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[oliviacookecentral]

Olivia Cooke at the Burberry September 2017 Show (September 16, 2017)

[rachelsennott]

Happy Death Day 2U (2019) dir. Christopher Landon

[ichcrane]

//open//

Javier isn’t one in attending grandiose parties and talking to socialites who’ve got nothing more to brag out than their mundane life. The place was pretty neat, but Javier dreaded to have come. He steadily walked behind the rest of his siblings, trying to maintain an act that he does not exist, although his efforts were definitely futile. It was obvious that he had quite a unique aura in comparison to his siblings. Taking a glass of champagne from one of the trays being served around, Javier walked discreetly around, trying to avoid any people he knew would talk to him, he’s not gonna waste him time for the small talks. 

He stood behind a wall and leaned on against it, trying to familiarize himself with the faces around. The Capo had forced him to come because of the threat that other Mafia’s are coming along. This party was a ticking time bomb, just waiting to be lit. And when the fire starts to erupt, that’s when Javier begins to join.

Javier leaned against the wall, observing the people around, trying to get a feel on who they are based on how they talk, walk and shuffle around in garments they wore. He can distinguish which ones has weapons under their sleeve if he observes them properly. Focused on this hobby of his, Javier suddenly felt a person who stood near, too near in fact that it felt like an invasion of his bubble.

 “What?” He said as a reflex before turning to look at the other person beside him.

[ceetates]

The room had started to get to her. All these rich assholes sucking in her breath, and she didn’t feel like trying that balcony again. Cordelia stayed close to the wall, as the room started to spin. How did a person breathe again? For a split second she can’t remember. She had two flutes on her tray to get rid of before she even thought about going to the bar. They were rather strict on only empty tray tenders being behind the bar. Is that where she left her inhaler? Cordelia closed her eyes and leaned against what she thought was a wall. Before it registered it was too cushy to be a wall. 

Then the man spoke and frightened her. A loud wheezy squeak leaves her lips as she teeters backwards. “Umm..drink you..” Lethargy had claimed her words, and she couldn’t get the room to focus. Then she realized she didn’t even have drinks to offer left on the tray. Instead they rested her fate a bit quickly topping over to smash on the ground around them.

“I..am..sorry.” Cordelia responds closing her eyes hard and reopening them quite a dozen times. “Can I get...you...drink?” She asked between wheezing gasps of air. She tried to turn the knob on the tank, but it didn’t feel like the oxygen was pumping through. 

[ceetates]

soleilfournier‌:

     Soleil wasn’t sure that he was going to take the girl’s advice - who knew who was on the left side of the room and who was on the right? Who knew who he’d be missing out on if he solely stuck to sides of the room and not the center? But maybe he’d try it. He wasn’t a superstitious person, so he had nothing to lose if he didn’t take her advice, but nothing to lose if he did, either. He’d just see where the night took him, all while hoping that she was right about his success coming to him tonight.

     “Putain…” he muttered as she told him what happened to her. He’d never been in a car accident himself, but he was never the biggest fan of cars. He loved that train travel was so simple in Europe, loved that the New York subways got him everywhere throughout the city. Cars seemed far too dangerous for his liking, and that was only proved to him more with this girl’s story. “Thank you for believing in me. That does mean a lot.”

Cordelia would make sure if she had time allowed to watch the boy after this encounter. Just to see what he chose to do, so she would know a potential outcome later. Logically there were a few ways this could go, and only about one in a half of those predictions would end in her false favor. Still the boost to the other’s ego couldn’t be doing something wrong could it?

She had no Earthly idea what Putain meant, but she nodded along. The context and the way he muttered it sounded sincere. Idly she tugs at the waitress outfit a bit and decides that she’s probably wasting his precious time just standing there being awkward. Cordelia smiles at his words, “Just know that whatever option you choose to do, you’re not alone. There are many spirits that walked in our shoes before. I’ll leave you to the party. But when you need refills come seek me out.”

[vnyvs]

// open

There wasn’t a word in either English or Russian which could accurately describe her feelings. She’d never been in a place as… as beautiful as The Garden Hotel. She’d never worn anything as elegant as the dress she was borrowing, or the pin in her hair or the pearls in her ears. This was a dream, surely. She was dreaming and would wake up at any moment to find she’d fallen asleep in the middle of ironing the Pakhan’s shirts. But the dream kept going, and only the solid feel of Tatia and Emmaline beside her was keeping her grounded enough to believe this was actually happening. To keep her from being overwhelmed.

Anya stayed close to her friends as much as possible. Emmaline was fluent in English, and Tatia’s English was much better than Anya’s, so she felt better being near them and knowing they could field conversations that she might embarrass herself in. But in such a massive building with so many people, it was hard to stay with them without literally holding their hands, and eventually a moment came when Anya turned around to ask a question only to find that her friends were not there. Panic swelled inside her, churning her stomach like river rapids until she felt sure she might cry or puke or faint. All she could do was back up to the nearest wall and close her eyes for a moment. Deep breaths, she told herself. Don’t make a scene. Don’t draw attention. The only thing worse than losing track of Tatia and Emmaline would be being found by one of the boyeviks, or even Viktor himself.

So she waited. Breathed. Counted to ten. Opened her eyes. The panic was suppressed, for now, but she would have to find her friends in order to banish it permanently. Time to start asking. Anya timidly approached the nearest person and spoke up in a quiet voice, “Excuse me? Um, forgive interruption. Have… erm, have you been seeing two girls? Short, one is blonde in pink dress, and one is having brown hair and blue dress. Both very pretty.”

[ceetates]

The party already felt like it had been a grueling twelve hour shift, but she knew it was barely at the quarter mark. Cordelia passed by the girl a few times with the tray of champagne flutes. She may have been as relevant to the fly outside of this place, but she did observe things. Just as she observed the girl’s facial expression of being completely and utterly lost. Whatever, she’s rich and can figure it out. Cordelia declared and made her rounds thrice, before she was finally stopped by the girl. 

The soft words almost didn’t hit her ears, but she leaned over to listen. Oh christ, this girl just described half the party. Trying her best she straightened and did a little look around. “Um.. I’m sorry I don’t.” Alright, she’d feel like a total dick if she left the girl here. “How about you come with me.. to the bar..?” She speaks slowly and takes care to sound out every word. “Um, maybe you can spot them from there?” She kept looking as she motioned for Anya to follow her towards the bar. Occasionally pausing as a guest grabbed a flute from her tray. “Where are you from?”

[ceetates]

soleilfournier‌:

      “So – talk to the people to my right, until that hallway, when I talk to the people on the left?” Maybe he’d had more champagne than he thought he’d had, but he didn’t appreciate vague wording, especially when it came to something that could change his life so drastically.  How did this girl know who he was, anyways? How did she know that he was there looking to sell more of his artwork?

     “How do you get a map to the stars? How do you know who I am?” Soleil was confused, to say the least, but the woman was saying these things as if they were everyday phrases, something that anyone could understand. Wasn’t there a whole fate-versus-free-will argument that disputed her statement about the stars? “Salute…” he mumbled in response to her toast, raising the glass to his lips and taking a long sip of the champagne, trying to figure out what was going on.

“That’s right.” She spoke coated with a voice of sincerity. Cordelia had no unearthly idea what even the boy’s name beside her was, nor did she know what business endeavors he took to himself. There were none of his dreams or aspirations painted by numbers on the ceiling. However, she persisted her side gig just as well. What was so wrong with giving someone a bit of confidence? Hopefully she didn’t send him blindly into the wrong people. 

Cordelia judged by his suit that he should be just fine. “How did I get the map to the stars?  Well, in my case it was when a 2014 Jaguar F-type, metallic black,  four doors crushed my chest. I would ten out of ten not recommend the same fate to you.” She gave a soft wheezing laugh steadying the tray to turn the knob to increase the intake. After she took her one glass of champagne.”I’m sure a speck of your dream will be met tonight.” 

[ceetates]

alexandervbarrett‌:

Alexander didn’t have time for company; introductions, interruptions, small talk, the entire nine fucking yards. Granted, there was a bit of required socializing that went into attending events such as the Golightly birthday gala, but that didn’t mean Alex had to dwell on them. He was here for one thing and one thing only tonight: the diamonds. Intelligence. Resources. Some sort of idea where Tatiana was being kept, if at all possible, but he didn’t have even the slightest belief or inkling her brother would let her out for the night and bring her into the limelight of a high-profile social event. It was far too risky.

Slowly, when the sharp bite of someone else’s words reached his ears, Alex glanced up beneath dark lashes to the spirited young woman carrying an oblong metal tank with her. He quirked a brow when she told him to fuck off, his fingers curling slightly around his phone as he trailed glance up and over her frame. 

“Last I heard,” he asked, moving to lean against the railing and eyeing her with narrowed eyes. “The help had their own associate lounge to fuck off to. Or do you expect me to believe you were invited here?”

She should have known the other, more prominent figure wouldn’t just shut his mouth outside the balcony. It took her a minute to remember her own place these days. She wasn’t Cordelia Tate the politician daughter. She wasn’t Cordelia Tate the heiress. She was Cee, the bartender who barely had enough funds to live a complete life with the stack of medical bills suffocating her. The Healthcare system of America failed her on more than one occasion on a weekly basis. Her mood to deal with this chump on the balcony doesn’t exist. Two goddamn minutes, and he couldn’t even give her that. He was absolutely right that she was only the help in this situation.

“ Oh my god. Do I have to explain the difference between the air inside and the air out here? Does your pompous narcissistic fucking brain not comprehend that some people other than you need fucking air?” Cordelia huffed and turned the minuscule wheel atop of the tank to fill the tubes with a wave of oxygen. “I consider myself enlightened since I didn’t have to shove my head up your ass to get invited. This isn’t your party anyway last I checked. Just like this isn’t your balcony.” 

[ceetates]

soleilfournier‌:

       He looked over at the girl who responded to him, his brow furrowing in confusion. It wasn’t that he expected someone else - just… not this. A woman serving champagne with an obvious breathing apparatus. Perhaps she should have been elsewhere, taking care of herself, before worrying about the elite of New York’s alcohol consumption. But, then again… people needed money. 

      Speaking of money - c’est quoi ce putain was that…? “Pardon me…?” he blinked his surprise out of his eyes, holding onto his near-empty champagne flute. What did any of that mean? He genuinely didn’t know what a retrograde was, nor what it had to do with his business flourishing, nor what his right and his left had to do with anything. “Um – yes. Thank you,” he cleared his throat, downing the rest of the champagne in the first flute and exchanging the empty one for a full one. “What does ‘retrograde of your right’ mean?”

By now she had grown accustomed to the pensive gaze she got from people. Silently questioning her choices and her mere existence with the tank. He didn’t have to say a word, but when he spoke her features lit up with delight. Hook, line, and sinker. She tilts her head and stares up to him with a soft hum. “Oh, stick to your right, until ..” Cordelia gets a little bit closer and motions with her hand when the room curls towards a hallway. “You go there and the people on the left. You’ll have good results if you stick to that way.”  She offered with a soft smile. 

“I can see it. You’re going to do great tonight. It’s all in the plan tonight you see. The stars already have our lives mapped out, and I’m the navigator with the map. “Capiche?” She paused speaking to organize the tray of champagne glasses. Taking a quick look around before she grabbed one of the flutes and took a drink for herself. That’s all she needed was one drink and that’s it. “Cin cin!” 

[ceetates]

Shots Fired

[ceetates]

fckolyvar‌:

she was lucky someone had managed to calm him down, or better yet.. something. that something being nearly half a bottle of this scotch the other bartender insisted was the best in the world and he found it to taste watered down. whatever it was, it was helping him get through tonight without tearing his head off. 

he let her finish though, a look of amusement on his face which faded once she’d opened her eyes. he knew, or well.. he’d heard snippets. it was too ridiculous of a story to believe with closed eyes but seeing it now, he put the two together. he didn’t mind, but he was still her boss and who would he be if he didn’t give her a bit of a rough time. ‘oh yeah, love? tell me what the shots are saying.’ he mused, with a low chuckle, leaning forward on his elbow. 

‘okay, cee. shots. if you insist.’ he was fond of her, even if he didn’t show it in the most… obvious of ways, he was fond. he left hefty tips too.. even at his own bar. leaning forward without even sniffing the shots he downed the three in succession and stacked them up to hand back to her. ‘what was that? your own personal blend? some foreign vodka?’

Cordelia playfully swatted towards his forearm with a napkin from the bar. “Hmm? Uh.. It wasn’t about what the shots were saying, it was the glass on the counter.” She explained feeling mortified that of all people at this party - he had been the one she had almost went on a full fake psychic trip on. “Come to think about it though..” Her voice trails off as she takes the three shot glasses back into the fray of the bar. Setting up three new shot glasses, as she opened up the liquid again. “Come to think of it. Just listen boss.” The first glass when it got to the rim she remarked, “Que”, the second one, “Sera”, and then the third, “Sera.” 

She laughed and looked to the unmarked bottle with a shrug of her shoulders. “Nonna’s secret recipe, shouldn’t make you vomit thinking of food tomorrow. Easily mixable with beer too.” Cordelia looked around not seeing any other customers, so she leaned against the bar. Arms down on the counter as she eyed him curiously. “Having a good time?”

The gala made her nervous, and since she left her last gala being able to breathe without a tank there was good reason. “If you need a lift later let me know. “ Not that she thought Olyvar was in any immediate danger. She didn’t even really know any of these people at this party, but she was thankful for that. 

[throwbackblr]

[slytherinnpride]

[soleilfournier-blog]

☼ open ☼

     “It is a beautiful night for a party…” though, to Soleil, every night was a beautiful night for a party. Nevertheless, this one in particular was breathtakingly beautiful. He could tell that no expenses had been spared. He knew that the Golightlys had more money than anyone could count, but, even if he hadn’t known that beforehand, the visual of this event was enough to prove that to anyone. 

     What was he doing at the party? Just some fresh-faced artist in a city full of fresh-faced artists; he really had no place there. Despite that, he’d been invited by Damien Olivier himself, and who was he to say no to the Parrain? In fact, who was he to not go above and beyond for him? Yes – it was a beautiful night for the party, but it was a beautiful night for Soleil, as well. Some may call him dramatic, coming with an entire outfit change for after the sun set, but he was surely no more dramatic than most people here - he was just taking advantage of the party as anyone should. After all, in a room full of the richest people in New York, one could surely sell a few paintings, gain a few commissions. A good night to be had, beautiful clothing to be worn, money to be made, drinks to be sipped.

     Standing with a glass of champagne, he was planning on making the very most of this party - after all, who would waste an open bar and the opportunity to mingle in this crowd?

[ceetates]

Cordelia caught the other’s words. It would have been a beautiful night to stare out her petite apartment window and reading by a candle fire. In truth this Gala triggered her, and she despised it. Yet, she needed the cash too. It was a shame she couldn’t turn down deals these days, if she wanted to save up the money for the surgery. “It’s a beautiful night.” She mused holding the tray with one hand that had been adorned with multiple glasses of champagne. 

The girl gives him a probing look and another glance around the room. “The stars speak to me, and say your business endeavors will flourish at this party tonight. Stick the retrograde of your right, and be weary of your left.” She replies in a fleeting whisper, eyes dramatically rolled into the space in the back of her head. Before she straightens herself and clears her throat. “Another glass of champagne, sir?”

[alexandervbarrett]

( &&. OPEN )

They were somewhere here. They had to be. Alex hadn’t come all this fucking way to spend his night celebrating some spoiled brat’s nineteenth birthday to walk away empty-handed. Currently, Alexander found himself posed at one of the tables scattered around the grand banquet hall, his phone before him on the table alongside a half-eaten plate of filet mignon and herb-roasted veggies.

Pushing away his plate of food, Alex stood up and slipped through the crowd, making his way around the ballroom where guests young and old danced; some among friends, some among more intimate romantic partners, as he slipped onto one of the vast balconies that scattered the hotel property, unlocking his phone and searching for a specific contact in his phone.

“Balcony’s occupied,” he said without glancing up from his phone at the first sound of the balcony doors snicking open. “Find somewhere else to be.”

[ceetates]

So many bodies it was easy to feel the air asphyxiate her far worse than the polluted air outside. Taking her five minute break she had easily enough maneuvered herself through the crowd with the oxygen tank cradled in her arms.  Being invisible had its advantages, or so she thought until she got out onto the balcony with three minutes to spare. 

Part of the reason she was in this mess in the first place was her nonna’s inner justice. She should have known King of the balcony would be here. Just like they were at any gala like this. However, being so close to death before made her more reckless than normal. Was this guy a big shot? He was dressed like one. Did Cordelia Tate care? Not in the slightest. King of the Balcony could throw her off, and she was almost certain with all broken bones but one that she would survive. 

Cordelia closed the door behind her, but didn’t heed the initial advice. The clank of the metal hitting the ground, and then she spoke out with a soft wheeze. “Wow.  Clearly, there is space here for more than one person. Unless you’re Bunny, this isn’t your balcony tonight. I suggest you kindly fuck off to your corner and I’ll fuck off to mine for two minutes. “

[ceetates]

Shots Fired

@fckolyvar

Alright, what better place to play the fake psychic card than someone’s birthday. The illusions of grandeur worked well with her ploy, at least she seemed to think so. Cordelia snickered as she emptied the jar of tips into her steel box to gather up later. She hadn’t properly seen the newest person to approach the bar, and so she started. Thumb and pointer finger slid across her forehead as she closed her eyes with a hum.

“Yes, yes, it’s clear to me now.” She spoke in her most believable sultry voice she could create without being starved for oxygen. “Shots. I hear the shots of..” Her words pause as she caught the familiar scent and peeked one eye open. God fucking damnit. Olyvar. Seriously?! He wasn’t her boss at the party, but she didn’t need him to know about her lunatic sideline business. 

“Shots..yes, shots on the bar, boss.” Cee responded with a nervous chuckle as she placed three shot glasses in quick succession, filling each to the brim with the secret clear liquid. “Bottoms up!”

[ceetates]

[ceetates]

teddyxmuller‌:

“Tread carefully, hmm?” He cocked a brow. “I thought divination was something you found in a Harry Potter book, can’t say I’ve ever heard it in a real life context.”

“Rowling. Ugh.” Cordelia muttered with a roll of her eyes skyward. “Shehas completely damned my generation. Turned us all into Sybil Trelawney. It’s truly tragic, don’t you think?” 

[gabrielvbeaumont]

( &&. @ceetates )

La Belle Epoque’s foot traffic was more than adequate for a Saturday morning; he’d met some prospective new clients, had heard tales of magnificent works of art being shipped from Prague and Paris to New York to be auctioned off, and had just finished a light lunch as he made his way through the exhibits that dotted the gallery, his inventory checklist in hand as he crossed off that everything was in order. Seigneur Olivier had yet to visit the gallery for the day, but Gabriel wished to make sure everything was in order for him when he did drop by.

Making his way back to his desk at the front of the gallery, Gabriel took a seat, spread the inventory checklist before him, and reached for his reading glasses, slipping them onto his face as he worked through the papers before him. At this rate, he might consider closing up shop early for the evening so he could see to some of those promising new features making their way into the city.

[ceetates]

It had started with a well-crafted guess. Cordelia grew up in the finer life before she had landed in New York. She was the pauper to her past princess. She had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but that’s how most of the fake psychic readings start to probe the client’s interest. She had blubbered out the only artist name she knew from passing the subway that morning. It had been on key for the time being, a slippery slide to keep in contact with and to salt occasionally. She wasn’t exactly sure how the meeting would plan out – because Cordelia hadn’t visited the art collection beforehand.

There was a fleeting moment where she thought she would have enough time to mad dash in, but she felt the heavy hand on her shoulder. Offering the investor a small smile she follows them inside, being careful not to scruff the small wheels of the oxygen tank on the tile. The man behind the desk seemed distracted, so she paused and placed two fingers against her temple. “Yes, yes I see it now.”Cordelia lead the oblivious bank towards Gabriel and cleared her throat when she was close enough. “This man would like to buy the Gerhard Richter piece you have.” Cordelia wheezes and turns her head to cough.