#rbprompt

[sam-kincaid]

Just Like A Little Girl — A Playlist for Sam Kincaid

Bad Reputation — Joan Jett

An' I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation/Never said I wanted to improve my station.

People might judge Sam for who she is and what she’s doing to survive. She doesn’t care. As long as she has food and a place to sleep and is left alone, she couldn’t give a shit about people’s opinions.

At Least I’m Not As Sad (As I Used to Be) — Fun.

I don’t want no savior baby/I just wanna have a good time/Oh, oh, at least I’m not as sad as I used to be.

Life is life. Sam has it figured out right now, and, for the most part, she’s pretty happy with how things are going, thank you very much. 

Everybody Wants to Rule the World — Tears for Fears, covered by Lorde

Help me to decide/Help me make the most of freedom.

Sam still has a lot of education left until she fully understands the complexity of Communism. Even so, she is sure it’s the best way for people like her to get freedom and escape a failed system.

Riot Rhythm — Sleigh Bells

Prepare, ride the lightning/It's like heart-heart-heartbeat.

It’s not easy to get Sam excited; she wears her emotions close to her sleeve for a reason. There are two exceptions to that rule: cars and getting to go to some sort of rally.

Just Like A Woman — Bob Dylan

Then you ache just like a woman/But you break just like a little girl.

No matter what Sam does, no matter how she tries to hide who she is, she is nothing more than a runaway girl.

Smile — Nat King Cole covered by Janelle Monae 

Cause that's the time you must keep on trying/Smile, what's the use of crying.

Sam is not going to give up. She’s already come this far; she escaped her family and found a home for herself. There is no way she’s going back or feeling sorry for herself. She just doesn’t have the time.

[lucille-mather]

Dress to Impress

On a normal day, Lucille is wearing a dress. Ever since she was little, she was wearing dress finding them easier to move in and more comforatble than a skit and top. Her dresses weren't top of the line and she didn't have many. If there was a hole, she could usually try to patch it herself or have to wear it until she could find some money to go buy a new one. 

There were a few outfits she hid in the back of her closet for special occasions, though they were few and far between. Her favorite dress though was one that she wore as often as she could. It's a purple dress that hugs her body to her waist then flares out. The neck line dips slightly and in the back, it goes into a deep "v". She likes the way it makes her green eyes pop. It was an expensive dress and she saved her money for a year just to purchase this one outfit. But every time she wears it she knows she made the right choice. 

[missrosemoreno]

Child's Play || Birthday Prompt

Rose closed her eyes as her mother tugged at her hair, putting it into braids, pulling apart the knots and tangles that always appeared, the girl playing far too hard with her brothers. She always got tangles in her hair, but her mom seemed to have a magic touch, smoothing it out, without hurting Rose for a moment. Today was a special today. Rose could tell by the amount of attention that her mother was putting into each braid she made in Rose's hair. She hummed one of the lullabies that Rose adored, and the little girl closed her eyes, relaxing into the touch of her mother.

"What day, Momma?" Rose mumbled, feeling a bit sleepy, after such a long day of playing.

"It's your birthday, sweet. I thought I told you last night." She said with a laugh, moving her hands while she spoke. "Remember, I told you, you're eight years old now." She said. Rose shrugged. She didn't care much about birthdays. Days came and went, one after another, each other a day of work, or of play for Rose. The only day it changed was Sunday, when the family took time to go the rickety little church, that was frequented by other laborers, most of them immigrants like her mismatched family. A few always gave Rose and her family sharp looks. Not many could accept Rose's father marrying a black woman. But most respected Mr. Monroe, many liked him and his family, knowing that he stood up for his community. Or as much as he could, while still keeping his job and his family safe and fed.

"I don't want to be eight." Rose responded, crossing her little arm. "I want to be seven again." She didn't like the idea of growing up. Each time one of Rose's brothers got older, they stopped playing with her. They went off to work, to sweat in the fields, working until the sun went down, getting home well after Rose went to sleep. She didn't like the way each them started to get that haunted look in their eyes, the tired drag of their feet as they rose, before the sun, to go back to the fields. It hurt to watch them leave her. She didn't want to join them, be chained to a life of labor and monotony. She wanted to be a child, free to laugh and play every day.

"Oh, my dear. You enjoy your childhood while you can. Too soon you shall be a mother yourself, having the same talk with your daughter." Rose's mother said, chuckling again. Rose shook her head, spoiling her mother's work, and wiggled from her grasp, not liking the conversation anymore.

"No!" Rose exclaimed, feeling the room, wanting to play more, wanting to run free. "I'm not eight! I'm not eight!" She cried out, chanting it as she found her younger brother, to rope him into some pretend game.

Rose's birthday culminated in a messy cake, that could barely be considered a dessert. It was dry, from their lack of milk and butter. They couldn't get much out here. But it was still a cake. Rose's father and brothers had stumbled in, right in time to sing a halfhearted round of "Happy Birthday" before they all went their respective beds. Rose's father barely gave her a kiss on the head, before he had disappeared too, leaving Rose alone with a hard cake, and her mother. She left her piece uneaten, and went to bed, her tiny little thing in the corner of their home, which she shared with her little brother. She curled close to him, wishing desperately she could be three again, like him. She fell asleep with tears on her round cheeks, feeling lost and scared, so scared of the future.