• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Realistic or Modern 𝕃𝕀𝕄𝔼𝕃𝕀𝔾ℍ𝕋

New York Academy

New York Academy

Last edited
Created at
Index progress
Incomplete
Threadmarks
2
Turns out disaster is generational.
Index
Reader mode
Winona

Winona

No, I don't have too many characters.

  • N
    SERIES

    LIMELIGHT

    Following the lives of high class celebrities living in New York City, this series shines a light on the graduates of the New York Academy, and their children...

    TV-MA



    POPULAR SCENES:
















NETFLIX
HOME
PLOT
ROLES
RULES




ADULT



 
Grand Reopening
  • Index



    • drama teacher.





    iris warner.



































    Bloodline
















    location

    the car






    outfit







    interactions

    casey, brinley, ember






    tags













    Beneath the warm bathroom light, flecks of glitter glowed like burning ashes against the fog of chalky, red shadow as Iris smudged it across Casey’s closed eyelids. He was sitting on the counter by the sink, legs parted just enough for Iris to stand between them—throughout the years, they’d found themselves in a similar position, to some degree, many times before. The well-worn indentions dotting the makeup pallet were proof of that, glints of silver shining through to indicate Casey’s favorite colors.

    The scarlet hue they used now matched Iris’ dress to a tee—she had the same powder smeared along her lash line to bring out her eyes’ coppery tones—meaning it was too late now for her to change. Again.

    Iris was glad for the way Casey’s tall figure kept her reflection obscured from view. She’d already spent too long agonizing over her appearance—the cut-out in her dress showed off her stomach, but it was too early for her to be properly showing yet. If anything, it looked like she’d had a big lunch and was suffering through the bloating aftermath—there were only a handful of people that knew otherwise—but she’d finally given in to Casey’s insistence that she looked okay—good—even if it was only a result of him being exasperated with how often she’d rotated through gown after gown.

    Setting aside the dainty brush in her grasp, Iris leaned back to study her work, neatly-manicured hand coming up to grip Casey’s chin as she turned his head from one side to the other, ensuring that everything had been blended to perfection—after being her husband’s unofficial, part-time makeup artist for so long, she had a reputation to uphold. Finally, she hummed thoughtfully, reaching for the eyeliner, but before she could make use of it, a shrill voice echoed from the other side of the house.

    “Where is it?”

    A frown formed on Iris’ crimson lips, gaze shifting to the open door, and when it found Casey again, he’d slid the black pen out of her fingers and swiveled to face the mirror. “You gotta handle that, babe,” he said. “I’m busy.”

    Iris rolled her eyes, scoffing. “Yeah, make the pregnant lady do it,” she teased, already backing out of the bathroom.

    When the blonde reached Ember’s bedroom, she found it in a state of disarray, clothes of all shapes and sizes strewn across the expanse of her floor and mattress. “What’s going on?” Iris asked, stopping in the doorway.

    Ember stood up with a huff, her curls wilder than usual as if to accentuate her flustered frame of mind. “My shoes aren’t here. They’ve literally disappeared off the face of the Earth, and Brin swears she hasn’t borrowed them.” She glared towards her twin sister, who stood just out of Iris’ sight in the space connecting their rooms.

    “I haven’t!”

    Iris exhaled, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I’m sure you have other shoes that will match just fine.”

    “I’ve been planning this outfit for weeks—!”

    “Ember, we’re already running late. You’ll live.” Iris scanned the mess sprawling before her for a solution hidden amidst the chaos. “Why don’t you wear the heels I got you for your birthday last year?”

    A huff. “Mom. Those aren’t the right aesthetic at all.”

    Iris held her hands up in defense. “Whatever. Figure something out, but I don’t have time for this right now.”

    Before Ember could complain further, Iris retreated, too far to hear the, “You’re no help,” that her disgruntled daughter muttered in her wake.

    Yet, despite the supposed aid she claimed to need, Ember was already down in the foyer when Iris and Casey at last came downstairs to join the twins. Her arms were crossed, sour expression on her otherwise pretty face, and when Iris attempted to fix a stray piece of the girl’s hair, she flinched out of reach. “Can we go?” Ember asked, suddenly impatient for someone who’d been such a hinderance only minutes ago.

    “Yes, your majesty. Whatever you say.” The sarcasm was evident in Iris’ tone as she slipped past, grabbing the car keys from the trinket dish on the table beside the front door.

    Ember slouched in the backseat, looking like the grumpiest cloud of cotton candy that Iris had ever seen. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what the girl’s problem was—maybe the stress of switching schools was finally taking its toll on her now that the first day loomed before them, imminent. Regardless, Iris wished that she wouldn’t take her anxiety out on the rest of them.

    The charity event was supposed to be a fun night, an excuse to get dolled up and mingle with friends, and she’d be damned if she let Ember’s bad attitude ruin it for everyone else.

    Unfortunately, it already seemed to have transferred to Brinley, though whether it was a proximity or twin thing, Iris couldn’t tell.

    The woman’s attention slid to Casey’s briefly, sending him a silent message: Help!

    If anyone could defuse the tension that stifled the vehicle’s air, it’d be him.

    Hopefully.










     
  • Index






    • Nathan Woods


    The joint held between his fingers did little to bring Nate any wort of reprieve these days. It felt as if, over the years, it took more and more and more to give him the same feeling of melancholy pleasure that he'd gotten off just a few hits twenty years earlier.

    Now, he didn't think there was enough weed in the world to make him feel better.

    In his other hand was his phone, as he stared down at an email of the screen.

    Thank you for your interest in working for us! Unfortunately, at this time...

    It was the same thing every time. Had been the same thing for the last four years that he'd been trying to hunt down a job, but it hurt even worse as he struggled now. But no one wanted to hire a guy with a record and no job experience except the dog walking he'd done on and off when he was younger.

    Dec's voice from somewhere in their home echoed through to Nate's bedroom. "I I'll be there in a minute, Dec," he called back before standing up from his bed. He put the joint out and dropped it onto the nightstand beside his bed, before crossing over to the window he'd had open to suck out of some of the smell. He'd steadily grown lazier with trying to mask that smell the older he'd grown, as well.

    He stopped briefly to look in the mirror on their-- sorry, his -- wall. It was cracked at the top, and definitely not because he'd grown angry looking at that mirror and only remembering the ghost of Evie.

    And to the left, on the wall, was an old painting he did that mocked him. Whispering fields of wheat, carefully painted with watercolors, back when Nate had thought he had a chance at some sort of career.

    His family had mocked him about being able to make a living off of farming, and he'd adamantly stated he'd prove them wrong. Then, they'd teased him about being a house husband with no discernible skills,
    and said one day, Evie would divorce him and he'd be screwed. He'd told them they were all wrong, and then he'd cut off his family.

    They hadn't really pushed to be in his life
    anyway.

    Turns out they'd been right about both things.

    "Declan, we gotta go," he called, although no part of Nate wanted to be heading to a charity ball put on by his ex-wife, his ex-friend, his ex-brother-in-law--

    You get the point.




    mood
    mood mood mood

    location
    location location location

    outfit
    outfit outfit outfit





    playing...
    song title
    by artist​




    mentions
    Evie

    interactions
    Declan

    tags gh0stwriter gh0stwriter


    º º code by ditto º º
     
    Last edited:



    Hedonist.





    Carmen Navarro



































    W.I.T.C.H- Devon Cole
















    location

    the car










    interactions

    Carmen Navarro






    tags

    @ user @ user












    Instead of chasing a high Carmen was playing the license plate game. Forehead pressed against the glass of the car window she let out a sigh longing for the sweet intoxication of parties past.

    But it wasn't really a party- it was an event. Around here that meant something different.

    It meant work.

    Rubbing elbows, getting pictures for your social media post, pushing your next project, being seen with some people, definitely not being seen with others.

    The fame game. Everyone going to New York Arts was going to be playing it.

    Carmen was already exhausted.

    In theory a charity gala was something Carmen could love. Dress up, look pretty, talk about nothing. But having her parents there, watching her? It was a special kind of torture.

    She did all her best work unsupervised.

    Suddenly the parents Navarro’s mere presence felt that much more oppressive.
    So Carmen retaliated.

    Taking the opportunity to make them acutely aware of her displeasure.

    “I can't believe you made me change like-”

    Carmen moved her gloved fingers one by one touching them to her thumb, mouthing as she counted.

    “FOUR fucking times.”
    She may have looked pretty as a picture but her language was foul as ever.

    “I mean I'm your daughter, not some paper doll.”

    Her brown eyes rolled involuntarily. The attitude was second nature at this point. Carmen, like so many teenage girls before her, was in her...’rebellious phase.’

    It came fast and hit hard. Promptly shoving a wedge between the girl and her parents.

    “Grandma liked the first outfit I had on.”


    It was almost pathological, the need to pick at them.

    “I should've just worn that one.”























    (Gotta fix it but in the car and don't wanna lose it lol)
     
    Last edited:



    former popstar / music teacher.





    Livanna Moore
































    Birds of a feather
















    location

    the car --> event hall!






    outfit







    interactions

    ryatt, axel, posie






    tags














    “Crap,” A clink of metal was heard, falling onto the wooden floor beneath her. “No, no, no.'' Before the dog could get to the fallen back of her earring, soft footfalls and pitter-patters of feet had gotten to it instead, chubby fingers struggling to pick it up — and eventually holding it out to her.

    “Crap!”

    “No, don’t repeat that.”     Livanna had taken the push back from Ziggy, her two-year-old son who wormed his way into her heart the moment he was born. Although her career had taken a pause ever since then— she didn’t regret it.

    She still had a contract with West-Harlow Entertainment. Axel included, since they’d been signed as a duo for the last seventeen years. She knew the end of the contract was coming soon, and she knew that Jace or Dorian was going to talk to her about it — Liv wanted nothing more than to renew the contract.

    She missed it.

    The music, the applause, the tours.

    “That’s not freaking fair!” Her sixteen-year-old daughter barged into her room with her twin in tow. “Mom!” Yet, none of it compared to the shrieking voices of her children. Back then, her late nights consisted of raves, sex, and hangovers that made her regret it all. Now, her late nights consist of sleep regression, board games, and being the mediator of her children.

    “Girls, we’re gonna be so late. We’re always late, do you know that? Posie, out of your pajamas and into your dress, and Lyrica—“ At the sight of her already dressed, she hesitated.

    “I thought you weren’t wearing your hair down?”

    “She took my clip!”

    “The one with the butterfly?”

    Lyrica nodded, the sixteen-year-old reminiscent of the pouting five-year-old who’d always sought to get her way. Posie stood beside her with features nothing short of irritation, a fiery gaze that never left. In one way or another — her children never changed.

    “I didn’t! She probably just—“

    “You so did. Mom, I’m telling you, she—“

    “She’s lying!”

    She always wanted a big family. Enough for board games, marathons of movie nights, and family that surrounded the dinner table. Except she didn’t think that four kids would’ve been so hectic. Granted, almost all of her pregnancies weren’t planned…

    Don’t get her wrong, Livanna Moore was the happiest she could be. She’d had everything she could ever want. A career, a business, (Moore Candy is thriving. Enter the promo code LOVE at checkout for 25% off.), and a beautiful family.

    Maybe the reason why she took the job at the new school was because somewhere, deep down, she wanted more. It was either that or she wanted to reminisce. High school wasn’t the best years of her life, but it was certainly up there. “Check in the drawer near your vanity, you always throw things in there — Ryatt! Where’s your brother? Make sure he leaves food out for the dog.”

    Lyrica crossed her arms with a dramatic roll of her eyes as she stomped back towards her room. “He’s in the kitchen, I think?” Posie replied. “Okay, go, go, get ready.”

    “Ziggy,”     He glanced up from Liv’s bed, all attention diverted from his iPad to his mother in seconds, and wrinkles on his suit already started to form by the way he was sitting. “Go find dad and tell him to put on your shoes, okay, baby?”

    No response.

    “Ziggy,” Livanna clapped her hands together. “Go, now.” The two-year-old waddled out of the room — most definitely unsure of where he was roaming and what the task was, but Liv trusted that her husband could handle it.

    A familiar tune started to play — a duet between Axel and Liv played from the speakers on her phone. It was their first hit as a duo. The day it went platinum was one of the best days of her life. Minus the births of her children. (Which were painful enough that she bumped those down the chart.)

    It was from a number she didn’t recognize. But she rarely had given out her personal number — anything business-related went through the label.

    “Hello?” She answered.

    “Liv?”

    “Speaking! Who’s this?”

    “Livvy,”     a breath of surprise and relief was on the other side of the line. “I haven’t spoken to you in… god, it feels like forever.”

    It’d take her a moment to register the voice and that made it feel worse. Liv slowly lowered herself to sit on the edge of her bed.

    “Mom?”

    —

    “Mom?”

    Her phone still grasped in her hands as she tried to process the last fifteen minutes.

    It’d been ten years since she last spoke to her parents. And a phone call wasn’t her idea of reconciliation.

    Ryatt’s voice brought Liv out of the dissociation that she had easily thrown herself into. “Yeah,” she cleared her throat, wiping away stray tears before her son had the chance to see them fall.

    “Yeah, baby, what’d you need?” She took a glance in the standing mirror beside the nightstand, glad enough she went with waterproof eyeliner.

    “Dad wanted to know if you were ready…”

    “Right, oh my gosh, okay…”     Liv’s gaze bounced around the master bedroom — beautiful but far too big for only the two of them. “I don’t know where I…” Ryatt picked up the diamond clutch off the dresser and held it out to her.

    “Mom, are you okay?”

    Liv’s lips thinned at the question. After many mistakes when they were young, she tried to shelter them — not from the real world but from herself. She never wanted to depend on her children to cater to her feelings.

    She grew up depending on love. Whether it was from her parents or her partners… Livanna tried to hide her codependency from her children.

    Every parent lies.

    She just wanted to put out the façade that she was strong. Be the person that they can depend on, and not the other way around.

    After so many years, she was done being taken care of.

    So, Liv nodded, her lips softening into a heartfelt smile and changing the subject before her son could push any further. “My sweet boy, you look so handsome.”

    “You’re gonna have to fend off so many people tonight. If anyone asks me for your hand in marriage, the answer is no — unless they’re a world-class supermodel, we’re not letting you go to just anybody.”

    —

    “Huh… that’s weird.” Liv pretended to look through the tinted windows of the suburban she and Axel had settled for. They had plenty of cars — but this one was the most comfortable for her family. “Axel, we’re missing one!” Giggles were heard from the other side of the truck. Ziggy thoroughly convinced that his hiding spot was impeccable.

    “Let me recount…” Liv started slowly rounding the car. “One gummy bear, two gummy bear, three gummy bear…” the laughter had gotten louder and small footsteps were heard stepping backward.

    “Four!”

    Ziggy screamed as Liv picked him up, smothering his face with kisses. His laughter was — the comparison she would’ve made is terrible. Let’s just say that a toddler’s love is the best drug. She strapped him into his seat and wiped lipstick from his cheeks as she overlooked the kids in the backseat and a squeal left her. “All my babies look so beautiful, so fresh, so clean, so—“

    “Mom, can we just leave, pleaseeeeeee.”     Posie asked to which Livanna had rolled her eyes.

    “Why can’t I compliment my children?! My gosh, my gosh, the attitudes in this house.”

    “Car.”     Ziggy said, struggling with the headphones in his hands and Liv placed them gently on his head.

    “Yes, baby. You're right. We're in a car. Silly Mommy."

    It wasn’t long until they were on the road.

    It wasn’t a far drive at all, but everyone had gotten comfortable. Ryatt and Ziggy were watching something on the car’s TV. Lyrica and Posie were both texting their other halves— which were only their best friends.

    Liv had asked time and time again if they had any crushes, but alas, none of her children had been contaminated with the lovebug yet — something that she was relieved about.

    Love meant heartbreak and she didn’t want to see that kind of hurt on their little faces. So, Liv wasn’t complaining about the lack of boyfriends, girlfriends, and themfriends for her kids.

    She’d want to be different though, more accepting than her parents were. At the thought of them, Liv unclasped her hand from Axel’s and brushed her hair out of her face.

    Why now? Why after 10 years of wanting nothing to do with her, reach out now? Was it money? Was it the kids?

    Or did they actually miss her?

    She spent so long regretting everything that happened, Liv never believed there’d come a day where she felt peace about it all. And today certainly wasn’t that day.

    “Posie, stop.”

    “I didn’t even do anything.”

    “You’re sitting so close to me. Get off.”

    “I’m not even touching you!”

    “You’re literally doing this.”     A shift of movement was heard in the backseat.

    “You’re gonna wrinkle my dress.”

    “It already looks bad.”

    “Says you.”

    “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

    “Whatever you think it means.”

    She pinched the bridge of her nose as their argument had gotten louder and made less sense by the minute. Liv was never one for fighting. Even growing up, she’d always been the mediator. Especially with Evie and her countless boyfriends.

    (Sorry.)

    “Get off of me!”

    Livanna turned off the radio and turned her head to face the twins.

    “Enough! How many times are you two going to fight about the same damn thing over and over? One day? Can we have one day of peace?” She rarely yelled at her children. Rarely. The farthest she had gone with discipline was no dessert for a week. Axel handled the grounding — unless it was really bad.

    “I don’t want to hear another word — in fact? We can spend this entire car ride in silence.”

    Silence only sat for the first 15 seconds because Liv realized that silence wasn’t doing her thoughts any good.

    She turned the radio back on and faced the road again. “... this is a good song.” She eventually gave in, and Axel turned the radio louder, taking her hand once again in his while he drove.

    —

    The event hall was a new addition. The school was much nicer than she remembered; they must’ve gone through renovations. Working here was sure to be a big case of déjà vu.

    The flash of a camera had Liv blinking consistently. “Got it!” the photographer said. “Thank you.” Axel had already started clasping Ziggy into a stroller, much to his dismay. Terrible twos were no joke. Her family was gathered around each other as they made room for the next to have their picture taken. Seeing their faces had Liv's heart ache over her scolding in the car.

    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. Mommy just has a headache — and she wants everyoneeeee to get along. I didn’t have any siblings growing up. Evie, Landon, and Ed came way later, and we never fought! Not once.” Like she said earlier — being a parent means becoming a liar.

    She had a good amount of time to become a good one! … But she still wasn’t that great. Although it wasn’t her job to convince them of that lie. It was only her job to make sure that her children were safe little gummy bears.

    “Go have fun.” She blew kisses to her three older children as they started dispersing and they took notice of each of their friends.

    A waiter walked by with a tray full of champagne glasses. Liv took two and handed one to her husband. “So this is where our donation went…” Her gaze scanned over the event hall that was adorned with gold, red, and black decorations to adhere to school colors.

    It did come out nice, but she didn't spare it a second thought.

    She drank her champagne in one fell swoop.

    Huh... they could've done with more glitter...










     



    Mary Kate Cromwell





































    • mood



      kinda nervous, kinda silly


















    A year ago, if you’d asked Mary Kate her plans for the last few days of summer, the answer probably would’ve been something along the lines of:

    “I dunno, Ev and I might try to steal my dad’s car and sneak into Six Flags.”

    Or

    “Mr. Dabney never locks up his kayaks, one last lake day would be cool.”

    This     summer, however, MK found herself standing at the sink in her bathroom — her own bathroom and not one she shared with her father and siblings, something she never imagined she’d have — shoving dainty designer hoops into her ears and staring at her reflection in the mirror with an odd sense of both horror and satisfaction.

    She’d chosen a simple but elegant black satin dress, the bottom trimmed with white lace. A far cry from the denim shorts and graphic tees she was accustomed to wearing, though she doubted opting for her normal attire for the gala would blow over well with her step mother, Vickie.

    Like at all, actually.

    Her typically messy brown curls had been pinned down in some semblance of neatness atop her head, thanks to a number of bobby pins she’d lost count of, and was sure to regret when she got home. Her shoes — black heels she’d borrowed from her step sister’s closet — sat by the bathroom door, beside her beat up black converse, the ones she’d gotten in the eighth grade.

    An accurate representation of the turn her life had taken over the last twelve months.

    The door to her bedroom swung inwards slowly, the tall frame of her father following closely behind. He’d trimmed his beard, and the sight of him in the dark brown suit he donned was almost more shocking than her own put together reflection in the mirror. It was a sight she hadn’t seen since his wedding day, last September. Every aspect of his outfit had no doubt been curated by Vickie, but..

    “You look nice, dad,” Mary Kate spoke as she turned from the mirror, scooping the heels up from the tile floor as she returned to her bedroom. Despite having nearly triple the amount of space, its messiness rivaled that of hers in their old apartment. A fact her father seemed to take note of, as well, as his eyes surveyed the room.

    She could tell he was nervous, otherwise he would’ve had some smart ass comment to make about how he’d lose her in all this mess, or something equally stupid and teasing. She had him to thank, after all, for her sense of humor. Instead, however, he simply smiled, and said:

    “So she convinced you on the dress after all. You look beautiful.”

    MK mirrored his expression, a wry grin slipping onto her face. Despite her many protests, she and Vickie had spent hours bouncing between dress shops, every option her step mother had picked out more horrid than the last until Mary Kate had finally settled on the one she sported currently. She was just glad it wasn’t the heinous mass of magenta chiffon and tulle Vickie had favored the most.

    This was a charity gala for a high school, not her debut on the red carpet.

    “She’s just lucky I even agreed to attend this thing,” she groused, though her good natured tone revealed her true feelings on the matter. “I’m like…eighty six percent sure it isn’t mandatory. And I’m like ninety ninety percent sure that Everette is going to forget her outfit at the dry cleaners.”

    Her father’s resounding chuckle had her grin growing, her own laugh spilling from between her glossed lips. Things between them hadn’t changed with their financial status and everything else, at least. It had always been Mary Kate and her father against the world, her siblings too young to have to worry about much of anything.

    “You ready to go? Vickie, Isobel and the kiddos are all in the car already. I was sent to fetch you,” he hummed, stooping down to pick up a stuffed otter that had made its way onto the floor, straightening the overalls it wore before tossing it onto her unmade bed.

    “Yes, I’m ready,” Mary Kate sighed, looping the straps of the heels over her wrist. Those she’d deal with in the car. “Though they could learn a thing or two about patience — Isobel made me braid her hair and it took, like, an hour and a half.”

    While the number of times MK and her step sister had gotten along over the last year was quantifiable by the amount of fingers on one hand, there were rare instances like today where the two were able to coexist, almost…peacefully.

    Though both were too stubborn to ever admit that.

    She followed her father down the winding staircase and to the car, shooting Isobel a glare as both she and him climbed into the backseat, beside her little brother Toby.

    Of course little miss princess got the front.

    ╔══《✧》══╗​

    When they’d arrived at the school grounds and found a parking spot, Mary Kate shoved her feet into the heels and stepped out onto the pavement of the parking lot, watching on as her dad pulled Toby, Freya and Xander out of the car. Normally sticky faced and missing some article of clothing, even her younger siblings looked put together tonight. She took Xanders hand as they made their way towards the event hall the gala was being held in, navigating the sea of her future classmates and their families that were also arriving.

    With her free hand, MK dug her phone out from the tiny black purse she’d brought to keep her phone and lipgloss in, scrolling through her message app until she found Sandy’s name.

    Please tell me you’re here, my plan is to break free from the step monster and co as soon as possible 🙃 she typed out, pressing send before returning the cellular device to its resting spot.

    The school consisted of a collection of buildings, all pristine and larger than the run down high school she and Everette had attended the last few years. Even the grass seemed greener, the pathways clean and free of the cracks and holes she was accustomed to.

    Isobel seemed to notice her gawking, and turned to Mary Kate with a smug smile on her cherry painted lips.

    “This is like, wayyy better than the veritable sewer you crawled out of, huh?” the raven haired dancer drawled, icy blue eyes piercing into hers.

    Honestly, she reminded Mary Kate of one of those victorian ladies in those paintings, all ghost like and ethereal. Especially in the willowy baby pink dress she wore.

    Mary Kate merely rolled her eyes, a bubble of laughter spilling from her own lips.

    “Sure, if the fumes from all the fresh paint don’t kill me, maybe the dreary shade of beige they slapped on everything will,” she rebutted with her brows raised. Though she was inclined to agree with her stepsister, she wasn’t about to openly do so. Not when this was so much more fun.

    Before Isobel could reply, however, Vickie’s head snapped to them, auburn brows furrowed in displeasure. The true form of the step monster.

    “Enough, girls, can’t we just have one night without the bickering? the woman hissed, though MK could tell most of her ire was directed at her instead of her own daughter.

    Both decided wisely to hold their tongues as their neared the doors, and MK took the moment to survey the crowd for any sign of Sandy’s figure among them. When she finally spied him, about fifty feet ahead of her, she turned to her Xander, stooping down to his level despite the displeasure of those behind them.

    “Look, buddy, I need you to hold dad’s hand now, okay? I’m gonna go see my friend,” she explained quickly, shoving the toddlers hand into her father’s own waiting one and shoving off into the sea of people before Vickie could insist they all stick together.

    She had to elbow several people out of the way, shouting apologies over her shoulder as she went, but eventually she made it to where the boy was standing just inside the event hall.

    “Think this school’s got a football team? Because after facing that crowd I think I may have a bright future,” Mary Kate joked, stepping nimbly to the side as someone made their way by.

    “They’d better have food other than cucumber sandwiches in here, or I’m going to riot.”


































    rose golden



    Kid Cudi, WILLOW










    ♡coded by uxie♡
     






    Celie Kinson




    filler



    filler



    filler



    filler



    filler



    filler






    • home (filler tab)



































    demi lovato



    la la land








    New York City was familiar and alien all at once. A stone's throw across the Hudson River was the city she was born in, but spent scarce time in while her mother carted her off to modeling and commercial gifs. Upon turning five they left the city in favor of relocating to the sunny west coast and seemingly not looking back. The rest of course is history, a messy history of sitcoms, substance abuse, divorce, and plenty of heartbreak.

    Sipping a homemade decaf latte, Celie pushed the thought out of her mind as she continued to look over the multiple open tabs on her laptop as she got some last minute work done before she would spend the rest of her night attempting to enjoy herself at NYA’s event. In one, she was poring over the reviews of her latest writing gig. A thriller called Shadow Protocol, involving spies, plenty of drama, and Veronica Crosby and Sawyer Andrews. Nothing exactly exceptional, but so far the reception was mostly favorable. Not that anyone would tie it back to Celie. That was part of what appealed to her about being a ‘script doctor,’ the lack of connection. All she had to do was look over the already finished screenplay and punch it up a little, fine tune the villain monologue, make the female lead a bit more compelling, and help the jokes land better. She didn't even have to do it alone either, typically it was her and at least two to three other writers. They'd make their tweaks, hand it in to the directors for a paycheck and call it a day with none of the audience the wiser that the little ‘written by’ tag in the credits could've been a little bit longer if you really wanted to split hairs. Not that any of them really contributed enough to earn it if you did.

    In another tab was the other script she was currently in the end stages of ‘doctoring.’ A shift in genre, it was a generic slasher film that she *really* needed to wrap up her notes on if they were going to make their hopeful goal of hitting theaters in time to be in the lineup for next year's Halloween releases. But Celie had been putting off working on it in favor of another project in yet another tab. The siren call of a more original work. One late night after the umpteenth reread of one of her favorite romance novels, the inspiration struck like lightning.
    "I could do this…"
    She had thought to herself. If anyone was going to do justice to the writings of Elizabeth Kay, it would be her. The slightly cheesy, but beautiful chapters of prose had gifted Celie lighthearted solace and distraction on more than one occasion. By 2:47 AM she had written up eighteen pages of her attempt at an adaptation of *Moonlit Veil.* She had yet to actually clear her potential adaptation with the author herself, but that would come later, should Celie actually decide to move forwards with the project. Though she had already added forty-one pages to the document since that night.

    "Mom, what time is the car getting here?"


    The inquisitive voice of her seventeen year old provided a much needed distraction from her computer and its many rabbit holes. Celie rotated away from the kitchen island on the high top barstool she was perched on to face Viva, but it was not an answer about the car service that she focused on. Viva was standing before her dressed in an ensemble that was a reddish pink shade of velvet with a pink lace trim, with an asymmetrical hem that landed barely below the teenager's mid thigh. It might as well be lingerie, or the dress that Celie had worn to the Teen Choice Awards however many years ago it was that *Miles to Go’ was up for ‘Iconic Siblings” or whatever made-up category the network had paid for them to win… Wait a minute…

    "How many times do I have to ask you to stay out of my closet?"
    She asked, putting on a more stern motherly voice, they'd been over this.
    "That's not appropriate for a girl your age, let alone for a school function."


    Viva smoothed a hand over the dress, her nail polish from the mother-daughter manicures Celie had taken them for the other day still perfect while her own polish had already chipped.
    "You were like, two years younger than I am now when you wore this."
    She said, her eyeshadow a matching shade of pink to the fabric of the dress.

    "Yeah, because a stylist put me in it."
    Celie said, starting to look back at her laptop.
    "But I’m your mom, and I’m telling you to take it off, makeup too. End of discussion."


    On another day, Viva might've fought back a little, she would've thrown back a question about why she had even held onto the dress if she didn't want to do anything with it, but as she weighed the options in her mind, she knew it wasn't worth it, not really. Not if she actually wanted to go to this event anyways, she was probably a few hairs away from completely pissing her mom off and losing her chance to go out for the night at all.

    She retired to her room where she slipped out of the dress and tossed it in a heap on her bed on her way to the closet. After rifling around for a minute she pulled out a dress that hopefully would pass her mom's tests. A blue and white floral print sundress that was a bit *too* summery for this time of year, but the color complimented her hair and eyes well enough to let that slide. Reluctantly, she took a makeup wipe and removed the pink eye look she had spent several minutes crafting not long ago and touched up her mascara once it was gone. She tried to keep it subtle enough that her mom wouldn't insist that she was still too done up, but still evident enough that she had anything on at all. Thankfully the shoes she picked were already neutral enough to still match the new dress, though she added some more jewelry to add some of the shimmer and special *something something* that she felt the outfit was now missing. Viva checked her new look in her full length mirror, much less stunning, but still pretty and within her usual style, and certainly school appropriate.

    Upon returning to the kitchen she did a performative twirl for her mother.
    "Ta-da."
    She said, stopping to pose.

    Celie looked over her child a second time, feeling relieved to see her be much more covered. Hints of pink stuck to her eyelids where the more stubborn eyeshadow had refused to budge. She grabbed a cloth napkin from the counter and closed the space between them before beginning to buff out the remaining product Into something that looked more subtle and intentional. Despite Viva squirming slightly at the sudden touch, the end result would please them both. She pressed a kiss to Viva’s forehead before stepping back to close her laptop now that it was almost time to leave.

    "Much better."
    She declared with a smile.





    ♡coded by uxie♡
     
    Last edited:
    Luciana Navarro
    fashion designer
    Despite all the years that had passed, Luciana still had her tendency to control everything and make sure that everything was according to how she expected, to make sure that everything was pristine and present her best self to the world; just how she was thought or, in this case, obligated since she was a child. It was one of those cases of old habits die hard. But despite that, she knew that despite all her efforts, nothing would go her way, especially because she was married to Damien and had a child with him, and those two were two faces of the same coin. And just like father and daughter; they never wanted to follow the rules.

    Before you start, she did love her husband and even loved her daughter more; she just wasn’t the type to express her love out loud. Because her parents didn’t care about the emotional side of their children when they were growing up only their achievements, she was never really taught how to express affection. Even if she didn’t want to admit she was still a hurt child, that just wanted her parents to love her and was now playing mom while trying to be everything her parents weren’t and failing miserably.

    So now she had to deal with her teenage daughter in her rebellious phase, always complaining about everything and everyone. She was never that way while growing up, more like she was never allowed to be that way, but she knew perfectly someone who acted that way back when they were in high school.
    “Hey! Watch your language! And yes, because you are my daughter, and while you live under my roof, I will not let you go out dressed like that!”
    Luciana said while letting out a sigh.
    “Your grandma wasn’t wearing her glasses. She couldn’t even see you properly,”
    she said.
    “And don’t say anything. She is lovable but we all know her eyesight is not the best. So, aren’t you going to say something to your daughter?”

    mood:in need of patience
    outfit: here
    location: car idk?
    interactions: sailormewn sailormewn Winona Winona
    SZA - Saturn

    coded by Stardust Galaxy
     
    Last edited:






    Ashton West


    After the second time Lukas had come out, said he was ready, but then decided he wasn't, Ash decided there was absolutely no way that they were arriving on time. Not a surprise, but she did feel bad considering the work that Jace had put into this. And Evelyn, and JJ, and Amy, and...

    Yeah, that was about it.

    Going, of course, wasn't something she really wanted, either. And putting their kids in the school was something she'd been adamantly against at first, but had ultimately decided to let it slide. Cappie would be there, Liv would be there, Tabitha would be there. Her kids would... they'd be fine, right?

    She kept telling herself that, anyway.

    While those around her seemed to be able to look back on their days at the high school through rose-colored lenses, as if it had all been fun and grand, Ash remembered the darker parts. The drinking, the partying, the... everything. The stress of people watching your every movie, the sickening feeling of being forced into the spotlight and--

    How was she supposed to keep her kids safe, when they serving them to a twisted industry on a silver platter?

    If it was up to her, their kids would've been doing something that kept them more discreet. At least Jonah would be more behind the scenes if he kept with literature, but the twins' interests would put them too far in the spotlight.

    Brushing her worries away, she headed out of the bedroom. She checked on the kids as she headed towards the living room -- Tessa, of course, was still dragging her feet, which she'd been doing every day since Ash had said no to the kitten. Which like--

    Listen.

    Tessa had gotten a virus on her computer, like, what was she supposed to say?

    With a sigh, she plastered a smile on her face as she met Lucky in the living room -- you know, her husband who'd been ready forever and had been waiting for the rest of them to catch up.

    "Hey," she said, as she started to mess with his jacket. "Kids should be ready soon, but umm... I was thinking..." her gaze flickered up from his jacket to his face, and her smile widened. "Maybe we should get Tessa that kitten."

    (She hated telling her kids no, and would -- pretty much always -- inevitably cave.)

    Before the conversation could really continue, she heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

    "Tess, hurry up," she called. "Everyone's ready -- we're waiting on you."

    See if she had a kitten, then she would've already been down there.




    mood
    mood mood mood

    location
    location location location

    outfit
    outfit outfit outfit





    playing...
    song title
    by artist​




    mentions
    mentions mentions mentions

    interactions
    Lucky, the DuBois kids

    tags
    gh0stwriter gh0stwriter KingofAesir KingofAesir keeruh keeruh sailormewn sailormewn


    º º code by ditto º º
     



    music teacher.





    axel jericho.



































    BIRDS OF A FEATHER
















    location

    the event hall






    outfit







    interactions

    liv, ryatt, lyrica, posie
















    While Axel was straightening his tie in the hall mirror, the sound of uneven footsteps padding across the floor alerted him of Ziggy’s approach. Turning around, he was met with the sight of his youngest child toddling into view, iPad dangling precariously close to the floor in one hand, dress shoes clutched tightly in the other. When he neared, the boy clumsily held both his wares up with a snaggle-toothed grin for his father to take.

    “Hey, buddy,” Axel greeted, bending down to scoop Ziggy up. “Need some help?”

    He carried Ziggy into the living room, plopping him on the vacant end of the couch and setting the tablet on the knee-length table behind them. On the opposite side, Ryatt sat playing video games, semi-ready to go—his tie hung loose around his neck, loafers unlaced on his feet, and suit jacket sling over the arm of the sofa. Still, any degree of put-together was a win in this household.

    “Alright, let’s get these on.” Axel finally accepted the tiny shoes from Ziggy’s pudgy grip, placing them on the hardwood by his knee as he crouched in front of the cushion the kid currently occupied. Yet, when Axel picked up Ziggy’s foot to slide it into the loafer, Ziggy spread his toes inside the sock that adorned it, making the task impossible. He giggled as Axel tried—and failed—to stuff his foot into the shoe.

    “Something funny?” Axel asked, attempting in vain to maneuver the dress shoe’s opening over the top of Ziggy’s flexed foot. “Yeah, laugh it up—Jesus, did you grow more toes overnight?” He pulled the shoe away to tickle Ziggy’s foot, garnering another cackle and distracting him just long enough that Axel was able to shove the loafer on. He chuckled in triumph as he gave the strings a gentle tug to begin winding them into a bow, muttering the rabbit rhyme under his breath as a force of habit.

    Lyrica’s and Posie’s voices carried from somewhere farther in the house, still squabbling despite Liv’s efforts to subdue them, and frankly, Axel would pick fighting Ziggy’s blatant distaste for shoes over breaking up one of the girls’ infamous petty disputes any chance he got.

    As soon as Axel was finished donning Ziggy in his fancy footwear, he picked the boy up, taking his place on the couch and settling Ziggy in his lap instead. Almost instantaneously, his son’s hands shot out, fingers waggling in request of the iPad again. “Mine.”

    It certainly was his. Smudged with greasy fingerprints and peanut butter so crusted it was forever a part of the device, no one else dared to use it. Once upon a time, it’d been Posie’s—its sole purpose to be an art tablet—but she’d since relinquished control after Ziggy’s grubby hands had gotten a hold of it, and Axel and Liv had replaced it with a better model as a peace offering.

    Axel grabbed the iPad with careful fingers, unwilling to risk touching any of the mysterious stains now coating it, and placed it in Ziggy’s waiting grasp.

    Truth be told, Axel hated events like this. Public appearances were such a hassle, especially with a family of this size, when getting everyone dressed and out the door was a pain and a half. A part of him wished they could be normal, run away to some remote island where they could live peacefully, out of the mass’ prying eyes and all of the drama that accompanied it. He relished in any moments of domesticity that he got in between, kind of like this one.

    The clock in the top left corner of Ziggy’s tablet tauntingly displayed how late they were. Axel couldn’t say he was surprised—it’s one of the things they were best at as a collective unit. When Ryatt’s game at last made the ding! of a won match, Axel piped up, “Can you go check on your mom and see how close she is to being done?” He would’ve done so himself, but, well, he was currently being used as a chair.

    A few moments later, Ryatt returned with Liv in tow. Axel had seen the green dress hanging in his wife’s closet for a couple of weeks now, but he had to admit, it looked substantially better on.

    Rising from his spot on the sofa, Axel shifted Ziggy to balance on his hip as he crossed to meet Livanna. “You’re beautiful,” he told her, free hand landing on her waist as he pulled her in for a kiss.

    “Yuck!” Ziggy exclaimed, fingers digging into Axel‘s cheek in an attempt to—quite successfully—ruin the moment.

    Axel’s attention slid over to his son, offense taking over his features. “You’re such a little hater. Where’d you even get that from?”

    Pot, meet kettle.

    The twins were the last to join them before heading out to the garage, Lyrica strutting down the hall with no shame whatsoever at having been a large contributor to how tardy they were, and Posie bringing up the rear, tugging uncomfortably at her dress and nose buried in her phone.

    Finally.

    ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───​

    With the Jericho-Moores all safely herded into the SUV, Axel backed out of the garage and began the drive to the school.

    It wasn’t a particularly lengthy journey, but it was plenty of time for things to go south.

    Something was up with Liv. The way her hand slipped out of Axel’s grasp to fidget with her hair. He stole a glance at her, eyebrows pinched together and mouth falling open to ask what was wrong, but even if the words had managed to come out, Lyric’s and Posie’s incessant arguing in the backseat would’ve drowned them out, growing louder by the second until Livanna snapped.

    Yeah, there was definitely something going on.

    Axel’s pale eyes found Ryatt’s in the rearview mirror, widening as if to say, Damn.

    At Livanna’s encouragement—and to, hopefully, placate the vehicle’s general atmosphere—Axel spun the radio’s knob, and instantly, the song raised in volume. “You know you can tell me if there’s something on your mind, right?” he asked, just loud enough for his wife to hear. Axel’s fingers slid along Liv’s wrist until they were laced with hers once more.

    The man’s hold on the steering wheel tightened, jaw clenching anxiously. This was going to be a long night.

    ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───​

    Then, as if nothing had happened, they were a picture-perfect family again. Posing for photos at the entrance of the Event Hall, they settled into their roles easily—Axel’s arm found its home around Livanna’s torso, Ziggy back in his grip; Ryatt was at Liv’s other side, appearing as calm and collected as ever; and at the front of the group stood the twins, arms intertwined as if they were the best of friends, not the two girls that’d been at each other’s throats only a few minutes ago.

    The flashing lights turned them into a watered-down, inhumanly ideal version of themselves, and Axel hated it.

    Yet, as quickly as it had started, it was over. Axel turned, strapping Ziggy into his stroller before he could wriggle away, as he no doubt planned to at the first opportunity.

    They didn’t have long to recollect themselves before going inside, but Liv made the most of it, apologizing for her behavior in the car. Personally, Axel felt she was warranted—their daughters could be downright annoying at times—but he was usually the quick-tempered one, and it was odd to see the parts reversed. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, offer from the car still standing for whenever she was ready.

    If she was ever ready.

    Livanna had a constant desire for support in her life, but it didn’t always translate from the positive to negative aspects. She had a bad habit of shouldering her burdens alone, relying on her vices to settle her problems for her. Axel only wished that whatever was plaguing her now wasn’t serious enough to make her fall into old, harmful patterns.

    “Not too much fun, though.”

    The oldest of their children began to disperse; Axel caught the start of a conversation between the sisters as they followed in Ryatt’s wake—Posie tilted her phone for Lyrica to see, saying something about, “What if he’s—?” and Axel was glad that he didn’t hear the rest of her question. From the sound of it, he wouldn’t have liked it.

    Perhaps it was a bit hypocritical, but Ryatt was free to do about whatever he wanted. Lyrica and Posie, on the other hand, were far more sheltered. They weren’t allowed to date for the time being, a rule that Axel had set in place himself, but he had his reasons.

    The first and most important one being teen pregnancy flashbacks.

    He could do without being a grandfather in his thirties.

    Axel took the glass of champagne that Liv extended to him, however, he wasn’t nearly as eager to finish his as his wife was. He eyed her curiously, but again, didn’t say anything on the matter. It wasn’t the time or place to pry, especially not with Livanna already seemingly so on edge.

    He followed Liv’s gaze as she scrutinized the building, taking in the elaborate decorations they’d strung up for the event, all in the school’s chosen colors. The man hummed in agreement with the unspoken conclusion of her sentence.

    Axel couldn’t say he’d ever been one to have strong opinions when it came to architecture or interior design. When he and Liv had first bought their house, he’d left that bit entirely up to her. Maybe that was why they had such an over-abundance of throw pillows and decorative blankets.

    “Hopefully they left some of it for the actual classes.”

    The New York Academy of the Arts was, as the name implied, a school dedicated to creatives, but like any academic institution, it had its weak points. When he and Liv had last been here, the board had spent all its money on the yearly theater productions and not much else. With any luck, things were more balanced now.

    “Wanna go mingle?” Axel’s gaze scanned the crowd in search of a friendly face. He would’ve been more than happy to keep to themselves for the night, but he knew that Livanna’s social butterfly antics would outweigh his lack of any day.










     
    Last edited:






    Jace West


    Helping put this even together had been--

    Jace would've rather been stuck at the dentist having his teeth pulled.

    The entirety of being on the Board of Directors for this school had been nothing short of torture for a majority of their meetings. Sure, it had been a solid twenty or so years since they'd all graduated, but as it turns out, most people don't change that much following high school. At least not when they were brought face to face with their old peers.

    He swore that Chas, Evie, and JJ had bickered over every little thing, Amy was consistently trying to find some middle ground peace offering, and Landon was as much of a blubbering fool now as he had been twenty years ago, and why the hell was Dalton even there? He didn't do anything productive.

    It was fine, though, because the vision was finally before them, and Jace had -- of course -- dragged his family out with him, early, to the event. The boys hadn't been the happiest about it (and that included Kieran), but Jace was just proud, alright? To present his family here, and get to flex the fact that he'd helped put this school together.

    Nerves weren't something he should have at this point in his life, and he didn't really. Not as bad as he used to, but he could still feel them slithering in his stomach.

    Still, he smiled, as his hand grabbed Rocco's shoulder and he tugged his son towards him. "Thanks for coming out," he said absently to his kids and Kieran, as he fixed Rocco's haphazard tie. "And helping finish set up."




    mood
    mood mood mood

    location
    location location location

    outfit
    outfit outfit outfit





    playing...
    song title
    by artist​




    mentions
    mentions mentions mentions

    interactions
    Rocco, Kieran <3, Daley

    tags
    gh0stwriter gh0stwriter hery hery gingersnaps gingersnaps


    º º code by ditto º º
     






    Damien Slater


    Driving in New York City was a pain in the ass that left him wanting to scream, or slam his head into the steering wheel on the best of days. But on days like today, when he was already uncomfortable in a high buttoned shirt, and stiff pants that didn't really fit, and his daughter was starting shit in the backseat--

    He wanted to scream.

    But he wouldn't, because he was a cool, calm, collected adult.

    “I can't believe you made me change like- FOUR fucking times.”

    He slammed on his brakes as someone pulled in front of him, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

    “I mean I'm your daughter, not some paper doll.”

    Someone honked at him, and he flipped them his middle finger.

    Carmen needed to shut up.

    “Grandma liked the first outfit I had on.”

    Carmen really needed to shut up.

    “I should've just worn that one.”

    “Hey! Watch your language! And yes, because you are my daughter, and while you live under my roof, I will not let you go out dressed like that!” Luci started in on their daughter. “Your grandma wasn’t wearing her glasses. She couldn’t even see you properly,” she said. “And don’t say anything. She is lovable but we all know her eyesight is not the best. So, aren’t you going to say something to your daughter?”

    Her babbling had gone in one ear and out the other, until Damien realized that Luci was speaking to him at the very end there. He glanced between the road and Luci, his gaze speaking volumes about really, did he need to get involved now? During late day New York City fucking traffic?

    "Mo-- grandma isn't the best judge of--"

    Someone else whipped in front of him, and Damien slammed his foot down on the brake, bringing them to a screeching halt behind some fuckhead at the light.

    Angry, he rolled down his window, and leaned partially out. "Hey asshole, watch where you're going," he yelled at the top of his lungs, and promptly held up a middle finger in the direction of the car in front of them, before he angrily came back into the car, and rolled up the window.

    Unfortunately, once Damien started, it was hard for him to stop.

    "It doesn't fucking matter what you wanted to wear, Carmen," he snapped, "or what Grandma said. Your mom said no and guess what? We're in the car and you're not wearing it, whoa wild. So just shut up about the fucking outfit, and for the love of god, don't fucking cuss."

    With an exhale, he pressed back on the gas as they started forward.

    That felt good. He felt better.




    mood
    mood mood mood

    location
    location location location

    outfit
    outfit outfit outfit





    playing...
    song title
    by artist​




    mentions
    mentions mentions mentions

    interactions
    Carmen, Luci

    tags
    sailormewn sailormewn Stardust Galaxy Stardust Galaxy


    º º code by ditto º º
     






    Tabitha Cohen



    Tabitha had never pictured herself as a teacher. She had little interest in shaping the youth’s minds, and even less patience to deal with the youth itself.

    Really, she had never pictured herself as a lot of things. At sixteen, Tabitha Cohen had decided she had absolutely no maternal instincts and marriage was an elaborate scam. At twenty, she was welcoming little Theodore into the world with Mason Rivera, her thrice-wedded husband, who had a tongue as sharp and mean as hers.

    Mother, wife, teacher. 16-year-old Tabitha would have laughed until she passed out. But then again, 16-year-old Tabitha didn’t think she would live long enough to see any of that coming true- so maybe she should shut the hell up.

    ~
    “Have any of you seen my fucking necklace?” Tabitha shouted, the sound of her heels clicking on the marble marble floor following her every step. How is it that there were so many people in and out of this damn house, and not a single one of them had seen it?

    “The one with the star of David?” A frustrated sound left her lips as she shuffled through the couch’s pillows. “Two thirds of you people aren’t Jewish, so you don’t need it!”

    A rational answer here would be that Tabitha misplaced her necklace while changing in and out of it. A less rational part of Tabitha was saying, however, that she was being fucked with by one- if not two- of her stepdaughters.

    If Danica hid it, I swear to fuck, I am shipping that brat off to boarding school.

    An empty threat, mostly, though she did come close to acting on it after the shampoo incident.

    “Is it this one?” Her son’s voice came from upstairs, down into the living room. Theo looked perfect in the little black suit Tabitha had bought for him, but what she really was focusing on was the silver necklace he was holding.

    “Yes!” Tabitha ran over to him, taking the piece of jewelry with a sigh of relief. “Thank God. Where’d you find it?”

    “I had it.”     Theo shrugged, walking past his mother and ignoring the annoyed look on her face. “Used it last week on my Broadway date with Cel. It looked good with my outfit.”

    “For fuck’s sake, Theo!”     Tabitha threw her long, blonde curls to the side as she placed the necklace once again around its’ rightful neck. “You could’ve just asked.”

    “I knew you’d say yes.”     And without waiting for further comment, he exited the room.

    He had a point, Tabitha would’ve probably just said yes. She knew she had spoiled him rotten, but it didn’t bother her as much as it maybe should. Tabitha thought of her own childhood, and decided this alternative was much better- even if Theo was a fucking brat at times

    Speaking of brats, she had Edgar getting ready in the guest room. Her brother was a significantly older and more problematic brat, but he’d been doing really well on his redemption path, and…well, Tabitha had also simply missed having him around.
    Two knocks to the door, and she stepped in, to find Edgar in a losing battle against his tie.

    “Your tie’s crooked.” She leaned in against the doorframe, making no move to go and help him.

    “Your face is crooked.” Edgar replied immediately. “From all that damn botox, probably. You should ease up on it.”

    Tabitha could not help but smile. There weren’t many people in the world who made her laugh like her brother did.

    She walked over and fixed his tie- the suit he was wearing also happened to be a gift from her, but she had kept that detail from Mason. Edgar thanked her, after throwing out one or two more well-meaning insults her way, and said he’d wait outside for them.

    “And I call shotgun!”
    ~
    Tabitha looked at herself in the hallway’s mirror a final time before going to fetch Mason in their bedroom. The dark blue gown was gorgeous on her, and she’d never been shy to admit when she looked good. The color was in perfect contrast with her skin and the blonde of her hair…and she'd made sure Mason’s suit matched it, of course.

    “Found the stupid thing. But now I need to have a talk with Theo about private property.” She enunciated the last bit like they were curse words, but her smile softened just a bit when her eyes settled on Mason. “I told you you’d look handsome in the suit. I have a great eye.”

    Tabitha reached out and touched his arm- even if they were more often than not a mess, they did look incredibly good together.

    “Come on, everyone’s waiting.” She urged him to follow. “Oh, and…Edgar’s called shotgun. Please don’t make it a whole thing.”




    mood
    mood mood mood

    location
    location location location

    outfit
    outfit outfit outfit





    playing...
    song title

    by artist​




    mentions
    mentions mentions mentions

    interactions
    Theo, Edgar, Mason.

    tags Winona Winona


    º º code by ditto º º
     






    Casey Clairmont


    Being a rockstar had always been on Casey's agenda, whether he'd really wanted it or not. Thanks to his parents, and his aunt, and then his sisters' success, there was no hiding from the spotlight. But luckily, Casey loved the attention. He relished in everyone's eyes being on him, in getting attention, in having people scream his name when he walked out on the stage.

    See, but the whole married and dad thing had never really been on his agenda. At some point, yeah, maybe, but then Casey had ultimately decided that maybe living the lone wolf life was the way for him. 'Cause that meant he could spend more time out doing his rockstar thing, which was where his heart was.

    ... Except now, he was happily married to Iris Warner (yes, that Iris Warner, ha, suck it), with two daughters, and more on the way (he was hoping for a son, but given the Clairmonts' history, he had a feeling it would be more girls).

    Speaking of his gorgeous, amazing, most perfect, most beautifullest wife, she'd taken off to diffuse a situation between their daughters, while Casey finished getting ready. Some basic makeup highlighted his eyes, and his blonde hair -- which had only gotten curlier and more out of control with age -- looked like a mess atop his head, but trust him, he had brushed it.

    Once they were all ready, Casey ushered the girls towards the limo. You see, they could've driven themselves, but Casey had never received his license because he was considered a "liability" and a "danger behind the wheel." Whatever all of that happened to mean, pfft, like, who really knew, ya know? Unfounded, really.

    (He had a habit of getting distracted by things on the side of the road, and then the car would inevitably start turning towards whatever he was looking at -- and after turning his car towards a group of girl scouts selling cookies once by accident, Casey was deemed unfit to continue pursuing his driver's license.)

    Brinley and Ember were both seated in the car with pouts on their faces, and all Casey could think about was how much easier this would be if they were boys, ya know? Boys didn't really fight, yeah?

    (He'd never had brothers, so he had a very glamorous view of the brother relationship.)

    He glanced towards Iris, who was giving him The Look.

    He had to roll up his sleeves and deal with this.

    "So," he started, flashing a lopsided smile. "'Bout where all your purses went," Casey clapped his hands together. "I put 'em in a pile to set 'em on fire 'cause--"

    "What?" Brinley's high-pitched voice screeched, but she recovered quickly. "I bet that's what happened to your ugly shoes, too, they needed to be burned." She spat in Ember's direction.

    "What? No, no, no, I didn't-- oh look," Casey leaned against the door, his finger pressing the button to roll the window down. "We're just 'bout there!"

    (They were still several blocks away.)




    mood
    mood mood mood

    location
    location location location

    outfit
    outfit outfit outfit





    playing...
    song title
    by artist​




    mentions
    mentions mentions mentions

    interactions
    Iris, Ember

    tags
    lvcid lvcid


    º º code by ditto º º
     
    MOOD: mood

    OUTFIT: clothes

    LOCATION: location
    basics
    MENTIONS:
    Winona Winona gingersnaps gingersnaps gh0stwriter gh0stwriter
    INT:
    jace, kieran, daley
    tags
    TL;DR no
    tl;dr
    Rocco West
    Sell your dreams on day to day, is that why you stay away?
    When the door to the hall blew open with the event's initial trickling of guests, Rocco was a half-second later than the others to react. A faint pounding had nestled itself in his head, anchoring his mental processing alongside the heavy weight of his introversion. Did his dads know that guy? Or that lady? Was that Celie Kinson, all grown up and out of the spotlight?

    Rocco felt not remotely anxious, but instead bored like a child at a funeral. He took advantage of his kinship with one of the directors by snagging a juice box before they were set out for the little ones, sticking the straw in his mouth and standing listlessly like he had no other business than to exist in one spot. Like he'd been told to stay put when, in reality, it was his instinctive inaction that kept him transfixed by the commotion of big, grand events like this gala.

    Jace's hand dropped onto his son's shoulder, tugging him closer with the resistance of a ragdoll. "Thanks for coming out," he said to the family, the thoughts running through his mind weaving into the words that drifted lazily from his lips, "and helping finish up."

    "You're welcome. Good thing we came early," Rocco replied robotically, drawing out one more sip of Red 40.

    In a very fatherly fashion, Jace straightened his tie for him. They had all rushed out the door, Jace following last only because he'd saved getting dressed for after the rest of the family had been corralled into the car. That meant spam-calling Daley to ensure he'd be back from the corner store in time, begging Kieran not to change his mind and stay back, and ripping Rocco from the serenity of the hammock in the backyard.

    All to be early to this event. This gala which, as Rocco understood it, would be the reunion of an astounding number of notorious personalities. To the kids, what more was it than a dressed-up back to school event? At his last schools, they called it "Back to School Night", which consisted of nothing more than showing off last year's art projects and, as they got older, blathering about whatever prestigious academic programs the school had to offer.

    Whatever. At the end of the day, Rocco always did his history homework, practiced his instruments, and showed up right on time to choir rehearsals.

    The teenager's eyes darted around the room as it gradually filled up. "Are you going to say hi to your friends?" he asked, expecting a pair of no's for an answer. Another slurp of the juice box followed, if only to have something to do. He could hear scattered bits of conversation from the kids and adults. Soon, it would sound more like a crowd, hopefully something closer to the huge ball Kieran had been dreading—the very same one Jace had been hyping up.

    Rocco turned to Daley, making an attempt to pin the trajectory of his stare on anyone in particular, but to no avail. Part of him wanted to follow his older brother into his shenanigans, but the other felt more content gluing himself onto the wall and checking out. In a sandbox of activity, Rocco saw a stifling amount of liberty to do as he pleased. But what to do? It would take him hours to figure this one out.

    But that was a start. And, if anything, something to do.
    code by valen t.
     
    MOOD: mood

    OUTFIT: clothes

    LOCATION: location
    basics
    MENTIONS:
    Winona Winona
    INT:
    Romeo
    tags
    TL;DR no
    tl;dr
    Chas Marino
    Rich kid, asshole, paint me as a villain.
    Planning this gala had teleported Chas all the way back to his high school student council meetings. The Board of Directors, all juggling countless big-boy and big-girl obligations, were adamant about opening the school with an event to remember. It served a dual purpose: reassuring attendees that donations were being put to good use and additionally putting on a proper high school reunion for some of New York Arts' last graduating classes.

    Chas, hellbent on the project's success, had taken on a mountain of responsibility, refusing to relinquish precious control. Not over his dead, Brioni-clad body.

    Liaison with event staff, double-check guestlist, yell over the phone.

    He was stressed.

    Prep the tables, check the auctioned goods, ensure signage forms a 90 degree angle with the floor.

    But in control.

    Stare in mirror, adjust jacket collar, fix Romeo's hair.

    Romeo. Chas had brought his son, an incoming literature student, along. And thank god for him. Every glance at the boy filled him with pride. Romeo might not have developed the Marino work ethic just yet, but he relished his reflection in the squeaky-clean surfaces of the tables, marking him a true Marino by all standards. If his reflection was that flawless, their work was nearly complete.

    "Tablecloths!" Chas' voice resounded, preceding two claps in quick succession.

    Across the room, Chas noticed Jace with his husband and their two sons, all having arrived early to lend their aid. Jace, a new proprietor of Chas' respect, was directing his family with every hallmark of a stressed event organizer, much to Chas' delight. It was a heartwarming display of perfectionism, watching the former loser arrange his nuclear family like a scene from a Christmas card.

    Chas took a deep breath, surveying the transformed space. The tables were adorned with elegant centerpieces, the auction items gleamed under the soft lighting, and the signage stood boldly in a burst of red, black, and gold.

    Guests began to arrive, their chatter and laughter filling the room with a lively buzz. "Will you help me greet the guests?" Chas asked, giving Romeo a gentle pat on the back before darting to offer warm welcomes to everyone. Even those he could have done without, including current and former adversaries, those ignoring the dress code, and anyone with even a hint of attitude.

    He was smarmy and energetic, like the CEO of a shady startup—smiling a bit too wide, taking just a bit too long to answer anyone whose first question was about the location of the bathrooms or if refreshments had already started.

    Hello! This isn't how you greet Chas Marino, your former classmate, current screenwriter, and future multi-billionaire.

    No, this was no longer for the mere sake of New York Arts. It was for that of Chas Marino. And all those other guys on the Board of Directors, but mostly Chas. This high school had been hell, once. Now, it was Chas' next shot at worldwide acclaim, vast riches, power over his former enemies' bratty children.

    In his frenzy of rapid-fire reunions, Chas had neglected to keep an eye on Romeo. Shortly after attending to the most recent arrival, he released his interlocked fingers and glanced to the side, his mind racing. Romeo was still there, his pride, his joy, his living, breathing legacy. He had no other option but to look presentable tonight.

    "Where are your little friends, superstar?" he queried, scanning the room for the nearest glass of champagne with his name on it.
    code by valen t.
     



    art student.





    posie jericho-moore.



































    THE LONELIEST
















    location

    the event hall






    outfit







    interactions

    lyrica, griffin (mentioned)
















    “What if he’s coming with Carmen?”

    Posie tilted her phone screen for Lyric to read the last few messages she and Griffin had exchanged, plans to meet up at the auction tonight.

    “The last time he invited me anywhere, I was third-wheeling the whole time.” The prospect of history repeating was bad enough without having to potentially do so while donned like an overgrown Bratz doll. Posie tugged uncomfortably on the hem of her dress. It was short—too much so. She was petite, too, so she thought she’d be able to get away with it, and, well, somehow, she had. Her parents had let her leave the house like that, legs out and everything. Honestly, they were probably just relieved they’d gotten her out of a baggy pair of ripped-up jeans for the night, but a part of her longed for normal parents, someone to tell her she couldn’t go in public looking like a slut, but finding an excuse to change clothes that easily was nothing more than wishful thinking.

    “Then again, he also said he’d go to the Underworld to save me—all Hadestown-style—and that’s, like, kind of cute of him or whatever… The mixed signals are off the charts—ew, gross! Why am I even talking about this with you?” Just like that, Posie snatched her phone out of view with a grimace, eyeing Lyrica as if she’d been the one to start the conversation. “Forget I said anything. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

    A bit too eagerly, Posie fell out of step with her twin sister in favor of veering to the right—the opposite direction of the bathroom. Really, she had no set destination in mind, despite her previous words, as she wandered farther from her family; the space was over-whelming, and Posie felt as if she had to keep moving lest the crowd swallow her whole.

    The items set to be auctioned off later that evening were on display throughout the Event Hall. Posie meandered amidst them, pausing every now and then to feign interest, especially when her antics caught the attention of any adult who watched Posie incredulously as if they expected her to knock something over or sneak off with one of their future big sellers, though where they expected her to put it was beyond the girl, and she tried not to linger on that train of thought too long. It was all useless stuff anyway—what would she even do with a used pair of shoes that many sizes too big?

    Fame was an odd thing to Posie. If the general public had placed someone on a pedestal, everything they touched turned to gold. A dirty tissue was suddenly an object of worth to a crazed fan with entirely too much money on their hands. Really, who decided these things? Posie had accidentally gone viral on TikTok a few times, and she was born into the world with an automatic societal advantage because of her parents, but she didn’t go searching for her spot in the limelight. To be quite frank, the attention scared her.

    Posie didn’t want to be put in a position that others looked to as the sole determiner of how something or someone should be treated because of her own opinions. It was too much influence and pressure for one person. What if she was wrong?

    She was wrong about a lot of things—or, at least, that’s what Lyrica always says.

    From between the legs of a particularly hideous dog statue, Posie found Griffin standing across the room. She hadn’t realized she’d been staring, too intently focused on trying to decide whether the creature’s claws were really made of silver or only painted to look that way, but when her gaze slid up an inch, there he was. It didn’t seem as if he’d noticed her yet—there was still time to duck and run…

    What am I doing? He’s my best friend.

    Posie hated the way she felt and the fact she’d let Lyrica talk her into thinking that it was fine—normal, even. There was nothing okay with ruining a perfectly good, platonic relationship over some stupid crush. She didn’t care what Lyrica or her mom said—they were too blinding by their own lovesickness and overproduced romantic comedies to see the situation realistically.

    She had one option: starve the butterflies until they shriveled up and died.

    Which, of course, was easier said than done, given how any time spent with Griffin only breathed more life into the pests; they rammed at the sides of her ribcage with fervor, and one of these days her bones might finally crack and crumble beneath the pressure, leaving the butterflies to do with her as they pleased, throwing her around like a puppet in the name of love—if it could even be called that.

    Oh, that’s good. I should write that down.










     
    Last edited:
    MOOD: mood

    OUTFIT: clothes

    LOCATION: location
    basics
    MENTIONS:
    Soap Soap ohdittoh ohdittoh

    INT:
    Angie, Mandy
    tags
    TL;DR no
    tl;dr
    Veronica Crosby
    In the crowd, the music's loud, but I'll find you!
    Ronnie Crosby, since rising to fame, had found herself constantly bound by a relentless schedule of interviews and filming dates. Of course, most already know this reality of Hollywood before signing their life and legacy away. What they don't teach you in actress boot camp is the art of navigating the delicate balance between public persona and private self. In the latter half of her thirties, Ronnie had fully transformed from a wide-eyed teenager into a seasoned A-lister, her name hashtagged more than anyone in the New York State Assembly combined.

    After spending so much time begging for the spotlight, the actress had learned to savor the moments where fame could not find her. It was the quiet mornings with her daughters, the rare, unhurried strolls through Central Park, and her quiet reflection in her dressing room before the cameras rolled. As it turns out, being unglamorous is kind of fun, too.

    But certainly not tonight.

    Ronnie stepped out of her sleek, black ride, her red hair catching the flashes of the photographers' cameras as she adjusted her elegant, emerald green gown. The gala was a significant event, and her presence, along with her two daughters, added an extra layer of glamour to the evening. Everybody fantasizes about showboating at high school reunions, and Ronnie was even less of an exception—she was the embodiment of it.

    "Stay close, girls," Ronnie said, her voice a bubbly cocktail of excitement and bad-bitchery. The girls' eye-catching auras were bulletproof, built on a foundation of notoriety and layered with slabs of learned grace and carefully-chosen shades eyeshadow pigments. Their entrance to the gala was dramatic, well-timed, and—

    Oh, everyone was already there. They were late.

    "The Clairmonts took all the good tables," Ronnie whined, sending a lopsided frown to Angie while they weaved their way through the room. Somewhere along the way a glass of strawberry champagne had found itself in the redhead's hand which, after Mandy had disappeared from their sight, Ronnie offered to the remaining daughter. "Do you want to try some of this, baby?" She gave a sweet smile. "Before your sister comes back and calls me a... what was it, again?"

    Wine mom?

    Her eyes searched for Mike’s familiar face on the way to the auction area, each turn of her head sweeping a flurry of marmalade-colored locks to and fro. Her longing was intense and, despite how much she'd matured, Ronnie's lovelorn wiles were just as plain to see as they were in high school. The men present tonight had either aged into shriveled raisins or into fine, complex blends of wine. Ronnie was looking, and not respectfully. Suppose for some it takes some crushing to finally grow a pair of grapes.

    "Angie, can you help with the bid sheets?" Ronnie requested airily, getting to work arranging each of the night's donations in a manner that made aesthetic sense. Each simply needed a sheet and a pen in view for the silent auction to get going. Then, later in the night, a more traditional auction would commence that involved a lot of yelling and throwing money at things. Ronnie could think of no better event for the New York Arts alumni and incoming students.

    Yet her mind wandered, still searching the room for any sign of her ex-fiancé. She had to distract herself. "We can totally bid too, if there's anything that catches your eye," she proposed to Angie, running a ring-adorned hand down the smooth tablecloth. It was like the Goodwill Bins, but heavily-moderated and for rich people.
    code by valen t.
     
    Last edited:



    award winning actress.





    Chanel Clairmont
































    california dreamin'
















    location

    limo --> event hall!






    outfit







    interactions

    cappie, obie, cassie

















    “And I understand that the schedule has already been made—but considering we moved the filming time at least three times, I don’t see what’s one more,” Chanel said comfortably in the limo, surrounded by her husband and two kids. Her family could only hear the small voice through the phone speaker, rapid with excuses and mumbling.

    People change throughout the years; some become gentler, more affectionate, while others grow tougher. Not Chanel. She never changed. From the moment she stepped into the spotlight at the age of seven, she knew who she was. Nearly thirty years later, the only difference was the multiple golden idols that proved her worth as an actress, and to some, her worth as an individual. Today, the industry was as toxic as a relationship you knew wasn't going anywhere.

    It always was, but people were more aware today, while others had strived to find their place in it. Chanel had found hers a long time ago, and she sat comfortably on her throne, adorned with rumors and the fickle judgments of the public.

    “That’s rich,” Chanel laughed humorlessly. “No, I won’t be compliant, Martin.” She spat his name out with venom and unprofessionalism, rare for Chanel Clairmont. Her daughter used her lap as a footrest, but she paid no mind, instead clasping the latch correctly on her heels.

    “You’re telling me to make changes?” She covered the phone for a moment to address her son. “Obie, stop shifting so much. You’re wrinkling your suit.” He was upset that he didn’t get the chance to claim his certain spot in the limo. Oberon was extremely particular enough to the point where Chanel wondered where he had gotten it from.

    (Spoiler alert: It was her.)

    “I only agreed to the fourth film on the condition it works around my schedule, not the other way around.” She leaned over to grab the champagne bottle from sixteen-year-old Cassandra, shooting her a glare.

    “Absolutely not—”

    Before Cassie could argue, Chanel continued. “I don’t care what the drinking laws are in foreign countries, we don’t live in one!” She wordlessly communicated with Cappie to deal with their children with a look ™.

    “No,” she heaved a heavy sigh. “No, Martin, I wasn’t talking to you. I was patient when we pushed back filming, patient when we pushed it up, and patient when nobody could decide. So, please, excuse me if my supply is running low."

    Happily Ever After was a trilogy of films based on a romance novel. One that Chanel had read to ensure that she was capturing her character correctly. Truth be told, she wasn’t too fond of films. However, the public disagreed. An Oscar-winning film in multiple categories—while the second film didn’t hit as many marks, the first and third of its saga were soon to become one of the originals in the next twenty years.

    Rumors still circled around her and Landon Sinclaire, the tabloids starving for a scandal that included Chanel Clairmont—they were desperate enough to use their on-screen chemistry against them.

    She would’ve assumed it’d been buried by now, but ten years later, when they approached her for a fourth and final movie—the writer had written an epilogue they were eager to capture on film—those rumors had begun to stir back up.

    Her latest film, Luminary, had hit theaters only weeks prior, intended to be her last before a much-needed hiatus. Not for her—but for her children, who seemed to be aging by the minute, the heavy heart of regret that worsened every time she heard of something going on in their lives that she wasn’t present for.

    Despite her reservations, Chanel accepted the deal for a final film with Landon Sinclaire. Her team convinced her it was a pivotal career move, closing that chapter of her life and ending on a good note with such a beloved film.

    For somebody who had always put family first, Chanel Clairmont had felt like a hypocrite. Aside from her wedding day, honeymoon, and the births of her children, she rarely had the luxury of spending time with her family—for the sake of her career. If asked if it was worth it, she’d hesitate.

    Value dwells not in particular will; It holds its estimate and dignity As well wherein 'tis precious of itself As in the prizer.

    She was grateful for the opportunities that had come her way, proud of her accomplishments, but immense guilt underlaid each of those Oscars. The question lingered: was it truly worth it?

    Her hazel gaze roamed around the limo, lingering on Cappie before committing to her original statement.

    Despite her schedule, Chanel had never missed their first day of school.

    “Chanel, we’re happy to adjust anything to your needs, but you’re contractually obligated to—”

    “I won’t hear it. Contact my lawyer and find a replacement... or... push. it. back."

    She ended the call with a tap of her finger. "My apologies, no more work calls today," she declared softly. Taking a deep breath in through her nose, she exhaled slowly through her mouth. Chanel then intertwined her fingers with her husband's, pressing a tender kiss to his knuckles.

    “Your father and I attended the same school—" Something she had told them numerous times, in fact, Cappie was the only thing she enjoyed about high school. Since before that, her education was only through tutors, teachers that their parents had hired to accompany them on tour. Not to mention the fact that their school felt ridiculously underfunded and lacked the proper expertise to teach the younger generation.

    She's hoping they're planning on fixing some of those flaws, and who better than the old students?

    If you ask her, there's nobody worse, but you can't have your cake and eat it too.

    "I hadn’t expected them to reopen it. Much less throw a gala in its honor.” She didn’t donate to the school’s reopening, at least not personally. There was talk of an auction. Were the funds going directly to the school or for charity? Perhaps she should’ve donated… Chanel was convinced they could’ve found a better academy for their children. Who even consisted of the board besides Chas Marino?

    A screenwriter with a narcissistic mindset—almost effortlessly successful but on the verge of being blacklisted. People in the industry often thought twice about hiring him, but a third would kiss the box office numbers goodbye.

    She wondered why he’d take up the mantle. That school was rarely kind to him. Nevertheless, it was a comfort that she knew those on the board—even in passing.

    Better the devil you know than the one you don't.

    "Are you looking forward to the first day? Any last-minute changes to departments? We still have another week," she asked them both—but mainly Cassandra, who hadn’t cared much to accompany her to set this year, something that Chanel felt partially responsible for.

    Cappie and Chanel agreed soon after Cassie was born that they'd keep their kids from the spotlight until they were older, not wanting to burden them with the insecurities that came with fame early on, giving them a chance to realize what they want before diving headfirst.

    Again, it seemed hypocritical of the Clairmont. Chanel was born into fame. Every second of her life was under watch, which gave her the fear of disappointing her parents at a young age, especially when she announced that she wanted nothing to do with music - being tone-deaf certainly didn't help matters either. But despite the constant media exposure, belittling, and worse of Hollywood, Chanel had turned out okay.

    That was only due to her family and their unwavering support.

    She strove to be the same for her own, but lately, Chanel felt like she was failing to meet her own expectations.










     
    MOOD: mood

    OUTFIT: clothes

    LOCATION: location
    basics
    MENTIONS:
    N/A

    INT:
    Maddie, Diego
    tags
    TL;DR no
    tl;dr
    Javier Cervantes
    Que regrese mi amada porque tú, no eres tú.
    Expectations had never been set high for Javi, who spent the majority of his youth being ejected from bars, schools, and people's houses. He even got the hook from comedy clubs for out-funnying the comedians, go figure. But no dramatic exit of his had been quite as prolific as his expulsion from New York Arts, which followed his breaking of the school record for consecutive days of detention. Usually, it was due to nothing more than the odd fight. Allegations of drug dealing—be it tablets, bud, squares of paper, white powder... well, schools tend to be a little less lenient on that front. Even with a tuition covered by the influential Fredrick Stetson.

    Unfamiliar? You shouldn't be, if you've ever seen a movie made in the past, oh, four decades.

    He's an actor.

    But more than that, Stetson wasn't just some Hollywood big shot; he was also Lindsay Kay's estranged father and an in-law to the Cervantes crew—Angel and Javi—via their dad's sister. That year of school was characterized by so much rage, fury... resentment. Lin hated Javi and Angel; Javi hated Lin and, at one point, Angel. Angel just hated being punched.

    So no one was happy.

    The years that followed, though challenging in their own right, saw from Javi a sort of enlightenment only bestowed to those entirely abandoned by the modern, societal course of adolescence. He got his own place, reconciled with Angel, continued to spite his enemies, and, surprise, won the girl in the end. Madelaine Harlow, his very own supermodel sweetheart. And while life still threw plenty of resistance at her and Javi, the two of them became the hottest, trendiest co-parenters in New York.

    Oh, yeah, they have five children now. They've been happily married a decade, give or take, supported financially by Javi's burgeoning music career under Lucky's label, Maddie's endeavors on the side, and what the latter could access of her old-money wealth.

    So, when the two of them caught wind of New York Arts' reopening, Javi hit the floor, hysterically laughing.

    You mean the school that tanked 'cause of my delinquency?

    It was all too good. And, obviously, Diego was going. Maddie, with all of her wisdom and sense, recognized it as an opportunity for the kids, while Javi giggled for weeks on end to himself every time he pictured the "Board of Directors" (he does air quotes every time) meeting to clean up the mess they'd all made twenty years ago.

    So here were Maddie, Javi, and Diego, posted in one of New York Arts' refurbished event halls, sipping glasses of fruity little cocktails and guessing which of their former classmates would be the first to start something. Javi had plenty of enemies in the crowd, and he had no other choice but to keep his eyes peeled while being mindful not to trip over the pipsqueaks each family had brought along.

    They'd better not get Diego in no damn trouble.

    "I'm parched, babe. Let me grab us some punch," the bassist offered his wife with a kiss on the cheek, showing his son how a gentleman treats his partner. He paused to admire Maddie's dress as he backed away grinning like a lovesick fool, then turned on his heel toward the refreshments. He reached a hand for his back pocket, exhaling in relief as he detected the slick, silver surface of his... surprise...

    His flask.

    The exposed sliver of the metallic container gleamed in the room's lighting, matching the brilliant, pearly whites of its owner.

    Just one final bout of misbehavior... Javi was responsible now that he had kids with half his genes to look after. It was time to fix himself a drink, in tribute of all the tequila he'd smuggled onto this campus as a teenager. The same brand of tequila that once fueled Javi to push Jace up into a locker would now keep him from kneeing his husband in the stomach at this reunion.

    Time to be good and relax.
    code by valen t.
     
    Amethyst J.
    mood
    ...she's here ok

    outfit
    Amy's outfit, The twins outfits

    Mentions
    Technically the board, her kids, Trevor

    tags
    None (she's open for stuff)

    Amy was exhausted. Who knew being on a board with old classmates would be this draining? Well if anyone should've known it was her. She was the student council vice president back then, and should've remembered how draining appeasing her classmates were back then. It was wild how little changed for some of them. To be fair, why would the addition of more wealth and power change people who already had wealth and power?

    "Girls you have 15 min.s left!" She shouted out her door towards her twin girls bedrooms. You know what else was unsurprisingly harder than she thought? Divorce. She really never pictured herself divorced with three kids. Her son was actually with his father tonight, so she only had to worry about the twins. That's what she gets for thinking she should marry her high school sweetheart. To be fair a surprising amount of people did, and quite a few were still married. She just couldn't grasp in the end how to balance love and fame she supposed. That or how to pick a decent guy who wouldn't screw her over in the end. She really hoped her children would have better luck in that department.

    That's part of the reason she chose to be on the board and help out, because she wanted her kids' high school experience to be ten times better than her own had been. They were already starting from a better point then she had being that she has a very successful music career still going for her, and unlike her parents support them in whatever they choose. It just so happens they choose music too. They'd just released their first album on their 16th birthday, and Amy couldn't help but wonder if it was too soon, if it was too early to let them into the limelight on their own instead of protected by her shadow….but where they were going their was only so much protection she could offer. Still…she'd try.

    Amy put on the finishing touches of her outfit and then made her way to the twins room to make sure they would be done on time. She really couldn't afford to be late as one of the board members. She wasn't worried about Seraphine, it was more Ruby that was the wild card. Ever since the divorce everything Amy said seemed to go in one ear and out the other. TO be fair it was still much better then she treated their father. Amy never spoke down about him to foster such hate, but it was only a year and a half ago, so it's not like they weren't old enough to understand what happened. She tried putting them in therapy, but she wasn't sure how much good it did. Ruby was the first to quit, and Sera followed suit soon after.
    "Ready ladies? The driver is here." She peeked in with a light knock.

    "You know knocking is useless if you're going to just open the door anyways." Ruby snapped upon hearing the door open knowing who it was.

    "Ready mom." Seraphine stood up from her vanity with a grin and lightly nudged her sister to do the same causing Ruby to just roll her eyes. The only person Ruby sort of still listened to was her sister, but unknown to Amy, even that was starting to wane. However it was enough for right now because scanning over her children they were ready. Though scanning their room someone clearly had made a lot of changes. Amy didn't have time to comment on the disarray so she simply smiled and opened the door wider to let them walk out.

    They piled into the car, and Amy greeted and thanked the driver because…well Amy never learned to drive. What? In high school Trevor always drove, then she got boyfriends that drove, then she was rich enough to hire a driver. So yah…still no drivers license for Amy, but at least she always arrived in style. She'd invited her parents to the event, but she knew they wouldn't come. They didn't want her to go to this school, and now she's helped re-open it instead of expanding her tech company? As usual they were livid.

    Her Tech company though was more of a pass time for her love of technology and computers. She'd developed a better gaming system in college, and it's really taken off, but her passion still lies in music. She just won her fourth Grammy, but has decided to slow down with being on the school board. At least till her kids graduate.

    The moment they arrived Amy was thanking the driver, but surprisingly both children dashed out the car. She wasn't sure if it was from excitement, or not wanting to look un-cool showing up in tow with their mother. She tried not to take it personally, and tipped the man for her service before stepping out herself. The flashing lights were something she thought she'd never get used to…but the contacts helped. She waved to a few people and immediately went into networking mode, after all this was a charity gala and she needed to do her part. She was sure the kids would be fine.
    coded by reveriee.
     
    Last edited:



    Hedonist.





    Carmen Navarro



































    W.I.T.C.H- Devon Cole
















    location

    the car










    interactions

    Carmen Navarro






    tags

    @ user @ user













    "Mo-- grandma isn't the best judge of--”

    Carmen leaned forward running her tongue over her teeth when really she should've been biting it. She leaned forward raring to go toe-to-toe with perpetually frustrated father but before she could say anything-

    BAM!

    Damien slammed on the brakes, sending Carmen flying back against the seat. If the teen hadn't seen the car pull out in front of them she might have thought he did it on purpose.

    When he leaned back in the car after well- completely losing his shit he started in on his daughter.

    "It doesn't fucking matter what you wanted to wear, Carmen-”

    She opened her mouth to speak but Damien barreled onward.

    "or what Grandma said. Your mom said no and guess what? We're in the car and you're not wearing it, whoa wild. So just shut up about the fucking outfit, and for the love of god, don't fucking cuss.”

    The last three words hung in the air for a moment before Carmen screeched an
    “Augh! Fuck you!”
    in response. Flashing both middle fingers in the rearview for her Father to see. Sure, it wasn't one of her more eloquent retorts but he had backed her in a corner.

    Carmen collapsed back into the seat- this time of her own volition- pressing her forehead back up against the cool glass of the window.

    Where was she again? Oh yes- Delaware.

    ---

    As soon as the Navarro's were done making their ‘grand’ entrance at the gala Carmen was ready to ditch. Her dark brown eyes scanned the room, desperately looking for Ari.

    They were friends. At least Carmen was pretty sure they were still friends. Things had been a little touch and go since Carmen hooked up with her little brother, Theo, this summer. He had of course- immediately told his sister. Ever the agent of chaos.

    The teen pulled her cell phone out of her black Vivienne Westwood handbag firing off a '
    Where are you???'
    text.

    When she wasn't sure that alone would guarantee a response she added.
    'Please take pity on me oh beautiful and gracious Queen Ari. My parents are being absolutely INSUFFERABLE.'












     
    Last edited:
    Stella
    mood
    Work mode

    outfit
    Red carpet red (Here)

    Mentions
    Lin Kay

    tags
    Bailey and Zephyr Winona Winona

    Nervous wasn't the right word to describe Stella right now, but Excited wasn't really it either. Perhaps nostalgic? She was about to see a lot of familiar faces again, and while she of course saw a few of them decently consistently due to their success…there were quite a few former classmates who fell off the map who might be in attendance today. Was she particularly excited to see anyone specific? Nope. The few people she cared about she kept in contact with, so this was about formalities more than anything else. She attended the school when shit hit the fan…admittedly this is the place where shit hit the fan for her too personally, but she tried not t o think about that since everything ended up alright. She still married Zeph in the end, so no harm done right? Just a lot of therapy and two mental breakdowns later is all. Yup just fine.

    Also she'd donated towards this place, so it wouldn't hurt to see where that money went and if those on the board even had a real vision for this school, or just really loved walking down memory lane.

    As usual she took the longest in their family to get dressed. She supposed that's what happens when you live in a house full of boys. However she was adamant that you can't rush perfection. While she's calmed down about caring about her image above all else, especially relationships…she still cares deeply about her public image. What? It comes with the job of being an A-list actress. Zeph of all people knew who he was marrying, better than anyone. It's why they worked. And Bailey…well he was half her DNA even if it sometimes felt like she just gave birth to a mini Zeph, so she'd understand, deep down.

    The person most annoyed with her was probably the driver. However he was compensated enough hopefully not to mind too much. As they sat in the back of the Limo riding over to the charity event as a family, she smiled at Bailey and reached over to straighten out his outfit a bit, "You look so handsome B. Are you excited for tonight?" She asked curiously. She also was painfully aware that the moment they got out the car, took some pictures and got inside she probably wouldn't see her son till the end of the night once it's time to return home.

    She glanced at Zephyr placing her hand atop his and pecking his cheek, "You look dashing too, my love." She briefly wondered if he'd stay by her side all night or if he'd eventually gravitate towards Lin who she was sure would show up tonight as well.

    coded by reveriee.
     



    C.E.O. of Good Vibes Inc.





    Santos Gutierrez



































    Sunshine - Atmosphere
















    location

    Town car → Gala/New Adventure






    outfit







    interactions

    Mother Simone then MK (and quite possibly everyone else 😂 oops)






    tags













    The life and times of Santos Gutierrez was always a thrilling adventure no matter where he was.

    He could be sitting with his Abuelo during his favorite past time of watching the big game every time the World Cup rolled around (big parties were a normal thing during every game), or whenever he was entertaining some lady friend (though it was less often than not). Or even when Santos had to attend a big fancy party, he always made it into an adventure.

    This Charity Gala that his school was throwing was no different. Big party, fancy guests both old and not, but the same mindset: look for the adventure hidden within. It didn’t matter if he had to dress in this slightly uncomfortable suit, Santos would always find the light of every uncomfortable situation and exploit it as much as he could. Because that’s what he did. Sandy was a cheery boy who would always find the light in the dark.

    “Mi hijo!” Simone sharply said, snapping a finger in front of Sandy’s far-off deep brown eyes. Again, like always, he got lost in the dream of what adventure he might have tonight. Simone recognized the look in her only child’s eye and let out a small laugh. “Thinking about your adventure tonight again, are you?” She muttered something in Spanish and leaned back in the Lincoln Navigator they were riding in. Of course, with a driver.

    “Sorry mama,” he weakly apologized because they both knew that he wasn’t really sorry. He was sorry for not hearing call to him for what he could only assume was multiple times.

    Simone shrugged. “It’s forgotten. We will focus on tonight.” Simone could see the light in her boy’s eyes return and she couldn’t help but smile.

    His light was what kept her going on some nights. Her career made her travel way too much and Santos was always left with either sitters, the driver who doubled as a caretaker, and her father, but it was better than letting him know his actual father. She tried to keep the secret from him for as long as she could, but the older Sandy became, the more and more she was reminded of that one-night stand with Michael Reid. And the more often that reminder took its form in her son’s face, the more adamant she was in keeping that dark secret of hers deep in her closet.

    “Now you’re doing it,” Sandy teased, seeing that same far-off stare in his mother’s eyes.

    Playfully, Simone smacked the side of her son’s head, shoving him. “Smartass.” She rolled her eyes and heard her son’s phone go off.

    Sandy looked at it and a wide smile immediately took form on his face, a small chuckle soon followed and he was typing a response back to MK. I will be there before you will! Look for me! And then he proceeded to take a half-assed selfy and sent it to her. He made sure to include part of his intricately-detailed suit jacket, deep in red color with designs on it very similar to that of a spanish matador uniform but also hints of a Mexican mariachi band member.

    “That your little girlfriend you’re texting?” Simone teased, giggling.

    “Hardly!” Sandy was quick to retort. “I mean, she’s not the one I’m hoping to get with. MK is like a sister kind of friend. She’s really cool. You remember her, right?” Sandy showed her MK’s picture as if Simone needed it. She was teasing but boy her son got awfully touchy about that sort of thing.

    “Yeah I do. You planning on meeting up at the gala?”

    Sandy nodded. “That’s the plan! She wants to escape the clutches of her stepmonster.”

    Simone observed her son and smiled as she closed her eyes. She could feel the car coming to a stop and even sense Santos getting antsy as he was just about to open the car until Simone grabbed his wrist gently. “Before you go meet up, I know you know we have a recognizable name. It’s partly due to my job but before you go seek your next great adventure, keep in mind that this is a gala. If you’re going to stir up a scene, do it with style, Santos. We thrive on controversy but it needs to be something worth talking about.”

    Santos had heard that talk every time they went to a big event. And even if the event holders hated that, Santos knew he had his mother’s blessing to cause a scene whenever it was out of his hands. That’s always been something she reinforced into his mind, made sure he remembered. His adventures could get crazy. Santos was, by default, a drama-free guy but sometimes his adventures with MK took a life of their own, but he loved that about her. She was a fire that was able to be guided by Sandy’s touch. They were the perfect duo to cause a little controlled mayhem.

    “Now off with you. Go have fun. I’ll be in there in a bit.”


    And it was about ten minutes later, after Sandy was able to make his way into the actual event, he had a non-alcoholic drink in his hand. Some sort of sparkling cider or something close to it, which he didn’t mind. He loved cider but he wished it was actual champagne or even a mojito. God what he wouldn’t give for a mojito right about now. Was it appropriate for the setting or his age? Most likely not, but every great adventure starring Santos Gutierrez and Mary Kate Cromwell always began with some alcohol.

    For a minute, he sipped the drink casually while simultaneously scanning the room for his friend and partner-in-crime. The Yin to his Yang. The butthead to his beavis. And as more time went on, he could see those curly curls out of nowhere. And immediately, he forgot about his mom’s one rule and without even taking into account of his surroundings or how high class the gala was meant to be, Sandy waved his non-drink-holding arm up in the air frantically while excitedly shouting, “Mary Kate! Over here! Mmmmmmmkaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!”











     
    Last edited:




































    • how he's feeling...



      horny neutral

















    Mickey



    Watts












    Mickey was great with his hands. Fixing cars, strumming guitars, maybe a few other things too, a few R-rated things that should remain in the privacy of the bedroom, and the shower, and the car, and… Actually, you get the gist, there’s a reason that he and his smoking hot wife had ended up with four kids, right? Tying a tie however was putting up a bit more of a challenge than he had expected. He would’ve started a little earlier if he had known, perhaps spent a little less time horsing around with his kids and riling them up for the party tonight or at least trying. Though the older kids were now teens who at times could care less about playing with their dad, he could always count on his little girl to indulge him in some of that playful energy that won him hearts and votes on his season of a certain reality tv competition show. Even if it was to the detriment of his family’s on-time arrival to the shindig the school was putting on.

    After wrangling his tie into a half-way decent Windsor knot that he declared good enough he walked away from the mirror in the bathroom.
    “Lucas, Fallon, Scout, Rory! You guys about ready?!”
    He called as he made his way down the hallway, glancing around to look for his children. Somewhere between his second and third child did he start to feel more sympathy for his own parents who were constantly trying to corral him and his three brothers and baby sister out the door. Though his family was usually not heading out to any sorts of galas like they were now. There’s a little bit more grace when you show up late to a Red Robin reservation than to a red carpet.

    “Yeah!”
    The two middle daughters called out in a joint response from opposite ends of the home. Without going to find her it was easy to assume that Scout was most likely still straightening her hair, she had ducked into the bathroom to grab the flat iron whilst Mickey was in there applying pomade to his hair earlier. He didn’t have to assume as much for Fallon as he could easily see her still putting her purse together as he passed by the entrance to her room.
    “I’m almost ready.”
    She said, looking briefly after seeing her father standing in the doorway in her peripheral vision. Now there was just the matter of his eldest and youngest children, and of course that previously mentioned smoking hot wife.

    The sound of giggling alerted him to the presence of one of those three people. Rory was standing in the kitchen and spinning in circles to watch how the skirt of her dress bloomed out around her with the motion. The constant twirling was certainly leading to a considerable amount of dizziness as she soon stumbled into him
    “Oh, hi daddy.”
    she said, still laughing.

    Mickey tousled her hair instinctually but realized perhaps it was not the best idea considering how long it had taken to whip her dark tresses into something presentable instead of the windblown wild look she usually sported.
    “Hi, Rorasaur. Have you seen your brother?”
    He asked, trying to smooth out the mess he’d created.

    The young girl shrugged, making the universal ‘I don’t know’ noise as she regained her balance and shortly thereafter, went back to spinning. Mickey considered putting a stop to it, but it was probably best for her to get all her sillies out now before being subjected to an evening of droning adults and pinchy shoes. He pressed a kiss to the girl’s head before departing the room and heading off back up the hallway to the bedroom. Momentarily giving up on locating Lucas, how much trouble could he get into in the time it took for him to finish up what he was doing and them getting to the car anyways? Actually, reflecting on his own childhood, the answer probably contained a few more possibilities than he was comfortable with, still he continued to the bedroom.

    Natasha still stood there in front of the somewhat decadent full length mirror putting the finishing touches on her look. Due to the size of the mirror there was no chance that he could sneak up on her, though he still tried his best as he strode up behind her and snaked an arm around her waist as he finally closed the gap between them, pressing his chest against her back.

    “The girls seem to be at least ninety percent all set. I’ve yet to secure a visual on Lucas, but he’s probably around here somewhere.”
    He said, speaking bits of his sentence in-between pressing kisses up her neck. He looked up to set eyes on their respective reflections in the mirror, as usual, they looked good together. Many had said the same back before they were identified as mom and dad to their four children, or even husband and wife to one another, but when they were simply a limited engagement opening act and main event. Even after Mickey’s leg of the tour had ended and another musician took his place warming up crowds for Natasha, they remained in contact and even arranged meetings when their busy schedules would allow. The rest, as they say, is history.

    He smoothed a hand over the fabric of her dress
    “You look stunning in this dress, babe.”
    He said, his hand lingering at her hip
    “Though if you wanna ditch it and blow off this evening instead, that’d be fine with me too.”
    A smirk followed his words, the same one that teen girls across the country used to be tweeting and reblogging with words in the hashtags that would probably turn their mother’s hair grey. The fandom for his own music had died down a little bit in the years that had passed since his victory on ZPN’s singing reality competition show The Showcase and moved on. Somewhat understandably so as the same program had churned out somewhere around ten or eleven other winners since his appearance last he’d checked. It didn’t matter much to him anyways, the only woman whose opinion he cared about these days wasn’t sitting behind a computer working up fan edits, she was right in front of him.











































    ♡coded by uxie♡
     
    Reader mode
    You must log in or register to reply here.

    Users who are viewing this thread

    Total: 2 (members: 0, guests: 2)
    Back
    Top