& a bee sting

chloé leiden. xxiv. glossy.

[dceumovies]

[chloeleiden-blog]

i’m back from london, and everything’s moved on so i think i’ll be dropping my st patrick’s threads

i have a few non st patrick’s threads ( ji nee, the ridiculously late reply for sofie, a starter for vala ) and i’ll be making some non st patrick’s threads for those i’m dropping ( bryce, anthony ) — let me know if i missed you 

but i’d love some more let me know, tap the heart, send a dm, whatever

[chloeleiden-blog]

anthonysouthgate:

He began to chuckle at the blonde’s expressions. She was very expressive and it was very entertaining. It was clear that she was at least tipsy. “Are you the tag police? Because you’d be very intimidating if you were. Maybe next time you could just tell him that? I think it’d probably save you a lot of trouble,” Anthony suggested, “Do I have a tag sticking out?”

She gave him a long, slow glance over, not because he had somehow failed to dress himself like an adult like the other idiot, but because she felt like she’d seen him before. Even if just on a television show. Or on a billboard advertising something. Maybe that was it. “You think he’d even listen to me? I’ll do what I want, thanks.” It was sharper than Chloé intended. “No tags. You’d probably have already had them tucked back in by me if you did have any them sticking out.”

[chloeleiden-blog]

brycbrooks:

          Bryce opened his mouth to tell her that it was an open bar or at least most of the rest of them were but he didn’t feel particularly safe from her tossing the drink in his direction if she thought she could get a replacement easily. Instead he nodded and let his hands falls with his own drink tipped down on the edge of the table to their side. “I’ll be sure to tip them well,” he joked before he glanced back at her face to see which way she was going to take it. Though before he had a chance to respond once more, his mouth worked but nothing came out as he followed the direction of her gaze when it shifted away from him and to the one who actually deserved the drink in his face. “You know if you want to throw my drink in his face,” he told her quietly as he gestured towards the full glass between them. “Okay, okay. I will do my best since you’ve called me out by my name.. though luckily you don’t know my middle name yet or I’d think you’ve been talking to my mother.” He grinned then.

It was unfair, she knew, to judge a man based on, one, his completely, obviously, scripted reality show, and two, hearsay, but Chloé didn’t feel particularly fair. He reminded her of too many cocky assholes who had offered to be her saviour, but only if they got something from her. She rolled her eyes at him, crossing her arms. She was being childish, she knew, but she deserved that. It was rare she was so close to someone who pissed her off so much. And to be fair to him, he was taking it well. Then — for a second, she though he was offering her his drink to placate her. When she understood what he had said, she froze. Fucker. “You ever heard of Wikipedia, Bryce Nathan Brooks?” 

She was guessing. Long shot. But he looked like a ‘Bryce Nathan’. There was something obnoxious about the name Bryce to begin with, and adding Nathan to it made it worse. It was almost as obnoxious as naming your son after your husband. “Thank you,” Chloé said quietly, after another long moment, “He’s too far away now, or trust me, you’d be out a drink.”

[chloeleiden-blog]

lcrkspur:

          Stood beside the bar, Evie was inclined to wait her turn before demanding a drink from the barman. It was the first night that she was allowing herself to have a drink since finding out that she was pregnant with Harper, and so she’d prepared by expressing many bottles for the nanny to feed her daughter. It seemed that she was out of practice in grabbing people’s attentions and found that her requests fell on silent ears. However, she was saved by a woman - someone whom she only knew by a face. The source of her friend’s heartbreak. Smiling despite herself, Evie requested a drink from the woman. “I’ll have a french martini,” she responded calmly, placing her hands on the bar. 

The actress had a grace so natural  Chloé knew it could only be practised, over and over, constantly improved, constantly turned on. She did that too, practised, in front of her mirror, reading her words in her head before she said them. Especially when she was younger. She had read about Evie Larkspur’s child — a daughter, wasn’t it? she hadn’t cared enough to pay attention, not when there was another child for her to care for — they shared cover space. One life destroyed, one created. 

She’d liked the actress before, seen a few of her movies, but she liked her more after seeing her at her most scandalous. It made her look human. Standing next to her didn’t. Chloé leaned over the bar, picking up a glass laying on the counter, summoning the bartender to yell at her. “She wants a French martini,” she said, tilting her head towards Evie then drawing back. “Sorry. They don’t have Chambord. It’s either whisky or Guinness here. I think the beach bar’s stocked better.” 

[chloeleiden-blog]

design portfolio: nursery for allie park, commissioned by ji nee park / @pcrkjinee

[chloeleiden-blog]

pcrkjinee:

As soon as her feet touched the sand flashes of light greeted her at the walkway. Ji Nee forced a smile while pointedly ignoring the questions about Carly. She was told not to talk about it, and that was the only easy direction to follow. As she posed this way and that way, she noticed a cluster of cameras hounding someone by the bar. Despite the protests, Ji Nee drifted off the walkway and headed straight for the bar. The two bodyguards flanked at her sides made the paps part down the middle. As she made her way next to the other person, she recognized their head of blonde hair. Chloé. Ji Nee looked over to her as a bartender noticed both of them. “Do you want something new?” she asked as her bodyguards broke up the crowd. “The cameras will hopefully thin out after a few hours.”

Her tears had always been encouraged: her lower lip wobbled and she pouted and she got what she wanted. A few bats of wet lashes and dark streaks of mascara on her cheeks made her look so young and naïve and different. Chloé had quickly come to learn that bright flashbulbs and broken promises made her eyes water and she hated it, she wanted to look like someone to fear, she never could if she was always crying. Of course, it had to be Ji Nee Park who saw her with her eyes burning, hot and wet in their outer corners as stray tears — from frustration, or the lights, or both — leaked out. She raised her hand, to cover them, without the cheap, but, fully opaque sunglasses she usually wore. She had convinced herself she would lose them in the crowd. Fuck, she wished she had brought them. “No, no,” Chloé said, eventually, “It’s okay. I don’t want anything.” She paused. “Thank you. For making them leave.”

[chloeleiden-blog]

writing to do: fyi, stars don’t mean anything special, they’re just replies i’ve started already / conceptualised 

replies ( event ) none

replies ( non event ) ◦ lacey ◦ ji nee  ◦ sofie ◦ starter for vala

?

[chloeleiden-blog]

anthonysouthgate:

The main stage wasn’t particularly his cup of tea. He wished it was, but it just wasn’t. The only thing he was really enjoying was the open bar. Nonetheless, he still had a good time watching other people make a fool of themselves. With a drink in his hand, he swirled it around before looking up and seeing a scene in front of him. “Okay, I didn’t see anything,” He replied. “What were you trying to do?” He wondered how many drinks she had at this point, wondering if she was okay. “Because I really don’t know.”

Ordinarily, Chloé wouldn’t have cared to explain herself to a stranger, but the bitter shots of amber liquor, like liquid gold, had found their way into her head, colouring her actions, clouding her judgement, and she faced the man, pointing to her back. The gesture came off far more wild than she had intended when paired with her wide eyes and the pervasive perfume of lager. “He had a tag. Sticking out. He looked fucking stupid, no one needed to know his ugly shirt was Gucci, we could all tell anyway.” Drinking had always made her sharp, and mean instead of numb, and, tipsy now, Chloé was unafraid to say what she truly meant.

[chloeleiden-blog]

brycbrooks:

           Well, this was interesting. Bryce glanced up from his own drink to see someone poised to toss it directly in his face despite not having said a word towards her or even knew who the woman was as he glanced around for anyone else to step in. They weren’t. Most didn’t even pay attention and the ones that did, it looked like they wanted to see a show as he held up his hands with palms facing out. One still holding his glass while he did it as he tried to give her a small smile. “I uh… sorry? I don’t know what’s going on here,” he tried to tell her despite her warning that one more word was going to get him soaked to the bone with whiskey ( not the first time though ) as he didn’t know what he’d done to set her off. “And I really would prefer not to get a drink thrown in my face before being told what I did to deserve it. If that’s alright with you.”

Chloé faltered when he smiled. That little look should have made her so much angrier, but she knew he was innocent — of this charge. Fuck her fucking conscious. “You are so fucking lucky that they’re overcharging for drinks,” she said, instead of throwing the whisky like she had been so committed to doing before he flashed her that smile. “Open bar, my ass.” Chloé fully intended to make it clear that he was still complicit in her grievances, he’d fucked up by not stepping in before she’d had to make threats. Behind Bryce, a man who looked like he wouldn’t have been out of place in a frat house at UCLA met her eyes and ran. She had half a mind to abandon the reality star and deal with the real culprit. But she had a better target now. “It’s on you to get the pieces of shit telling girls to take off their clothes for them to shut the fuck up, okay, Bryce Brooks.”

[chloeleiden-blog]

“your love was taken by the rich / when they don't even understand / what feelings are true / and can be real” — rich, LAOISE

&. bella / @babellaby​ event: st patrick’s festival. location: the temple bar, leaving.

Admittedly, it had taken far less time than it should have for Chloé to give up on the festival entirely, plucking her bag from the table and slinging it over her shoulder and throwing down the change she owed, forcing her way back through the crowd and towards the place from whence she had come. There were no shuttles. The parking lot was empty. She was stranded. It was understandable, then, that she bit her lip and swore, especially since she was still tipsy. “Son of a fucking bitch ! ” Someone was lingering. She turned to the girl with a head of blonde hair so light it was almost white. Chloé recognised her in the vaguest of ways. Probably a mediocre actress she’d seen in some show or another. “Do you know where we are ? I need to call a fucking taxi.”

[chloeleiden-blog]

“and i spent too many late nights / thinking a hole in the earth” — drugs, EDEN

&. paula / @isprinsessee event: st patrick’s festival. location: the beach.

She had started to warn the girl to back away from that section of the beach when she reaslised she knew her. Knew of her. Was that? — definitely the fallen supernova she thought it was. She looked over the model’s shoulder, towards a cluster of men in nothing but clover-green boxers and strands of matching beads. “I’d be careful if I was you,” she said dryly, “As if they weren’t already complete fucking idiots, they’ve started punching anyone who isn’t wearing enough green and comes too close.”  Chloé didn’t bother to hide her disdain. She’d tolerated far too much already. She was already leaving, but she felt bad for stranding Paula Young in the fray. “I’m getting out of here, if you want to come with me.”

[chloeleiden-blog]

“when i was a child, i heard voices / some would sing and some would scream / you'll soon find you have few choices” — arsonist’s lullaby, hozier

&. evie / @lcrkspur​ event: st patrick’s festival. location: the temple bar.

Cardinal rule of being an Angeleno: don’t acknowledge celebrities — unless, of course, they were your boss and you wanted to fuck them. Ignoring someone’s fame, or infamy, was now Chloé’s own personal rule. She knew the woman trying to order a drink, or at least get some water, was Evie Larkspur. She pretended she didn’t. “Hold on, I’ll get his attention. What do you want?”

[chloeleiden-blog]

“we’re not just here to take part. we’re here to take over.” — conor mcgregor

&. bryce / @brycbrooks event: st patrick’s festival. location: the temple bar.

Expecting drunken men not to be assholes was ridiculous. She knew that. Her bar was practically on the ground. And still, she was let down. Someone was persistently catcalling her, yelling at her to ‘take off your top, blondie’, and she spun around to scream back. She was met with as unwelcome a sight as possible: the king of SoCal Sinners, or whatever it was. “Try me. Say one more word and you’re going to get a whisky to the face.” Chloé knew his voice, everyone knew what Bryce Brooks’ sounded like after six years of his stupid show, and the voice yelling at her hadn’t been his. But — he was a man. So — threatening him was good enough.

[chloeleiden-blog]

“i’m just trying to be myself. i’m not trying to be anyone else.” — conor mcgregor

&. anthony / @anthonysouthgate event: st patrick’s festival. location: the main stage.

If she hadn’t been tipsy, she wouldn’t have done it. But there was a tag sticking out of the man’s shirt, and he looked like an idiot, and Chloé reached out to tuck it back inside of his collar, but he moved suddenly and she grabbed empty air, pitching forward. “Fuck you too,” she muttered, tugging the hem of her shorts, looking up and catching the eye of another man. He was looking directly at her. He saw everything, didn’t he? “You didn’t see anything,” she said to him, her voice low in her best attempt at being menacing.

[chloeleiden-blog]

“call me anytime that you see the lightning / don't you be alone, you can always find me” — raging, kygo and kodaline

&. ji nee / @pcrkjinee​ event: st patrick’s festival. location: the temple bar.

It was a bad decision to have followed the whims of an invitation she hadn’t been expecting, and stone cold sober in a crowd of drunken Angelenos who fancied that they could outdrink the Irish, Chloé had come to realise that she needed a drink. Or thirty. Whatever would kill her faster. She had managed to fight her way to the bar before she had been caught, surrounded by camera flashes picking out an easy target separated from the herd — wasn’t this a private event? — and she swore, holding up her lukewarm Guinness as a shield, struggling to breathe. “Motherfucker! Leave me alone, fuck off!”

[chloeleiden-blog]

💬

WHAT WOULD MY MUSE SAY ABOUT YOURS? / send

💬 for a text my muse would send about yours to a third party

23:49Chloé Leiden 📲 [ PRIVATE CONTACT ]: What’s the buy-in? 23:49 Chloé Leiden 📲 [ PRIVATE CONTACT ]: And can you promise me the ‘Black Widow’ isn’t going to kill me? 23:49 Chloé Leiden 📲 [ PRIVATE CONTACT ]: A name like that comes from somewhere.