A meme for a meme I always say A STAR IS BORN!! As if roxy wasn't famous enough already.
THIS GOT REALLY LONG(AND SHIPPY)? I AM SORRY WOW
A STAR IS BORN
A life of modesty is never one that Roxy or Ringabel has wanted to lead, what with all the studious nights and break back jobs. No, as selfish as it was they were both rather interested in becoming part of the bourgeoisie and flinging themselves into a bright lime light of gleaming glasses and gold encrusted chocolates.
She lingers around his apartment on the nights where the clubs aren’t her scene for one reason or another (maybe she didn’t have the right vibe, maybe she actually just wanted to spend some time with him). In one hand, Roxy holds her phone, choosing one pop song to the next. The music follows her as she wanders between the living room, where Ringabel is mindlessly lying on his sofa, journal open on his chest.
"You get so boring when we’re not out," she says, a sigh and groan in her voice, and he smiles at her. He doesn’t respond until she does another walk from the bathroom and back, martini glass miraculously empty.
"Finding time to collect oneself is good for the soul."
Roxy looks at him then, stopping just in front of the glass coffee table. Her weight sways on her stocky thighs, purple lipstick worn just at the edges and perfume lingering just enough so he can smell it under the vodka.
"You’re so gay," she smiles, and his mouth curls into a soft laugh. Setting down her phone (not the glass, despite it being empty), she steps about the table and doesn’t bother to motion him up. Ringabel is too considerate to not have already sat up and pat the pillow on the left side of the couch for her drunk ass.
"What’re you always thinkin’ soooo hard ‘bout anyway?"
"Hum, you make me sound so droll. I was under the impression women loved introspective types."
"Ya can’t put us all under one umbrella, dumby."
There’s a pause here, as if that had never occurred to him. He nods then, leaning back and saying nothing as she reaches to grab the notebook from his lap. With delicate fingers, she flips it open to a middle page and spreads it on the table.
The rim of her glass rests dry on her bottom lip, as if out of habit.
There are drawings here. Dresses, skirts, blouses. Some observational, some maybe not— Roxy can’t really tell.
"This one’s cute," she says, voice delighted and painted nail tapping at a dress with an open back.
"Is it? I was going for sexy, actually."
—
Turns out, it is more of a sexy look. it fits snugly around her thighs, and she feels bare in it— which is great. She loves it; feels even more confident than usual in it. Really, Roxy has to hand it to him. All that oggling does Ringabel (some) good, because he knows just how to make a girl feel like a pretty amethyst gem.
"I look so hot!!" She gasps, turning her neck to look at her rear in the mirror. "Daaammmn!"
Ringabel looks just as proud of it as she does, nodding in approval with that smug, satisfied grin on his face. “I have to admit, this is some of my finest work…” He sighs pleasantly. “having a muse to work off changes the whole experience.”
"Muse?" Roxy snorts, putting her hands on her hips and peering at him.
"Why, of course! An inspiration! A dress is to fit the woman, not the other way around. Doesn’t it feel that way when you wear that?"
For a guy who’s borderline a pig, he really does love women. It weirds her out sometimes, all the worship and then doublesided ignorance. He blathers on for a bit more, something about how she, Roxy, has been particularly easy to work off of with all her languid stretching, lopsided stumbling about the apartment, and high treble R&B music.
"You’re sooo gay."
She goes back to looking at the cut of the dress down her back, half smiling.
—
Ringabel seems to have no real trouble finding other muses after that. Women seem more than happy to hang around him at the prospect of getting a dress custom made— it’s weird, Roxy guesses. Of course, Ringabel was pretty popular even before that.
He has this weird way with being just the right degree of raunchy, cheesy, and then smiling and showing you the handsome line of his jaw.
But now he doesn’t have to hunt them down so much— they fling themselves at him, and it’s (again) weird, but he shows a pretty good amount of discretion when saying yes or no. Out of the many that have approached him (and been honest with their interests), Ringabel took time to take maybe a third on a date. And in the end, he’d only began to work on a dress for one out of those.
Under the dim light in his kitchen, Roxy is sipping Svedka out of a souvenir shot glass. She remains resigned, half pouty— he’s on the phone with someone, and it doesn’t sound like a girl. It sounds like someone offering him money. Permanent money, and notoriety too, probably.
—
He finishes some of the sketches from that night, and she flips through them in the morning, hair frayed over her brow in a hangover. They’re good, of course. There are a lot of half finished ones on the pages earlier, as if he contemplated the dress for only a moment before he decided he couldn’t invest his heart into her that way.
Er, it. Not her.
She blinks tiredly to herself, expression tightening mildly as the sun starts blaring through the window.
"Here," Roxy hears him say. Suddenly, there is a cup of coffee (with cream) and two tablets of aspirin on the table. "I’ll shut the blinds in a moment."
Here, a fond smile colors his face and Roxy feels weird again. Before her mouth can catch up to her brain, he’s speaking again— one of the perks of not being hungover.
"I’ve got to take my leave now—" (Who says somethin’ like that? What is this, the 1800’s? She miles inwardly.) "make yourself at home."
"Glaaaaaaadly," Roxy replies, shutting the sketchbook with a firm pat.
—
Ringabel isn’t back by the time she wakes up from her sleep. The coffee has gone cold, though she did take the aspirin before knocking out. The sunlight is still twinkling through the blinds of the balcony doors, vents humming quietly through the apartment.
his first set of memories i think won't be all that strange to him? he was pretty much the same person in that life... and to be honest idk i think ringabel already believes in past lives so it is probably not that weird for him..................... (rubs jaw) i cant wait for him to remember living in a time without indoor plumming..................
aand where he likes to spend his time?!
why, anywhere with a beautiful view and beautiful women, of course! HA..! H... (scratches head) ringabel isnt one of those creeps that waits around in speicifc places for women ok just covering my bases there. but he's a fan of sight seeing so you could probably find him at places that have a good view of the city or whatever in the daytime to dusk. he goes 2 clubs on occasion but it isnt always his scene (he prefers formal parties)
"My dear... You look absolutely--" Ringabel sputters, truly taken aback by the young maiden's beauty. Wow. "You look absolutely... fashionaaaaaaaaaabluh!"
"sorting their extensive top hat collections" @sammy
Today is a momentous day for menswear. A miraculous flurry of top hats has come into town, perhaps migrating south for the summer or whatever it is natural selections of birds and other small, black things do.
Ringabel has a friend over. That should not be the surprising part. The surprising part is that the friend is a male, and there are no pretenses here. It is completely professional. For various reasons, including [redacted], the tall blond and the taller brunette known as Sam Winchester have become acquainted.
Sam must be quite accustom to odd characters, because he isn't completely repelled by Ringabel's extravagant behavior and they can sit down for a nice cup of coffee every now and again. It's probably because Sam has this amazing skill for drying up every sexual thought in Ringabel's mind.
A rare find, truly. At any rate, with the rare weather conditions and hatwear conditions, they have come to Ringabel's ridiculous walk in closet to properly organize his hats. Sam, himself, only owns a few, but that's no problem. Ringabel has enough stowed away in one drawer for the both of them, and maybe the rest of the city, too.
All the hats in a pile on the carpet, Ringabel stares contemplatively at a plain, black top hat. It isn't Abraham Lincoln tall, but it isn't a trilby, either. He lets out a thoughtful hum and hands it to Sam.
"Aha, I certainly can't wear this with my hair, but perhaps it'll suit you. Though I suppose it is a bit old-timey..." He places his thumb to the bottom of his handsome chin, head tilted so his platinum blond hair brushes over his fair brow just so.
It wasn’t very often that Sayu traveled anywhere without her best friend Miuna, and although she was quite the independent girl for her age, it was sometimes hard for her to figure out what to do without the fellow teenager by her side. They always did things together, always, and so when it came down to being without her, even if Sayu could manage on her own, it was just that this fact was overwhelmed by by bigger things, like how she simply didn’t want to. It was boring without Miuna, so very boring, and yet here she was, dealing with this large amount of boredom— on her own!
Since she didn’t really have any particular ideas on where to go, she ended up wandering the streets until she came upon a vending machine. It wasn’t until Sayu had spotted it that she had noticed how much she could actually go for a drink, so once she was close enough, she reached into her bag and pulled out the correct amount of change, inserting it into the machine. With a press of a button, Sayu ordered herself a simple juice box-esque carton of flavoured milk (not really caring about which one), but when the product began it’s descent to the bottom, instead of just one falling down, two were released from the metal grasps.
Oh— that.. She hadn’t paid for both of them, so she sort of felt guilty and lucky at the same time. Although she could have gotten past her guilt and accepted the extra drink gratefully, Sayu didn’t happen to be that thirsty.. So, being the generous person that she was, she took it upon herself to stop the nearest person she saw! Hopefully they’d be friendly enough!
"Hey, you— I accidentally got two of these, and I only want one, so.. Do you want this?" Holding out the carton of milk as she spoke, her expression turned expectant.
For fashion. For his next muse. He's dressed like a vapid, rich asshole in a forty dollar boyfriend V-neck, dark wash skinny jeans, shiny boots and a scarf that's purely decorative. The only thing he's missing is a beanie, but he would never dream of covering his pompadour.
Sketchbook stuck under his arm, he has both hands occupied. Thumbs and index fingers positioned into L-shapes, the platinum blond provides himself a rectangle to wink his eye and peer out of.
Girls pass by two a second here. Sometimes three, if it's a group of friends. Some are really too drab, and others don't know the meaning of moderation. Really, he was completely game for showing skin in any situation, but if there was going to be any fabric at all involved it had to be flattering--
Colors in harmony, appropriate trims and sleeves. He is drawn out of his trance by the voice of an angel, or so he would swear it in a later telling.
Ringabel turns his viewfinder to her, eyes widening. Auburn hair, full pigtails, round, chocolate eyes with a full set of lashes! Those petite shoulders! Her knee highs! The ribbons in her hair, and blunt bangs, too...! This girl... She's without a doubt...
"...the picture of innocence!" He gasps, expression elated as he stands up straight and gracefully takes the can from her tiny hands. Oh my, oh my... What could he do with this? Perhaps school uniforms should make a comeback in casual clothing. Blazers, bows, pleated skirts-- Well, probably not the last one. He hates those damned things, they are so hard to make any fun variations on--
And if they get too short, they just wind up looking idiotic.
"To think, this is what I had been missing all along..." Of course! How could he not realise it... less is more, of course, of course...
Standing up straight, he continues to peer down with the girl at thought for half a moment before smiling brightly at her. Dropping his sketchbook into his left hand, he gracefully takes the can from her tiny fingers.
"Young miss! I thank you endlessly for your contribution to the cause of womens' fashion, and now, to an artist's thirst!" He makes a show out of opening the can with a pop and taking a delicate sip.
"Your shine of purity is unparalleled. We must speak."
and all the girls like me. ( a half-serious, half-sarcastic ringabel fst )
01. Suspicious character, The Blood Arm // 02. Velvet Elvis, Alex Winston // 03. Sporting Chance, Observer Drift // 04. Eros and Apollo, Studio Killers // 05. Azimuth, Observer Drift // 06. All Men are Pigs, Studio Killers // 07. No Eyes, Baths // 08. Rocket Ship, Dragonette // 09. One Week, Barenaked Ladies
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