ixora set by psychoticmangle featuring black high heel booties
Versace white double breasted blazer, 3,640 NZD / Versace print mini skirt, 2,030 NZD / Versace Matte Stretch Bodysuit, 1,370 NZD / Versace metallic gold bra, 1,065 NZD / Latex Fit-and-Flare Skirt, 63 NZD / Short mini skirt, 41 NZD / Versace black high heel booties, 4,995 NZD / Versace over the knee thigh high boots, 3,530 NZD / Versace leather strap sandals, 1,540 NZD / Versace black strappy shoes, 1,540 NZD / Versace yellow gold jewelry, 730 NZD / Versace real leather belt, 2,430 NZD / Versace scarve, 500 NZD / Versace eyewear, 325 NZD / Versace eyewear, 205 NZD / Divine Keyhole O-Ring Body Latex, 410 NZD
disco inferno was playing loudly all over the event. which struck the nerve of diana to be the first one to start dancing . as she made her way to the dance floor . smiling at all the people around her as she started to move her hips. moving them to the beat of the song as she did the classic disco moves . a giggle came out of her lips as she continued. “ burn , baby , burn , burn that mother down !” she sung as she couldn’t help laugh more at herself. she looked around . “ come on ! somebody join me ?” she asked as she pouted - hoping somebody would .
Marilyn grinned, knocking back the rest of her wine before leaping to her bare feet and joining Diana on the dance floor, dancing rather horribly to the song. “Let’s go Di!” Marilyn shrieked with laughter, trying to sing along even though she knew none of the words. Disco was not a genre she was overly familiar with, but she was having fun and that was what mattered.
THE TICK OF HER HEELS AGAINST the cement floor was a signal for heads to turn as she walked passed in her cher-inspired outfit —- it was jessica’s idea, she SWORE but even jude could admit that STRUTTING in the glamorous outfit boosted her self confidence; all until she caught a GLIMPSE of her reflection in the mirror. she sighed, never being the TYPE of woman who enjoyed glamour. she felt embarrassed. jude grabbed herself a drink and swallowed it whole. ❝ this is STUPID and i’m going home. ❞
“But you just got here!” Marilyn’s face was already flushed thanks to her rather excessive wine consumption, but she wasn’t in the mindset to care. “Besides you look amazing! And technically this is home so I mean you’re already there. Welcome home!” She threw her arms back, barely avoiding spilling wine from her glass before polishing it off.
marilyn holliday disco fever by psychoticmangle featuring a mineral eyeshadow
Red evening gown / SHE MADE ME bikini swimsuit, 62 NZD / SHE MADE ME bikini swimsuit, 54 NZD / Charlotte Russe glitter shoes, 26 NZD / Mineral eyeshadow, 7.01 NZD / Lip gloss
as you may already know, one of the many things this roleplay strives on is character development. to strengthen the development of our respective characters, myself and the admin team strive to create tasks that would influence your writing and help you explore your character uniquely. this week’s task will focus on your character’s childhood.
You are ten years old and for the first time that you can remember, your father is there for the party. He and your mother are barely interacting, but they are still civil and even at that age you knew that this was better than usual.
At some point during the party your father disappears. You feel afraid, thinking that he may have slipped away again, so you go look for him. You find him in the bedroom that he would share with your mother, if he stuck around. He’s drinking whiskey and he’s drunk as a skunk, but you don’t know it at the time.
“Daddy?” You look up at him with your big eyes, hoping that this is the turning point, that this is where everything changes. This is when your father decides to stay home permanently, and he and your mother make up and you get to be a happy family, like on t.v.
Your father sits on the floor, in front of the bed, and looks you dead in the eye. He motions for you to go to him, and you do. He sits you down between his legs, and for a while you sit in silence. You were tempted to call this scene ‘perfect’, but then he spoke.
“I never should’ve had you Lynnie.”
His voice is soft, almost a whisper. There is no gruffness like usual. That’s the first thing you notice. The second is that he called you ‘Lynnie’. He has never called you that before.
“You never shoulda been born.”
He runs his fingers through your hair, combing it while he drinks, and lets his statement sit. It feels like you’re in confessional, but this time you’re the priest, and your father is the sinner.
“Everything would’ve been easier if you weren’t around.”
You want to cry, but you are silent. You’re heart is shattering, but you are silent. You hear your mother calling for you, but you are silent.
You stay where you are and let your father finger comb your hair, like it’s his penance for his sin.
On that day, and the days following, you would come to learn and accept four things.
One. Your father was never meant to be a father. He is a genius and a creative force, but he doesn’t have the capacity for fatherhood.
(You forgive him.)
(Or at least you try to.)
Two. Although his hands are rough, his touch is anything but. For all the hurtful things he said, he treats you like you’re made of glass.
(A part of you loves him for it still.)
Three. You understood how your mother could spend so many nights crying over your father. With his soft hands and voice that can sound kind while saying the cruelest things.
(During those nights, you pretend to sleep. You do not mention them in the morning.)
Four. Confessions do not come easily to your father. He is a man who would rather die than bare his heart. That is the most honest you have ever known him to be.
THE CLERICAL COLLAR FIT HIM NICELY but has he entered the lobby he SNATCHED it from his throat and threw it in the garbage can beside him; castor was never a fan of PRIESTLY FASHION. he stepped further inside the lobby and dug inside his pocket where he REVEALED a cigarette alongside an encrusted zippo lighter. placing the stick between his lips he lit it and took a HEAVY swig of it too. exhaling the smoke into the air, he united his vision with the CURIOUS observer beside him. ❝ save me the speech. i know it’s MORBID habit. ❞
STARTER / TYPE: OPEN
TIME: NIGHT, DATE TBA ↷ LOCATION: WISTERIA APTS LOBBY
A priest? Marilyn had no idea a priest was living in the building. Somehow, that made the whole place seem better. Not that she had a problem with it, she loved the place and on the whole liked the other inhabitants, but she had never envisioned a priest calling Wisteria ‘home’ as well. It seemed the building was a magnet for all sorts of interesting characters.
“Oh, I-I wasn’t going to say anything Father.” She said, face flushing when she realized she had been caught staring, tacking on the formal title more out of habit than anything else. She was tempted to point out the no smoking sign, but she figured that since no one else was here and she didn’t really mind that she wouldn’t. “It’s none of my business.”
Vivienne was about to offer some aid to the girl crawling on her knees who was clearly searching for something when the blonde saw a tiny dark thing moving. She hated bugs, insects, spiders or whatever you wanted to call those hideous things, so at the sight of it she let out a piercing scream.
When the woman screamed Marilyn responded in turn, purely as a reflex and lept back, thinking that she was in some sort of danger. But when she looked, she saw Simon huddled in a dark corner, peeking out from beneath a curtain. She immediately relaxed and smiled widely. “Simon!” She went over to him and bent over, offering her hand. “You really need to stop running away like that.” She said, scolding him playfully as he crept up her arm. She turned back to the other woman. “There’s no need to scream, Simon is very nice.”
Marilyn sniffled slightly and blinked fiercely as new tears found their way to her eyes, temporarily fogging up her vision. The past few days had been rough, as her father was promoting a new movie and she was once again reminded of how insignificant she was to him. She had hoped that in taking her mother’s last name and dyeing her hair she would’ve been able to leave the old Marilyn behind, the Marilyn that before had been so desperate for her father’s love and was always crushed when denied. But it seemed that that had merely been a fantasy, and Marilyn will always be the ten year old girl looking at her father, heart breaking as he told her she should have never been born.
‘We never should’ve had you Lynnie.’
The confession rings as loudly and clearly in her ears now as it did more than a decade ago, in her parents’ bedroom back in their lavish home in Louisiana. In her misery, Marilyn had texted her mother, venting about everything, from her father to Isaac to her own numerous faults, but she never heard back. The thought of her mother abandoning her had taken residence in her brain ever since, and had already caused a deep, dark, ugly infestation. To say that Marilyn was not in the right headspace to work would be something of an understatement, but she had a shift to do and she intended to do it.
It would be another hour before the cafe opened, so Marilyn set to work cleaning down every surface in sight, even if it was already spotless. It was pointless busy work, the kind Marilyn often did when she needed to distract herself. As she hunched over a table and moved her hand around in circles, she started to feel herself go numb, so lost in her work that she didn’t even hear the approaching footsteps.
he’s been working on his show script for over two hours now, there’s usually someone who proofreads and helps him out in general but he’s the one to come up with the first draft, and as the ideas flow he doesn’t realize it’s been already hours since he’s had a break. the way his legs and back start to cramp up due to the way he’s been sitting down make him stop for a second. he gets up from the chair to go get more coffee, but in the process manages to hit his head with one of the hanging lightbulbs. “shit,” he curses as a hand rubs his head, then notices someone else watching him. instantly feeling a little embarrassed. “i mean, what’s up with these weird hipster lightbulbs. like, why are they hanging so low, am i right?”
Things at the cafe were winding down, which made Marilyn feel relieved. The whole day had been a whirlwind of activity so the chance to relax and catch her breath came as a great relief. She wiped down the most recently vacated table and turned when she heard the slight collision.
She couldn’t hold back the slight smile and shrugged. “It’s just the fashion I suppose.” She said. She paused slightly when she had properly processed the voice and realized that she recognized it. “Have we met?” She asked. “I can’t place your face but I know your voice.”
