starlingari ;

MOTHER, MAY I? NEED A PRETTY FACE FOR JUST ABOUT ANYTHING? HAVE WE GOT THE GIRL FOR YOU! A DARLING WITH A MOTHER HAPPY TO SIGN THE DOTTED LINE! ☆ ; soul contract : . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

[aristarliing]

           Say what you want to satisfy yourself;                                but you only want what everybody else says you should want…

       Do I attract you? Do I repulse you with my queasy smile?                                                   Am I too dirty? Am I too flirty? Do I like what you like?

      I could be wholesome! I could be loathsome! I guess I’m a little bit shy…                               Why don’t you like me!? Why don’t you LIKE me without making me try?

        { fandomless, 60s/70s (etc), starlet-hopeful, oc || FEATURING: ARI STARLING !! }                                                 MANAGED BY MOTHER MEG

[starlingari-a]

ooc: considering a reboot, pls excuse the mess... and like this if you’d be interested in me following you from Ari’s new blog if i do make one... <3

[johnnythehorse]

[her-vintage-world]

[starlingari-a]

google doc google doc google doc google doc <3

[organic-vintage]

glamour

[starlingari-a]

🌷KISS THIS BOY (he says forced nose boops from the rabbit don’t count) 😂

[ arienette INSISTS bunny nose boops count, but we digress ]

@isyancialtan !!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

“Hold still, I don’t want to get any in your eye.”

How does one overcome a grown man’s instinctive twists and twitches when his wounds are being dabbed at with antiseptic? According to Arienette, apparently, you have to literally trap the poor thing– which is exactly what she’s done: on his sofa, with knees pressed into cushions on either side of his thighs, Ari hovers over him, belly pressed into his chest, an arm furled about his neck, and a washcloth to press against all of those little cuts here or there.

It’s an attempt to settle him. A futile attempt to keep him still and pinned back into the sofa; she hadn’t even been able to watch the ending of that fight, had hid her eyes in her hands and waited until the crowd roared before even daring to look.

At least now, he’s safe. He’s safe and there’s no more fists coming at him. Just her. Unfortunately, the pain doesn’t seem to have stopped, as he flinches this way or that under her care. Ari is no nurse, he should probably be seeing someone who knows what they’re doing and can actually help him instead of torture him back to wellness.

Pity. Finally, Arienette takes pity on her poor friend– her dear, poor friend. The cloth is abandoned into the bowl on the table, and she uses hands not to dab, but to hold: his head, his bruised face… and in an act of contrition and care, she presses a delicate kiss to the same places he’d earlier felt knuckles– one for each new cut in his brow, one for the corner of his blackened eye, one for his nose just because, one for the corner of his split lip, another for sincerity as she presses her pout to his. After the rather adorable assault, Ari finally goes limp against his chest, still sat in his lap and now nuzzling her face in his throat…

“You worry me right to death, you know…”

[rattlesnakessss]

rose petal tip cigarette factory, 1959

[lostinthesunflowers]

[starlingari-a]

isyancialtan

“Sure you will.  And who’ll be cleaning its cage and feeding it and–”  He waves a hand, not quite certain what other work is involved, but knowing there’s got to be more than just loving it.  “–And everything.”

She’s right, though: it’s cute.  But if he gave in to everything cute Ari would get her way all the time, and they’d be living in a zoo.  “Where’d you get it, anyway?”  He’s almost afraid to find out.

Heaving a sigh, Sarp eyes the rabbit, knowing (but not wanting to admit) he’s beat.  “It’s black and white,” he says finally, “it needs a Beşiktaş name.”

“I can help with those things!” ... suggested as she almost drops their little bunny friend when it tries to squirm just a tad. Is this what having a baby is like? No, couldn’t be, babies aren’t as cute as her little bunny...

And she’s hoping, by pouting out her bottom lip, and slowly stepping towards Sarp with the bunny held out before her, that he agrees with how dang adorable their bunny is. That he won’t notice her skip out on his question when she holds the bunny up to boop noses with him -- how is she supposed to admit that she’s already bought the rabbit? -- there’s a method to her madness, here:

Part One: Make him fall in love just as she has.

“You can give it a Beşiktaş name, that’s fine, what’s he look like to you?” Now the begging duo is sat down alongside Sarp, and she’s tossed legs over his lap so the bunny can be adequately shared and to dissuade him from getting up. “Any name you pick would be darling, isn’t he just the sweetest little thing you ever did see?!”

[starlingari-a]

jeanjacketed

   steps of caution were deterred by the mere sight of the girl as the lanky form lumbered up without second thought. lacking the anticipation of a sudden outburst or scolding planted pure surprise on a face once stretched with glee. the girl on the stool had reared, face scrunching up with betrayal as coasters sliced through the air, having mickey prance around like a marionette doll to avoid contact. heart sunk with the weight of guilt —– he was unaware that his departure would have such effect, too excited to return to their habitual diner once again.

   “you know i didn’t mean-” his hands are thrown up in surrender, probing eyes pleading more for mercy as the gap between them shortened. “i wasn’t going to leave forever. i just needed to get —- shit, where is it?” a sigh stretches out from grit teeth as the loop is hooked by a blunt fingertip, weeding the trinket out from pockets stuffed with gum wrappers and empty packets. “ibought you a keychain…? and uh, hey! there’s a star on there. you can, uh, wish on it…right now.”

Ari’s still holding her glare as he comes nearer, absolutely unprepared to offer forgiveness or to dissuade his approach any further. In fact, she even turns back to her milkshake, pretending it is thousands times over more interesting than her friend... until he reveals the keychain...

“You... You did?” a present! Despite having just been willing to knock his block off, Arienette immediately softens at his suggested consolation prize. “Oh, Mickey, it’s lovely!” A smile slipped on over her previous scowl, and she even hops up to stand on the rung of her stool so an arm can sling on around his neck, and she can press a grateful peck of a kiss right on the plump of his cheek. The sacrifice has been graciously accepted-- and now, Mickey can have the sweet Arienette he’s likely a bit more accustomed to... 

“Look at it, a little star, just like me, you missed me, too!” 

Now, she doesn’t feel so silly. Now, she holds a hand up to dangle that little keychain between them, beyond elated over the teeny tiny trinket as if it were made of pure gold. “I suppose you’re not so dreadful,” as she goes to patting fingertips on the stool alongside her. “Where have you been? I was all lonely here without you, it was embarrassing.”

[starlingari-a]

poorbcy

              He tries to take a deep breath to calm himself down, but truth be told, James is fucking seething. Everything’s going wrong— he can’t write a song to save his fucking lifeand his record company’s threatening to sue him over his many sins, his husband won’t shut the fuck up and picks fights over every little reason, and now THIS. He’s had ENOUGH. ❝ Look at me, Ari. ❞ He’s going to lose it soon, very soon, never mind the fact that she’s just a kid to him. ❝ I… DON’T… CARE. ❞ James says the words deliberately and slowly, like she’s fucking stupid, and maybe she is for not getting out of the way of his impending tantrum.                ❝ D’you get that? D’you understand that? I don’t fuckin’ care. I don’t give a flying FUCK if you leave here fuckin’ bawling your evil fuckin’ eyes out, d’you get that? Who the fuck d’you think you are, eh? Who the fuck does— I don’t know who’s more fuckin’ annoying, you or that fuckin’ MONSTER you call your mum! Thank fuckin’ GOD my mum’s dead, ‘cause I’d rather have her in a grave than the fuckin’ walking circus yours is. How fuckin’ old are you, eh? Are you gonna fuckin’ dance to her tune all your life like some sort of marionette? I don’t LIKE you, or particularly care for you. I’m not doing this fake dating shite out of the kindness of my heart, so I honestly don’t give a FUCK if you leave here fuckin’ crying, alright??? ❞

‘ Look at me, Ari ’ and surprisingly enough-- she does, with that same look of indignation she’d been giving him before. And oh-- she loathes to give him an inch, knowing full well the rest of the mile may come to follow.. Don’t care, don’t care, neither does she: but James has hit a new goddamn low when he brings up her Mother. Condemning the woman is one thing, Arienette does do all the time... it’s the comparison that somehow finds a way to tighten her throat. Her Mother is obviously more annoying, or so she’d hope he would believe so, that anyone would believe so. 

“You’re lying to yourself more than I lie to everyone.”

He’s finally cracked on past that polished exterior of hers. The finish is ruined, the poise has gone from her shoulders, and any sense of aloofness Arienette could have feigned gives way to a full out rage she hardly appears to have control of. Soon enough, Ari is advancing on him, until she can land flattened palms against his chest and shove--

“And you know what, you Fucking Child-- YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY ONE BEING HELD HOSTAGE HERE, do you think I enjoy your ranting and raving? Do you think I get a sick kick out of having to sit at your side or smile for the cameras knowing very well that you utterly loathe me? Newsflash, JAMES, NOBODY FUCKING LIKES ME.” The paparazzi would kill for a flash of those tears she’s shedding, but she doesn’t even take the time to wipe them away, only rushes the man once more until they’re nearly nose to nose- “I don’t even like me, or care for me: but the only thing I’m good for is making others look better; and there’s no one who can make you look less like a fool and more like a STAR than I can so get OVER yourself...”

[starlingari-a]

“(What are your ghosts like?) (They are on the insides of the lids of my eyes.) (This is also where my ghosts reside.) (You have ghosts?) (Of course I have ghosts.) (But you are a child.) (I am not a child.) (But you have not known love.) (These are my ghosts, the spaces amid love.)” 

― Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

[starlingari-a]

Poor @jeanjacketed Clickie’d For’a Quickie !!

A rogue coaster goes flinging his way, easily missing and hitting the wall behind him: “Mickey, damnit, I have missed you so very dearly, you know--” the second coaster follows, again landing far away from him, Arienette’s aim has either gotten worse in their time apart, or she’s purposefully trying not to hit him ( it’s the latter: she just needs her little spitfire of flair mixed in if she’s expected to succumb to sincerity ) -- “You cannot just go off and disappear and, and not call, or even...” she’s finally distracted, looking about to try and find something else to throw so he hopefully won’t notice the choke in her voice. 

“Do you even KNOW how many wishes I’ve missed!? It’s all YOUR FAULT, Mickey, it IS...” 

[60s-heartshaped-chevrolet]

[starlingari-a]

.... okay this made me think of @ronmanmob because Big Beautiful Doggo...

[starlingari-a]

!! Open Starter // Ari Cottontail

… what the hell is she doing up there? entirely more relevant: does she HAVE to be sending glitter everywhere?

Every flick of her ankle as legs swing to and fro: glitter. Every shiver from a cold wind, every breeze that hits too fast: glitter.

Her diconcern is palpable, as Arienette dangles legs over the edge of that platform, sat all unceremoniously slumped forward so cheek lay cooly against a metal bar. You’d imagine someone in bunny ears and a glittered suit would be a bit less morose…

But that suit’s got a good burn in it from a rogue cigarette cherry. Those bunny ears are all pinned, stabbed, and strapped to her head: Ari hadn’t had the energy to take them off yet, might even have brain damage from the ordeal of putting them on.

“What’ch’ya lookin’ at?”

Yes. She knows there’s someone there. She has to hop a bit, since the fluff of her cotton-tail was stuck in the floor’s grate: “You gotta’ light?” One arm slings through the nearest bar, to hook at the elbow; leverage while she nonchalantly holds the other arm towards them: showing off the half’a cigarette that still needs smoked between two knuckles:

“Left mine inside and the spark went out…”

… think pretty much anybunny could’a hopped to that conclusion, miss…

[starlingari-a]

So Arienette may treat life like one big game– but the girl absolutely takes Work and her Profession a thousand percent seriously. She’s been a performer, on various scales, for her whole life; years upon years of wasted childhood was spent in front of floor to ceiling dance room mirrors, on a piano bench, repeating rules of manners and etiquette.

The Arienette people get when tucked away in some dreary corner of Real Life- be it a bar or lonely sidewalk- is notably more aloof, off the cuff, and (arguably) ‘sassy’ than Ms. Ari Starling when she’s of a business mind. With colleagues, employers, directors, The Talent, she is precisely what she’s been raised to be: an Extra that fits on into any role as smoothly as a hand in a glove.

Our babydoll is always watching out: for opportunity. Who you know is as important as What you know– and so long as those Whos also know how easy and efficient she is to work with, she is accomplished.