the door opening startled you both apart, Morgan stood in the doorway, "yeah pretty boy, get it on!" He laughed, wincing when Emily slapped his head, grabbing the door and slowly closing it.

You and Spencer looked away from the door staring at each other in silence for a moment before bursting out laughing, hearing Morgan shouting for Hotch outside the door.

You both were smart enough to stand up, sitting two chairs apart as Hotch and Rossi slammed the door open, "everything alright in here?" Rossi asked slowly as Hotch stared at your faces.

"Yep, just catching up on the last ten years."

"Okay.." The two of the slowly closed the door, and you and Reid listened for the sound of receding footsteps before looking at each other again, laughing quietly when you heard Morgan shouting, "they were making out on top of each other!"

"They said they were catching up, Morgan." You heard Hotch scold him. "Don't believe me? Check the cameras!"

Your face turned red as you stared at the camera in the corner of the room, Reid following your gaze, "we're fucked."

[madeofcc]

Random things and easter eggs about DH Melodia and DH 3...

No huge spoiler here (except one) but mainly stuff you didn't notice while reading it.

The story is almost over (only 3 chapters left) and I don't think there's going to be any huge references like before as it will be focused on Leïla and Hiro story.

It's also going to take me a while to make it (my game is acting weird lately with infinite load on main lots ...) so I guess this is a little thing to keep you waiting ^^

Melodia : Have you noticed all the references so far ?

The episode started with the usual editing but when the spell starts on the next day, the episode changes into a "movie" with 16:9 format (remember this is a musical after all).

The usual editing format will be back at the end of the spell so be carefull to that by the end of the episode I guess 😋

Main references : outfits !

As you probably noticed if you read the story, the characters have a loooot of outfits this episode even though it all happens the same day. Why ? Because usually characters/artists have several outfit when they sing, outfits that illustrate their current mood most of the time.

I also put a lot of references to the original song/video/movie, well at least I tried my best :

Hiro and Leïla are wearing similar outfits than Xander and Anyah in the Buffy Musical special, the scene is litteraly a tribute to the original one as we see the couple arguing and dancing in their home.

The couple also have a Midsommar poster on top of their bed to illustrate that something's going on in this relationship ... (Will Hiro burn at the end ? Or is it their relationship ?)

Aïssa has Barbie The Movie outfits as she's the Barbie of the gang and she always wears pink.

Milo wears a lot of band merch t-shirt (his favourites).

The Lambda Beta sisters are all wearing Taylor Swift's inspired outfits. All of their outfits are inspired by either a Taylor outfit or an album like Lover (blue and pink dress to match the colours of this album). Kayla is a mix between 2 Midnights outfits.

Julia represents Reputation as she's the snake of the story . She also has similar outfits to Taylor when she sings look what you made me do.

Mindy has a similar outfits to AnyahTaylor-Joy 's one in Last Night in Soho (as she sings the cover from the movie. this is one of the best movies I've seen in 2021 and probably in my life, so watch it whenever you can). Mindy illustrates some kind of purity here as Thomasin in the movie (I don't show you her look here to keep the surprise if you watch the movie). Just like her, she'll be impacted by the city and its danger ...

When Leïla sings Drinks by Cyn, she also has a similar outfit to Cyn's one in the videoclip. That's also why her hair are more curly than usual, even though her hair are naturally curly. I also choose a skirt suit because Leïla is more a skirt girl ^^

The spell doesn't work on Destiny first but when it gets more powerfull, it starts to impact her as well (which bring to the Physical scene in which she has a similar look to Dua Lipa's one in the videoclip). I also put the different colours because I thought it was fun.

DH3 ....

Yes, I also put some things that are going to impact DH3, the next season of Destiny Harbour. As Melodia is supposed to be a huge introduction to Britechester and the new characters/plots, a new kind of evil/enemy is also rising slowly ...

Destiny Harbour : Nightmares at Britechester will be a horror story remember ?

[thinkingaboutmusics]

A Display of White Privilege and Ignorance in Pop Music

In the midst of a search for something to write about this week, I decided to Google, “culturally insensitive music”. I expected nothing more than articles about older songs that simply aged poorly in today's world of progressivity. I found a number of articles of this nature; “11 Popular Songs You Didn’t Realize Are Actually Racist” or “16 songs that haven’t aged well”. I wasn’t surprised to find these lists contained songs with titles that pretty much wrote the articles in and of themselves (i.e. “Brown Sugar”, by the Rolling Stones or “Island Girl” by Elton John). While these songs deserve the criticism they’re getting in today’s social climate, I was looking for something a little fresher…

The second strain of articles were directed more toward modern pop music. After reading, there is a clear trend of white pop artists whose lyrical commentary pertains to every culture except for their own… Frankly, discussion of the artist's own whiteness might be a difficult topic to discuss because there isn’t much to discuss- or rather- there’s so much to discuss, especially in the context of their vital errors in content creation. 

Meghan Trainor is known for her hit song “All About That Bass”, and it’s been promoted as a song promoting body positivity. When you take a closer look at the lyrics, it becomes pretty shaky. The music video encompasses the full spectrum of content-creation error. Jenny Trout wrote a fantastic analysis of Meghan Trainor’s song, highlighting every contradiction between what the song was meant to be and what it is. The article that Trout wrote truly covers every detail that is needed to understand what's wrong with “All About That Bass,” so if you want a more full dissection, I invite you to visit her website. In summary, Trainor perpetuates a female desire to fit the male gaze, her song attempts to shift the body standard from barbie-slim to “all the right junk in all the right places” (thus, eliminating a feeling of all-encompassing body positivity), and perpetuates stereotypes surrounding “thickness” and “booty” placed on black women’s bodies. One of the standout issues, however, is that Trainor is the center of it all when she is “not fat or ‘plus-size’ by any means” (Trout, 2014). The sexualization and objectification around having “booty” isn’t one applied to white women of Trainor’s size, but to black women. ALSO, the sexualization of bodies in general (but specifically the bodies of black women) throughout the song and music video is cringe-worthy to say the least.

Avril Lavigne’s “Hello Kitty” music video is another example of blatant cultural appropriation. Might I add, first that this song is as annoying as any of the appropriation going on in it. She made the trip to Japan to shoot the video and is surrounded by asian backup dancers, though she’s the only white girl shown throughout the video. Her response to the backlash around the video is equally as naive as the video itself. According to Vulture.com, Lavigne tweeted, “RACIST??? LOLOLOL!!! I love Japanese culture and I spend half of my time in Japan” in response to the outrage. This is on-par with the overused defense of racist actions or statements, “Wait- no- but I have black friends!”. I don’t doubt that Lavigne thought she really was paying homage to Japan and its culture- but that means it had to have been ignorance and naivety that drove the creation of the song and its accompanying video… that makes it worse if you ask me. 

“Birthday” by Katy Perry is another song (and music video) that sparked uproar as she plays a number of characters who show up to different birthday parties. She creates a spoof “Bar Mitzvah'' scene in which she plays a B-Mitzvah entertainer, dressed in a suit, wig, and facial prosthetics. It’s implied that she's attempting to fulfill the Jewish Man stereotype; thick, black mustache and eyebrows, larger nose, curly black hair, etc. It’s crass to say the least. When I discovered Perry’s devout Christianity, it didn’t require much thinking to determine the problem with the song, video, and source. The songs lyrics, which contain numerous sexual inuendos and references, are increasingly problematic when paired with the mockery of Jewish culture in the video. The song lyrics are essentially a booty call wrapped in cultural mockery found in the video. Yet again, it seems like ignorance was seated in the driver's seat on this one…

Reviewing these videos, I asked myself, “what gave these white, pop icons the license to comment and use cultures, estranged to their own, in their music?”. The trend around the source of the music is “white artists,” which doesn’t surprise me; the root of cultural insensitivity seems to be privilege. Why would one think twice about their song lyrics when they don't know what it feels like for someone to use and profit off of their own culture? Meghan Trainor gained a lot of popularity from “All About That Bass” using black stereotypes and forcing an image onto herself as plus-size. Avril Lavigne’s “Hello Kitty” is simply childish, and crass, using Japanese culture and people as props. Katy Perry, a devout Christian, you’d think would catch her own mistake of religious mockery before dropping “Birthday”. Beyond the horrid musicality of each of the songs lies an age-old, dark theme of cultural appropriation and white-ignorance. While white ignorance can be used to excuse the individual artists that are the face of these songs, it avoids accountability on the part of music production companies. It’s important to consider the larger scene of the music industry and capitalism in the context of these flawed musics. The pop music scene is run, not so much by the artists, but by teams of writers and boardroom-busies whose job is to help write and review these works. It’s not as if it was written, recorded, and released in one solid effort. The review process takes up a huge amount of the overall “creation process” and it’s inexcusable that every part of the song was reviewed and deemed acceptable for public consumption. If we can’t trust the industry to monetize the contents of different musics, it falls in our hands to monetize our own consumption of content (not just music). Let’s just be a little more careful before we let pop-anthems with such harmful themes like these plague our playlists.

[newtonsheffield]

What would Mary be like if she hates one of Kate’s (ex) boyfriends? Like what would she say to Kate and how would she be?

Hello!

Poor Mary honestly. Before her girls settled down they dated some... truly terrible men. Sometimes both of them at once. She was probably crying with relief when Anthony sat right in front of her and pretty bluntly told her that he wanted to date her daughter after sitting comforting her for hours and coaxing her to eat and you know, just being the very caring little bean that he is.

But unfortunately before Anthony, before Harry even, was George

Mary had noticed the change in Kate since Edwina had left for university. Really she would have been blind not too. The changes that had happened in her eldest daughter since the death of her father seemed unfortunately solidified now, and though Kate had made an effort to come for dinner, at least twice a week, and for brunch every week, while Edwina had been finishing school, now Kate's excuses seemed to be getting more and more frequent. She had to work, she had fallen asleep when she got home from work and had only just woken up, her phone had been off, She was going to the optometrist. And Mary tried not to feel the sting of rejection because she saw the look in Kate's eye even still when Mary introduced her as her daughter. surprise. Surprise that even without her father, even without Edwina, Mary still wanted to care for her. Katie, you're my daughter, and you're coming for pancakes on Sunday. That's final. Do you understand? Mary had said Sharply one day when Kate had begun to protest, silence stretching out over the phone before Kate muttered, Yes, Mary. And when Kate arrived looking a little too thin, a little too tired, and her eyes a little hollow, Mary had had to choke back tears when Kate wrapped her arms tightly around her waist, tucking her face into her neck and mumbled I really miss them, Mary.

From that day on, Kate, started visiting more regularly again started to become the young woman Mary remembered from before. Started coming over on a Saturday afternoon, tucked up on the sofa while Mary did the crossword, talking about whatever had happened that week before she'd eventually say Umm Mary? Do you think I could stay here tonight? Sounding so much like the little girl who would crawl into bed with her when there was a thunderstorm and cry against her chest. And Mary would smile against the warm feeling in her chest and say Of Course sweetheart, Do you want some tea? And then one day Kate stood nervously in the kitchen her eyes darting around, her bottom lip between her teeth. Katie, why do you look like you did when you told me you pulled the head off Edwina's Veterinarian Barbie? Kate had gasped The head just fell off Mary! I promise! But ummm... Mary I can't stay here tonight. I'll be here tomorrow but ummm I have a date tonight. Mary's heart had leapt with excitement even though Kate had told her that it might go nowhere, it wasn't worth getting excited about. But Mary hadn't been able to stop herself from hoping that maybe this was it for Kate. Maybe she'd finally start to open up more, to live her life.

And then Mary met George. and God help her, despised the man. She'd met them at the restaurant excited to meet Kate's boyfriend of three months, a sports writer, Kate had told her. He'd stayed seated when Mary had arrived, though Kate had stood to hug her Mary, this is George, Kate had said smiling. And George, with his curly blonde hair and square jaw smiled, in a way Mary was sure he thought was charming. Hi Mary. He'd said in a fairly bored voice, that had Mary's hackles instantly raised. I think we'll stick to Mrs. Sheffield. She'd said sharply. George had barely reacted except to say Oh? Do you still go by Mrs. Sheffield? I know a lot of women stop when their husband's die. Mary's heart clenched and her eyes flicked to Kate who had flinched a little, but remained impassive. Mary fought to keep her tone civil I do. Yes. George made a shrugging sort of motion and stared down at the menu again. The waitress arriving soon after and George took it upon himself to order for the table, Kate still sitting impassively, her eyes trained over Mary's shoulder. Kate's allergic to mushrooms Mary said lightly. George scoffed. No she's not. Mary raised her eyebrows, irritation building in her chest at this man who didn't deserve to be in the same room as he daughter as far as she was concerned I told you I was last week. Kate said, her voice soft. George's eyebrows raised. Sorry, Kat. Must have forgotten. Mary's own eyebrows raising at the nickname that Kate had always hated. Kate didn't look her in the eye for the rest of the evening.

Mary had thought and thought about whether or not to say something. Whether it would make Kate retract in on her self further, but then she thought about how George had talked over Kate all night, had rolled his eyes when she'd expressed an opinion and Mary knew she couldn't let it stand. Katie, Mary said gently, on Sunday morning George had most certainly not received a brunch invitation, I think we should talk about George. and Kate had seemed to steel herself, her lip between her teeth again He's not always like that She said quickly. and Mary sighed Sweetheart you deserve so much more than that. You deserve someone who wants to know everything about you. Kate had sighed and stood grabbing her keys off the counter, tears in her eyes, her voice choked when she said The thing is Mary, I don't think there's anything interesting to know. Sorry, I can't stay today. and Mary's chest ached when the front door closed behind her.

[firespirited]

The 'zon had a sale so I took played wonk roulette and got Barbie Extra 2 asian Mbili with pink and lilac hair for $15 as I knew she didn't have pixel face. The doll is in good condition aside from a plastic bubble to her hip joint, the box was slightly dented.

Nothing, none of the reviews I've seen over the years could prepare for the strange sensory experience of waste and wasted potential throughout. You have a 500g+ box before you, it feels substantial and normal. But only 150g of it is the doll and clothes. There is a 100g chunk of hard plastic stylized 'dog' that cannot move at all and is too heavy and dense to rebody. The hair was pretangled, the tinsel already stripping into knotted threads and that long hair weighs less than a curly yarn reroot. The fibre feels wrong, like old barbie left out to the weather, it feels already aged, it doesn't act right under the comb. The dog is such a confusing and heavy addition, why not switch out the cost for some saran? The 3 large tags in her head didn't come out with the tiffy grab n roll method, there are 3 more tags keeping the beanie on her head: why? no-one is going to steal the beanie. The dress feels like dollar clone clothes except for the nicer hook n loop. It does not work as a dress solo. She has no blush. She's kawaii themed with no blush. There is a shaker sticker too big to use on anything flat, too flimsy and sticky to use as a hairclip, the stars are all statically charged to the plastic. I am so confused.

Don't get me wrong, I love the doll herself if not that hair but everything Extra was Extraneous. 400g of waste when a simple rectangular box with her art in back would have been fine. If you have the option of shaving down shipping and space on 400g x 1000 dolls why not put that into making a quality doll. The weight and feel of it somehow felt like more money went into the unusual shapes of the box. It was an... odd... experience. Expecially contrasted with my last rare unboxing: Barbie Looks Ella.

[thebitchlands]

Can you please tell me how the witchlands characters look in your mind because I think neither of us reads character descriptions

Safi, Merik, Iseult, Aeduan, Esme, and Stix all look like fanart I've seen. I don't even remember how I used to see them before.

Leopold is a tall scrawny guy. I don't picture him with curly hair for some reason, it's just straight and always pulled back. He always wears green for some reason.

Zander is a really giant dude. Just like a mountain of muscles. He wears a helmet constantly, I don't know what he looks like under there.

Lev is just really short. She's probably the shortest one in my mind. Her hair is probably the clearest thing to me, it's long and brown. Her face is just blurry.

I used to always imagine Caden with black hair and then I found out he's apparently blond. When that happened I just stopped being able to picture him at all. During my reread I somehow decided he's ginger and a short little dude.

Corlant looks kinda like the bad guy from Barbie Swan Lake. Like they have similar features except I see Corlant with short gray hair. Corlant's clothes are like the same as his in my mind too.

The only things I see for Vaness are long wavy hair and a flowing white dress.

Henrick looks like this dude (or just a frog in robes):

I don't really see anyone else in my mind.

[aliwritesfic]

So since you did the cutest job with my mini golf ask…wondering what the TF boys would be like while tie dying with Frankie and his daughter?! I’m attempting to do that tomorrow with my son lol. Please and thank you if you’d like to explore the idea. 🥰😘

First of all, I am SO SORRY this took so long, I've been so busy with uni and forcing myself to actually do the work this semester (who would've thought I could actually apply myself) but I really enjoyed this, and it's actually made me want to go out and do some tie-dying of my own.

Anyways, here's Tie-Dye Tueaday

W/C: 1.6k

T-Minus 5 Hours Until Disaster

“Daddy?” a soft voice rose Frankie out of his fitful sleep. He distantly felt a tiny, warm hand rest on his cheek.

“Yes, cricket?” he mumbled voice heavy with sleep, struggling to open his heavy eyes. He had stayed up until the small hours of the morning frantically researching for the day, watching YouTube videos, making notes, doing whatever he could to prepare.

“Mommy’s going and said I should wake you up,” Everly pulled herself up onto the bed and sat down directly on Frankie’s bladder. He winced and pushed her off gently, wondering just how she always managed to find the worst spot to sit.

“Have you had breakfast?” Frankie asked, and Everly nodded. He said a silent thanks to his ever-amazing wife, who would be spending the day getting massages and facials and whatever else her heart desired before pushing out twins in less than two months’ time. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around that – there would be two more tiny humans in his life soon. The thought left him exhilarated and riddled with anxiety all at once.

Frankie carried Everly downstairs on his back, grabbing his cap from the dresser on his way. The boys would be here soon – they had agreed that tie dying alone with a hyper four year old was a terrible idea, so they were coming to dye something of their own and help Frankie keep a handle on things. Benny was especially excited to dye his shorts to wear to his next fight.

They were halfway through Coco, Everly’s favourite movie, when the front door opened and in came his three best friends, men he had no relation to but considered brothers. Everly went straight to Benny, who was undoubtedly her favourite of them. Frankie had his suspicion that is was because Benny loaded her up on sugar whenever he could. Sure enough, Frankie could see a packet of candy in the plastic bag Benny carried.

“You ready for this?” Will asked, placing a six pack in the fridge. Frankie sighed and nodded.

“Ready as I can be. It can’t go too badly, right?”

~

T-Minus 3 Hours Until Disaster

The sun was bright and hot on their backs as they set up. Everly sat in the shade of the oak tree, a cup of lemonade in one hand, and her favourite doll in the other. Frankie had forbidden her from coming out in the sun until the sunscreen was fully absorbed, which according to his watch wouldn’t be for another few minutes. It occurred to him that since becoming a father, his mind was filled with worries that he never even considered beforehand.

Frankie had brought dyes in every colour he could, several plastic tubs had been fished out of storage and so many ties that he was sure he would be finding them all around the yard for weeks to come.

“Whatta ya dying, Ev?” Santi called to Everly.

“Purple!” She responded, holding up a pristine white pair of cotton shorts and a shirt.

“Just purple?” Will asked.

“And pink and blue and green!” Everly jumped up, setting her cup down carefully and ran over. “I want it swirly. You should be rainbow wiggles.” She told her father seriously. Will grinned.

“She’s a natural born leader,” he said with more than a touch of pride.

“Just like her mother,” Frankie replied. He took the clothes that Everly held out and began to scrunch and fold them according to the instructions he had written down while watching YouTube last night. The whole thing seemed a lot easier when he was watching through a screen.

Everly chose her dyes as Frankie folded, occasionally handing a certain colour to one of the boys, telling them that they hadto use it. None of them wanted to defy the four year old, so each accepted his colours without protest. Benny seemed quite thrilled when he was given a colour labelled Hot Barbie Pink.

“So many guys will be so fuckin’ embarrassed to get their ass beat by a guy in pink shorts,” Benny grinned.

“Language, Ben!” Frankie darted a frantic look towards Everly, who stood with a cunning smile on her face. Frankie knew that she knew exactly what she wasn’t supposed to say.

“Fuck! Ass!” she declared. Will snorted and Santi had to turn away, face turning bright red from holding in laughter.

Frankie gaped, lost for words for a moment. “Everly, don’t ever say that, but especially the first one, and especially not in front of mommy, okay?”

“Why not?”

Frankie shot a look to Benny, who at least looked a tiny bit sorry. “They’re big people words. Each time you say one your . . . hair gets less curly.”

Everly, who loved her curly hair, looked stricken. Frankie felt bad about lying to his kid, but not as bad as he would’ve felt if his wife came home to a child cussing like she had just strolled out of the military.

The words seemed forgotten as the dye was applied. Everly was surprisingly artful in the way she applied the dye, carefully creating patterns that didn’t make much sense to Frankie but must have made sense to her.

T-Minus 30 Minutes Until Disaster

The group of them sat around the dining room table, beers for the boys and juice for Everly. Most of them had small flecks of multi-coloured dye on their hands, but Frankie was sure they would come off easity. Everly had scoffed down her lunch, and now sat staring outside, looking antsy.

“Go play if you want to,” Frankie said, “you don’t have to sit here.” Frankie was confident there wasn’t anything in the backyard that could pose a danger to her, and besides, he had a view of almost the whole yard from the table.

Everly tore off like a hurricane, juice forgotten as she ran outside, doll in hand.

“If the twins are anything like her . . .” Santi began, taking a sip of his drink. “Fish, you’re gonna have your hands full.”

“If they’re anything like Ev, they’ll be great kids,” Benny said. Will rose his beer bottle. ‘But yeah, you’re definitely gonna have your hands full.”

“Amen, I’ll drink to that,” he said. Frankie nodded and had a sip himself. They talked for a while about football, Benny’s next fight, Santi’s new flame.

Then a thought occurred to Frankie.

“Is it quiet out there?” he craned his neck to investigate the yard and saw . . . nothing. Frankie shot up from his seat, panic rising in his chest. “Everly?” He almost tripped over himself in his haste to get to the backyard. Every worst case scenario was forming in his head.

“Ev?” Benny was beside him in an instant.

“Daddy?” Everly wandered out from behind the tree, and Frankie took a deep breath, calming himself. She was unscathed . . . except for the dye that now stained her arms, legs, face, hair. She was grinning widely, and held up her doll, who was also covered in a rainbow of dye.

“Cricket, what did you do?” Frankie gaped, wondering just how she managed to get almost every inch of exposed skin in such a short amount of time.

“Miss Mildew wanted her hair to be pretty,” Everly explained.

“Your dolls name is Miss Mildew?” Santi asked, red in the face with held back laughter. Everly nodded proudly. She had heard the word on television one night and latched onto it.

“What do you think is worse,” Will murmured to Benny, “Ev swearing, or Ev covered in dye?”

“Swearing,” Benny said snickering, “you can wash out the dye, you can’t unlearn a word.”

“What word?” Everly asked. Ears of a hawk, Frankie thought.

“The word you’re not allowed to say,” Will said.

“And what word would that be?” A smooth voice behind them almost made Frankie jump out of his skin. His wife, beautiful and terrifying all at once, stood on the patio, one hand on her stomach, the other on her hip.

“Fuck!” Everly declared loudly and proudly.

“Teaching my child new words, I see, Benjamin.”

Benny to his credit, at least looked more apologetic than he did with Frankie.

Frankie’s wife waddled down into the yard and set her gaze on her husband. “That dye won’t make her sick will it?”

“No, no, not at all,” he said. He had specifically brought kid friendly, skin safe, non-toxic dye.

“Good. Then I’m gonna go lie down and try and forget my four-year-old just said the eff-word and is every colour under the sun.” His wife shook her head and rolled her eyes at Benny. Once she was inside, Frankie turned to Everly.

“C’mon, we gotta clean you up,” he reached to pick Everly up who shook her head.

“We gotta see what they look like first!” she said. Frankie considered her point and nodded.

“Alright, cricket,” he said. They unravelled the clothes to a chorus of oohs and aahs, Everly clapped her green hands together as her multi-coloured shorts and top were revealed.

Benny sheepishly wandered over to Frankie as he put everything in the washing machine. “Hey man, I really am sorry about that.”

Frankie shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just buy the missus as much caffeine as she wants when she’s done breastfeeding and she’ll forget all about it.”

“I hope so. Her bad side is not a place I wanna be.”

Frankie laughed and scooped up Everly in his arms. Her curls were streaked with blue and her cheeks were magenta. “Trust me, she won’t stay mad for long. I don’t think she’s that mad to be honest.”

“You don’t?” Benny sounded unsure.

“Well she didn’t yell, and it looked like she was trying not to laugh. All things considered, I think today was a success story.”

Tagging @sharkbait77 because I think you’d enjoy this

[dallas-owns-my-ass]

Let Them Talk

     Paring: Dally x Insecure! Reader

     Summary: Songfic based of the song Prom Queen by Beach Bunny. The reader feels insecure when people start talking about how she’s not as pretty as Dally’s ex’s.

     Warnings: swearing, insecurities, crying, smoking

------------------------------------------------------------------ 

     “Shut up, count your calories

     I never looked good in mom jeans”

      Laughter was the only thing to be heard coming from the group of young greasers. Two-Bit could never fail to raise our spirits. Johnny, Pony, Two-Bit, and I were walking to the DX to meet Soda and Steve during their break. Two-Bit tried to balance on a large stick he found, but unsuccessfully fell, causing the group to erupt in laughter once more. We crossed the road to walk into the DX to find Soda at one of the gas pumps with Tim Shepard and two members of his gang.

     “Hey Soda!” yelled Pony with a wave, gaining Soda’s attention.

     “Hey Pony” he hollered back.

     We went to join in on their banter, talking about everything from cars, to school, to girls.

     “Hey that’s Dally’s new girl right?” Tim asked, nodding at me. 

     Soda nodded in response, them going into their own separate conversation, while Ponyboy told us about school. But I was too focused on what Shepard had to say about me to listen to Pony.

     “She not bad, but Sylvia was a real looker. She had that blonde hair and was a lot skinnier. And she wore clothes where you could actually see her figure.” he joked.

     “Wish I, was like you

     Blue-eyed blondie, perfect body”

     Except it was far from a joke. I had long dark brown, almost black, curly hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a mocha complexion. I dressed like the guys in the gang too; leather jackets, cuffed skinny jeans, and converse. Why is he with me when he could be with someone like her? She was close to perfect with her straight, blonde hair, curvy but slim figure, and bright blue eyes. Her clothes were revealing, but they suited her. My figure was curvy, but more on the muscular side. I guess guys didn’t like that as much. 

     “Y/N”

     “Y/N” Ponyboy called again, snapping me out of my thoughts.

     “Oh sorry. I was daydreaming.”

     “Daydreaming about Dallas” Two-Bit mocked, bringing a light blush to my cheeks.

     “Oooh she’s blushing” Pony teased.

     “Yeah because she’s so in loveeee” Soda sang. Johnny even joined in with kissing noises. 

     “Shut up” I mumbled, now embarrassed, the blush on my cheeks growing.

      “They botherin’ you again doll?” said the familiar voice of Dallas Winston, as he slung an arm over my shoulder, pulling me close to him. 

     “Nah, we were just jokin’ around” I told him.

     “’Bout what?” 

     “Yeah why don’t you tell him Y/N?” Soda continued, wiggling his eyebrows.

     I smacked him on the arm. “It’s nothing, really.” 

     He raised his eyebrow but shrugged it off as he lit a cigarette. We walked out of the DX once Soda and Steve finished their shifts. I didn’t know where we were heading, probably the Curtis’s house. Tim Shepard’s words crossed my mind again. If he noticed that, everyone else probably did too, including Dally. 

    “Look I’mma head back to my place.” I told the group.

     “I got some school work to catch up on.”

     “Yeah like Y/N L/N ever does school work” Two-Bit remarked.

     “You just don’t wanna hang out with us no more” Johnny added on jokingly. I smiled at that.

     “Imma catch you guys later aii” I said as I began to walk off.

     “I’ll walk you” Dally said while throwing his arm over my shoulder.

     We didn’t usually walk in silence, but Dally was being a lot quieter today. And to be honest, I didn’t feel like talking. 

     “You wanna go on, umm, out tonight?” Dally asked 

     “But somewhere nice. Like one of them fancy Socs restaurants or something, with the fancy lights and stuff.”

     I smiled. He may not have been good at romantic gestures, but he tried, he really did.

     “You want to go to a Socs restaurant? You know you have to dress nice, Socs clothes and all that good stuff. I mean that’s assuming we don’t get jumped on our way there, you know?” I joked around with him. 

     “No I’m serious doll. You know I’d do anything for you.” he said giving me a quick kiss.

     “And wear something nice.” he said wiggling his eyebrows with a slight wink, as he walked off.

------------------------------

     “Maybe I should try harder

     You should lower your expectations

     I’m no quick curl barbie

     I was never cut out for prom queen”

     I almost tore apart my closet looking for something decent to wear. Well, something that looked decent on me. The clothes looked beautiful on the hangers. It was a beautiful dark red dress, that ended just above the knees. But the moment I put it on, I couldn’t help to feel overwhelmed by my insecurities. How it hugged my curves too tight, making my thighs look to big. Or the way it made my arms look in comparison to the rest of my body. I couldn’t explain it but it just made my arms look, weird, I guess. It would look beautiful on Sylvia. I thought of how the red would make her bright blue eyes pop out, and how the dress would only make her perfect figure more appealing. Getting frustrated, I ripped the dress off, and changed into one of Dally’s shirts, which went all the way past my knees, and went to go do my hair and makeup. 

     “If I get more pretty

     Do you think he will like me?”

     I tried to tame my curly hair, using a shit ton of gel and edge cream. I went to do my makeup, pulling out the brushes and other makeup crap. As I was applying the products, I couldn’t help but let my thoughts consume me. I couldn’t help it. The more I looked into the mirror, the more I worried about my appearance. If only I had a smaller nose. And rounder eyes. And if my lips were just a little bit more. . .  I broke down. Full on sobbing. Why was Dally even with me? He could get any girl he wanted. One who was prettier. One who was more girly. One who had more money, and less problems. 

     I jumped at the sudden hand on my shoulder. I turned around and was met with the eyes of Dallas Winston. I didn’t even hear him come in. I looked away, embarrassed. Dally had never seen me cry before. Nobody cries in front of Dallas Winston. Great. Now he probably thinks I’m some sensitive crybaby. 

     “Baby what happened? Did I do something wrong?” he asked softly, concern growing in his voice. 

     “hmm? Oh. No. Nothing’s wrong baby. I was just..” I said feeling kinda embarrassed. He didn’t buy it though, for he let out a long sigh. He pulled me out of the chair and into a hug.

     “Do you wanna talk about it?” he whispered.

     “No... yes.”

     “Disect, my insecurities

     I’m the deep end surgical project.

     It’s getting hard to breathe,

     There’s plastic wrap in my cheeks.”

     He pulled his arms off me, waiting for another response. I didn’t know what to say. How do you even explain that to someone, much less someone you love. I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out. He should just leave you. You don’t deserve him. He doesn’t love you. He can do better. 

     “Do you love me?” I blurted out. Fuck.  Out of all the things I could have said, that’s what I fucking chose. His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. There was silence fora couple of seconds, then he spoke up. 

     “What are you talking about? You know I love you doll. Is that what’s bothering you? I know I don’t show it much, but you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that, right? I mean if it’s bothering you this much babe, I can change. Just why didn’t you tell me sooner baby?” I cut him off. 

     “Dally it’s not that. It’s just that... well I’m sure you’ve noticed, you know... compared to Sylvia, or anyone really, I’m not really that like... pretty or anything. And people talk and stuff, and I just think you could do better.” I mumbled that last part. He frowned.

     “Ya know none of that’s true doll? You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Anyone who says otherwise is crazy. And people are always gonna talk and shit, but you can’t even be compared to Sylvia. Sylvia’s a bitch. She cheated on me the first chance she got. But you’re the complete opposite. You’re a leader, and you don’t take shit from no one, especially me. I know it ain’t much but... I think you’re absolutely breathtaking. And man, I wish you could see yourself the way I did.” I smiled. Dallas Winston wasn’t always sweet, but when he was, you could see that he really meant it.

     “And you got a nice ass.” he said, going back to his usual self.

     “I fucking love you Dallas.” 

     “I know you do doll.” 

More Like This

[madeofcc]

What CAS item (hair, clothing, accessory...) screams your sim's name so loudly that you can't imagine using it on other sims? You can choose multiple items and answer for as many sims as you want :)

As usual, a great ask dear Elsa ♥

I'm going to put this below the cut because it's quiet long. I don't have very specific items, except for some, but more specific CAS creators for my characters so here's a little list below !

Destiny is the easiest to dress up ! Des usually hides her natural curly hair behind some braids, dreadlocks or twists that @simtric and @sheabuttyr make perfectly ♥ We will see her with her natural hair later though.

Her jacket ! That jacket !!! is probably the only item I kept from this creator when I went maxis match mostly. It's actually William's jacket that Destiny stole in order to remember him when she's alone. It has an entire life by itself with a touch of William's smell.

High waist is what Destiny feels the most comfy in :) @clumsyalienn and @nucrests make the best androgyne cc so they're definatly Destiny's choice.

Those vans I can't find the creator anymore ! It's Destiny n°1 shoes and she wears them most of the time, even if Sulani :p Fun fact : that what brings her close to Renji as he also wears them all the time.

Soraya is the second character that is easy to dress ! Surprisingly I don't need much for her as she's very natural with her curly hair that @simstrouble makes perfectly (I think Soso only uses her cc) ♥

She's also used to wear white/green/red colours, especially with floral patterns because she loves flowers. She also like food but she wouldn't wear a taco dress, hell no ... Maybe the avocado recolour one @xldkx made ... We'll see ... @clumsyalienn and @serenity-cc made the best dresses for Soso.

Those boots (I got it a looong time ago I can't find a link) are my personnal favourite boots ^^ I use them on all my girls when they need something comfy that gives them a little rock'n'cottage style.

For the others characters it's more specific and random items that defines them.

That brown/orange heterochromia Leïla has. It represents the Elemental fire power she hiddes. I wouldn't imagine her without. It was made by @aveirasims. Otherwise she's my favourite to dress because she's girly but not too much and I can try a loooot of cc on her. She doesn't fit slutty clothes though ...

Hiro and his yellow glasses ! Even if he changes sometimes, the color is always yellow ! He usually tends to always pick another yellow elements on his outfit to matches with his glasses. Without, he actually see things hyper blurry ...

Chester and his curly hair :) He's so cute with it everytime and I love that @simstrouble and @clumsyalienn make male hair as well because he looks freaking cuter !

Aïssa and pink : a love story because she's a barbie bitch ♥ @trillyke @sentate @serenity-cc are her favourites ! Fun fact : she's on a personnal color war with Julia Brindleton at Britchester. Both of them are blonde bad bitches wearing pink. Guess who wins ? You'll see it on DH3 :p She wears slutty clothes with perfection and is so proud of it also.

These hairs by s4simomo are the only ones that seems to fit Milo ... I tried my entire mods folder but only these two give him the vibes he's supposed to.

Renji and the sluit ... That what will define him for now ♥ Also, teenage clothes and long hair will be what defines him in the future of the serie ^^ He's an eternal teenager ... poor baby ...

And that's all I guess, it's already a lot than expected I'm sure :)

Thank you so so much @someone-elsa for that great ask once again ♥

[welcometothewritersclub]

Able to See Me

Author’s Note: This has been a long time coming, but I’ve finally convinced myself that it was the right time to post the story. This is not the entire story, by the way. I will link the next part as soon as I’m done editing it. Also, if anyone is curious, I listened to Not Gonna Get Us and Dead or Alive. Thank you for reading!

Rate: PG- 13

Words: 959

Summary: Sylvia is a high school freshman who returns to her hometown in California after spending a year in a psychiatric hospital in New York. She transfers to Granger Art Academy, and everything seems great at first. It almost feels too good to be true. That was until her crush becomes her bully, and the people Sylvia thought she trusted were only shapeshifters- saying anything to please her for the time being. She started writing in her journal about it, but sometimes emotions become too much to handle, and writing is no longer a curable outlet.

Eric is a junior at Granger Art Academy, and a hell of a dancer. He has a full ride scholarship to prove it, but the rich kids feed off that shit. Thus, what Eric does outside of the academy is kept to himself. The only two people who speak to Eric outside of the academy are Sylvia and Tony-the guy he’s been dating for the past two years. Sylvia is briefly introduced to Anthony, it wasn’t until Sylvia started getting bullied that she noticed that Tony was one of them. Sylvia is hurting and Eric is ready to kill.

Eric // August 28, 2008

Eric decides to sit up before his body goes completely numb. He grabs a cigarette from the storage box and tucks it behind his ear. His mom will kill him if she gets another note from his sister's teacher asking why she smells like an ashtray. As he fixes his quiff in the rearview mirror, his eyes catch sight of a small figure. "Whatcha up to, shortie?"

Stephanie stops. "Playing Bawbies," she says, showing off the dolls in hand.

"Steph, why are your dolls-" he asks before he's rudely interrupted by his phone.

"Hello," he cups his hand over the phone speaker and his mouth to avoid Stephanie from overhearing. After a few hums of agreement, he hangs up and switches the beat-up phone in his pocket for the flip phone sitting on the storage box. "Okay, I'll be right back."

The little girl moves a curly strand of hair away from her eye. "Okie Dokie," Stephanie agrees.

"If anything happens, grab my phone and call the police, okay?" Eric pulls the key from the ignition but doesn't get up.

"It's nice of you to come in, Barbie." Stephanie deepens her voice, but it doesn't sound much different from her mouse-like voice. "Thank you for having me, siw," She continues, shaking the naked barbie to emphasize who's speaking.

"Stephanie, I'm talking to you," Eric says, staring at the girl through the rearview mirror. Despite the intense stare, his voice doesn't reach the standard of what people consider a yell.

"Sowwy," the little girl apologizes, placing her dolls down. Eric gets out of the car and pats the window. Stephanie locks the two back doors and jumps into the driver's seat to do the same to the front.

The walk through the alley feels like the scene in Snow White where she's running through the dark woods, except no one is coming after him. Although they could, nothing is off the table when you're gambling with drugs. A man, who Eric has initially named Hector because of his bald head and tattoo-covered body, takes one last drag of his cigarette. Eric pulls a bag from under his Rolling Stone T-shirt, "this is what's left." Hector opens the bag to look inside. The transparent material must not be enough to calculate the ounces of dope leftover. A dealer's logic probably deteriorates when they start working full-time. No wonder his mother is adamant he stays in school.

Hector hands the teen an envelope, which he accepts and opens. Trouble comes when merchandise is lost, but no one will have his back when he gets fucked over. "Cool," he says, tucking the envelope into the hem of his pants and walking back to his car. He nods and watches as his sister unlocks his door.

"Envelopes, please." The girl grabs the envelopes from under the passenger seat. "Keep watch," he says, not breaking his attention from the cash in hand.

"Okay," she presses her face against the window, breathing heavily. Eric stops counting and turns to witness his sister's idiocy.

"Sit down. You're going to dirty my window." The girl sits and proceeds to perch the dolls like they're actual people. "By the way, next time you want to borrow one of my action figures, can you ask me?"

"Sowwy," she apologizes.

Eric closes the envelopes and passes them back to his sister, who slides them under the driver's seat. "All right, Stephie. Ready for school?"

"I think," she pauses to climb into her car seat. "I think we should get ice cream," she smiles that annoying smile that says, 'I'm not asking you; I'm telling you.'

"And I want to get rich, but we can't all get what we want, huh, kid?" Sometimes he can hear his mother in himself. "Besides, don't you have a show and tell today?"

"Yea, I'm gonna show 'em me Bawbies."

"Yea?" The little girl starts rambling about her dolls while Eric shifts his attention from his sister to the radio.

Eric parks in front of the elementary school where he's sure people can see him. Stephanie goes to a low-grade public school, yet these grown women stare at him like they're entitled to a story. They will either continue to monitor him until he budges or waits long enough for them to find something to gossip about. It was irritating at first, but the attention is kind of flattering. The phone in his pocket vibrates, breaking his train of thought. He ignores the phone call, promising himself he'll get to it later. Eric gets out of the car and heads to the back seat, where his sister is kicking her feet. "Take care of Superman because if you lose him, you're dead. Got it?" Stephanie nods with a smile. "I promise."

"Be free, child," he announces loud enough for only the little girl to hear. As Stephanie steps out of the car, she slips and falls forward, causing her to land on her face. The little girl sits up and starts screaming bloody murder. If the attention wasn't on them before, it's on them now.

"Hey." There is an urge to cover her mouth, but that wouldn't play well in a public setting, so here's the next best choice. "How about we get ice cream after school."

Stephanie's cries turn into minor hiccups. "Y-yea," she smiles, wiping her eyes.

"You have to stop crying, though, okay?" Eric uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe his sister's face and scrunches his face when he realizes there is a line of snot on his shirt. "Feeling better?" Stephanie nods right as the bell rings.

"Go on then," Eric says, helping his sister up.

"Bye," she waves. Eric gets back into his car and rolls the window down.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

The Princess of the Prom (Teen Sam Drake x Reader)

A/N: This was offered to me as my friend's ( @xxgoldenhour) fantasy and I promised her, that this would be the sweetest shit she'll see. Also, you don't have to win prom's tiara to be the queen for me. And it doesn't matter if you're a boy or a girl. You're the king or queen of your Prom night. 

Also, take a note that this is a modern AU. Let's say that it happens today and that Samuel is aged around 19, so that makes Nate a fourteen-year-old boyo and that reader is around 18. 

Description: Y/N and Sam were the best friends of high school, no denying in that. Even tho Samuel's Prom was actually amazing and fun, Y/N doesn't feel good about going on her own.

Mood for this one-shot: Night go slow by Carey Shaw, bcs the video is so good and she just got the vibe of being young, amused and in love. 

It was all set up to be the best evening of her life. No. Not only the best but the best and the most perfect one. That was Samuel's first and last priority - set all up, prepare anything, get sure that there's a backup plan even if an asteroid hit the earth's ground - he managed to make everything she wanted just to make her feel as good as he could.

He told her anything she needed to know about the Prom just to make less nervous; there were those jackasses who brought vodka and tried to make punch an alcoholic drink, there were the couples who will make out the whole evening just to strangely disappear on the toilets together, but nobody pushed her to do any of that typical stuff.

This about her and her mates, who were alongside her the whole time. This was a celebration of them making such a huge step in their lives. He had his year ago, at the same high school and Y/N was there alongside him, and for him, it was the best evening of his life.

But as her prom was coming to play sooner and sooner, she was more and more nervous. He was practically woman's best bridesmaid because he got into preparations really hard and he didn't leave out anything. Her parents found it really sweet of him, but he always said that it's a sure thing for him to do all of that.

He even borrowed a nice black car from one of his friends' dad, planned the route to pick up all of her friends... You know, that boy was probably stressed about this far more than Y/N.

And the evening slowly came. It was a warm, spring-summer night with the vibe of the real summer slowly approaching. He came exactly on time, with a borrowed tuxedo in a protecting barrier put on his shoulder and with a cigarette in his mouth.

His brother was alongside him, drinking an ice tea in a cup bought in a nearby Taco Bell. Samuel didn't want to left him all alone at their place, so he asked Y/N's parents if he and Nate could stay overnight and they didn't seem to have a single problem with that since he was taking so much care about Y/N.

Y/N's brother Zachary was sitting in the armchair on the terrace and playing video games, so Samuel knew that if something, Nathan is not going to be alone. They weren't the best friends exactly, but they were pretty good pals. 

As Samuel knocked on her door, she was already opening it. She looked as gorgeous as ever with a baseball team dres they bought together and in some shorts she wore only at home. Her other best friend, Crystal, was already there and helping her with the preparations; Y/N's hair had some curlers in as Crystal was trying to style her hair into a messy bun and she already had some makeup on; especially the highlight made her face look sharper and he liked how the little crystals in it reflected the light around.

Nathan liked her, she wasn't a person whom he held himself back in front of, so he fist-bumped her with a booming sound. “You look so weird,” Nathan laughed.  Y/N rolled her eyes backward and grinned at Nate as she was turning back to lead them into her room. 

“Well, you are definitely a ladies man, aren't you? I mean, you can make a girl feel so confident with one sentence,” she laughed as she bumped into him, tousling his hair. Nathan leaned from her as he grinned as well.

“I didn't mean that you don't look good, Y/N. I just haven't seen you wearing makeup or whatsoever, like I mean, nevee” Nathan turned his head to Sam with a wicked look. “But Sam seems to like it.” He added and then he said hi to Crystal.

She was sitting in front of a big mirror, braiding her hair into a really complex hairstyle. Crystal's eyes shined like stars when Samuel came to Y/N's room, slowly putting his tuxedo on Y/N's bed. 

Everyone who wasn't blind knew, that Crystal had a thing for Samuel. And it wasn't a single thing. She was straightaway worshiping him like a fucking god. And even tho Y/N was the one whom Samuel could barely exist without, everyone thought that the right choice would be Crystal; she had the longest legs around, big smile full of the whitest teeth and she was blonde, one of the typical Plastic beach girls. 

“Hey, Nate!” Crystal exclaimed in a thrilled and tone. “And hi, Sammy!�� She yelled in a seriously high tone and practically jumped into Samuels' arms. Y/N and Sam grinned at each other. To be honest, everyone was expecting Sam to go there with Crystal and yet, he surprised everyone when he told them that he's going with Y/N actually. Crystal was hurt and jealous, yet she couldn't blame Y/N, because they were good friends since they met. Everyone left out a long sigh when Crystal accepted an invitation from a quarterback of the year, Terry Banks, with whom they went on the classes of Literature and Astronomy, where Y/N and Crystal ended up because Y/N loved the stars. 

Sam let her go and gave Y/N a small bag. 

“Oh, what could it be?” Y/N asked in an amused tone as she moved like a cat, dramatizing the whole situation even tho she knew that Sam gave her corsage.

“Can it be the gun which killed John Lennon?” Samuel furrowed as Y/N was about to continue. 

“Or is it a bomb?”

“Or a weapon against vampires?” 

“You're so silly!” Crystal shouted as she snatched the bag, taking the corsage out. It was truly beautiful, made out of lightly rosy roses and baby's breath and some small, wildly green leaves on an elegant black stripe of semis. And of course it matchet Samuel's boutonniere. “Its a corsage. And it's truly... Beautiful.” Crystal said with a tone of being hurt in her voice, giving Y/N the small box. 

Y/N and Sam were all about that weird jokes, theatrics, and fun, just not taking anything too seriously. But a Crystal wasn't the brightest, per se, so she often ruined the magic of the moment.

“It is,” Y/N said quietly as she watched the small thing made from flowers, making them an official Prom couple. Samuel really spent a lot of money to make her evening nice, not like that Y/N's parents weren't paying anything, but the corsage was paid by him. “But you have to go now, we will be getting dressed.” Y/N left the small plastic box on her desk and nudged into his shoulder to make him leave. Sam just raised his hands as if he was showing that they are completely empty and left with an amused grin. 

It took them forever. At least for him. He found himself a bathroom comfortable enough to dress into that tuxedo and even to make himself look like a human and even tho it took him at least twenty minutes, you two were nowhere to be seen. Crystal's laugh could be heard as Y/N said something utterly stupid, as always. He sat on the ground in front of her room, watching his wristwatch and playing with his hair, making it messy again.

The door opened all of a sudden as Y/N was turning her head to Crystal just to say something to her. Samuel was on his feet in a second, playing with his fingers as he watched her. She was beautiful. Breathtaking. He inhaled sharply and his cheeks got rosy as he tried to come it with something to say except 'You're the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen' and 'If we were thirty, I would ask you to marry me', but nothing came up, so he rather shut up and just watched her.

Her hair was really in a curly, loose bun and now, she had long earrings smoothing over her neck. Her dress were tight around her breasts and waist, without nothing on the shoulders, but nicely loosed from around her waist to her ankles. They had baby pink, almost beige colour and so she had brigtly beige high heels on.

She must felt him staring, because she looked at him with a blank expression, making him embarrassed. But she shut up and her smile slowly dissapeared as she watched how tightly the tuxedo hugs his shoulders. When they got that huge? Did he worked out without telling her? And the way the trousers hugged his thighs... She wasn't able to spoke up for about a minute.

"See something you like?" Samuel joked with his face still red and Y/N coughed into her palm to release at least a bit of the nervousness inside of her.

"You look... Utterly disgusting, Samuel." She said in an unsure tone and walked right next to him for something, so her parfume hit his nose. He almost collapsed on the spot. When did his best friend, that ugly monster, turned into a breathtaking woman? Why didn't he noticed that? He was glad that she normally didn't wore make up or girly things, otherwise he would have to compete for her attention with a lot of boys. And that was a thing he didn't like to think about liked in general.

Normally, she would wear a high ponytail and a loose baseball t-shirt with a name of some series, band or a movie reference. She was feminine, but in her own way. Not that princess one, she was feminine in a shy, almost uncatchable one. But Crystal was that Barbie feminine type.

She had long, tight, dark blue gown and she was smiling at him, thinking about things she couldn't say out loud. But Samuel was the center of many of them.

Then he put her the corsage and she put a small rose in the pocket on his breast. She looked at him with their typical grin and almost said something about them being so official that they could marry or something, but she didn't say a word.

Her parents took at least three millions photos of them and another three of them with Crystal and then, only them, they were ready to leave. Y/N mum waved at them from the terrace as they were leaving and Y/N with Crystal waved her back.

Samuel drove slow, because he was worried about that beautiful car which weren't his and they picked up another two classmates - Terry and one of his football friends. They were really loud and Crystal laughed at some remark they had.

"Wow, Bryan, look at Y/N!" Terry exclaimed in an excited tone and Samuel hid a smile into his palm. Y/N smiled as she rotated her eyes in her own manner, laughing nervously.

"Y/N," Bryan took her shoulder in his palm and made her look at him. "I never knew that you are a woman. Samuel, you are a one lucky guy, I tell you. Don't let her off your sight, otherwise it's not my fault." He said and Samuel didn't smiled at it, even tho he normally would. He was dead serious at that moment, watching the read.

"Man, don't be like that!" Bryan yelled, laughing. "I was just joking." He smoothed her shoulder and she started laughing as well, which made Sam smile. They stopped on the school parking lot in about ten minutes. Samuel let everyone get off, Terry taking Crystal inside and Bryan waving at his girlfriend Chelsea. Only Y/N and Sam left there, and she was playing with one of the roses on the corsage Sam gave her. She wasn't feeling like it and he would sense if clearly.

"Alright, miss Grumpy, what's the matter?" Samuel leaned into her personal space, letting his elbow lock around her seat.

"I don't feel comfortable. And I might vomit in a minute." She laughed in a sad manner and Samuel looked at how everyone was slowly walking into that building. If she doesn't want to go, then he'll not push her. He can ride them back to her home, watch some movies with her and then sleep on the couch like many times before. If would not be anything new. He liked those evenings a lot, he didn't see any problem with that.

"Well, if you are about to vomit... Don't do it in the car, please, Davie's dad would murder me," he said and that made her laugh again. Samuel loved, when he could make Y/N laugh, because it was so sincere every time. It was sweet and it made him happy as well.

"Oh, that would ease my life so much," she said in a provocative tone and that made him laugh again. And she laughed as well.

"So you don't wanna go, huh?" He smiled and undid his seatbelt, relaxing on the seat itself.

"So I don't wanna go." Y/N repeated mockingly.

"Then tell me, what do you want to do or where to go. Back home?" Samuel asked quietly as if Samuel called her a psycho.

"No! You think that I dress like Crystal just to watch Friends like this?" She yelled with a smile as she wasn't fully serious. "You are an actual moron!" She undid her seatbelt with a wicked smile. And she got off the car, walking away from the school. Samuel locked the car quickly and runned after her, walking next to her backwards.

"Hi there, monster," he cried and cringe-laughed, when she hit his shoulder roughly as she was making her mad face with her little cheeks pumped with air. He was totally unbelievable, but even though he was a lovely little dork. Samuel was taller than her and even tho, Y/N called him small. "Alright, alright," Sam coughed into his palm as he couldn't stop laughing. "Where are we going?"

"I dunno where are you going, dickhead, but there a Taco Bell restaurant just a five minutes from here. I'm going to eat everything there." Y/N rose her eyebrows and Samuel laughed loudly.

"So you can't watch Friends in your prom dresses because they're too good for that, but they are suitable enough for ravaging Taco Bell?" Sam looked at her from his height and she had face of a serial killer. "You should really sort out your values and priorities." He laughed and that earned him another punch to the shoulder.

So Taco Bell was the place where they ended up in. She got some Quesadillas with chicken and cheese, some chocolate sweets and a cup of tea. Sam, who was paying, of course, got himself a burrito and Coke. They sat there for two hours, talking, laughing, topping each other with puns and jokes. They left around nine in the evening, the sun was just setting low and it made her dress look seriously fairy-taily like. He kept his eyes on her all the time. Just as Bryan told him.

"Where we'll go now?" Sam stretched, but she already going to somewhere. So he only followed.

They ended up in a nearby skatepark - and some girls around sixteen tried Y/N teach, how to skate, even borrowed her their shoes, but she was a lost one. He took so much photos and videos of her, a lot of them ending with him cracking up, laughing. She was terrible, but she didn't fall once, which was great. When they were leaving at ten pm, she didn't even put her heels on, she just walked next to him bare, jumping on and off the pavements, walking through the ice cold grass, sometimes holding his hand not to fall.

"So, how's your prom going?" He asked when they were walking down from the aisle from some trees with white flowers on them.

"Oh, it's great," she smiled at him. "I'm dancing, yelling my lungs out, laughing... I'm kidding," she smiled, jumping on another pavement. "I'm glad that I've spended this evening with you." She smiled shyly and sun was shining low in a lightly orange light so Samuel stopped her.

"Go in the middle of the road." Sam asked her and she was confused, but she did it. Samuel took a few photos of her in the sunlight and one of them immediately became his wallpaper. Then she took a few photos of him an some selfies were a necessary thing. The photos were lovely.

They walked almost through the entire city, nobody hurried up anywhere. It started to get cold by the midnight, so Sam covered her in his suit, lightly touching her fingers with his. She was icy cold.

"Oh dear!" He exclaimed and laughed, bringing her hand to his lips, warming it with the air from his lungs. She was looking her in the eyes the whole time. "You haven't told me that you're Elsa. Not yet," Samuel made a remark about her hand and she shook her head.

"And you haven't told me that you're colourblind," she rolled her eyes, slapping his shoulder. "Elsa is blue. I am almost pink. You dork." She slapped it again and left her hand there, which made the difference. Y/N leaned her head to Samuel's shoulder and left it there for a while, smelling his cologne. And she felt his lips in her hair all of a sudden.

"Samuel?" She asked and looked up. "What are you doing?" She said in disbelief, slowly looking at him. She didn't know what to say or how the fuck she should feel; she should be scared or disgusted? She should be glad? Should she just looked over it? Or what the fuck were his intentions?

"What are you talking about?" Samuel smoothed her forehead with his palm and slowly continued down to her jaw, she continued as far as she let him. And Y/N haven't moved an inch. He felt that she felt good doing that. Her eyes were smiling even tho her face was pale in pure disbelief.

What the fuck should he do? What was he supposed to do? Should he just kiss her or lean back and let her be? Should he tell her about his feelings? About those which he discovered five seconds ago? About the urge to kiss her and make her his by that act? He was confused and taken back.

Y/N was his best friend for years now and he never made anything like that, nor even though about it. Maybe the dress caused it, because it made her look seriously hot.

"I-I mean, if, I, oh, I, can you forget what happened?" Samuel stepped away and awkwardly walked from her. And that made her angry; once he looked like he hasn't seen anything as beautiful as her, and the next he chickened out like a little girl. She started to laugh and that made Samuel stop.

"Why-why are you laughing?" He asked annoyed, but Y/N continued to laugh even more after that.

"I am sincerely sorry. You always told me that you are a womanizer, no, no, no, don't you turn away from me, Samuel, the funny part is coming, but when you get the chance to kiss the girl you actually like and care about, you can't move for shit." Y/N burst out again and that made something in him click completely. In a second, her lips crush onto his and her palmed bumped into his shoulder, because he scared her so much. Samuel's hands clumsily held her waist and smoothing it in a non-ofensive manner; not too up because of her breasts and not too down, because of her ass.

Y/N calmed down after a minute, closed her eyes and leaned into him, circling her hands around his neck. Well, she could feel that she definitely isn't his first kiss, but that was the best part. She found his slicked, but messy hair and played with it gently.

They would probably stood there until the morning, but a car's horn made them jump off the road.

"Alright, cowboy," Y/N smiled and took his hands in hers gently. She touched him feather-like, so gently and lightly. "That was a pretty good first kiss."

"First?" He asked playfully, and that compliment made him smile. "So that doesn't mean it was our last one?" He bumped into her hips with his and she almost fell down; she would fall if Sam wasn't holding her hand so firmly. It didn't hurt, but it was firm.

"No, I don't think it was the last one," she furrowed her eyebrows at him like she was thinking about something. "But this," she pointed at him and then she pointed on her torso. "Will upset some people. You prommed last year, you're like my grandad practically." She laughed into Sam's direction.

"Yeah, I am a gross pedophile, that's right." Sam agreed and slowly took her to their car and they drove right to her home.

It was two am when Y/N was about to go to her bed, her hair let down on her shoulders and her make-up was far gone. Samuel left her room few minutes ago and even tho he called her a monster, his eyes were loving and smiling at her. A notification on her phone popped all of a sudden.

She cracked the knuckles on her palms and looked at the phone. It was her Instagram - Sam posted something and tagged her in. She knew that it is going to be that video where she almost fell off that damned skateboard. Even though that humiliation which was waiting for her, she opened the notification.

And she just stayed completely silent with her cheeks burning, watching her face on the display, she was smiling and she was holding his palm as if she was leading him somewhere. And the caption almost made her cry. There was that day's date and a cute little text.

@allaboutthatdrake: After a few years of waiting, it finally happened! Don't let the friend-zone ruin you, because it doesn't exist. 😉

And that was it. They officially started dating. And her prom night was the best night she ever had.

[ginnyzero]

My Fashion Connection

I’ve been trying to pin down lately why I love fashion and fashion design. Because I don’t love clothes and designing clothes and the choosing of fabrics because of the glitz and glam of high end runway shows and the glossy pages of Vogue magazine and adulation of famous design houses. Most of that I didn’t even know about until I went to school. I didn’t choose fashion because of any of those things. I really wanted to go into Computer Game Design because of games like Myst.

Growing up in a very small town in the middle of the southern tier of New York, fashion wasn’t anything that anyone in our town was interested in except the town pageant queen who had a ‘reputation.’ It’s dairy country. My town was and is much more interested in dirt bikes, hunting and fishing and kegger beer parties. There were a couple of families that were more well to do and worked at Cornell or IBM and thus wore nicer clothes but out of a town of say 50 to 100 people, there were more cows and farmers and retirees. It’s the type of town when two of the young people marry each other, the entire town becomes related.

My mother is a home sewer. I hate the term sewer in professional capacity because it has the connotations of a house wife sitting at home making amateur garments. My mother made a lot of my sister’s clothes growing up and when she started sending me to Christian schools with dress codes, she also made clothes for me. (Mostly jumpers.) Eventually she either got tired of sewing or felt that we needed to buy things to keep up appearances and she stopped. (This ended up with us shopping in budget discount overrun boutique shops. Yes. A thing. Family Dollar and Dollar General didn’t exist yet! And mother hadn’t discovered the “joys” of the Salvation Army and second hand or they simply weren’t close enough to shop at.)

In a tiny town, you have to drive almost an hour in every direction to get to anything that remotely resembles a fabric shop. Except, between our tiny town and the city of Ithaca we got lucky, because out in a nowhere more nowhere than our nowhere was a tiny fabric shop run by a petite old woman named Leona.

To get to Leona’s shop, you took this very twisty road over and through the hills and turned right when you finally hit another ‘major’ road. And then off to the left less than a mile was a huge stand of pine trees and in the middle of these pines was a dirt drive. You’d drive up the hill between these tall pines the rocks in the dirt crunching under your tires that opened onto a clearing on top of a hill that held a farm. Leona ran her shop out of her home, a one story mixture of a red roofed, white trailer with an add on to make it an L shape. The barn hadn’t been kept up and the red stain was fading and the barn was falling apart. You parked on the edge of the drive, hoped it hadn’t rained lately and it wasn’t pure mud so you could get back out. (If you got stuck, there was always the local farmer with a tractor and chains to pull you out.) You had to park on the edge because despite the fact the farm wasn’t an active farm, she rented out the land and your cars needed to be out of the way for the tractors to get through.

She had the shop in the add on built on the back of the trailer. Firewood piled up next to the screen door and cats lounged everywhere. Leona liked hoarding things so the walkway had gnomes, garden statues and benches and wheelbarrows and yes, there was a tiny garden windmill in the middle of the circular drive. If it was winter, salt crunched under your boots and you had to walk carefully across the ice covered mud slush. If it was spring or summer, there were flowers peeping up among the grass.

And once you crossed the threshold, warmth, Leona smiling with her curly short white hair and the measuring tape around her neck behind the measuring counter. Bolts and bolts of colorful and textured fabrics lined the walls and the blank spaces of walls over tables were old fashioned wall paper in dark red with ducks or cream and pink rose prints and warm golden colored wood panels. Painted sawblades provided decoration. The clock might have been a novelty item, a cow or a cat or even something with shears for the hands. I can’t remember. (There might have been all three.) It smelled mostly of sawdust, dust and in the winter, the sharp smell of a burning fire from the potbelly stoves. Leona’s help were also middle aged or older ladies like her and they weren’t quite as friendly, but they were helpful.

Leona stocked her shop by going down to NYC and buying overruns from the warehouses. (Overruns are fabrics that designers don't end up using and fabrics manufacturers make too much of because they predict more sales than they make. Most fabric retail stores are stocked by overruns.) She mostly had colorful cotton prints and upholstery fabric. There was a little fashion fabric and by the time I hit high school, she had things like stretch velvet. She mostly sold to quilters and people like my mother. Cornell doesn’t have a fashion design program, only a science textiles program, but she’d occasionally get students. Her hours were irregular. I don’t know if she ever turned a profit. She encouraged touching the fabric. (Though she didn’t like children taking bolts out of the shelves for good reason.) She didn’t mind that I wandered about away from my mother. She always remembered me no matter how much time had passed.

But every time I go into a fabric shop, there is still that bit of magic from going to Leona’s. When I returned from college, I wanted to go and show Leona some of my projects. She died before I got the chance and I still regret that.

Professional shops like Mood, Britex, B&J’s and to an extent the discount fabric warehouse that I used during college in San Francisco make me shake my head because the workers don’t always feel helpful. They don’t make you feel like every customer is important. They aren’t like Leona, as frail as she was, with her sunny smiles and slightly raspy voice, glasses, and cheerful attitude and love of textiles.

I also had Barbie. I’ve talked about Barbie and my love of Barbie. I would play with Barbie rather than with baby dolls. (My baby dolls took lots of naps according to my mother.) And I loved the clothing packs. I loved dressing and undressing her and trying new outfits out of the outfits I had. Barbie was a safe present to buy for me when I was growing up, because a) that meant my group of Barbie’s got new clothes and b) if this Barbie had different color hair or skin then I got more variety in my Barbies. (My favorite was the long red headed mermaid with the teal outfit. This was back when the tail was a “Skirt” you could take on and off.) I had maybe one Ken and I inherited a lot of clothes from my older sister who grew out of Barbie about the time I started getting interested. Some of them were homemade but I couldn’t get my mother to make more and she wouldn’t teach me how to sew to make them myself. (In fact, she said it was too hard and downright discouraged it. Guess who doesn’t really like sewing? Me.)

Today, I love Monster High and Ever After High, but if they’d existed when I was a child, I wouldn’t have gotten them because of my parents’ extreme dislike of anything related to monsters, ghosts or Halloween. (I am a November child people. This is ridiculous. Come on, I share a birthday with Bram Stoker. OKAY.)

And somewhere in that time, (1992 apparently, man, I was younger than I thought) when I was getting a pittance of an allowance and had saved money from Christmas, I had enough money to buy a new Barbie or a Crayola Fashion Design stencil/tracing kit. This was before Project Runway. This was before the idea that these Fashion Drawing kits were thought to be remotely popular. No one thought that little girls might like drawing clothes! (Go figure.) The Easy Bake Oven was still the biggest and most innovative thing for a girl’s toy. But Crayola came out with a stencil kit with a bunch of papers that had design outlines, and pattern rubbing plates and a light box. Everything in the kit was meant to fit in the light box. The light box was plastic, pink and ran on D batteries (not included bummer.) And I had just enough money to buy it or a new Barbie. (I think my only other difficult choice that compares to this was the Star Craft Battle Chest and something else and I chose the Battle Chest.)

(I can't believe I found a picture of that, someone is selling one on ebay.) Because, I mean, a new Barbie would only give me one set of new clothes, with this fashion design kit I could draw clothes, lots and lots and lots of clothes. I had always been an artistic child. I liked drawing. This had never really been encouraged except in the “here, have another set of colored pencils, pastels, watercolors, no lessons included.” So, here was Barbie in paper form! I didn’t have to take the clothes on and off. I could just trace what they had on the sheets or try to come up with stuff myself.

Pages of my Fashion Design Kit Now

I’m not going to say I was very good at it. The point was, I had fun, this was something to do that didn’t involve playing a game on the computer or reading a book or practicing my piano and I hadn’t gotten into writing at this age. So, from using this stencil, I started with encouragement of one of my friends, to try and make it more real life proportion and draw the figures myself (once again without any sort of drawing classes. The art classes at my school were a joke.) I bought sketchbooks and took them to school with me. I started writing because of this same friend.

It was frankly an escape. My allowance never grew bigger. So, it went towards buying new books to read, sketchbooks and replenishing my Crayola colored pencils. (Though Imperial ones were better but I only got those out of the colored pencil color by number kits.) I didn’t buy fashion magazines. The idea of fashion as a career wasn’t on my radar. I didn’t have a career on my radar. College was one of those, “I’ll think about it later,” things.

The girls at my school who were cheerleaders and liked fashion weren’t precisely my friends and felt like complete foreigners and strangers to me. I didn’t ‘get’ them. We had our groups and we stuck to them. Having arrived to this school after the groups were formed, I fit nowhere and living so far away from everyone else, there was no way that I could feasibly see to hang out with them after school in order to get to know them well enough to fit into one of the groups at all.

Magazines were a luxury in our house. Vogue never made it into the house ever. It took until after 7th grade and a major fight that we even got the newspaper. So by the time I hit eleventh and twelfth grade and college was ‘mandatory’ and I had a list of requirements for what college I could go to, I had to look through what the colleges offered versus what I was interested in and thought I could be good at. (Let me say that writing wasn’t considered because my mother was very anxious about me being able to have a ‘real job.’) And the practice test for the ACT in 10th grade came with this odd employment aptitude test thing to help you find the job that would be the right fit. (Goodness knows if it was remotely accurate.) Fashion design was in my “right fit” category. And between all the majors, there was a tiny college in Ohio that happened to have a Fashion Design degree under their Health and Human Services Major. And since the only computer graphics and gaming major I could find was at a Calvinist college in Michigan, I thought the Mennonite College in Ohio was probably a better idea.

I didn’t read fashion magazines. I didn’t know really how to sew. (Sewing lessons with my mother were a complete disaster.) I couldn’t make a pattern. I had absolutely no portfolio. There were three things I liked, writing, computer games and drawing clothes. And let’s be clear, I wasn’t that great at drawing clothes and my designs at the time probably weren’t that innovative. I had to make a choice and what very little information I could glean from the Ithaca Public Library (seriously, you’d think having Ithaca College and Cornell, the library would be better,) fashion seemed the way to go. It was a massive industry. It had to have work available after I attained my degree.

Oh to be that young and naïve again. Probably sheltered is the better term.

I was over a year and a half into my fashion degree at this tiny college when someone finally thought to clue me in that “to get a design degree you have to have an art minor.” Realizing that this was utterly ridiculous and that making patterns in ¼ of the size wasn’t really going to get me anywhere after trying to talk with one of the other students about whether or not we could really get work after going to this school, (I’m sorry, sweetie, I hope you realized I was trying to convince myself as well as you,) I transferred out and into the Academy of Art. (And this took another large fight.)

Where, I had a lot of credits but I essentially had to start from the beginning. So, having those credits wasn’t actually to my advantage because the numbers of credit hours earned made it appear that I had more experience than I did. This got me more scrutiny and really a worse college experience.

Let’s understand something, I grew up in New York. The Fashion Institute of Technology is part of the SUNY system of colleges. I was a New York resident. It would have been fairly cheap for me to go to FIT. My parents didn’t want me in NYC or at a secular school. Parsons was always out of the question because it’s as costly as Cornell and I understood that. FIT would have been an extremely LOGICAL CHOICE.

Oh well, I loved San Francisco. I loved the big city/small town feel of it and the ability to walk most places and the public transit. If it wasn’t so expensive to live there, I might still be there.

So, schooling wore away at me, but it didn’t dim my love of creating clothes. My love of creating clothes was never founded or predicated upon the idea that success was a runway show and a big fancy store and my name in lights. I didn’t want to be the next Coco Chanel. I didn’t know who she was and at the time I started drawing clothes, I frankly didn’t care. My going into fashion was me going “here is something I love and enjoy doing, can I make a job out of it? Yes. Yes. I can.”

No one can take that from me. I might get bored or tired, but you can’t take the love of creating away from me.

And by the way, I still don’t read Vogue. It’s out of date before it’s printed and 75% advertisements. I also still don’t care about a runway show or seeing my name in lights as a “name” of a brand. That’s not the fashion price point I do or understand. And that’s okay, despite the push by fashion schools to design for that price point and that should be your goal, there is a lot more to fashion than ready to wear. Maybe that gives me an advantage, maybe it doesn't. That's not my connection to fashion. Magical fabric shops, Barbie, Crayola, the joy of creating, those are my fashion connections. And those are a lot more tangible than a runway or a name in lights by my account.

[angelinapastlife]

A list of my past lives that I remember so far

Greek God Hermes. Tan skin, yellow and blue robes most often, dark curly hair that got in my eyes a lot. Eyes that shifted between blue/green and brown and ocassionally had sectoral heterochromia. I had a headband with wings on it that settled on the side of my head. I'd say I was about 5'9. Hades and I were lovers but had to keep it hidden as it was forbidden.

A demon named Judah. In my true form I had dark, slicked back hair. My skin was fair, but my face had a void black, paint-like mark covering almost all of it. I had black, gold speckled eyes. My hands were also pitch black, climbing up my arms and fading into my veins. I wore mostly black clothing and may have had a cape. I wore a lot of chains as well. I was tall, maybe about 6'5. I ocassionally had horns as well. I also had another more human-like form, but I don't quite remembered much of it, except that I didn't have the black paint mark on my face and that my hair was fluffier and a bit lighter and I was shorter. Azazel and I were lovers for a time but it's unclear to me whether it was a known fact.

A boy named Charlie in the 40's. I wore clothing that was pretty usual to the time, most often brown pants, a beige shirt with suspenders. I also owned a faded mustard yellow leather jacket but it was often too warm to wear it. I had dirty blonde to light brown hair that was short at the sides and slightly longer at the top. I was rather slim and scrawny, I had pretty sharp features and some freckles. Green/blue eyes thar leaned more on the green side. I know I lived somewhere in America in a small town. I biked most places and I was only seen around my best friend who was later my lover for a time. Our parents found out and he enlisted in the war (and died in it) and I passed away of some illness in my late twenties.

Archangel Gabriel. I had golden blonde, curly hair. Bright blue eyes and light, golden skin. I had freckles all over and my wings were brown at the top, fading into golden and then cream. I most often wore white, beige, cream or gray colored robes, ocassionally with blue, gold or red capes. I also had a halo, but not always. I was regarded as the fastest flier in Heaven. I was known for my fiery attitude and often referred to as "Fiera Gavri'el" (Fiery Gabriel) because of it. During the war of Lucifer's rebellion Michael and I were lovers, though I'm not sure if many others knew. Later I was together with Archangel Samael and our relationship was considered common knowledge, until he fell as a result of an order from God.

Fallen angel Gabriel. My looks did not change much, aside from obviously not having wings or a halo anymore. I lived in the 90's somewhere around California most likely. I most often wore double denim and had a denim jacket with wings painted on the back (and the word "Guardian" on it if I'm not wrong). I was usually seen around two girls. One, by the name of Destiny (and quite ironically the human who I fell to protect). She had long (almost down to her hips), light brown hair that was sometimes straight, sometimes curly and bangs at some point. Her fashion sense was casual hippie fashion, mostly flowly white or floral dresses and flower crowns, with the ocassional jean jacket. The other girl was called Barbara (She hated her name and was ALWAYS referred to as Barb and sometimes B or Barbie). She had short blue hair, glasses, freckles and a fiery attitude. She often wore a Jean vest with a lot of pins on it and her style was rather masculine.

I'm still remembering and there will probably be more lives or facts added to this, but if any of these sound familiar, please shoot me a message!

[printedpeterparker]

Intro

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Type: 5 Seconds of Summer Series HERE 

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: None

Summary: The one where being the new kid is kinda hard.

Note: I am very excited to do this series based off of 5 Seconds of Summer’s debut album! This is only an intro before I begin the album! Please add yourself to be tagged here!

November 2

“Honey, are you sure wanna wear that?” your grandma questioned, tugging on the sleeves of your olive hoodie. “It’s your first day at this school; you can make a better--”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, “Grandma, it 45 degrees and I’m going to school. I think this is fine,” you huffed, grabbing your backpack. “I just have to finish up this semester and next semester and then we’re done. I don’t need to have a fashion show every day to do that.”

“Okay, okay, good luck, Y/N. I love you,” she smiled before kissing your cheek.

You said your goodbyes before heading out to your grandma’s black minivan. It was a little beaten up, it reminded you of when you came to invite in the summers. You went on fishing trips and hikes with your family, and this black minivan was always there, giving you a lift, but now being in the car worried you.

You weren’t used to the street of New York or at least the traffic. You weren’t sure if it was you or the other drivers that were doing a terrible job. Your music was soothing you through the traffic but not everyone was doing the same as you.

Your nerves and jitteriness continued to grow as your approached your new school. It was your Senior year. You remember how hard it was to make friends when you moved from Wisconsin to France in the sixth grade. But then again, you were 11. But now you were 18, moving from France to New York. You were petrified.

After you parked, you made your way inside through the courtyard. You felt some people look your way. The school didn’t seem that large; you might as well have been seven feet tall. You quickly made your way into the building searching for the office.

Before you could find it, you were startled by another girl, “Y/N!” she cheered almost too excited. Her blonde hair barely touched her shoulders that were over by her Oxford shirt and black skirt. She almost made you believe that you needed to have a uniform. “Welcome to Midtown School of Science and Technology or MSST. I will be your ambassador for the day. My name is Chelsea Larson!”

“Oh uh hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N” you smiled, readjusting your bag over your shoulder. You swore you could see all 32 of her teeth with that smile.

“Great, I already have your schedule, locker number, locker combo, lunch pass, seating assignments, and ID for you here in this packet,” she explained, handing you a binder from her purse. “Your first class, AP, that’s advanced placement, Statistics, is with Mr. Hind.” Chelsea walked and talked fast. You couldn’t keep up with what she was saying.

She took you to your locker and quickly explained your combo and promptly scolded you when you got it wrong. Her intensity was like a raging fire. She quickly showed you to your first hour and prepared you as if she was your mom dropping you off at kindergarten.

“...Now don’t worry, I will on my way when that bell rings to escort you to your next class, Y/N. I so much fun!” she smiled, waving you off. You slowly walked into the room with it basically full of students already. You scanned the room for a seat; there were two front seats open. You quickly sat down before the bell rung and continued to look down.

Everyone in the room was still talking so as Mr. Hind tried to calm them down, you were able to get your stuff together in the front.

“Okay, okay, students,” Mr. Hind pronounced, finally settling the talking, “It appears we have a new student today. Would you like to introduce yourself, miss?”

“Uh sure,” you smiled before standing up to face the class. Every eye was literally trained on you. Some appeared to look judgey. Some appeared to be dull. Some appeared to be interested. “My name is Y/N. I came here from Nice, France, but I’m originally from Wisconsin, and I...uh...yeah. Thank you.” You muttered your thanks before sitting down.

“Wow, very impressive Ms. Y/N,” Mr. Hind smiled. “We’re very glad you’re here.”

The day continued like that.

Chelsea would take you to a class, the teacher would ask you to introduce yourself to the class, and occasionally, they would have you elaborate.

By lunch, you were tired. You did talk much to anyone; not because you didn’t want to but it was November. Everyone had time to do their meet and greet with the new kids and their friends in August. They were focused on colleges and final semester project approaching. And you had lost Chelsea before lunch.

When you finally made it to lunch after waiting for her, a lot of the food was gone, making your lunch pass useless. A deep sigh erupted from you as you turned around to find somewhere to sit. You weren’t shocked to see cliches; it was a teen phenomenon, even in France. You didn’t even Chelsea. Some girls gave you a look when walked by their table. Some would even minimize the space between themselves and friends.

You observed a fairly empty table and slowly made your way over. There were only two boys and a girl there. “Come on, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself. “It’s not that hard to make friends.” You walked over, trying to look friendly but not as terrifying as Chelsea. “Hey,” you said, interrupting their conversation. “Do you guys mind if I sit?” you asked.

“Mmm, not sure,” the girl said, completely deadpan.

“She’s totally kidding,” the boy with dark hair apologized. “Have a seat.” You smiled and sat across from the girl adorned with curly hair and sat next to the boy with brown hair in a sweater. “First of all, I’m Ned. That’s MJ--”

“She can call me Michelle,” she quietly muttered, opening a book on the table.

“Duly noted,” you nodded.

“And I’m Peter,” he smiled. He had books and work scattered in front of him. You recognized You recognized it as your the stats project Mr. Hind had even out today. You thought you recognized him “So, you’re from France?”

“Yeah, my dad is all about the work,” you half chuckled, “but now I live with my grandma and my parents are still in France.”

“I bet you don’t even speak French,” Michelle huffed, still looking down into her book.

You smirked before sitting up, “Si je ne pouvais pas parler français, pouvais-je dire ça? If I couldn’t speak French, could I say that?” you said before translating. Ned let out a forceful laugh before Michelle hit him with her book. They began a smaller argument on their side of the table.

“That was pretty impressive,” Peter nodded. “And don’t worry about them either.”

“Okay and thanks. I only lived there for six years so...” you said before it became silent again except Ned and Michelle were still arguing.

Your head tilted in confusion when you looked at Peter’s work on the table. It seemed off to you. You didn’t want to be nosy or intrude; you had only met Peter a couple minutes ago. It was your place, but still…

“I think you’re wrong, Peter,” you told him but only loud enough for him to hear.

He gave you a sour face before shaking his head, “No, I’m pretty sure this is right. Ned and I tested it and the data was linear with strong correlation; with our equation, we can assume tha-”

“Extrapolation,” you stated. He gave you the same face. You sighed before turning the paper around so it was facing you properly, “When I was in France, we learned about extrapolation. Your x values included 1 through 15 rubber bands while your y values were the distance barbie bungeed. Mr. Hind said your project depended on your work and hitting the right distance where barbie didn’t hit the floor or was too far from the ground. And he said the distance was 32 meters and you never got 32 meters as a y value. Therefore, you are guessing beyond your observation range which could lead to meaningless results or extrapolation. And I know we haven’t talked about in class or at least that’s what your face is telling me, but I would reconfigure your number and experiments.”

Peter looked at you and at his work again. There was a bit of silence before the bell rang, dismissing you from lunch.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna go. Sorry…” you professed before quickly getting up and hurrying out of the cafeteria.

You knew it wasn’t your place. You should have trusted your gut and said nothing. Maybe this friend thing was going to be harder to do than you thought.

The end of the day came as fast as you wanted it to do. You had seen Peter in other classes but steered clear of him. You knew you were right, but you didn’t mean to out him in front of his friends. You took it too far.

You also never saw Chelsea after lunch.

You made your way to the library to get some homework done. It was always easier for you to not work at home even in France. The library gave you the silence you needed without interruption. You opened up your English reading packet to begin your homework. You skimmed the reading, highlighting and annotating the reading. You glared up and back down before you realized what you saw.

You looked up again and saw Peter making his way over to your desk. You felt your breath become shallow and your throat became dry as he made his way over to your desk. You didn’t even realize that you were staring at him for so long.

“Hi, Y/N, can we talk?” Peter asked, distributing your homework. You regretfully nodded before moving your stuff off the chair next to you. “Listen, you were right. I went and experimented during my study hall until I received over 32 meters as a y value and you were right; I got a whole different equation and x value.”

You felt your heart flutter a little bit at his comment. You liked being right.

“Oh, thanks, Peter.”

“But I also have some other questions if you don’t mind about the homework,” he explained as he pulled it out of his bag. “The way Mr. Hind explained number 8 on the homework hardly makes sense. I was wondering if you could help possibly.”

You looked at your work and placed it on the other side of the table and pulled out your stats as well, “Uh yeah, if I didn’t know better, I would be a little confused as well.”

For the next 30 minutes, you helped Peter with his statistics homework. You quickly learned the confusion wasn’t because of his own learning. It was the teaching which saddened you. It came to a point where you and Peter worked in silence with words and jokes shared here and there. He did have a way of making you laugh. Even though your focus was a bit off you didn’t mind being off task at sometimes.

“With all this graphing, you’d think Mr. Hind was plotting against us,” Peter joked. A nasally laugh came out of nowhere from you. The librarian was quick to silence you and Peter before returning back into the shelves to return books back to their spots. “Yikes, sorry,” he whispered to you.

“She’s more of English person I guess,” you breathed, trying to stifle your remaining chuckles.

“Maybe but I gotta go actually,” Peter mentioned before packing up his things and stuffing them in his bag. “But if I came here tomorrow, will you be here?” he inquired.

“You can bet on it.”

NEXT: MRS. ALL AMERICAN

Please send requests for blurbs and one-shots here xx