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Realistic or Modern đ•ƒđ•€đ•„đ”źđ•ƒđ•€đ”žâ„đ•‹

Reader mode



















Viva



Kinsey













“Brin!”
Viva cheered as she saw the other blonde waving her over. Finally, some salvation from looking at a relatively boring women’s blouse that was covered in fake blood, apparently having got that way in the filming of some kind of horror movie that was probably just as corny as any number of the b-movies that her mother had done in the latter half of her career. Whatever Ann Taylor and red corn syrup had to do with glamor and galas was beyond Viva’s imagination, but luckily she didn’t have to think about it too much longer.

She practically skipped over towards her friend, suddenly feeling a bit underdressed in what was essentially a glorified sundress while standing next to Brinley’s slightly more fabulous look. As well as the other blonde standing beside the two of them. Ember, Viva’s other unofficial sister and occasionally her least favorite one. Viva and Brinley got along like a house on fire, but Viva and Ember was… Another story, to put it simply… Especially after what had transpired between them over the summer.

While Viva, Brinley, and Ember would often hang out, watch tv, do whatever, typically without incident there had been one day where an innocent gathering of family and friends at the Clairmont dwelling slowly devolved into a perfect stage for the invitees to witness some words about one another, or in certain cases one’s parents, that then came to a head when someone may or may not have pushed someone else into the pool. That someone who was pushed may or may not have been Ember, and that someone who did the pushing may or may not have been Viva. Hopefully the two of them could put it behind them, but hope only does so much, and Viva’s feelings were definitely still bruised.

“So glad to see you here, I was beginning to worry you guys ditched for something better.”
She said, pulling Brinley into a brief greeting hug
“Which at this point might as well be literally any other event happening tonight.”
She glanced around the grand room one more time, taking in the lavish decorations that supposedly covered up a room potentially used for education before turning back to Brinley and her sister. She looked over Ember’s outfit, if she was feeling a little underdressed before when compared to Brinley she certainly was when looking at what was practically what amounted to a ball gown that Ember was in. Looking back on her mother making her change out of the outfit she had on before she could now feel a little bit better about the swap upon seeing the pink color of Ember’s dress. Viva may be a bit underdressed, but at least it was original.












































♡coded b
 
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the lovesick poet.





Jonah DuBois



































I Don't Wanna Get Over You
















location

the gala










interactions

name, name, name






tags

@stardustgalaxy












"this is a dialogue."
The DuBois family was not known for their punctuality. Jonah was the second member of the family to be ready and waiting by the door. His father, Lucky, was the first, as buttoning a dress shirt took much longer than sliding on a cotton tee. Jonah admired his dad, who seemed effortlessly confident and relaxed.

But Jonah wasn't like that.

He wasn't laid-back or cool. Jonah was the kind of guy who wore an outfit straight off the mannequin. He didn’t push boundaries like Lukas or Tess. He never rocked the boat. Sometimes, Jonah wondered if his parents were disappointed in him for being the ‘boring’ child. They never had a funny Jonah story to share with Uncle Jace and Kie at Christmas. He never received that approving smile from Grandma Elise like his cousin Rocco did, and he certainly wasn't putting out music for the world to hear like Daley.

He was just Jonah. Usually alone in his room, writing poems he would only ever publish anonymously, all about the same girl he'd never have—Lacey.

Following his parents' advice, Jonah had recently taken a more active role in getting over her. He now had his first girlfriend, Gwen. They were taking it slow, but things were going well.

Unfortunately, Jo didn't have plans to meet up with Gwen tonight at the gala.

He was hanging out with Lacey.

Which, considering his efforts to get over her, might seem counterproductive. But Lacey was still one of his best friends despite the recent weirdness. Right now, though, he was more worried about whether they would ever actually leave for the darn event.

Sometime during all his thinking, Lukas and his mother had joined them. Tess, despite getting everything she wanted, was still dragging her feet. It took both his parents hollering through the house before she finally emerged from her room, thankfully dressed and ready to go (though still plenty pouty).

Finally, the five of them piled into the car, chattering amongst themselves. The closer they got to the event, the more nervous Jonah felt.

Why? he asked himself. After all, it was just two friends, in matching outfits, hanging out...right?

---

The DuBois kids all seemed to have their own plans, splitting off in three different directions soon after their grand (and fashionably late) family entrance.

Jonah texted back and forth with Lacey until they finally found each other. He was still anxious, but he greeted her as he usually did—with a big smile.
. "Hey Lace, you were right; we really do match."


She was a vision in blue. In his mind, he was already comparing her to glittering sapphires, the delicate wings of a Morpho butterfly, a cup of Butterfly Pea flower tea... Yeah, this getting over her thing was going great.











 
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Kieran West



“You worry too much.” Kieran smiled fondly at his husband, reaching out and squeezing his arm in reassurance. “He’ll be fine, Jace.”

Funnily enough, Kieran actually believed that.


He couldn’t help but look at his eldest son and see parts of himself- the rebellious strike, the sharp tongue, the aggressive posture- and that was a terrifying thought. He remembered being seventeen and completely out of his mind (now adulthood was finally shaping Kieran into the old man he’d always been deep in his soul). At the same time, there was relief in knowing Daley had none of the troubles that made Kieran’s teenage years such a nightmare: the unbearable loneliness, the lack of support, the cold, distant family…God help him, Kieran made sure none of his kids ever went through what he did.


Kieran turned out fine. Daley, even if he was going through a wild phase, was going to turn out great. He knew it in his bones.


“He’s a little too…” Jace trailed off, and Kieran let out a chuckle, somehow knowing exactly what he meant.

“It’s not a bad thing.” Kieran drew circles on Jace’s shoulder with his thumb, mindlessly. “He’s a lot, I’m a lot. And you still like me, I hope."

“He’s almost an adult- we’ve gotta let him screw things up and figure it out on his own, but he’ll be fine.” The corner of his lips curled into a grin. “His parents did pretty alright.”



He couldn’t help but smile watching Jace and Clara, something so soft and simple about the scene still made him feel warm in his chest. His family- something that felt like a distant, impossible dream, and was now his reality, every single day.

Kieran Murphy was an angry, miserable son of a bitch, but Kieran West fucking loved his life.



“We’ll find your little friend.” Kieran reassured his youngest, who opened a bright smile (missing quite a few teeth), before turning back to Jace. “And then we can celebrate your big night, hm? What do you wanna do?”






mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit





playing...
song title

by artist​




mentions
mentions mentions mentions

interactions
Rocco, Jace <3, Clara, Daley.

tags
gh0stwriter gh0stwriter hery hery gingersnaps gingersnaps


Âş Âş code by ditto Âş Âş
 
Lacey Navarro-Clairmont
aspiring musician
Lacey couldn’t remember how many times she looked at herself in the mirror, trying to psyche herself that she looked good, that she wouldn’t make a fool of herself at the gala, and most importantly that she was good enough to carry the last name Clairmont in reality it was easier saying it than believing it. She wasn’t the type to worry about this kind of stuff. Most of the time, in other circumstances, she would have felt comfortable about everything, but now it was different.

Perhaps it was because she knew all her family would be in attendance, people who she knew were already amazing at their craft and people who eventually would take the world by storm, while she was just Lacey, a girl with big dreams but too little courage to accomplish them, because who dreamed of wanting to sell out stadiums one day but was afraid to sing in front of a crowd? The answer was her. She knew it was ridiculous to hold on to something that most likely would never happen, and now she would eventually be thrown at the wolves with people who were prettier, more confident, and more talented than she once school started.

That was one of the reasons why she wasn’t so thrilled about that night because she knew the moment she stepped into the gala, people around her would expect her to be as talented as her relatives just for them to find out that she wasn’t as special as them. But despite all these thoughts and fears, she and her family arrived at the gala. Still, she made sure to check that her dress wasn’t wrinkly or her makeup was ruined and most importantly that the smile on her face didn’t show any of the uncertainties that were in her head. She had to make it, at least for her family.

Lacey wasn’t surprised when they were thrown into taking family pictures. There was always something nostalgic about the reminiscent of something through a picture that she didn’t mind giving away a few minutes of her time just for this. She knew Jonah would understand. He always did. But once the pictures were done, Lacey roamed around the place until she spotted him. She smiled brightly at Jonah, just like he did to her. To say that Jonah was one of the most important people in her life was an understatement. After all, he was her best friend the person and one of the few people Lacey felt comfortable singing in front of.

“Told you I was wearing blue, too.”
She said before giving a small twirl, showing off her dress, regretting doing that, thinking how embarrassing it was what she just did, but she was sure Jonah wouldn’t mind because he was also one of the few people who truly saw her as lacey and not the last name attached to her name
“Sorry for making you wait, I wasn’t able to leave until the family pictures were taken. So what do you feel like doing? I doubt we can take part in the auction they are doing. And if I am being honest, I am not the type to collect other things that aren’t vinyl.”

mood:happy
outfit: here
location: gala
interactions: sailormewn sailormewn
Taylor Swift – mirrorball

coded by Stardust Galaxy
 



Melancholic Haijin (haiku poet)





Hiroshi Takahashi



































Mistake by NF
















location

In his troubled mind and likely at the Gala/almost there






outfit







interactions

Nobody verbally, but with his foster mothers - Ava and Penny
















(tw. Mentions of death and drunk driving)

Nightmares remain here
Ramifications of May’s woes
Unfamiliar place.

Hiroshi’s mind played what he was told on the most unforgettable night of his life.

A drunk driver ending his parent’s time on this earth. The realization came to him in the form of a delayed reaction and by the time he was able to full comprehend it, it was far too late for him to do anything. Hiro would be placed into foster care. In normal cases, they would be sent to live with relatives, but the closest relative to the Takahashi family was back in Japan or England. It just couldn’t be arranged without completely uprooting his entire life. While Hiro had a working knowledge of Japanese and could speak and understand it completely, he wasn’t used to the norms in Japan and when reached out to, his family there didn’t respond.

So it was foster care that was his only and last option.

What Hiro soon came to know was that he would be placed with a seemingly nice home with a pair of women - married. The Sanders and Hiro didn’t know what to think about them at first. Even now, three months after they took him in, he still didn’t have a concrete opinion of them other than Ava was funny. A bit weird and made him feel intimidated, but she seemed nice. Penelope, her wife, was comforting. She reminded him of his own mother. She was patient with Hiro, who hadn’t opened up much. He only answered to what was asked and even then he kept his answers brief and vague.

There was a lot going through his mind during the summer and understandably so. Hiro was moved from the comfort of his home on Long Island to the city. He didn’t know many people and he certainly wasn’t aware of how the people in the city were like. He was in an arts school in Long Island, which is how he came to be enrolled in NYA, but it was still going to be a new school and tonight was apparently some charity ball in celebration of it. He made a friend, Jonah, but that was the only friend he made so far. Jonah was like him - a writer, but unlike him, he seemed more equipped with opening up more.

Hiro wasn’t sure about this. He was having bad anxiety about it the entire time. From the moment his suit was picked out and he put it on, albeit with as little verbal communication outside what he needed to say to his foster mothers to the drive there. In his mind, he just didn’t want to embarrass them. This was their element and the last thing that Hiro wanted to do was make them feel embarrassed by something he said or did. Hiro was going to make it a mission to not say or do anything unless someone requested it of him.

He was going to keep his head low at any cost.












 






Theo Cohen-Rivera



Theo took a sip and was just a tad bit disappointed nobody seemed to have spiked the punch yet. Crap. He got there too early. Maybe he could do a few rounds and see if one of the more rebellious kids gets to work already.

He was considering his options- the night had barely begun, but maybe he could get away with sneak out for a quick cigarette (he had mints and a pocket-sized cologne in his back pocket, naturally).

But that train of thought was quickly interrupted. Another body bumped into him, making Theo tumble forward and nearly ruin his very expensive suit with the lame, un-spiked punch. Cursing under his breath, he turned to look at-

Oh.

Shit.

He turned to look at Declan, fresh out of rehab, with a slightly murderous snarl in his stoic expression.

Theo knew, logically, that he would be here. And as much as he tried(and he did try), he also knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid Declan forever. But still, seeing him in the flesh after so long was a bit disorienting (though Theodore would rather die than let the whiplash show in his face), especially considering their last meeting was…well…

He tried to not think about it.

“Hey, Cohen.” Declan broke the silence before he could, something sharp to the edges of his smile that made Theo’s stomach turn in annoyance. “Thought this thing was for people with talent.”



“How’d you manage to get yourself through the front door, then?” Theo had a sharp smile of his own- he looked at Sinclaire-Woods with the softness of a razor blade. “Security in this place has really gone to shit. They're just letting anybody in.”


“Let me guess, you’re mommy’s plus one?” Declan poured himself some punch, and Theo laughed.


“Yeah, your mommy’s. She needs a real man to warm her bad now that she’s kicked that deadbeat out.” Theo re-filled the plastic cup whose contents Declan had so kindly made spill on the floor. “You spilled my drink and nearly fucked up my suit, you bitch.”


That was something Theo might have said to him jokingly before, back when they were friends. Now, it didn't seem all that funny.

A swig. Man, Theo really wished this thing was spiked.


“So, they let you out of the nuthouse, huh?” Another sip, another smile. “What’s up with that? You gotta pee on a cup every other week or something?”


Maybe a part of him really did want to know, and this was Theo’s fucked up way of asking “how are you?”...but what’s the fun in that?






mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit





playing...
song title

by artist​




mentions
mentions mentions mentions

interactions
Tabitha, Ari, Edgar, Mason.

tags Winona Winona


Âş Âş code by ditto Âş Âş
 



drama kid.





ember clairmont.



































Watch
















location

the event hall






outfit







interactions

brinley, viva
















“Like I don’t have better things to do than be seen with you? Please. I got my fill of you those first nine months.”

Then, as if the night couldn’t get any worse, Viva showed up.

Ember was fairly certain that familial troubles didn’t exactly give one the right to insert themselves into somebody else’s family, but Viva didn’t seem to share that sentiment. When they were younger, it was fun—long, summer days spent splashing in the pool turned into nights under a blanket fort, throwing popcorn into each other’s mouths and watching old re-runs of the sitcom that put their parents on the map. But they were getting older; Ember believed that it was finally time to put a bit of distance between them, to face the fact that at the end of the day, Viva wasn’t really one of them—she was just some girl that had made herself a little too much at home in their guest bedroom.

Maybe Ember wouldn’t feel so strongly about that idea now had her and Viva not gotten into such a heated argument over the summer.

Ember hadn’t meant to insult Viva’s mother—not initially, anyway. It was an act of self-defense beyond that, after Viva had come out of left field, hell-bent on picking a fight—why, Ember still couldn’t say. Yet, oblivious to the cause or not, the blonde had to take things a step too far in the spirit of coming out on top, and she found herself sinking to the swimming pool floor a moment later.

Weeks had passed since then, but seeing the girl made her ears ring as if water was rushing past all over again, and Ember clenched her jaw as her pale eyes raked scrutinizingly over Viva’s figure. The dress the girl had donned was cute, but it was reminiscent of something Ember would wear to an Easter picnic. Choosing it for an event like this of all things was certainly a…brave decision.

Ember forced a smile, pink-glossed lips stretching into a tight line as she watched Viva and her sister exchange a hug, her own arms folding across her abdomen to discourage a repetition of the act involving her. “I dunno… Watching rich people fight over stupid shit should be pretty entertaining. You like fights, don’t you, Viva?” Ember let out a puff of air, her gaze flickering across the vast room as if in search of something in particular. “Good thing there aren’t any bodies of water nearby. It’d be a shame if anyone were to fall in.” The corners of her mouth twitched upward into a more genuine grin now.

Genuinely taunting.

Ember’s blue irises glittered cruelly in that split second before she looked away, snatching a cucumber sandwich from the tray of a passing waiter and taking a bite with a giggle, as if a well-loved joke had just been exchanged between friends.

“God, I’ve missed this. We should totally hang out more!” Even as the words left her mouth, Ember was backing away from the duo, not interested in the slightest to keep the conversation going.










 






Nathan Woods


"Thank you," he said, his voice exasperated as Angela -- aka Mike's daughter -- promised to check it for him. He waited, rather impatiently, dark eyes flitting between his artwork and the Veronica Crosby duplicate standing before him.

Blank? He echoed the word in his head. The donation was blank. Of course it was fucking blank, because surely Evelyn knew that he'd come marching over here demanding to know who'd thrown it in here, and then it would say blank so she could try and stupidly deny that it was her that did it.

"Veronica," he greeted Mike's... woman rather coldly, as he took the clipboard from her to see it -- where it said blank. "I dunno, Ronnie," he answered her question, before he passed the clipboard back. "But it's mine and I didn't sign off on allowing it to be donated, so..." he gestured for the painting.

"Here-- I'll just..." Nate trailed off as he started to step over the measly red rope meant to keep the donated items away from their original owners. "I'll just grab it and be on my way, 'kay?"




mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit





playing...
song title
by artist​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Ronnie, Angela

Soap Soap hery hery


Âş Âş code by ditto Âş Âş
 



dance instructor / board member





Juliette Jameson.
































can't get you out of my head
















location

gala






outfit







interactions

DJ

















A powerful force to be reckoned with—sometimes, literally. A fucked-up friend, an entire mess of an enemy, and a sad excuse for a woman. That's what her old classmates would say, and they weren't entirely wrong. They'd embellish the fact she was stubborn, erratic, self-centered, materialistic, and a fat-fucking-bitch, but if anyone could pull it off, it was none other than Juliette Jameson.

Gucci sunglasses shielded her eyes from the setting sun's fiery orb, but no amount of designer protection could save Trevor from JJ's impending wrath if he continued to dodge her calls. "If I don't see you there, Trevor, I'll castrate you. This is a big night for both of us. Don't disappoint me more than you do your mother every day." A Morkie sat beside her in the passenger seat, dressed in a purple sparkling dress, barking in the background of her voicemail as if to get his two cents in.

Unfortunately, Precious had passed away a few years after Delphine was born, and Juliette didn't have the heart to adopt another dog until her husband surprised her with Precious Jr four years ago.

Surpassing the speed limit in a Mercedes-Benz convertible that cost more than her husband's existence, Juliette's voluminous hair didn't budge an inch, thanks to the pounds of hairspray she had applied that morning. The dial rang again, going straight to voicemail as expected. "And call your daughter back, cocksucker." Juliette pressed the red button on the car's center console, pulling into the driveway of her two-story modern home.

Now, at thirty-something-years young, Juliette was running her own dance academy, teaching the younger generation the meaning of dance, realistically how to dance, but that didn't sound as exclusive, what was once her dream to dance professionally, was now running a successful business. Despite the offer from one of the most elite instructors, the reason why the school she attended was so popular in the first place, had offered her a job in a multiple-year production... the only problem?

Juliette had a one year old daughter.

Finding out she was pregnant was the cherry on top of her recent breakup, new relationship, and once-in-a-lifetime education. The idea of putting her career first instead of her child had left a sour taste in her mouth. She vowed to be nothing like her own parents.

So, when the offer was presented to her after graduation... she said no.

Did she regret it?

No sane woman in the world would say no. But was it necessary for her daughter? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Juliette walked into her house, lifting the glasses to sit comfortably on the top of her head as she cycled through mail. Multiple "late" payments on more than a few bills had the brunette's jaw clench, placing them into a drawer in the kitchen alongside her marble countertops.

Their current income relied on the payments of her proteges' parents and royalties from re-runs of an old reality show, Jules's Jewels. (Don't come for the name, it was suggested by a marketing team and frankly, Juliette didn't care all that much.) It paid the bills and had gotten her and her daughter into the spotlight. Maybe it wasn't the way she dreamed, but her name was known.

Juliette "JJ" Jameson was the instructor children had nightmares about, but every child wanted to learn from, and those who did? Had blossomed into talented little shits who had her to thank for their success.

If you weren't feared in some messed-up sense, you weren't respected. That mentality never left, and the show had only gathered more audience over the years, more fans, more praise, certainly more hate, but it wasn't something that ever bothered her. Deep down, Juliette was still that same girl from high school, desperate for the attention she'd never received.

"Delphine! Let's go." Jules picked up a fork and ate from a plate her daughter had carelessly left behind in the kitchen. While she would've opted for something less healthy and extremely more fattening, her daughter was careful about the junk she ate. She probably got that from Dorian.

The crepe was suddenly all too hard to swallow.

"Miss JJ," her maid, who was a bit too old to work but insisted on working for her instead of her parents, said. Lupe was more of a mother than her actual one. The house had gotten quite crowded over the last few years, with Lupe moving in and Nickie staying with them for longer than she'd care to admit—but she was family, so Juliette couldn't exactly kick her out.

A good addition to the dance academy, too. Most of her time was going into the school's reopening, not to mention most of her funds. She needed this school to be a success. "Lupe,"" JJ greeted, wiping the chocolate from the corner of her lips with a napkin.

Guadalupe looked at her with a smile. "Charity party, yes?" she asked, and Jules nodded in response. "Is he going too?"

"... I don't know."

Lupe patted her on the back for quick comfort and reassurance before taking her plate.

Juliette always knew it was a possibility that Delphine wasn't Trevor's, but it was never something she was sure about—in fact, she was almost convinced that DJ was Trevor's. The shitty jokes they made and the way they shared the same laugh... with the paternity results, it had Juliette rethinking everything.

Was she just trying to convince herself of something that wasn't there? With the appearance of her daughter, it made Juliette give her a once-over. "I thought you were going with the blue?" The purple still worked. Grateful that her daughter had gotten her figure and not her father's broad shoulders. Juliette had done a circular motion with her index finger, indicating DJ to turn around. "Hm," She brushed off a piece of lint from her dress and adjusted the curls in her daughter's hair.

"Let me see the shoes you're wearing?" Juliette would never be like her parents, a promise she'd made to herself, but another was to never let her daughter feel like an embarrassment. Lupe had fawned over DJ, handing over a mink shawl to Jules.

"Change the shoes, wear the diamond heels. I'll be in the car."

_

"Fuck you!" Juliette shouted as the blaring horn pierced her ears, dead breaks to avoid crashing into the car that cut them off - only to speed up and pass them, flashing a middle finger all the while. Catching a glimpse of the asshole, he was revealed to be a man in a slim suit, seemingly pissed about about her justified road rage. She closed her daughter's window from the driver's console to muffle his curses and calmly sped off.

"Your father might be there."

"Your father" and "might" in the same sentence felt like a mouthful of a lie. Juliette and Trevor had argued a lot—and she means a lot. Although he'd never been kicked out of the house, something about this, their separation, began to feel a little too real, and Juliette knew that Delphine felt the same way. It was easier when DJ was younger; she didn't ask so many questions, and when she did, it was just how to be more like her. It was like every time she looked at her daughter, she was becoming more and more like her own person, and Juliette didn't like it.

It hurt more than it should.

Children should come with a warning label, like the condom that broke the week of Dorian and JJ's breakup.

She would've been shit out of luck, though, considering she didn't listen to the first one.










 
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upcoming rockstar.





Lyrica Jericho-Moore.

































pop star
















location

gala






outfit







interactions

Posie, Emmy






tags














Lyrica hated getting in trouble.

To be fair, she didn’t often do anything wrong—rarely ever. Lyrica was practically a saint, an angel, anything remotely positive and rule-abiding.

Except for the times when she did break the rules, which was about 80% of the time. Sure, she smoked a little, snuck out past curfew, lied occasionally, and preferred ice cream over frozen yogurt. But despite all her flaws, her parents adored her for the perfect, overdramatic princess she was.

Still, Lyrica's mother raising her voice at her and Posie earlier made Lyrica uneasy. She glanced back at her parents as she walked away, fiddling with the fabric of her dress when Posie walked up to her, erratically scrolling through the texts on her phone to show her.

Her sister was probably her best friend.

Besides Emmy.

And besides Theo.

And besides Theo’s mother—but there was something about being a twin that couldn’t really be explained; there had to be some kind of science behind it.

“What if he’s coming with Carmen?”

Lyric shrugged. “I don’t really think Griffin would go with her.” Griffin, their long-time friend due to their parents’ long-time friendship, was over pretty often, often enough for her sister to have a long-time crush on him.

“They broke up five-ever ago; I don’t think he still likes her.” Any sense Lyric was making was going through one ear and out the other. Posie was too immersed in her own hypotheticals and worries to even spare a rational thought.

Personally, she loved Griffin—and she’d never biscuit-block her sister. But was this mess really worth it? For all she knew, Griffin didn’t swing that way. There was nothing wrong with being a little zesty, a little squirt of lime, so to speak...

She could see the appeal of the same sex...

But never mind that! What was she saying?! How did Griffin get a girlfriend before Lyrica had a boyfriend?

No, no, how did he get a girlfriend before she had her first kiss?! There had to be something wrong in the simulation. This wasn’t right...

Lyrica didn’t have time to question her sister’s crush’s/friend’s sexuality; she needed to find her own.

Which was pretty simple. This self-discovery journey was landing her on planet Casey Clairmont.

Oh, yes.

The Casey Clairmont.

When she first found out that the school was reopening, Lyrica begged her parents to enroll her. They didn’t need much convincing anyway because her parents loved this damn school. It was their fairground of love or something...

Which can only mean history was repeating itself.

She remembered the day she finally took down the poster of Casey Clairmont—she believed that the crush was over. She also felt a little too old to be thirsting over boy bands.

But once she heard that she’d be attending the VERY same school he was—or did... It was like some kind of magnetic pull that yanked her by her hair and into the clutches of the mystical rock notes of love.

In other words...

This was her chance.

But you know, there was the idea that she could bounce a few ideas off of him—while he was the definition of perfect, he was also extremely talented.

This could’ve very well been some form of idolization that her weak sense of self had crumpled into a crush, given that Lyrica was unable to differentiate her emotions or feelings, but that was nonsense!

She was in love.

What were they talking about again?

“Oh, yeah! The underworld thing, that helps put things into perspective, I definitely feel like he likes gir—”

“Ew, gross! Why am I even talking about this with you?”

Remember the twin thing? Sometimes Lyrica felt like she was the only one who believed in that connection.

“I—because my advice is amazing and you're lucky I'm your sister!" She yelled after Posie who... didn't hear any of that.

Welp.

What was up with everyone today? The only normal person in her family might as well have been Ziggy, and that little dude?

He was a mess.

What was a girl to do at a charity gala, all alone? No sister, no date, no Theo and no frie—

Oh, score! There was Emmy.

Emmeline Greene, her first ever friend, not counting family, of course. They met in elementary school during arts and crafts.

“I’m Emmy,” a young brunette said, messy hair and subtle bandaged cuts on her fingers left her counterpart in awe of the paper cut-outs she made, something resembling a gingerbread man in early September.

“I’m Lyrica, that’s Posie, but she doesn’t really talk much—her real name is Rosaline but we don’t call her that because...”

Emmy intently listened to Lyric's yap session and thus, a friendship was forged in flames.

Well, forged with super glue and glitter, but same thing.

It was only later down the line that their parents met—or re-met, so to say. Lyrica hadn’t even known they knew each other.

Finally, closing the distance between the rest of the gala and them, a much older—well, not that much older—Emmeline stood, in a suit with a cape attached to add to her dramatic flourish, which was the only thing that was consistent between them.

They were both always for the dramatics. That, and the one other thing they knew would stay consistent, was their friendship.

Her brown locks cascaded around her features, framing her facial structure. If she applied herself to social media the way Lyric did, she’d be an influencer in five seconds flat. “Heeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy,” Lyrica twirled in her dress, awaiting her best friend’s compliments like a wilting flower yearning for a drop of water.

“I don’t even think they’re gonna play music, Em. They’re holding an auction. Like... for old boring people. You know, where they talk real fast? Seventyfivehundred here, twentyfivesomethingzero there dadadada—sold! For a million bucks to some bozo.”

It was pretty likely that her best friend knew what an auction was, but Lyrica being Lyrica needed to take front and center in the spotlight Emmeline held for her so dearly.

A number of waiters walked past them, holding bottles of champagne they had each placed onto their respective tables alongside their respective ice buckets.

Lyrica had another step in her direction, a mischievous grin playing on the edges of her lips. "Wannnnnaaaaaaaaa..." Her gaze flit to the bucket holding the bitter bottle of fun, tempting them with the promise of making tonight worthwhile.

"You're more inconspicuous than I am..."










 
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Grayson Stewart
actor
Grayson wasn’t too excited about the gala. For him, it was just another thing on his agenda. He wasn’t interested in the grand opening or anything it had to offer. If you had asked him, he would have avoided going, but this was the right thing to do at a business level. Having some press about him was never bad, and that night was just the perfect occasion.

Sure, not everything was making his night dreadful, as Celeste’s company wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, sure they were friends and he was taking her as his date, mostly because he was told it would look better him and because he didn’t want to continue hearing her yapping how Johnny wasn’t coming and how she had to show up all alone.

Upon arriving at the venue, he handed the keys to the valet as they made their entrance; the place was filled with intricate decorations it seemed that the board wanted to showcase everything in just one night, and who couldn’t blame them, since it was obvious they were eyeing the rich people from the city. As they made their way around the auction pieces, there were some that Grayson got interested others that were just plain junk, but there was always who was crazy enough to buy something like this just because it belonged to someone famous, he made the mental note to avoid the person who bought the shoes of Landon Sinclaire.

It didn’t take long for Grayson to begin to notice the subtle glances and hushed whispers around them. A group of paparazzi and journalists lingered near the entrance, their cameras flashing without stopping.
“Looks like we’re the main attraction, all those flashes are pointing at us”

mood:unbothered
outfit: here
location: gala
interactions: jasmyn jasmyn
Frank Ocean - Pink + White

coded by Stardust Galaxy
 






Ariana Rivera


The last thing Ari had wanted to do was show up at this thing. Galas. Dresses. The whole shebang wasn't exactly her cup of tea -- it all felt like... such a waste of money, and that made her stomach churn in a really unsettling way. But Ari had shown up -- mostly because her dad had told her that she had to, and Ari wasn't... well, she'd never been the kind of person to go against her dad's wishes.

Except this school. Her asking to go had been against his wishes, at least to some degree. It had come with the promise of good academics, although Ari hardly believed that. Most of the teachers appeared to be graduates from the previously defunct high school. What kind of people that got a school shut down were actually good at teaching?

But whatever. She was going.

Even when she'd found out that Adriane was going, she was still going to go. She could ignore her mother for a night -- her mom had been doing it for eighteen years, so why couldn't she follow along?

As she was hanging out, desperately trying to kill time by wandering around with a glass of punch in hand, eyes glazed over as she stared at too many expensive, useless things that were up for auction, she received a text.

Ari glanced down at her phone. Carmen. There was a roll of her eyes. She would've still liked Carmen had she not slept with Theo. It was kind of a breach of trust, really, but Ari was willing to overlook it -- because, well... going into a new school, in a department with boring, hot people, well... Ari could use someone on her side.

Another text quickly followed, and Ari just rolled her eyes.

I'm here. By the donations. She quickly texted back, before she turned her phone off, and glanced around to look for Carmen. And before long, she recognized the girl weaving her way towards Ari through the maze of tables, and a small smile did form on her face.

(She wasn't her parents. She knew how to smile.)

(Kind of.)

"Carmen," she greeted. "You're that bored already?"




mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit





playing...
song title
by artist​




mentions
mentions mentions mentions

interactions
Carmen

tags
sailormewn sailormewn


Âş Âş code by ditto Âş Âş
 



king.





Declan Sinclaire-Woods


































better now
















location

nya gala










interactions

Nate & Theo


















It was inevitable.

Their parents were both on the board. This declaration for the arts had been their love child for the better part of a year. It was only a matter of time he’d run into someone he knew. Someone he’d been close to. Someone he couldn’t just escape with polite conversation and an immediate dip to the nearest exit.

Declan leaned against a support column, his eyes bright with that familiar glint. He was determined to not let Theo get to him. The genetically passed down pride refused. No matter how much he pushed. And boy, did this guy know how to push all of his buttons. "How did I get through the front door?" he echoed, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Security in this place really has gone to shit. They're just letting anybody in." Declan shrugged nonchalantly, taking a sip from his cup. The amused smile plastered on his lips at the schoolyard attempts to get a rise out of him.

"Yeah, your mommy's plus one. She needs a real man to warm her bed now that she's kicked that deadbeat out."

Declan didn't miss a beat as if Theo's words hadn't struck a nerve. "Oh, Theo,” A look of forced sympathy adorned his face “always so desperate for attention. And always going after things you’ll never get.” The tension crackled between them. Theo re-filled his cup, glaring at the punch splashed on the floor.

"You spilled my drink and nearly fucked up my suit, you bitch."

Declan's smile widened, but his eyes were icy. "What a tragedy that would have been.” He huffed out a laugh. “I’m sure the rack at Macy’s has another one in your size.” His eyes boring into Theo’s with an unwavering calmness. He wasn’t getting to him.

"So, they let you out of the nuthouse, huh? What's up with that?”

Declan chuckled. "If you want to know how I am, Cohen, all you gotta do is ask?” The vain attempt to throw the other boy off was the only thing keeping Declan steady. The small, tiny part of him wondering if Theo really cared to know. But Theo was as stubborn as he was. A quality he may have enjoyed in a past life.

“You gotta pee in a cup every other week or something?"

Declan rolled his eyes. “Some things never change.” He huffed out a laugh. “Like your inability to come up with a decent insult or ‘put me in my place’.” He grinned as he pushed off the wall. “But don’t worry, friend. I’m back to make sure you don’t forget yours.”

Grinning, he downed the rest of his punch. “So, book any jobs while I was away? Or were they just eagerly awaiting my return?” He started it.









 
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Shannon & Emmeline





Once, when she was young, her mother had pressed a diamond-encrusted pin into her hair with a touch so delicate Shannon thought she had been replaced by some gentler stranger. Every other time she'd done her hair it had been a strong-handed thing. Elizabeth Whitten had no time for delicacy ever in her life. It was all so get-up and go and Shannon feared she had become like her mother. Because here she was, standing at the base of the stairs with her husband idling quietly by her side while she yelled up to them for her children to hasten their readiness. She could feel the bubble of pressure building in her chest that had been such a common companion in her teenage years and maybe she understood why her mother was so...her mother.

"Let's go! You've got ten minutes before I drag you down by your ears!" She felt herself physically shudder at the voice that came out of her. She had no idea why she felt so nervous. There was hardly a thing to be nervous about; it was just an auction, really, and she got to dress up. Shannon passed a hand over the gentle fabric of her dress, a simple thing, black to match her husband, with some sheer, airy cuffed sleeves. Nothing too extravagant; she'd forgone extravagance a long time ago. Her children on the other hand...

"Emmeline, what on Earth are you wearing?" Shannon watched her daughter sweep down the stairs, also dressed in all black, but with a body-length cape flowing off her shoulder. A cape. She was wearing a cape.

"What?" Her only daughter took the last steps achingly slowly and brushed her hair out of her face like she was the belle of the goddamn ball. Shannon felt the way her eye twitched at the answer, no one could get more under her skin with one word than her daughter. The smug, irritating energy rolling off of Emmeline in waves made Shannon want to question where all of this attitude had come from. But she knew perfectly well where it came from. She sighed, pressed her thumb and forefinger into the divots between her eyes, and let it go.

"It's a suit," Emmeline added as she came to stand squarely in front of Shannon, taller than her mother in the platform shoes she was wearing even as Shannon stood in heels. It was a suit. A suit with a cape hanging...she let it go. Shannon reached forward and straightened the clasp that was holding the cape over her daughter's shoulders and patted her cheek.

"Okay, Miss Medieval. Maybe you can wear this for Halloween too." Shannon winked at the scowl that briefly graced Emmeline's face and moved around her to yell at her remaining children when they both came stumbling down the stairs at the same time. Neither one of them sported a cape but Shannon was always good at finding things to nitpick.

"Joey, where is your tie?" He looked remarkably like his father as he finished his descent down the stairs, dressed in a classic suit close in style to Wes's. He was just missing the tie that Shannon had so carefully tied around her husband's neck. Joey gave her a sheepish sort of look and fiddled with the collar of his shirt.

"It bothers me." He made a choking motion that made Shannon roll her eyes, "Can I just not wear it?" She let it go, simply nodding her head and moving her eyes to where Atticus stood, clashing starkly with the rest of his family in an all-brown ensemble that looked to Shannon like it might be a little itchy. His tie was crooked.

"Your tie looks wonky, sweetheart." Shannon moved forward to fix it. Joey stepped out of the way, seemingly relieved to not have to wear his own.

"What? So I get the third degree and a snarky comment and they just get nothing?" Emmeline decided that was the perfect time to snark back herself. Shannon glared back at her over her shoulder and almost laughed when Wes put a hand on Emmy's shoulder and started steering her to the door. Leave it to the therapist to be the mediator. Shannon finished fixing Atticus's tie and patted him on the cheek similar to the way she had her daughter.

"There we go. Now, let's get going before the clock strikes midnight and Emmeline turns into a pumpkin." She could hear Emmeline complaining rather loudly from beyond the front door about the slight but she snickered anyway.

~~~~

They weren't late necessarily, but they weren't as early as she would've liked to be either. Shannon did her best to try and swallow her discontentment. This would have been the moment where her mother would've grumbled something off-handed about Shannon taking a millennia and she had criticized her children enough for the night. So, she simply tucked her arm under her husband's, swept her hair over her shoulder, and tried to look like she belonged. Emmeline was gone almost the moment they stepped through the door.

"That girl is going to be the death of me." She spoke softly to Wes, shaking her head in a way that could almost be seen as fond. Emmeline was a little too much like the shadow of Shannon's more rebellious teenage years for her liking. The older she got, the more she understood how all of that was mostly a result of her mother's stifling presence. She was trying to be lax, really. Shannon thought she had made great strides in shutting down her more...strict personality traits for the sake of her children. Maybe she had a little more ways to go, judging on the way Emmeline reacted to almost everything Shannon ever did. But, Wes had assured her that was just Emmy being a moody teenager and Shannon was inclined to believe her husband, if simply for her own sanity. The woes of having a child who reminded you of yourself, she supposed. Though Emmy had started to show a lot more of her father than she did of Shannon, not that she would ever complain about that.

She noticed they walked the same as she watched Emmeline's back disappear into the crowd. The same sort of awkward gait that she remembers making fun of Wes for. She resisted the urge to yell at her to turn her feet inward.

"Let's find somewhere to idle and not look strange."

~~~~

"What on Earth are you wearing, Emmeline," Emmy mumbled under her breath as she wove her way through the crowd toward...something. She didn't exactly know where she was going, away from her family she supposed was the answer to that. Which seemed to be a more and more frequent occurrence recently. It was strange to think about how she used to be glued to her mother's side, when she was little. Always interested in whatever weird nerd thing she was doing. But, now, it felt like she'd dug a rift. Everything out of Shannon Greene's mouth annoyed Emmeline to no end. She was certain her mother had picked up on it too, hence the Halloween joke and the pumpkin jab. She was just trying to weasel her way into Emmeline's space with humor. It wasn't working very well, and even if she was aware of how she was probably being a little shit, she didn't really have the energy to fix it.

"Give me a goddamn break." A man she was passing threw her a look and Emmy grinned at him sheepishly, "no sorry, not you." He just shook his head at her and Emmeline took the opportunity to scamper away before he decided he wanted to say something. Fantastic. Making enemies already. Emmeline was excited to start this new chapter of her life. Raring to go. Really fucking stoked to turn herself into a weird social pariah who's only friend was the girl who never shut up. Her mom used to talk about having really only one close friend in high school. Aunt Joey was probably like a godsend for Shannon. So now she was just her mom, cool. She was so psyched to be sharing sort of the same halls her mother had haunted and making a foo-

A flash of black hair and sparkle caught Emmeline's eyes and there was Lyric, already making her way toward Emmy. Her dress was pretty. It sparkled magnificently under the lights of the event hall. Emmeline always thought everything her best friend wore was pretty. That's probably half the reason she had ever approached her when they were little. Only half, though. At some point, she had started noticing how shiny her hair was too. And the way her eyes practically always sparkled. She thought maybe it was just a little healthy jealousy. Nothing wrong with that. At least her dad said so. A natural feeling people experience from time to time, just don't let it consume you. She wasn't a jealous person, okay maybe a little bit, but thinking her best friend was pretty wasn't anything to be worried about. She was objectively pretty. That was all. Maybe it wasn't jealousy at all. Just observation of facts of reality. Lyrica was pretty and Emmeline was not listening to anything she was saying right now.

Emmeline turned back into the world just in time to hear the rest of Lyric's rambling lead into asking her to steal champagne. She cocked her head at her friend at the insistence that she was the more inconspicuous of the two but made no move to refute it. She had a perfect means of hiding bottles of conspicuous liquid, after all. Shrugging her shoulder caused her cape to flutter about a bit and she grinned at Lyric.

"Okay. Sure. Easy, I'm so sneaky." Emmeline turned to watch waiters pass by them until one stopped to sit his tray down and tend to...that was the same guy who had given her the dirty look earlier. Wonderful. Emmy cast a last, smirk-graced glance back at Lyrica before moving in for the kill.

It was surprisingly easy to grab the bottle and let it disappear under her cape without anyone paying attention. What wasn't so easy, it turned out, was the walking away part. She'd made it exactly four steps back toward her best friend when the waiter turned around to grab his tray, noticed the bottle was missing, and found her speed-walking away from him. Unfortunately, her new enemy seemed to notice this too, and was far less quiet about it. He stood up from the weird little stool he was sitting on and pointed directly at her. Emmeline turned back around so swiftly she almost gave herself whiplash and booked it toward Lyrica.

"Hey! Kid!" Emmeline was practically running by the time she made it to Lyric, grabbing her by the elbow and laughing a quick "run!" at her. Crowds are easy to get lost in and before she knew it, they were bursting out of different doors than she and her family had entered and stumbling down a grassy hill. Their half-drunk pursuer was sufficiently lost.

"See?" Emmy grinned up at Lyric, hands on her knees before she straightened out again and presented her stolen item like a prize.

"Super sneaky.”








mood

Nervous & Annoyed respectively



location

Gala baby



outfit

not putting shit here rip










playing...

Down By The Water



by Ocie Elliott









mentions

Wes, Atticus, Joey, Lyric



interactions

Lyric, Atticus, Joey, Wes



tags

Soap Soap , Winona Winona , thatonegirl28 thatonegirl28




Âş Âş code by ditto Âş Âş
 



















Viva



Kinsey












Aaaaaaannnnddd there it was… The famous venom that Ember Fuckin’ Clairmont always packed in her amongst her stupid, ugly, annoyingly perfect teeth, behind whatever $60 lip gloss she had slathered on that somehow always looked the same. Less than twenty seconds, a new record! Just in time too, Viva was beginning to think she could stoop any lower but apparently there were always new depths for Ember to dive into. Speaking of ‘dive,’ it was impossible to not smile as the memory of her emerging from the pool with her stringy blonde curls soaking wet and hanging over her face like a poodle in the bathtub rose to mind as she mentioned “bodies of water.”

Even if her feelings were still very much wounded, and her cell phone privileges after 10PM were still very much suspended, Viva was at least considering putting their issues aside for the night, and only for tonight. But, if it was hardball that Ember wanted to play, then let’s play ball.
“Yeah, it really, really, would, huh?”
Viva said as brightly and chipperly as she could muster in the face of the devil in pink. She would never dare be fooled by such a dainty and demure color and outfit, that’s the kind of mistake you only make once.
“We don’t want anyone falling in and ruining the party…again… Maybe if you keep your mouth shut about things you know nothing about this time, you can actually keep yourself nice and dry.”
Just as Ember summoned a fake laugh as if she’d just heard the funniest thing in the world, Viva donned a smile that would make the faces those crowned Miss Universe pulled off look like they just stepped in dog shit. As if the cat had not just gotten the canary, but the entire damn aviary
“Well, maybe just dry.”


Being mean wasn't something that had come naturally to Viva, enough time around Ember and the other shallow, tepid, people of New York however and it had slowly become a bit easier. Still it wasn't something that she enjoyed, well, maybe a tiny part of her enjoyed getting her digs in, maybe a bit bigger than a tiny part. It wasn't her fault though, Ember started it more than half the time. Often enough to leave Viva herself wondering “What happened?”

Once upon a time, Ember had just been the towheaded, chunky, sweet toddler that a barely-older Viva had to learn to share her toys with after spending practically her whole life being catered to by nannies and grannies. A while later and she was a sister, her and Viva and Brinley forming a long-lost set of triplets. Even now and then in public when they were small, an older woman who happened to be just out of the loop enough to not recognize their parents would ask “Are they identical?” But time went on, they grew older, and Ember grew fangs. The line between their two families was drawn thicker and thicker. Instead of tucked nearly amongst the fold of the Clairmonts now Celie and Viva more so tagged along in their wake, still involved but closer to the frey than they once had been. Sure she'd retained Brinley’s favor, thankfully. To think where she would be without the guidance and company of her best friend was a thought she'd rather avoid. Her friendship was more of a victory in itself than a consolation prize. Still, if baby Viva could see how Ember treated her now, it would break her little sequined heart.

But sequins are pretty, but plastic, and weak. If there was anything Viva had learned from hearing the stories of her mother's repeated heartbreaks, it was that it might be best to harden your heart and protect yourself first. Turn plastics into platinum, rhinestones into gemstones, sequins into diamonds. Bulletproof.












































♡coded b
 






Theo Cohen-Rivera



“Eh, it’s alright. I left my nice suit at your mom’s. After I fucked her.” Theo smiled sweetly, taking another sip of his punch. “How many ‘I did your mom’ jokes in a row are considered socially acceptable? I’ve still got a few more up my sleeve.”

Theo kept a smile on his face the whole time Declan was talking to him, and he couldn't have looked more smug if he’d tried. He nodded and hummed along to the boy’s every word, mockingly, as if everything he said was just so interesting. He had an unnatural talent for being grating and pissing people off (especially people he knew a little bit too well). It was a gift. It would probably get him killed one day.

“Always so desperate for attention.” Declan’s face looked more punchable than usual. “Always going after things you’ll never get.”

He felt the twitch in his smile.


“Oh, you know me. Broadway internships, shadowing Hollywood big-leagues, writing masterpieces, doing your mom…I’ve been crazy busy.” Theo chuckled, shaking his head. “Though you're right, it’s a shame, I did miss out on a role. It was about this junkie character with no friends whose family can’t stand him that O.D’s in a ditch, and absolutely nobody misses him. They were looking for someone with a little more life experience, so I totally gave them your name. You’re welcome, bud.”

It was cruel, and not true, but Theo knew it would hurt Declan, so he said it while smiling brightly.

He didn't used to talk like this to Declan- the sharpness used to be playful, the mean words were well-meaning, and always said with a grin behind them. Obviously, Theo had vices of his own- he’d taken to cigarettes somewhere between his folks’ second divorce and the break-up with Mila, mostly because he thought he looked cool.

(His mother cried when she first caught him with a cig in his mouth, which was hypocritical, considering Tabitha smoked a pack a day since she was 13).

They’d talked about it a few times before, their respective issues, hanging out after reharsals or procrastinating reading their lines- Theo had called Declan "a huge fucking idiot" for getting into drugs, with a smile on his face and a cigarette between his lips.

But that was a lifetime ago.


“Yeah, man, I do wanna know. Call it a morbid curiosity.” Theo nodded, putting down his cup. “How does it feel to go down your methhead daddy’s path? Is it as sad and pathetic as it looks? I mean, teenage junkie, unremarkable in every way, family disappointment…it’s a bit ridiculously on the nose, right? ”

Theo laughed again, with a whole lot of venom and not a hint of humor.

“You should probably thank me, dude. If I hadn't slept with Carmen when I did, in a few years you two might already be divorced and arguing about who gets to keep the kid neither of you want.” He placed a hand on Declan’s shoulder, giving it an unfriendly, faux-sympathetic tap. “I can picture it- a failed career, a legal marijuana prescription and absolutely no prospects…we all know you wouldn’t be able to sense talent if it was a line of white powder going up your nose. So really, Dec, you’re super fucking welcome.”





mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit





playing...
song title

by artist​




mentions
mentions mentions mentions

interactions
Declan.

tags Winona Winona


Âş Âş code by ditto Âş Âş
 






Tiny Dancer.










Agnes Reddinger






































































In a Minute-Poppy
































location


the gala












outfit


click me!












interactions


Agnes Reddinger












tags


@ user @ user


























Not having a Mom was an afterthought- no less than that. Agnes Reddinger had a mom of course but Daphne didn't cross her mind. Not when she had to go stupid gala dress shopping with her father, when she had to veto his terrible outfit choices (of which there were SEVERAL) and especially not when she was sitting at her vanity, tiktok make-up tutorial playing on loop as she tried to get her eyeliner juuuust right.


And Agnes did get it just right...the fourth attempt.


A high pony, some pink lipstick, a few chunky gold accessories, and one feathery orange dress later she was ready. If she had to go to this gala Agnes was at least going to try to look cute doing it. When she emerged from her room Atlas was there to greet her- all smiles like always.


"You look gorgeous, princess.”


She gave her Dad a little twirl as she had so many times before. Playfully flipping her pony over her shoulder as he beamed. Having the world's greatest hype man for a Father felt good, within the confines of their home of course. It was when Atlas started gushing about her in public Agnes wanted to run and hide.


When he started talking about Prince Charming Agnes couldn't help but roll her eyes.
“Daaaaaaad.”

She groaned. The thought of Atlas involving himself so wholly in her love life made her cringe. “You're not gonna get the chance to fend them off if I die of embarrassment first.” The truth was Agnes was coming off a break up with one Diego Cervantes (which considering she hadn't told Atlas they were dating) probably would've come as a shock- so she had opted to keep it to herself. Including the eating-ice-cream-in-bed-watching-back-to-back-nicolas-sparks-adaptations mourning period.



“Maybe you should spend a little less time worrying about my love life and a little more worrying about yours!”
She wasn't teasing, there was genuine concern hidden between the lines.


As she got older she imagined her future. Traveling all over the world dancing back up to whoever would have her.


Living her dreams.


But every time she pictured it Agnes was haunted by thoughts of Atlas...home alone. Agnes wouldn't, no, couldn't let that happen. She would have to make sure he was set up with someone before even considering leaving him.


The teen was pulled from her thoughts when her father piped up. "Let's go Agnes, we don't want to be too late and miss all the action.”


She sighed.


“Uber rich people selling their dirty old shoes for charity- who would wanna miss a second of that?"


~~~


The gala was as galas were. Extravagant and wellm...boring. At least for this teenage girl who's feathery dress suddenly felt understated compared to some of the other girls'.


"Do you see any of your friends around Agnes?”


“Yeah, I see some people...”


Agnes eyed the flutes considering grabbing a champagne filled one- maybe the teensiest buzz would make this whole ordeal more bearable.

“My friends will probably be surprised to see you actually wearing a shirt. Let alone a suit!”


she teased.


But it wasn't even a minute later Atlas had turned the tides. "Better yet, if you see a boy that strikes your fancy I can stick around a little longer and be your wingman. I've picked up plenty of skills from my time at the bar." Teasing his daughter with a Cheshire grin.



"How about instead of worrying about boys you start worrying about moms! And more specifically how to date them! There's gotta be some single Mom's here just waiting for a guy like you to sweep them off of THEIR feet. I think my friend Viva's mom is single- maybe we could go find her.”





When a tray of cupcakes made its way over to the pair, Agnes snatched one up, taking a bite before adding.

“Viva would be the BEST sister and Ms.Kinson is like- super pretty.”

She took another bite of cupcake, this one leaving behind a dot of icing on the tip of her nose.

“She does something with movies-maybe scripts...That's pretty cool, huh?”





























 
Last edited:



art student.





griffin bristow.



































Deep Red
















location

the event hall






outfit







interactions

posie






tags













If there were two things in the world that Griffin enjoyed more than anything it was crowds and parties and yet the feeling in his stomach had yet to subside as he made his way through the gala.

If he had to venture a guess as to the source of the feeling it probably had something to do with Posie. The last time they hung out she had left so abruptly he thought she was angry at him but here they were making plans to hangout like nothing happened. So what was he worried about?

If there was a problem she'd talk to him about it, right? They didn't have any secrets.

The obvious answer that Griffin didn't want to accept was that the problem probably stemmed from Posie's hate for Carmen.

He had hoped that whatever bad blood between them could be put to rest seeing that she didn't seem to harbor any ill will towards Theo but maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part. Some people just don't mesh well.

Still it would be awkward if his best friend and his... he didn't know what Carmen was to him anymore at this point but she had meant something to him before and that's all that mattered.

Grffrin ran a hand through his hair exasperated as he let out a deep sigh.

The Bristow curse didn't skip a generation it seems but he just hoped he wasn't going to have to suffer well into adulthood. It probably want that bad judging from the goofy grin his father had on his face as he told Griffin to "go on ahead".

Cam wasn't fooling anyone.

Griffin had been so deep in thought that he didn't realize he had entered the main hall where the items up for auction had been set up.

He was certain he was lost as he eyed a particularly well crafted dog statue. His gaze slide passed the statue to the person behind it and felt the pit burst in a million different pieces.

Griffin didn't care what Theo had to say about yearning. Orpheus clearly didn't know Eurydice as well as his own soul knew Posie. His concerns about their friendship felt so silly now.

"You look beautiful!" He blurted out. His brain had not given him time to formulate a more thoughtful response but it felt appropriate all the same. "I know you think dresses are more Lyrica's thing but if my opinion matters I think you pull them off magnificently." He held out his arm for her to take.

The pit in his stomach had disappeared but in its place was a flutter in Griffin's heart he had never felt before. He adjusted his bowtie, suddenly the room felt much warmer than it did before.

If he had a heart attack on the floor of the gala, would it ruin everyone's night? Surprisingly the thought didn't seem to worry him as much as it should've.










 
MOOD: mood

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: location
basics
MENTIONS:
Winona Winona gh0stwriter gh0stwriter

INT:
Ash, Lucky
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Javier Cervantes
Stay with me under these waves tonight, be free for once in your life tonight.
On this side of the wealth gap, a drink was called a refreshment and a snack, an hors d'oeuvre. That was fine, because Javi was never asked how to spell any of these new vocabulary words. What got to him more was the polite tradition of behaving cordially at big, public events.

Javi held grudges. In fact, tens of millions of neurons in his brain were tangled in knots dedicated to never forgetting the "opps" that plagued his life. Age and obligation may have quelled the rage which had once gripped him, but if there was anything that hadn't been pushed out of his head from drug abuse and blind love, it was Javi's sense for people.

So imagine how complicated it was being marrying Madelaine Harlow, the crown princess of public relations. She had a friend at every street corner on the nice part of town, many of which Javi hadn't gotten along with before even meeting them. That was life under the spotlight.

At the punch table, crystal bowls were filled to the brim with vibrantly colored beverages and dainty finger foods arranged on silver platters. Glass cups were stacked and lined in neat rows off to the side. Of course the board couldn't bear to sully the event's image with disposable cups, no matter the convenience. As if Evelyn Sinclaire wasn't supplying sleeve after sleeve of red Solo cups at all over her parties. Parties Javi always had to sneak into, and he would hold it against the Sinclaires until he died.

At any rate, Javi grabbed a glass for each of his family members, ladling some of the bright red punch into all but one. With love.

Just one last act of rebellion, he mused. He looked around to ensure no one was watching and slipped the flask out. He carefully unscrewed the cap, ready to add a splash of tequila to his punch.

But then, his hand slipped, and the flask tumbled out of his grasp, plummeting into the punch bowl with a comical plop. Javi froze, eyes wide in horror, as the flask sank to the bottom. His mind raced, his panic at an all-time high. He had to retrieve it before anyone noticed.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

Javi spun his head around to see if anyone had noticed, breathing a stressed sigh after he'd failed to catch anyone's eye. If you could count on one thing at New York Arts, it was that people were usually too wrapped up in their own lives to bother with what someone like Javi was doing. Unless you were obsessed, like JJ or Kieran.

With as much subtlety as he could manage—which was very little—Javi plunged his hand into the bowl, his fingers searching for the rogue flask. He felt it almost immediately, but as he tried to fish it out, the cap came loose, and tequila started to pour into the punch. The gentle pressure of liquor mixing with sweet, red punch stung like poison in Javi's veins, as it would soon spell his death.

“Sir, is everything alright?”

Javi jerked his hand out of the bowl, startled by the voice behind him. A young caterer stood there, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Fucking peachy, so get lost,” Javi shot back, his mind scrambling for an excuse. He forced a smile, which was somehow more threatening than his words. "I'm making sure the punch is mixed properly."

Wordlessly, the caterer left, leaving Javi to his state of unrest. He wiped his wet hand on his pants, moving to pick up the bowl but was stopped by the sight of multiple caterers in the corner very obviously whispering about him. This was quickly turning into the worst case.

Desperation creeping in, Javi’s eyes darted around the room. He saw Ash's blonde hair across the hall, seemingly having just arrived with Lucky. He waved his hand subtly, trying to catch their attention without drawing too much notice. It was too soon to be at a Hail Mary, but here he was, back to the bowl, guarding it with all of his remaining honor.
code by valen t.
 
Last edited:



art student.





posie jericho-moore.



































THE LONELIEST
















location

the event hall






outfit







interactions

griffin, lyrica (mentioned)
















When Posie’s eyes dared to meet Griffin’s, she found him already staring, a bright yet unreadable expression falling across his features when he at last had her attention. She tilted her head, stepping around the marble-carved canine to see him better.

“Hi—”

“You look beautiful!”

Posie’s mouth fell open, then clamped shut just as quickly, lips pursing in a failed attempt to stave off the face-splitting grin that threatened to shatter her already fragile façade. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to vocalize how the compliments truly made her feel, settling instead on, “Shut up, don’t make it weird,” though, her words held no real bite. Then, she changed direction entirely, “I like your suit. It’s nice.”

Anyone that knew Posie—other than Griffin, of course—would’ve recognized her bluff instantly; it was only a plain black suit, after all. She cared more about who was in it.

Griffin’s blissful ignorance was useful at times such as these, when Posie couldn’t help but slip up.

Yet, why did it bother her that he didn’t seem to notice her accidental flirtations?

Maybe he did, and he had no interest in reciprocating.

Posie cleared her throat, arm slipping easily into the space Griffin created for it. The air somehow felt hotter—heavier; a byproduct of the close proximity, no doubt. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think her face had caught on fire, and she only hoped that the makeup Lyrica had insisted that she cake on—“You know there’ll be cameras right?”—was doing a good enough job of hiding the rosy tinge creeping along her cheekbones, and if it wasn’t, fortunately for Posie, her siblings were nowhere to be found. Otherwise, the teasing glances projected across the room like lasers would’ve been inescapable, and even Griffin—oblivious or not—would’ve suspected something was up.

“How long do you think you’ll stay for this thing?” Posie asked finally. “I was thinking about sneaking out later. I dunno what we’d do, but anything’s gotta be better than here.”

As if to prove her point, they passed by a particularly stuffy-looking older man bent down to inspect a stack of papers sitting beneath a glass case, peering through the tiny, wire-framed glasses atop his rather bulbous nose. “You say this is the original copy?” he said to the woman across from him, his tone doubtful and British accent a forced fake.

“Yes. First draft.”

“Hm. I’d say it’s worth more, if not for that crease there, in the corner.” He punctuated his statement with a loud tut of disapproval.

“I hope I’m never that boring. When I’m old, I’ll let my grandkids watch R-rated movies and keep those little strawberry candies in my purse.” Posie turned to Griffin. “If I’m ever that interested in used paper, I give you permission to put me out of my misery.”

She didn’t necessarily realize what she was implying. It was natural for Posie to assume that Griffin would always be a part of her life. He had been thus far. When they were kids, Posie didn’t talk much—to her parents’ relief, it wasn’t because she couldn’t, but because she didn’t care to. She didn’t trust strangers nor feel the need to entertain them with her words. Outside of her family, Griffin was the only person she spoke to—he’d been friends with Ryatt first, but it didn’t take long for Posie to steal him away when her brother wasn’t looking. Since then, they’ve been practically glued to the hip. It didn’t matter that she no longer needed someone to relay her whispered messages to the world—she’d have a place for him no matter what.

Even if those late nights spent watching movies in Posie’s bed, laying closer than mere friends should, meant less to Griffin than they did to her.










 




































  • how he's feeling...



    decently relaxed and trying his best

















Wes



Greene












Being ready on time was still a bit of a strange habit for Wes, years of marriage to Shannon had helped but had not yet undid the lifetime of chronic tardiness that had afflicted him. Even on the day of their wedding he was just a handful of minutes behind schedule when it came to walking down the aisle, but that was totally Drake’s fault, and perhaps Wes’ own just a little bit for being so bold as to trust him to hold onto his cufflinks for what was supposed to be five minutes. Past transgressions aside, it still wasn’t instinctual to him yet, or their three children. Of all the potential traits for them to inherit from their father, it seemed that they had adopted many of the worst options.

As Shannon hollered up the stairs he thought about saying something, but in times like these asking Shannon Whitten Greene to relax was just about as effective as asking a fish to stop being wet. She probably didn’t need him to therapize her or otherwise counsel her, even if that had in fact been his literal job for nearly the last fifteen years and felt as close to calling as he’d ever imagined one might feel about their profession. It was hard work getting there, mainly the challenge of heading back to school with three small children and being one of the older members of his graduating class to complete his bachelor’s and then master’s, but it had been worth it now to provide the help to others who needed it now as sorely as he once did. Shannon had been beside him that entire journey, just as she stood beside him now. Wes slid a hand around her waist, offering some quiet support just in time for her to step away from his touch to give their kids a final once over.

Emmy descending the stairs with her head high reminded him a bit too much of the cocky strut he used to step out onto the rodeo grounds back when he thought the world started and ended with his ability to direct a horse around a few barrels. The ensuing conversation between her and Shannon continued to prove the resemblance as she displayed the signature Greene bullheadedness. As… unusual… as it was, Wes thought his daughter looked beautiful in the ensemble. Almost like something akin to a character in one of the many, many books Shannon had encouraged him to read over the course of their relationship. He felt as though the Halloween comment was a little unnecessary, but as was the amount of attitude Emmy had presented her mother with. He tried not to give it much thought, as someone who grew up with a sister and a mother Wes was uncomfortably familiar with the delicate, and at times volatile, the intricate relationship between a daughter and her mom could be. Perhaps he had taken some of the heat off of Parker and her blow-ups with mom thanks to his troubled youth and countless screaming matches with their father.

Just when he was hopeful that things were soon to be settled and moved on to the car, there was another comment dropped amongst the family. Once again Wes decided to intervene with a touch by guiding Emmeline away from her mother. He guided her out the door and towards the car
“If it makes you feel better, she redid my tie three times before she was happy with it.”
He said unlocking the car with the key fob, only exaggerating about fifty percent. He opened the door for Emmy before walking around to the driver’s side himself and climbing in, waiting for Shannon to usher the other two lost little ducklings out to the vehicle.

---

The Greenes had managed to arrive, relatively on time, close enough anyhow. Judging by the amount of soft ‘tsks’ and ‘hms’ from his wife Wes knew that it was still later than she would’ve preferred. Their children scattered like mice in the barn at the sound of hoofbeats nearly as soon as they stepped in the door, particularly Emmeline. Her cape billowing softly behind her.

He mused at her additional comment about their daughter, reminding him softly of the many, many years ago when the couple initially discovered her existence. With a six-month-old Joey perched on her hip and a similar strife about her words she’d snatched the positive test out of Wes’ hand as she exclaimed ”What do you mean it’s positive?!” It seemed Emmeline had been testing her mother’s patience in some form or another since her conception. With careful consideration, he reiterated the same statement he did back then.

“Ah, we’ll get through it.”
He said, giving her a reassuring smile, or his best attempt at one.

Despite the occasional and expected frustrations that come along with raising teenagers, Wes couldn’t be more pleased with how their children were turning out. They were such unique mixes of each of their parents’ traits, with differing spins on them that further individualized their identities. Not to mention that they had already cleared the bar of surpassing what Wes himself had accomplished at their age, a relatively low bar perhaps but one he was proud of them for metaphorically vaulting.

He nodded at her suggestion to find somewhere they could attempt to fit in
“Sounds like a plan.”
He said, starting to lead her off in a direction that seemed most promising
“Maybe let’s get you a drink too.”












































♡coded by uxie♡
 



broadway wannabe.





Angela Crosby.
































There she goes
















location

gala






outfit







interactions

nathan, ronnie

















There were instances when Angela couldn’t believe that adults were supposed to be the ones who actually knew what they were doing, when in reality, it was still everyone’s first chance at life.

The common misconception was that mistakes needed to be regretted.

“You’ll understand when you’re older, wiser—when you have more experience.”

The saying should’ve been:

“You’ll understand when you keep fucking up.”

The idea was that you’d learn from the choices you made and fail to repeat them in the future. This didn’t apply to everybody— hence, Veronica Crosby.

Angela truly believed that no matter what her mother did, or had been unbeknownst victim to, she’d find some positive way to spin it.

Maybe it was a coping mechanism, or her mother was some kind of mental superhero. Who knows?

But everyone else?

Something told Angela that whoever Nathan trusted with that painting was definitely a mistake he regretted.

Was she surprised that this man was friends with her father? They say opposites attract, but the truth is people tend to gather with those they are comfortable with, those they resonate with.

It might be unfair to compare Nathan Woods to Mike Reid, but two peas in a pod couldn’t be that different from each other.

If the roles were switched and this was a framed photoshoot of Mike Reid during his tighty-whitey modeling phase, she’d bet his ass he’d be hauling the remembrance of his glory days out of here.

“Uh, hold on there, Da Vinci. I don’t think you can do that?” she said as he stepped beyond the rope.

“Mom, can he do that?” Angela muttered to the redhead beside her.

Ronnie’s answer didn't quite matter since security had already taken notice and were hastily taking steps in their direction.

Angela wasn’t sure if she blamed him. His approach was basically asking for bad press, but on a technicality, the painting was his.

She’d probably just hand it off to him if she were in charge.

Except she wasn’t.

And a nobody trying to become somebody doesn’t associate themselves with charity fraud.

Angela took one step back from Nathan as security closed in on him.

“Sir, please back away from the painting.” A well-dressed man who looked like the splitting image of Pitbull placed a hand on his shoulder. It wasn’t actually Pitbull. It was just a bald white man with an earpiece.

Eh, give him a bottle of whiskey and he’d pass in Vegas.










 
MOOD: mood

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: location
basics
MENTIONS:
Soap Soap Winona Winona

INT:
Angie, Nate, Pitbull
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Veronica Crosby
In the crowd, the music's loud, but I'll find you!
Ronnie was a film actress. She relished the privilege of being able to say that, no matter the time and place. What she was not, was a charity organizer, or a member of the school board, or a professional auctioneer, even if she'd practiced the little voice they do the night before the gala.

Not a shred of Ronnie was responsible for what happened to be taking place between her Nate Woods, her daughter, and the security team slowly gathering around them. When the painting's artist maneuvered his way past the red rope guarding the auctioned goods, Ronnie made no move in either direction. This was why the organizers hired a security team.

"No, I wouldn't say so," she answered her daughter's question, spinning her head around to watch security approach. "Maybe if he says it's performance art?" She laughed at that, hardly believing the situation, which almost seemed like it had been ripped off from their teenage years. Ronnie was just a volunteer; all of this was a side quest, no stakes in it for her or her family.

Angela was still young. Though she wisely refrained from trying to stop Nate from what he was doing, she still spoke words that gave away her dumbfoundedness toward the situation. There was no grace in that, not a shred of the PR training Ronnie had undergone at her age in school. If Ronnie hadn't been trained that way, she'd have laughed in Nate's face for all the times he and his ex-wife tried to embarrass her. But, truly, bygones were bygones.

Isn't fate a funny thing?

"Thank you very much!" she said to the bald security guard. "But this is Nathan Woods—he's the artist of this painting. Isn't it lovely?" Her eyes drifted to her old classmate, silently cautioning him all with a bubbly smile. "He was just stepping in to get a closer look; it's been a very long time since he's come to face to face with some of his older works."

Right away, a realization dawned on Ronnie. "Oh, but you quit art, didn't you, Nate? I was really sorry to hear that." She reached an arm out, beckoning amiably for him to join the others on the safe side of the rope. "I have the bid sheet right here, if you'd be interested in putting your name in the running."—If he could even afford it these days.

"Come over, before you get in real trouble, ha ha!"
code by valen t.
 



drama kid.





ember clairmont.



































Watch
















location

the event hall






outfit







interactions

brinley, viva
















Ember’s jaw set as she swallowed the last bit of her lame excuse for a sandwich—really, whoever thought putting cucumber on bread was a good idea had serious problems. She stopped in her tracks with a tilt of her head, exhaling sharply—a warning sign, like an enraged bull getting ready to charge at its target. “Oh, things I know nothing about, huh? There’s a shit ton of articles telling all I could ever want to know about your daddy issues and your mom’s drug problem—as if your behavior wasn’t enough evidence already—or are those not credible sources?”

Her faux amicability had fallen now, and awaiting beneath the mask was nothing but hostility, an ever-growing anger etched across her sharp features.

Stepping forward, Ember started again, “If you’re going to make an argument, at least make it a convincing one.”

After being the second choice for so long—the lesser twin—Ember had found herself at a crossroads: allow the shortcomings people had chosen for her to strike like bullets against her skin, or become jaded to the world, hardened over time until those bullets ricocheted off of her crystallized armor, returning to their sender with twice the force.

That option, she’d realized, was much more fun.

Yet, the armor made it hard to see sometimes, to distinguish friend from foe, and occasionally she lashed out at the wrong person, but were there really friends to be found in an industry such as theirs?

Ember didn’t think so.

The only time she ever found herself playing nice was with people who could be of use to her in some capacity—and, to be frank, she no longer needed Viva—otherwise, it was fruitless to be good-natured with those who would undermine her as soon as it was befitting to them just as quickly as they would smile to her face. To them, she was allowed to have potential, so long as it wasn’t more than they possessed, but if she traveled on her own path, alone, there was no one getting between her and success aside from the voices in her head telling her she didn’t have what it took to make it in the dog-eat-dog world she’d been born into.

However, even they could be silenced with the right amount of distraction, which was the only service Viva seemed to provide these days—a stark contrast to when they were kids, and Ember had looked to Viva as an older sister figure, a safe space of sorts. Someone who could protect her while she was still young and naïve to how the world worked.

She could sharpen her own swords now.

“Honestly, all you’re doing at this point is embarrassing yourself. I mean, you can keep it up, if you want—” Ember shrugged, feigning nonchalance as if her words weren’t anything but. “It makes for cheap entertainment. Guess that runs in the family, too.”

If Ember had any bit of sense, she’d walk away while she still could—clamp her mouth shut and avoid Viva for the rest of the night—but her dad was Casey Clairmont, after all. Burning bridges was in her blood.

Her swift exit was long-forgotten; she wanted to see the defeat in Viva’s eyes.










 



former popstar / music teacher.





Livanna Moore
































Birds of a feather
















location

event hall!






outfit







interactions

axel, jace, kieran

















“Love mingling.” Her usual Liv-ness was replaced with a newfound sense of impatience and aloofness, almost as if doing what was expected of her would make tonight go by faster. They walked further into the gala – this was a night to meet parents, investors, and people involved in the school where she was going to be working. Not a night to sulk and drown her emotions in champagne.

Yet…

Livanna swiped Axel’s glass before he had a chance to bring it to his lips. “Did I mention how handsome you look tonight?” she said, taking a sip of his drink, an admiring smile reaching the corner of her lips as she gazed at her husband.

Axel had been the only person Liv could ever really count on. Besides the found-family she’d weaseled her way into, he had been her support system since they were sixteen. Without him, Livanna was sure she’d be dead somewhere by now. “We should probably make our way to the bar. This is the cheap stuff. I can taste it.” Her marriage and teenage pregnancy had certainly toned her down over the years, but she was still self-destructive as ever—just in more subtle ways.

After all, she had grown up.

Livanna Moore was a long way from the tabloid-addict pop star she was twenty years ago.

Throughout the half-hour, as promised, they mingled around the gala – much to Liv’s not-so-secret dismay. Although, after her second drink of… whatever Axel had ordered for her had loosened her up pretty quickly, so while Liv was uncharacteristically quiet, Axel had taken point in most of their conversations which included parents – some fans, and some were just begging them to dish the latest gossip.

"I heard about that documentary, I was shocked to hear you agreed to it."

A TV producer was talking their ear off, and Liv couldn't do much other than smile and nod. Michael Fritz was someone she'd met years ago, interested in debunking her old record label, but she hadn't given him the time of day.

And unfortunately, the lack of her involvement had the documentary fail before it even started.

"Yeah, it was a shock to me too." She glanced over at Axel, silently pleading for an excuse to get out of here. Her husband's excuse didn't stop the man from his burning curiosity, though. "It was nice seeing you again," Liv said, turning away only to halt in her tracks.

"And Alice Turnblad? It just makes me wonder how much they offered you two."

"What?"

"Oh, you didn't know?" The hint of a smirk had Liv assume he already knew she hadn't the faintest idea. "She agreed weeks ago. I would've assumed you would've been told. Personally, I would've told my cast—"

“Clara!” Ziggy interrupted over the classical soft music the gala had started to play for background noise. The older Liv got, the less she started to like parties like this. Maybe a part of her still missed the wild nights that involved body paint and music so loud she’d have ringing in her ears the next day—or… maybe she had just realized how superficial so many of these really were.

Not to mention the people.

"Excuse us, we have... anywhere else to be." She glanced at where a tiny hand was pointing. Jace, Kieran, and their daughter were just across the hall. Liv and Axel shared a look and took that as their signal to approach them before Ziggy had the opportunity to scream his head off. "Why wouldn't they tell us?" Despite Axel not having much involvement, almost anything Livanna did, there was an "us" and vice versa.

They were partners in everything; that's just how they worked.

Axel knew there was no threat with Alice, anyway. Their relationship was high-school puppy love. Would they be forced to interact? Schedule their interviews on different days? She didn't want to think about it. Liv's main priority? Pretending as though she didn’t exist.

Despite the night growing more difficult by the minute, she bit her tongue as they approached Kieran and Jace. One thing that remained constant about Livanna Moore was her tendency to use her peers as distractions from her own issues. “My favorite couple,” a forced smile graced her face.

“And favorite boss,” she laughed. Jace hadn’t brought up the contract yet, but Liv knew it was only a matter of time before he did. Her gaze drifted to her husband, realizing it was only a matter of time before she would have to decline.

Technically, he was their boss twice-over, now that they’d taken the job at NYA. “Do you mind if Clara keeps Ziggy busy?” Liv asked to be polite, but she was already unbuckling Ziggy out of his stroller.

It was only the span of a few seconds before her son was showing their daughter the plenty of games he had bought with Liv’s credit card on his iPad, and they had run off—underneath a table where they wouldn’t be bothered by any adults. A parallel that had her thinking of the many days spent under the bleachers. “The gala looks amazing, I’m loving it, really,” Livanna lied, the only thing giving her away was the finishing off the drink in her hands.

“I can only imagine what the rest of the school looks like. Maybe we’ll visit the library for a little reminiscing…” She caught her husband's eye, a hint of her playful personality finally easing its way out of her.

Damn, her tolerance level really fell, huh? They never warned you about that in AA.

She needed to start sticking to a glass of wine every other day.

What? Every mother of four needed a break once in a while...

"Gosh, isn't it so surreal? Our kids attending the same school we did?"










 
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