run, doe eyes

SARIA YOUNG | 21 | IRISH -WAITRESS & EXOTIC DANCER this waiting summer is special for romantic dreamers like me and you blossoming feelings made true in the longing sincerity of little exchanges through heartfelt poems that hold many unspoken words in the way that we secretly yearn for each other when left alone quiet days and evenings might pass but delightful midnight calls between us reminds me that you are my summer crush and how i adore you to the moon and back | DIAMONDRINGRPG |

[littlemiss-saria]

“Shoot -- I’m sorry about that, darlin’.” Saria apologized as she knocked hips with one of her coworkers, causing both of their trays to wobble as Saria left the kitchen at the same time they entered. The doors swung closed behind her with a heavy thud, and the blonde had to close her eyes tightly together to stop her breath from catching. The night before had been... well, it had been hell in a hand bag. And Saria didn’t use cuss words lightly. The Garden had nearly become a massacre, and she swore she was only alive because Leon Derosiers had spirited her away to safety. He’d given the cafe a generous apology check for the mayhem the morning after for Mrs. Walsh, telling her he hoped the two establishments could keep working together despite how the night had turned out. Despite the shoot out, Saria was still -- best said by Dolly Parton --  workin’ nine to five. 

Just another day -- she’d be fine.

Setting the tray down on the table of her newest customer, Saria gave a bubbly smile. “Here ya go! Breakfast and a coffee. Does everythin’ look how it should? Just lemme know, and if not, I can run it back to the back for a quick fixin’.”

[ukulelekatie]

🎵oh, i wanna nap with somebody…🎵

🎵i wanna fall aˢˡᵉᵉᵖ  with somebody…🎵

[fckfinnick]

sevastyan vasyutin wasn’t one for parties, even where he was invited. he was wealthy, established and most important associated with the bratva that were his life. still, none of these were enough of a reason to go a nineteen year old’s birthday party. that sounded disgusting, even with the mention of the diamonds. he’d had a plan in action the whole time, sneak into the hotel early and have various weapons hidden around and only leave his room when he was sure shit was about to go down. the gunshots were his signal, dressed in a deep burgundy suit with his hair slicked back sev headed down. he blended in quickly, looking as disarrayed as the rest of the crowd. his only plan now was to be on the lookout for diamonds and protect his bratva. sev had hand guns, he had a couple hiding in his coat pockets and knives in case he needed them. his eyes scanned the crowd looking for familiar faces as he reached over the vacant bar to grab a bottle and swig down as much as he could.

[littlemiss-saria]

Oh, no. Oh no oh no oh no.

Saria’s heart was beating hummingbird fast. Never, ever in her life was she more thankful to God that she was wearing pants and sneakers instead of a sparkly dress and high heels. She was clumsy enough as it was -- how were these people supposed to outrun guns in such elaborate outfits? It didn’t take the waitress long to realize that it wasn’t just gun fire. It was mafia gun fire -- a spray of bullets, all fired from hulking men in dark suits, if you didn’t include Raymond strutting around in a pink velvet suite. The Irish were awfully present in the crowd, yet Saria didn’t have a damn clue what for. She wasn’t high up enough for that, and this? This was hell in a hand basket. 

Pulling off her apron, Saria crouched behind her pastry table. It had been knocked over, and provided decent cover. But a bullet sinking through the wood had her yelping and scrambling away, ducking behind one of the many bars and clutching her chest as she struggled to breath. A few moments ticked by, and she screamed once more when a hand seemed to reach out of nowhere over the bar, her blue eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as she threw her hands up in fear.

“Don’t shoot!”

[tcnechka]

@idrismorgcn @charles-rothschild @littlemiss-saria

It was the first time that she had been able to leave the Russian compound in weeks aside from her sneaky trips to visit Feliks at the little kitty cat cafe, and the young tsarina was desperate to stretch her legs and explore the Garden Hotel as much as she possibly could before one of her many bodyguards realized that she was missing. She was extraordinarily grateful to Anya and Emmaline for assisting her in her brief escape from the ever-watchful eye of her older brothers and the rest of the Bratva, but she knew that new-found freedom wouldn’t be particularly longlasting - not when nearly all of the Russian mob was sure to be attending the gala in its entirety. Still, it was something, and it gave her the opportunity to look for even the smallest sign of her former Irish family; Saria, Owen, Idris…how many of them had she been forced to leave without even getting to say goodbye? How long had it been since she had been able to see them and know that they were okay, that none of them had been injured when she had been forcibly seized from their headquarters?

She loved her older brothers, and she loved the Russian Bratva. What she didn’t love was the lines in the sand that had been drawn without her knowing between them and the other people that she cared about so dearly. 

Perhaps a year ago, at a lavish event like this, she would have found herself eagerly devouring as many cupcakes from the dessert table as she could possibly fit into her tiny hands before bringing the rest of them out to share with the animals at the petting zoo, but - she had lost her appetite ever since she had returned back home to her family, and so for now she was wandering through one of the lush outdoor gardens that the hotel had to offer. It was beautiful, filled to the brim with greenery and flowers, and Tatiana couldn’t help the way that she stood up on the tips of her toes - she had never been able to walk properly in heels, and no one could see her silk slippers beneath her pretty pink princess dress anyway - to reach for a blooming blossom in one of the high-up trees. She stroked its petals gently, a small, wistful smile appearing on her cherubic face as she let out a tiny sigh - what fun were parties supposed to be, after all, when you felt so terribly alone?

[littlemiss-saria]

Saria -- in a simple phrase -- was more stressed than a hooker in church. The pastries she’d brought from across the street were doing even better than expected. So well, in fact, she’d had to send one of the staff members in The Garden’s kitchen back to the bakery to pick up several more crates of strawberries that Saria had had to quickly, elegantly, and perfectly dip in chocolate and brush with gold leaf while Evie watched the tables. When she’d come back a half hour later, the other girl was gone -- leaving an unmanned table with people squawking about how there weren’t enough of said elegant and perfect gold leafed chocolate strawberries. Maybe a hooker in church wasn’t enough to match her rising stress levels. Especially when she saw that the multi-teared stand that had once been filled to the edges with lacy pink cakes was nearly vacant of its sweet and fluffy occupants.  

“Sweet baby Jesus.” A pig in a butcher shop -- that seemed like a better string of words. 

Saria hurried up to the table, setting down two perfectly balanced trays of the strawberries down on the velvety table. She’d gone into a sort of one track mind. She had tunnel vision consisting of confectionary nightmares, but she was proving more capable in juggling the task than she’d originally anticipated. Maybe she didn’t need help. Maybe this was proof that one day, she’d have her own bakery. She had this -- she had this. “I’m sorry, ya’ll! I’ll have more cakes out faster than ya’ll can finish off these strawberries. They’re fresher than fresh and taste like the best thing you’ll ever have.” She chirped, sing song, when a woman complained about the lack of lacy pink cake. The woman looked at the strawberries, seemingly satisfied with that response.. But Saria had a feeling -- based on the gaudy black feather boa wrapped around her thin shoulders -- that the older woman was only mildly pleased with her because of the champagne flute she finished off before narrowing in on the fruit. 

Saria was off again in a moment, tightening the bow of her apron and setting her eyebrows in a determined furrow.  It quickly vanished into a look of desperation when the cook -- a burly man who was more or less her boss for the night -- told her he’d sent the pink cakes into the garden, rather than to the desert table. When she asked why on earth, he simply shrugged and told her it was her problem, not his, more than a little peeved that he hadn’t been trusted with the making of the deserts. Saria zoomed out of the kitchen, choosing to slip through a back door instead of trying to tread through the vast amounts of party guests sipping from expensive crystal. She could handle a few trays of sweets, but she didn’t trust herself around breakable glass and large crowds. The blonde nearly missed the turn, her work shoes skirting on the cobblestone walk way as she back tracked back a few paces and locked on the back of a guest.

“Excuse me, ma’am -- have you seen someone come through here with a whole lotta cakes that look like they’re outta place? They’re supposed to be on the desert table inside, but there was a mix up, and --” Saria stopped suddenly, her sunshine-kissed, freckle-speckled cheeks going several shades paler. She knew those curls. 

“Tatiana --?!”

[littlemiss-saria]

Saria’s reason for being at the Golightly Gala isn’t anything special. Well, she thinks it’s special -- because of her and her friendship with the late former owner, The Garden Hotel doesn’t trust any other bakery with their pastries except for Sunny Maria’s. Saria has been doing late nights at the barkery for over a week now, making sure she’s perfected all of Bunny Golighty’s favorite sweet foods, and is manning the desert table for the duration of the party. Evie ( @eeveeobrien ) is supposed to be helping her, but the other waitress seems to be disappearing every twenty seconds. Saria probably could’ve tried a little hearder with her hair, but she woke up late -- late enough that a sprint across the street still had her late to setting up. 

[littlemiss-saria]

alexandervbarrett‌:

There was something about watching a crowd scramble to arrange themselves for his pleasure that would never go out of style. Alexander considered himself a reasonable man by many standards, but it was intoxicating, realizing how much power he wielded. He responded to the loyalty of those around him by protecting them; the dancers here all had a place in The Cathouse because he had deemed it so; because he was pleased with either the revenue or quality they brought to his business. It enhanced not only the legitimacy of his organization, but kept up the appearance of an honest business front to any of the absolute fuck-up detectives and moron cops over at the NYPD. 

By the time Declan finished lighting Alexander’s cigar for him, the dancers (for the most part) had finished lining to attention before him. His sunglasses still propped on his nose, all but masking his face in shadow, Alex took a puff of his cigar, the smoke clouding his features as his gaze scanned down the line of dancers. Some new, some old; some he could recognize by name, others by temperaments and faces only. His gaze snagged on a petite blonde who whispered apologies to him, standing barefoot on his stage like this was a fucking hick rodeo. Slowly, he removed his sunglasses, his cigar still clenched between his teeth as he handed his bodyguard his glasses and stepped forward, eyeing the dancers one final time.

“That one,” he said at last, removing his cigar from his mouth and positioning it between his index and middle finger. The low amber-colored light of the embers from the end of his cigar glowed as he pointed it in the direction of the blonde who had arrived late. Saria, that was her name; one Tatiana had mentioned frequently in her stay with him. Even looking at her irritated him, because she was here while Tatiana was…not. It wasn’t the girl’s fault the bastard over at the Bratva had stolen his girl from him, but he couldn’t help the tug of resentment that welled inside of him that the only person missing from this room was the one he was most desperate to see. “I want to speak with that one. Alone.” He took another puff of his cigar, moving forward as the manager jumped out of the way.

“Show us to the private quarters. Miss Young and I need to have a conversation.”

Oh, shoot. Shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot. 

Her humming bird fast heart slammed to a halt in her chest, and she swore the cigar smoke choked all the oxygen out of the room. Suddenly there just wasn’t enough in her lugs to breath. Saria could count the number of times she’d actually spoken words to Alexander Barrett on one hand. Once, when she’d first started working at the Cathouse three years ago in order to pay off her father’s debt, but that had been a brief hello and goodbye. Another two were of similar fashion, and the other one had been when Tatiana was there. Her dearest friend, who she swore was the only reason the Mob boss remembered her name.  What the heck could he wanna talk about? The word conversation had never sounded more terrifying. Neither had alone, for that matter. 

People who went into rooms with high ups didn’t tend to come back out.

Saria just starred at him for a movement longer than what could be considered normal. Her doe eyes blinked stupidly, stunned, like she was a deer caught in the blazing lights of his expensive car. If she didn’t move, she was going to get run over. But her bare feet felt like they weighed a ton -- stuck to the stage floor. If reality ever wanted to become a freaky movie, now was the time. Swallow her up and send her somewhere else, because this? It didn’t sound good. Shoot, shoot, shoot. 

A sharp stab of another dancer’s elbow wrenched her out of her temporary stupor. “Ow!” She yelped, looking at her as she rubbed her ribs, before her eyes snapped back to Alex. “Ah! I-I mean, sure! Wait, no. I mean, not no, I meant yes. Yes, sir! Of course, it ain’t a problem --  um --” Another sharp jab had her mouth shutting, and the stage manager was practically drilling holes into her skull, as if to say you’re lucky you’re a decent dancer. 

The stage manager quickly agreed, politely nodding to the boss, before making their way through one of the curtains. It lead into a small hallway, which tapered like veins into smaller rooms for... well, stuff. That was one thing she was sure she didn’t have to worry about.  They  opened one of the doors several paces down, the music from the club radiating through the walls. They motioned Saria inside, and then quietly held the door open for Alex and his guards to enter. Saria, not one to ask questions, scrambled inside quickly. She sat on one of the plush couches -- stood sharply, afraid she might be offensive -- before sitting again, deciding the best possible thing for her to do was to put her hands in her lap and only speak when spoken to.

Shoot, shoot, shoot.

[littlemiss-saria]

task #2

home is where the heart is

saria’s studio apartment

Saria arrived in New York, New York, roughly three years ago. Finding a cheap place to stay was a complete stroke of luck. By the time she’d traveled from her home city of New Orleans -- over 1,300 miles -- she’d spent almost all of her savings. At best, she had enough to spend a night or two in a cheap motel. Exhausted from travel and scared out of her mind, she stopped into Sunny Maria’s Cafe and Bakery for a cup of coffee and a place to think. The owner of the cafe, Maria Walsh, heard her discussing her situation with a friend over the phone. After several hours of chatting, Saria not only had a place to live, but a place to earn a steady income. In return for working fixing it up, Mrs. Walsh offered Saria her old studio apartment above the cafe for nearly nothing. Since then, she’s made it her own, and everything is decorated in warm grays and dusty pinks. 

the living room.

Saria’s living room is basically the entirety of the apartment. Since it’s a studio style, it’s all just one big room. She thrifted an old leather couch, and since she can’t light the old wood fireplace, she fills it with candles, and sometimes piles pillows and blankets to sit in front of it. The giant window has a small nook seat that over looks Sunny Maria’s, and if you open it, there’s a teeny tiny ledge Saria sometimes sits on to drink her morning tea and read a good book. The only door besides the front is a small closet and an even smaller bathroom with an old clawfoot tub. She doesn’t have a TV, just her laptop. 

the bed “room.”

The bedroom isn’t much of a room. Instead, a small loft is where Saria sleeps at night, the mattress taking up the whole thing. She has to crawl into it at night. It’s a little bit of a squeeze. But, that’s mostly her own fault. Saria sleeps with way too many pillows and blankets. She’s added little fairy lights to the ceiling -- which she almost touches when she sits up -- and some cute posters and pictures she’s gotten online, as well as some Polaroids of Tatiana, Evie, and some fun sights around the city.  

the kitchen.

Luckily, the studio’s ceilings are a decent height, and one doesn’t have to duck in order to get to the small kitchen beneath the bed loft. Sadly, there isn’t enough room for an oven, dishwasher, or stove, so Saria relies on her appliances in order to make meals. Which is probably a good thing, considering she can’t cook. She uses a hot plate when she needs to, the microwave for quick meals, and the toaster oven every now and then. Mostly, she just eats at the cafe, and uses the kitchens after close to practice her baking, which is a skill she does have. A wooden table can be dropped from the wall and a small chair pushed up, but she normally just eats on the couch. 

bonus: polaroids, 1/?

[littlemiss-saria]

❤️

For a secret crush

“The... well, I wouldn’t call it a crush, exactly, but the guy at The Garden. He, um -- he wasn’t really bad to look at. And I haven’t had that much fun on a stage in a real long time. It was almost like it was just him and me, even if the routine was a little... redneck...”

@vikktorvalentina

[littlemiss-saria]

👁‍🗨

Talk about someone/something you like, but pretend to dislike

“...um. This is more awkward than puttin’ salt in a sugar shaker… porn? I guess. Um – every girl’s got their needs. Even if I ain’t had sex yet or anythin’, you just kinda… and it’s easier to just deny it because I’m from the Bible Belt and that just ain’t something appropriate for every day conversation…”

[littlemiss-saria]

★-- evieeeeeeee

@eeveeobrien

Send me a ★ and I’ll bold what applies to your muse.

I like you / I hate you / I dislike you/ I love you / You are family / I would take a bullet for you / I would shoot you / I would lie to your face / I would say something cruel to you on purpose / I would say something cruel to you accidentally  / I would cheat on you / I would physically hurt you / You annoy me/ You amuse me / I’d laugh at you / I’d laugh with you / I’d manipulate you / You scare me / You confuse me / I wish I knew you better / I trust you / I don’t trust you / You inspire me / I consider you an equal / You are beneath me / You’re better than me / I would trust you with my life / I think you’re mean / I think you’re petty / I think you’re childish / I think you’re smart / I think you’re stupid / I think you’re a bad person / I think you’re a good person / I’m not sure what kind of person you are / I wish you would listen to me / I want to make you proud / I wish you would notice me / I want to impress you / I would hurt other people for you / I’m not sure how to make you happy / I’m a bad influence on you / You deserve better than me / We make a great team / I’d have a one night stand with you / I’d have a relationship with you / I would marry you / I fantasize about our life together / I would trust you with my most treasured belonging / I would tell you my darkest secrets / You disgust me / You intimidate me / I hope I intimidate you / I’d hug you / I’d let you hug me  / I’m scared of losing you / I don’t think you like me / I want to be better for you / I respect you / I don’t respect you / You’re my mentor / You’re my friend / You’re my best friend / I have a crush on you / I could easily watch you die / I’d get drunk with you / I’d party with you / I’d comfort you / I’d prank you / I’d spike your drink / I’d act behind your back / I’d abandon you / I’d hurt you to get what I want / I would choose my happiness over yours / I would choose your happiness over mine / I despise how much I care for you / I need you / I’m dependent on you / I don’t know what I’d do without you / I’m scared of you leaving me / I’d give my life for you / You frustrate me / I’d call for you in a time of need / I would protect you / I’d visit you in hospital / I’d carry you if you were hurt / I’d feel guilty if I hurt you / I’d let you be near me when I am vulnerable / I’d ignore a phone call from you / I’d call you at 3am / I’d break you out of jail / I’d get angry at you / I would shout at you / You’re too loud / You’re too quiet / You’re too sensitive / You can’t take a joke / You embarrass me / I feel nothing for you / You’re reckless / You’re bossy / You bore me / I would ask your advice / I would blame you for something I did / I would cry in your arms / You have the power to hurt me more than anyone else /

[rp-meme-glaceon]

Force my Muse to Spill their Secrets

🌧- For a heavy, emotional secret

🙃- For a lighter, slightly embarrassing secret

🌟- For a secret wish or desire of theirs

🍏- For something they secretly wish didn’t exist

🍎- For something they secretly wish did exist

❤️- For a secret crush

📲- Talk about someone/something you dislike, but only pretend to like

👁‍🗨- Talk about someone/something you like, but pretend to dislike

🍻- For something bad/mischievous you did as a child or teen that your parents don’t know about

🌜- For a ‘weird’ habit or tic that no one knows about

💃- For a talent that they like to keep hidden from others

🏹- For a talent they wish they had

👻- For something that scares or disturbs them, but they refuse to tell anyone

☢️- For a controversy or scandal they have been able to keep mostly under wraps

🐇- For a secret item they keep (stuffed animal, comfort object, etc)

📒- For a secret journal/diary they keep (Bonus: Share an entry from it!)

📔- For a secret sketchbook they keep (Bonus: Share a sketch or doodle within it!)

🖤- For something they secretly wish they could do with your muse

❓- Free Space! Ask them about a specific secret!

[littlemiss-saria]

@littlemiss-saria​ @kaziaxnovak​ @theycallhimraymond​ @claireortega​ @dantexxvicario​@lorelaidegenhardt​ @natashaivanov​

[spittletooth]

Send me a ★ and I’ll bold what applies to your muse.

[mw-archive]

rockabilysplit:

I like you / I hate you / I dislike you/ I love you / You are family / I would take a bullet for you / I would shoot you / I would lie to your face / I would say something cruel to you on purpose / I would say something cruel to you accidentally  / I would cheat on you / I would physically hurt you / You annoy me/ You amuse me / I’d laugh at you / I’d laugh with you / I’d manipulate you / You scare me / You confuse me / I wish I knew you better / I trust you / I don’t trust you / You inspire me / I consider you an equal / You are beneath me / You’re better than me / I would trust you with my life / I think you’re mean / I think you’re petty / I think you’re childish / I think you’re smart / I think you’re stupid / I think you’re a bad person / I think you’re a good person / I’m not sure what kind of person you are / I wish you would listen to me / I want to make you proud / I wish you would notice me / I want to impress you / I would hurt other people for you / I’m not sure how to make you happy / I’m a bad influence on you / You deserve better than me / We make a great team / I’d have a one night stand with you / I’d have a relationship with you / I would marry you / I fantasize about our life together / I would trust you with my most treasured belonging / I would tell you my darkest secrets / You disgust me / You intimidate me / I hope I intimidate you / I’d hug you / I’d let you hug me  / I’m scared of losing you / I don’t think you like me / I want to be better for you / I respect you / I don’t respect you / You’re my mentor / You’re my friend / You’re my best friend / I have a crush on you / I could easily watch you die / I’d get drunk with you / I’d party with you / I’d comfort you / I’d prank you / I’d spike your drink / I’d act behind your back / I’d abandon you / I’d hurt you to get what I want / I would choose my happiness over yours / I would choose your happiness over mine / I despise how much I care for you / I need you / I’m dependent on you / I don’t know what I’d do without you / I’m scared of you leaving me / I’d give my life for you / You frustrate me / I’d call for you in a time of need / I would protect you / I’d visit you in hospital / I’d carry you if you were hurt / I’d feel guilty if I hurt you / I’d let you be near me when I am vulnerable / I’d ignore a phone call from you / I’d call you at 3am / I’d break you out of jail / I’d get angry at you / I would shout at you / You’re too loud / You’re too quiet / You’re too sensitive / You can’t take a joke / You embarrass me / I feel nothing for you / You’re reckless / You’re bossy / You bore me / I would ask your advice / I would blame you for something I did / I would cry in your arms / You have the power to hurt me more than anyone else /

[littlemiss-saria]

@littlemiss-saria​ @kaziaxnovak​ @theycallhimraymond​ @claireortega​ @dantexxvicario​ @lorelaidegenhardt​ @natashaivanov​

[rpmemesyo]

Anonymously or not, tell me who you ship my muse with.

[littlemiss-saria]

@littlemiss-saria​ @kaziaxnovak​ @theycallhimraymond​ @claireortega​ @dantexxvicario​ @lorelaidegenhardt​ @natashaivanov​

[littlemiss-saria]

It’s Honesty Hour! Pls come harass my children, they need it 

Saria

Dante

Kazia

Natasha

Claire

Raymond

Lorelai 

[damianshardung]

The Edge of Seventeen (2016)

[littlemiss-saria]

@tcnechka

[luxuriouslively]

[littlemiss-saria]

@eeveeobrien

“Evie? Evvvvie?” Saria poked her head into the back door, which was located directly beside the old set up stairs she used to get to her little walk up above Sunny Maria’s. There wasn’t a response -- a second more of listening, and Saria shrugged. The other waitress must have been running late. And it sounded like the kitchen staff wasn’t in yet, either. Am I early? She checked her phone, freckles on her cheeks twitching when the time glared back at her. 

Good Morning! 6:06am. 75°. Overcast.

Huh. The cafe didn’t open until eight on Sundays, and staff didn’t have to be in until 7. Had she really only slept three hours that night? Normally, she was dead as a doorknob after a night on the floor.  Shoulder deep in pillows, tucked away and happily dreaming in her loft. Sliding into the restaurant, Saria immediately hooked an apron over her neck and tied it into a delicate bow behind her waste. The kitchen was empty. The ovens were free to bake to her hearts desire -- at least until 7. And, it looked like they were low on chocolate croissants. 

She’d just finished a batch -- humming Love Game from her set last night -- when the sound of a door behind her caused her to squawk in surprise, the trey tumbling unceremoniously to the ground. “Oh -- dangit! You scared the dickins’ outta me! What are you doin’ here so early? Oh, no, look at the mess I made...”