𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒂. 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚 - 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆. 𝒆𝒔𝒕. 𝒔𝒉𝒆/𝒉𝒆𝒓.
selective one x one blog. muns & muses must be 21+.
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Keni

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@coloratvras
𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒂. 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚 - 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆. 𝒆𝒔𝒕. 𝒔𝒉𝒆/𝒉𝒆𝒓.
selective one x one blog. muns & muses must be 21+.
i have such an Idea for a 4x4 obx inspired group but ...
HUNTER SCHAFER for SHISEIDO
Belmont Cameli as Eli Stock ALONG FOR THE RIDE (2022)
all I do is listen to music and think about my silly little fictional people
ARÓN PIPER
Érase una vez en Euskadi (2021)
𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : by the docks .
it’s a strange feeling, being back five years later to a place so painfully familiar. it’s the little details gemma noticed — how certain stop signs had been changed to streetlights, how the construction on the boardwalk was finally finished, how queen’s cafe changed their font on their sign. so it’s the same, it really was, and yet gemma felt like she was walking in an alternate universe version of a place she’d one called home.
not only that, but gemma’s changed. five years was a long time, and in hindsight maybe gemma should have visited. seen her loved ones, remind herself that there was a place that she had her roots in. that burnby was always home in some way. but maybe it was fear, that once she’d come to visit gemma would have never left again. and yet simon’s call was like a fucking lifeline — gemma had never said yes so fast to something in her life ( which is saying a lot, seeing as gemma had a hard time saying no to something due to her untamable curiosity ).
there was so much gemma had missed. so much time she’ll never get back. she’s grateful for the parts of the world she got to see, the people she met, the experience she’d gotten that she hoped was enough to keep birdie’s afloat through the tourist season. but it’s hard not to be reminded of everything gemma left behind. one of them ultimately being nicolas reed.
gemma found natasha first, bumping into her outside of victoria street deli. another person gemma regretted not keeping up with as well as she’d wanted, but natasha was always kind, always supportive. gemma at one point was best friends with natasha’s brother. it’s through her that gemma learned of nic’s whereabouts and his new sailboat ( not totally new, according to natasha, but it’s the first time gemma’s hearing of it ) and where to find him.
there were no expectations, truthfully. gemma walked along the marina, eyeing all the different boats docked there, the warm air blowing through her hair as she kept a close eye on the boat names, looking for the orion. gemma’s a little nervous, and a little excited, and she frankly didn’t know what to expect. she mostly hoped nic would at least hug her — that things wouldn’t be as weird as they were with gemma and half of the town that remembered her as solely the adventurer. the one who needed to get away.
her walking halted as she saw a sailboat with the orion’s name on the side, hearing some bustling from the boat itself. her hands went to the pockets of her jeans as she shifted her weight from her toes to her heels, trying to be patient. she’s one step away from just climbing onto the boat herself and praying it was nic’s and not a total stranger’s when she saw his familiar frame.
❛ hey , ❜ gemma said in case he didn’t see her. it was late in the evening, the sun already setting on the horizon, and the marina was quiet. still, gemma paused, shrugging a shoulder as she smiled a little. ❛ long time no see, huh ? when did you get a boat and why didn’t you tell me ? ❜ she asked, her tone light.
Ross Butler photographed by Ssam Kim for The Glass Magazine (2018)
— WINONA .
SHE TURNS HER body to face emilio fully as he speaks, his retelling of the same frankie jonas party proving to be a lot less glamorous than winona would otherwise assume. like a dark cloud following a particularly negative individual, it’s as if winona assumes a sparkling trail of gold dust surrounds everything emilio does but certainly, one can’t associate gold with purposefully thrown drinks and vomit on shoes, right? it’s almost humorous and winona can’t quite suppress the small smile from forming on her lips, hands folded delicately underneath her chin.
“sounds like your night really went DOWNHILL after our chat, then.” of course she remembered talking to him that night. that night was on the tame side; she remembers being blissfully drunk and chatting up quite a few people before deciding towards the end of the night that she could manage the most elusive of irish exits and did just that, leaving the party to go sleep with some scumbag brooklyn bartender that snuck her expensive liquor when she’d visit and ranted about capitalism in the middle of sex. nothing quite like new york city, after all.
“go home with someone i LIKE? why…” her lower lip puckers as winona feigns confusion and looks around the room, then centers her attention back on emilio. "i don’t think i have anyone here, then.“ she smirks at him as she speaks, then brings her glass back to her lips. "all this reality talk is nonsense, winona.”
“oh, go on, tell me more about how i waste precious, EXERTED thought on the unnecessary,” winona gushes, leaning forward with bright eyes as she challenges him. "i can’t fathom being that miserable with my own life that i’m not always my most authentic self.“ it’s entirely false— a look at her otherwise private social life would reveal just that. almost like living a secret double-life, it’s just that winona feels a bit of SHAME for being brought into such privilege, something she sure as hell did nothing to deserve.
despite being brought into the world out of wedlock, despite her birth being a source of legitimate gossip for the tabloids in the ‘90s ( would this be the end of iris berkeley’s modeling career? was a child not enough for renowned film director eric mccleod to stay in his whirlwind of a relationship and thus out of california rehab? the answer would be no to all of these. ), despite it all, winona still woke up every morning in a gorgeous king-sized bed with a billowing canopy that invited light in like a warm embrace, kissed her cheeks like the sweetest of greetings. a stark difference to the mornings waking up in dinky williamsburg stuidos or the floor of a fort greene flex bedroom, it was a fact she didn’t want to let define her. if people didn’t recognize her similar facial features to one iris berkeley, so be it. that meant she could live in anonymity.
winona clears her throat and stirs her drink around, eyes slow as they shift from the glass back up to emilio. "i digress. i step down from my soap box.” the blonde pretends to curtsy as she does, then hops down from the bar stool and straightens out her jumpsuit. "that being said, though, i am AWFULLY bored and thinking of bumming a cigarette off of one of the servers just to feel something. are you coming, or are you scoping out your next embarrassing topic of conversation over your upcoming boozy friend brunch?“
❛ it did, ❜ emilio said, shrugging a shoulder as he fixed the cuff on his jacket. frankly, more times than not, emilio’s life seemed to resemble a hollowed out disco ball. glamorous and beautiful on the outside, hanging in the middle of a dance floor and reflecting multicolored light that mesmerized anyone lucky enough to be caught in its vicinity. but there was nothing beyond that. it was easier to not think about the holes and emptiness in the calixto house — it was easier not to consider how everything felt like it could be bought, anything from a smile to affection. it’s why it was easier for emilio to go out to these parties, get a little high, make out with someone. maybe it was easier to indulge in those simple pleasures than to get into the deep shit of figuring out what the fuck the future held.
because emilio didn’t know — and he was smart enough to be self aware that it bothered him a little. but not enough to deal with all the glaring issues in his picture perfect life.
he smirked, ducking his head as he laughed. ❛ i’m sure we can find you someone — you see someone you deem worthy of a night in bed with you and i’ll put in a good word, yeah ? ❜ he’s leaning a little closer, tongue darting out to lick at his lower lip for a moment as his lips quirked up in a teasing grin. emilio had come so close so many times to bursting the little bubble they’ve created for themselves, but he never took the chance. winona was both right there and so beautifully unattainable — sometimes emilio feared if he got the chance to feel her pulse beneath his lips and feel her hands on him she’d become his new addiction. he’s never been quite good at indulging a little at a time.
emilio’s watching her with his head tilted, constantly entertained by her quick wit. ❛ no need to flutter your lashes at any of the servers, win. ❜ emilio finished his drink, leaning his head back to get all the alcohol out of his glass before straightening up and adjusting his jacket, patting his right pec with a smile. ❛ maybe if you’re nice enough to me i’ll let you get in on the fun. c’mon, ❜ it’s all jokes — emilio honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night than ditching the event to watch winona cleverly bite back at every one of his comments, sharp as a whip. his jerked his head, offering for her to lead the way as his hand ghosted over her lower back, showing the crowd they were pushing through that they were exiting together, and not giving anyone a chance to part them.
they walked outside and emilio jerked his head to the side, avoiding the crowded valet area and people leisurely talking outside, instead walking with winona to the park across the street ( officially closed for the night, but what’s life without a little rule break ? ) . emilio jumped the fence and offered winona his hand with a grin. he’s thankful for the warm summer evening, it was the best season in new york in emilio’s eyes, and as the two of them walked in a little he found a bench and took a seat, grateful for the tree nearby shielding them from new yorkers walking down the block. he took out a cigarette from his breast pocket and lit it, offering it to winona after taking a long inhale. his arms spread on the back of the bench and he leaned his head back, taking a deep breath, enjoying the slight burn from the smoke and the warm air of the september evening.
— SHAY .
“CUTE TO THINK of, sure, but…” a puff of a sigh exits closed lips as shay widens his eyes and shakes his head. "kind of mortifying in the moment. BUT…“ he holds an index finger in the air. "makes for good content, i guess. so, thanks.” he reaches out for his phone and sets it down, only to lean in as arden starts playing a voice memo from her own phone.
listening to the guitar solo causes his face to light up— it starts in his eyes and creeps to his brows, then down to his cheekbones and curls at his lips. they part and he gently takes her phone, then brings it closer to his ear to listen intently. "i– this is–" he’s stammering as the memo comes to a stop and he hands arden her phone back. "i don't– i don’t wanna sound, like, WEIRD but that was…“ he lets out a laugh and nods enthusiastically. "that’s a sexy solo, arden. holy cow.” he shakes his head as if he’s in denial that someone can produce something like that, OUT OF BOREDOM, no less. he puckers his lower lip in a slight frown. "no, no,“ he insists. "no, that–” shay points at her phone, then looks up at arden and beams at her. "–that was all you.“
and he’s staring right back at her, an awe-struck expression painted over his features when he swears he sees her gaze shift to his lips, even momentarily. it’s quick, though, and shay wouldn’t be one to assume someone is just, like, staring at his lips. he brushes the thought off and turns to swing his legs over the counter just as arden hops off. "you should–” he nods. "–you should keep working with that. i may be biased but that’s a sick start you have. seriously.“
a polite shake of his head and a hand held up is enough for shay to do the predictable by saying no to a drink. "you wanna know what my call time is tomorrow?” he cocks his head to the side and places his hands on either side of the counter, legs swinging over as he watches arden pour herself a glass of wine. "FOUR in the morning.“ he wrinkles his nose and hops off the kitchen island as well. "the trainer wants me dead, i think. i mean, i don’t mind early call times but even THAT might be too early for me to be pushing a tire and running a few miles but… that’s the nature of the business, right?” he meanders over to her, as if testing the waters, and leans against the wall near her.
“you’ll like this.” and by that, he means she WON’T because she’ll surely call him crazy and the smirk on his face says just that. he lightly hits her arm with the back of his hand before crossing his arms in front of him. "sometimes? when i’m running, i try to sing, too, so i can, like–" shay shimmies his shoulders as he speaks. "–so i can train myself to sound better if i ever wanna run around on stage. presumably, when you take your rightly throne of BEST guitarist out there and put me to shame, so i’ll have nothing but my little… my little singing sprints.“
❛ experiences people can relate to make for the best fucking content, if you ask me. why do you think everyone writes about like — loss and love. and sex. so many songs about sex, ❜ arden laughed, giving him a ‘ what can ya do ’ shrug. it was true — relatability was so vital in writing. perhaps it’s part of why arden lost her muse lately. when she was defying odds to make her music sensational, or when she was even fighting with her ex boyfriend, at least something came out of it. passion poured into art for arden, and it’s a little strange, feeling it come back like a buzzing under her skin just at watching shay’s genuine joy at his future and potential to create.
she’s never had a muse just because before — it came so naturally. maybe that’s the best way to describe, well — them.
❛ just say you’re welcome, shay. don’t deflect, ❜ arden waved him away. it was truthful and not intended for any ass - kissing or bashfulness. arden would be first to admit that yes, her guitar solo was sexy as fuck, but it didn’t change that she was inspired by shay to push through her writer’s block rather than fall victim to it. but still, a chance to tease — ❛ sexy, huh ? you were so fucking floored i told you how hot you were last time i saw you and yet here you are calling my solos sexy — what am i supposed to do with that, shay, hm ? ❜
arden smirked, eyebrow raised rather suggestively as she took a slow sip of wine, expecting the polite no from him. ❛ optimistic, athletic, musically gifted, a literal fucking superhero — what can’t you do ? ❜ arden put the bottle into the fridge, raising a finger in the air with a bright grin. ❛ oh right, dance, i just remembered, silly me. ❜ she’s fucking with him, letting out a little snort as she took another drink from her wine glass, eyes on shay.
she laughed at his confession, turning to face him as she drummed her fingers on the counter. ❛ oh my sweet, sweet shay — that’s what dancers do. builds up your like … stamina and everything. so you don’t go breathless when you’re singing and dancing at the same time. pretty sure it’s like, big on broadway too. ❜ arden quirked her brow, her smile pretty much effortlessly glued to her face at this point. ❛ besides, i already have the title of best guitarist — i’m just waiting for you to give me a run for my money. not that i won’t hold onto my throne anyway, it’ll just feel good knowing you tried to take it from me and i still won. ❜ her eyes were alight, sparkling under the kitchen lights as she bantered ( flirted ? ) with shay, attention fully on him.
aron.piper via Instagram
OLIVIA BAKER in All American 4.06 Show Me A Good Time
𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : a rich kid’s back to school party <3
giselle was fucking furious. everything had gone to shit. and she was like — 99% sure it was all zeke’s fault.
it was a stupid account, there were a million of them out there. claiming to have info and gossip and spreading rumors. it was all white noise. but this account had a photo — a private photo. of her and zeke. together. giselle remembered that exact moment — her mom took the photo just as giselle had leaned in to kiss zeke because it had been natural at that point. to act on instinct. and seeing as giselle’s mom only had a business account — she knew the leak couldn’t be from her. which meant, of course, zeke.
whatever point he was trying to prove, giselle was far from amused.
it was ryder’s party in his family’s penthouse — giselle was chatting with two of her friends, trying to pretend she didn’t notice everyone taking glances at her or whispering to their friends. listen, she was used to some sort of attention, but it’s hushed mentions of zeke and gossip girl that affirmed giselle’s worry that the instagram account knew of and wanted to expose things giselle was desperate to hide.
❛ look — it’s fine. it’s noise, giselle, you know this. i still can’t believe — i mean zeke valencia ? really ? anyway just — keep your head high and ignore it. someone else will do something far stupider and everyone will talk about them instead. it’s the way gossip works. ❜
giselle exhaled, taking a sip of her champagne as she nodded, trying to stay calm. but she was bubbling over. unanswered questions, an unattended heart, and mostly the sour taste of betrayal on her lips. it was one thing for zeke to be kind of an asshole and not understand — it was another thing for him to actively seek what ... vengeance ? an opportunity to ruin everything giselle’s worked for ?
and the worst part was that zeke wasn’t even the problem, not really. it was that giselle’s desperation to hide elements of her life were evident in the way paranoia crept in.
and then giselle saw him — and she had to know why.
❛ hold this. ❜
❛ giselle — no — ❜
giselle walked up to zeke, disregarding his company, eyes trained on him. her gaze was fiery and angry — and somewhere in there was hurt, too.
❛ what is your fucking problem ? how dare you — i — ❜
her voice came out louder than intended and she took a deep breath, taking a look around and noticing how many people were staring. she grabbed his wrist and tugged him behind her as she walked purposefully to find a space she could express herself in peace. she opened the second door down a long hallway, entering what appeared to be a study. giselle closed the door and turned around, arms crossed over her chest and eyes livid.
❛ go on then — explain. why did you tell that fucking instagram account about us ? what kind of — i get i wasn’t maybe the nicest person to you a week ago but — but literally what are you gaining here ? what’s your angle ? ❜
— ZEKE .
ZEKE HAS NEVER been dumped, mostly because zeke has never seriously dated anyone. the only experience he’s had with the ending of any sort of predicament with another person, it’s typically been this unspoken, mutual agreement that things wouldn’t continue. things were just EASIER that way— or, of course, zeke would suddenly forget he owned a phone and would thus never text the other person back. this is merely a taste of his own medicine, but it doesn’t quite go down like cough syrup used to. it’s bitter, the way it travels and scratches uncomfortably down his throat. being "dumped,“ for lack of better words, sucks.
and quite frankly, he’s a bit confused. it’s not like there was a need for things to end, just as much as there was little need for them to continue except for the fact that things were just good with them. why stop a GOOD thing? he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around it.
IT’S ABOUT YOU.
he can’t hide the smirk from forming on his features at the remark, followed by the explanation that people talk, and zeke is merely a montague amongst a capulet. his tongue runs across the surface of his teeth and he looks away, molars sinking into the inside of his cheek. a sigh escapes him.
"yeah? they talk?” gaze shifts back to giselle, stoic in the way he studies her features. "and you LISTEN?“ he lets that sit for a second before he laughs and shakes his head. "it’s a little late for that, by the way.” he presses his lips together and nods, then steps on the bottom of his skateboard to prop it up. he catches it in one hand whilst holding his drink and sandwich bag in the other, then he tucks the skateboard under his arm. a few steps to the side and he’s almost semi-circling her; it’s when he’s standing by her side, shoulder-to-shoulder when he adds: "you already associated yourself with me, barlowe. people talk?“ zeke grins as he eyes her up. "well, people watch, too.”
he wasn’t getting it — and giselle could only say so much to try and get him to understand.
the summer felt like a different world, perhaps a fantasy giselle had allowed herself to dip her toes in. the summer was about them — a strange pair that bonded the minute giselle let go of expectations and the public eye. days laying on the sand and feeling it between her fingers, nights spent making random cocktails from whatever giselle’s father had in his liquor cabinet. it came as no surprise when she was the one who crossed the line from them being friends to something more.
so why was she so hell bent on ending it rather than seeing it through ? the fear of being intimate — of depending on someone rested deep in her bones. and looking at zeke now … the thought of asking him to have a conversation with her about their feelings and what they want — it made her cower.
giselle wouldn’t put herself in a position to be hurt. not by someone else.
❛ i’d be stupid not to listen when people talk. it’s how i’m able to be who i am, ❜ giselle said, eyes never leaving his face even as he maneuvered his skateboard. she held her ground ( she held her breath ).
she frowned at his comment, letting his words sit in the air before shaking her head. ❛ you’re right. i have. but that can change — starting with putting distance between you and i. they’ll see what i want them to see. and it’s not me and you together. ❜ her words cut deep, her blow final as she eyed him and straightened up, briskly walking away before she could do something stupid and regretful.
Arón via insta stories