𝗴𝗹𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗴𝗼𝗿𝗲

𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐧, 𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢 && 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐳𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐳

[inhvritance]

inhvritance / a dependent multimuse blog built for manhattantv. penned with love by hutch . ( 28 · she / her · gmt ). for group members only !!

ingrid bianchi . thirty five, KIR ROYALE .

dominic mann . thirty one, HIGHBALL .

marlowe gonzalez . thirty, JUNGLE BIRD .

florence montero . thirty nine, COBRA'S FANG.

[lovedsme]

hands   up   at   broad   chest   height,   open   palms   toward   blonde   as   he   shuffles   backwards   only   a   millimeter   but   enough   to   show   his   flair   for   dramatics.  "  relax,   i'm   very   proud   of   you   for   mauling   him   alive   and   keeping   him   as   your   toy.  "   jests   around,   playfulness   clear   in   the   intonation   of   voice.   it's   great   that   their   relation   has   become   this   weird   sibling   -   like   friendly   back   and   forth.  "   and   maybe   that's   what   i'm   afraid   off.  "  touchy   point,   had   his   own   ups   and   downs   throughout   his   entire   life   -   that   perfectionism   haunting   his   nights   and   days   until   he   crashed.   "   no   one.  "  speed   extremely   fast,   stays   tight   -   lipped.   doesn't   even   know   her   name,   yet   only   moniker   for   the   raven   -   haired   beauty.

[inhvritance]

“ mhm. ”  entirely  unconvinced,  sound  dragged  out  as  she  watches  him  over  the  rim  of  her  water  bottle.  the  answer  comes  far  too  quickly  for  her  to  buy  it.  “ nicholas. ”  warning  laced  through  amusement,  one  brow  lifting.  “ you  don't  start  spiralling  over  first  date  locations  for  no  one. ”  then  softer,  nudging  his  arm  again.  “ and  for  the  record?  the  right  person  usually  likes  the  parts  of  you  that  aren't  polished  yet  –  so  hurry  up  and  tell  me  who  it  fucking  is. ”

[theydivine]

the sound against her skin sent a warm shiver down her spine. his laugh was a sound she'd never tire of, a sound she'd capture in a bottle if she could, and its former absence had echoed through her life.  ❝ you'd have to distract me so i don't burst out laughing. ❞   eyes flickered down to his lips. another thought had been steadily growing in the back of her mind the longer the night, somehow both stuffy and over the top, had stretched on.  ❝ think anyone would notice if we leave early ? there's that good burger place only a few blocks away. ❞   and the small hors d'oeuvres served hadn't filled her stomach.

[inhvritance]

his  expression  changes  immediately  -  like  she's  just  handed  him  an  out  he  didn't  realise  he'd  been  looking  for  all  night.  “ a  burger  place? ”  dominic  repeats,  a  quiet  laugh  slipping  out  under  the  words.  “ you're  offering  me  an  escape  route  and  expecting  me  to  say  no? ”  his  hand  shifts  slightly  at  her  waist,  thumb  brushing  over  the  fabric  as  his  head  dipped  down  to  press  a  quick  kiss  against  her  shoulder.  “ i've  spent  the  last  hour  pretending  tiny  pieces  of  salmon  on  crackers  count  as  food. ”  a  glance  flicks  across  the  room  -  the  overdressed  guests,  the  live  music,  someone  still  arguing  loudly  in  the  corner  -  before  he  looks  back  at  her  with  something  close  to  relief.  “ honestly,  i  think  leaving  this  place  with  you  might  be  the  best  decision  i've  made  tonight. ”

[rcttens]

(  Ꮺ  )   “  nothing  bundt  cakes  is  coming  out  with  their  new  flavors  today  !  ”  asia  clapped  her  hands  in  excitement.  “  we've  got  to  go  before  the  crowd  forms  and  they  run  out  of  the  new  ones.  i  want  to  try  the  strawberry  cheesecake  and  i'll  be  so  upset  if  they're  all  gone.  ” closed  starter, @imprfct4u, @soixantequinze, @inhvritance

[inhvritance]

“ you're  talking  like  this  is  a  military  operation. ”  marlowe  laughs  under  her  breath,  though  she's  already  reaching  for  her  jacket  because  realistically  there  was  never  a  universe  where  she  says  no  to  cake.  “ and  if  i  end  up  emotionally  attached  to  a  seasonal  flavour  just  for  them  to  rip  it  away  from  me  in  three  weeks,  i'm  blaming  you  personally. ”  eyes  narrow  slightly  in  mock  suspicion,  heading  towards  the  door.  “ quick  before  the  suburban  moms  and  pilates  girls  wipe  the  plate  clean. ”

[dynast1es]

❝   yeah,  sometimes.   ❞  allows  with  a  nod,  glancing  across  the  room  aimlessly  as  she  raises  her  own  goblet  to  chapped  lips.  she's  altogether  certain  they  don't  mean  just  the  same  thing,  but  it  doesn't  matter.  all  of  this,  every  moment  of  her  life,  is  far  beyond  what  she'd  ever  wished  for.  her  dreams  had  been  softer,  sweeter,  than  any  of  this  could  have  hoped  to  be,  but  she  wouldn't  trade  it  in  a  heartbeat.  ❝   but maybe  you  do  need  to  embrace  it,  marlowe.  if  only  for  tonight,  and  in  the  morning  ⸺  use  it.  open  up  your  journal  and  write.   ❞ 

[inhvritance]

“ yeah,  because  that's  always  healthy. ”  words  dry  around  the  rim  of  her  glass,  but  there's  no  real  bite  behind  them  tonight.  marlowe  glances  sideways  at  fawn  instead,  mouth  twitching  faintly  like  she's  fighting  off  a  smile  she  doesn't  quite  trust.  “ you  know  the  worst  part?  you're  probably  right. "  there's  something  quieter  in  her  expression,  tiredness,  maybe.  or  the  kind  of  honesty  that  only  really  shows  up  once  the  night's  gone  soft  around  the  edges  and  she's  around  someone  she  trusts.  especially  since  she  knows  what  fawn  is  referring  to.  “ i  think  i  forget  sometimes  that  this  is  actually  happening.  like  if  i  look  at  it  directly  for  too  long,  it'll  disappear…  or  i'll  ruin  it  again. ”  a  short  laugh  escapes,  quick  to  down  her  drink.  “ maybe  that's  the  problem  -  we've  spent  so  long  trying  to  survive  this  whole  thing  that  we  never  stop  to  enjoy  it. ”

[noirunaway-deactivated20260530]

setting  :  backstage  at  one  of  sienna’s  gigs.                        status  :  open  to  anyone  [  0  /  6  ]

Sienna  could  still  feel  the  adrenaline  thrumming  through  her  veins,  rattling  against  her  ribs  like  something  trying  to  escape.  Her  eyes  burned  from  the  relentless  camera  flashes,  her  ears  still  ringing  with  bass-heavy  music  and  the  roar  of  applause  that  lingered  long  after  the  runway  lights  had  dimmed.  There  was  nowhere  she  felt  more  alive  than  on  a  runway,  suspended  in  that  strange  fever  dream  of  glamour  and  spectacle,  but  God,  it  was  exhausting.

Now  seated  in  front  of  the  vanity  mirror,  cotton  pad  in  hand  as  she  wiped  layers  of  expensive  makeup  from  her  face,  she  finally  felt  herself  beginning  to  breathe  again.  The  glittering  dress  they’d  practically  sewn  onto  her  body  earlier  that  evening  was  gone,  abandoned  in  a  shimmering  heap  across  the  room,  and  without  it  she  felt  lighter,  more  like  herself.  For  the  first  time  all  night,  she  could  unclench.

The  show  had  been  a  success.  The  crowd  had  loved  the  collection,  every  look  earning  hungry  flashes  of  cameras  and  murmurs  of  approval,  and  the  designer  had  seemed  more  than  satisfied  with  her  performance.  Sienna  found  herself  replaying  the  details  in  her  mind  anyway,  every  turn,  every  pose,  every  split-second  expression,  when  the  sound  of  approaching  footsteps  pulled  her  from  her  thoughts.

Her  gaze  lifted  to  the  mirror,  catching  sight  of  the  figure  behind  her,  and  a  small  smile  tugged  at  her  lips  as  she  shifted  in  the  chair.  “You  made  it,”  she  greeted  softly.  “Did  you  enjoy  the  show?”

[inhvritance]

she  leans  against  the  doorway  with  one  shoulder,  jacket  thrown  over  her  arm  and  a  drink  balanced  loosely  between  her  fingers  like  she's  forgotten  it's  even  there.  “ barely. ”  she  answers  with  a  crooked  grin.  “ some  woman  with  a  camera  nearly  took  me  out  trying  to  get  a  shot  of  somebody  smoking  dramatically  outside. ”  eyes  settle  on  the  other  properly.  “ this  part  always  feels  weirdly  depressing  to  me  though.  like  watching  cinderella  clock  out  after  a  shift. ”

[ofwritersandsociety]

Location: Charlie's Coffee House

Being up in the morning was now an ingrained part of Rhea's habits. So even when she had a day off of work she was usually up and about in town. She wasn't usually aware of how busy things could be during the week, a rare day off fixing that, but she did notice someone looking around for a seat.

"I'm not expecting anyone if you would like to join me."

[inhvritance]

“ careful. ”  florence  says  dryly  as  she  sets  her  cup  down,  the faintest  trace  of  amusement  beneath  it.  “ that's  a  dangerous  level  of  kindness  for  new  york. ”  she  slips  into  the  chair  opposite  with  practiced  composure,  movements  neat,  controlled.  even  off-duty  there's  something  distinctly  clinical  about  her  -  posture  too  straight,  expression  too  measured.  “ i  appreciate  it. ”  phone  gets  placed  face-down  beside  her  coffee.  “ the  city  apparently  decided  everybody  needed  caffeine  at  the  same  time  this  morning. ”

[inhvritance]

hey,  i  think  i  just  served  FLORENCE  MONTERO  !  you  mean  the  THIRTY  NINE  year  old  NEUROSURGEON  known  for  their  CASHMERE  COATS  DRAPED  OVER  DESIGNER  SCRUBS  &  DARK  RED  LIPSTICK  THAT  NEVER  SEEMS  TO  SMEAR  ?  no  way,  what  did  they  order  ?  COBRA’S  FANG.  wow,  no  surprise  for  someone  whose  garnered  a  reputation  for  being  COMPOSED  AND  JUDGEMENTAL.  i  heard  the  hostess  say  they  were  being  targeted  by  @ROBINHOOD  because  of  THE  OPERATING  ROOM  MELTDOWN  THAT  GOT  HALF  HER  RESIDENTS  TRANSFERRED.  maybe  it's  just  me  but  it  doesn't  align  with  the  tabloids  screaming  about  THE  FLASH  OF  DIAMOND  EARRINGS  UNDER  OPERATING  ROOM  LIGHTS,  COLD  HANDS  WRAPPED  AROUND  ESPRESSO  CUPS  &  HEELS  CLICKING  THROUGH  EMPTY  HOSPITAL  CORRIDORS  BEFORE  SUNRISE  whenever  their  name  comes  up.  make  sure  to  deliver  the  drink  to  the  HOSPITAL  SUITE  (  TABLE  1,  DRINK  A  )  and  let’s  hope  they're  a  good  tipper.  if  not,  i'll  happily  send  in  some  stories  of  my  own.

childhood !!

florence montero was raised in a family where medicine was treated less like a career and more like an expectation. the monteros built their reputation through discipline, achievement and an almost obsessive dedication to professional success. appearances mattered. accomplishments mattered. weakness, uncertainty and emotional messiness did not. her parents measured pride through results - grades, accolades, internships, recognition - and affection often felt tied to performance rather than comfort. personal lives were mostly ignored so long as they never interfered with the family’s image or ambitions.

it shaped florence more than she likes admitting. she learned very young how to compartmentalise herself, how to swallow discomfort, how to perform composure even when she was hurting, intelligence became the safest way to earn approval and medicine quickly became less of a choice and more of an inevitability. despite the pressure surrounding her upbringing, florence was always fiercely protective of her younger sister.

even as children, there was a quiet instinct in her to shield her from the harsher edges of the family’s expectations whenever she could. where florence grew into the family’s rigidity, her younger sister remained one of the few reminders that softness still existed somewhere in her life. she loves her deeply - sometimes awkwardly, sometimes overbearingly, but with a loyalty fierce enough to rival anything else in her life.

early career !!

medicine became the first thing florence ever truly belonged to. she threw herself into it completely - years of impossible schedules, sleepless nights and relentless ambition eventually leading her into neurosurgery. residency hardened her. she developed a reputation for brilliance under pressure, terrifying standards and composure that bordered on inhuman during emergencies.

while other people built balanced lives around their careers, florence allowed hers to consume everything else. she became known as someone capable of operating for hours without losing focus, a surgeon trusted with impossible cases and impossible expectations. success came quickly, but so did the rumours: difficult to work with, emotionally detached, too demanding, too cold.

the truth was simpler. florence expected perfection because mistakes in her world destroyed lives.

personality !!

even at rest, there is a tension to her - shoulders held straight, jaw tight, eyes always assessing. she notices exits the second she enters a room, notices who is nervous, who is lying, who wants something from her. years in medicine trained her to anticipate disaster before it happens and now she doesn’t really know how to turn that instinct off. most people interpret it as intimidation, florence simply doesn’t know how to relax anymore.

she is deeply, almost compulsively, self-controlled. not because she lacks emotion, but because she feels everything far too intensely to trust it openly. anger is swallowed until it becomes icy silence, grief gets compartmentalised into sixteen hour shifts and expensive wine she never finishes, affection hides itself in practicalities: booking flights for someone before they ask, remembering the exact medication they mentioned three months ago, showing up at 2am without complaint when the rest of the world disappears. she struggles to say “i love you” plainly but she will rearrange her entire life around the people she cares about and somehow still insist it was nothing.

control is safety to her, predictability is safety, competence is safety, she has very little patience for recklessness or emotional immaturity and cannot stand people who create chaos and expect others to clean it up behind them. she is sharp-tongued when frustrated, brutally honest when pushed too far and has a tendency to dissect people psychologically in arguments with surgical precision. she knows exactly where to cut when she wants something to hurt. it’s one of the things she dislikes most about herself, though she would never admit it out loud.

despite her reputation, she is not cruel for the sake of cruelty. most of her harshness comes from expectation - she genuinely believes people are capable of more than they allow themselves to be. she pushes residents hard because hesitation in her field gets people killed and she pushes herself even harder. failure terrifies her in a way she’ll never fully confess, not because of embarrassment, but because she equates mistakes with irreversible damage. one bad decision in her world can destroy a life forever.

so she carries everything. every patient she lost, every surgery that almost went wrong, every moment she wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, careful enough. florence remembers all of it.

she’ll run herself into the ground without noticing until her body physically forces her to stop. she skips meals, survives on caffeine and adrenaline, forgets what day it is, sleeps in silk sheets she barely gets to use. there are weeks where the only thing keeping her functional is routine and sheer stubbornness, people assume she has her life perfectly together because she looks immaculate while falling apart.

divorce !!

her divorce only sharpened those edges. 

for years, florence tried to balance impossible things at once: being the kind of neurosurgeon people trusted with their lives while also trying to be someone’s wife. eventually, one started devouring the other, missed anniversaries became cancelled holidays, dinners interrupted by emergency pages became entire nights spent at the hospital without warning. there was always another surgery, another patient, another crisis more urgent than whatever waited for her at home.

and then there was the affair. not hers - his.

florence spent years being blamed for rumours she never bothered correcting. late nights with colleagues, photographs leaving galas beside donors and politicians, tabloids desperate to paint her as cold enough to cheat simply because she was difficult to hold onto. eventually, suspicion settled into the marriage so deeply that it stopped mattering what was true and what wasn’t.

and while florence was busy trying to keep people alive, her husband found comfort somewhere quieter. someone softer, someone actually there. the fallout was ugly in the way only deeply exhausted love can be, not screaming matches or shattered glass, but months of bitterness, accusations and silence sharp enough to cut through walls. florence handled the betrayal the same way she handles most pain: coldly, defensively. she buried herself deeper into work, pretended it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it did and refused to give him the satisfaction of watching her fall apart.

but it ruined something in her. not just trust - certainty. for the first time in years, florence found herself unable to fix something no matter how hard she worked at it. no surgery, no precision, no impossible hours could save a marriage already rotting from neglect and resentment. by the time the divorce papers were signed, they barely resembled the people who had once loved each other. in the end, the marriage didn’t explode. it decayed quietly beneath years of absence and unanswered loneliness until there was simply nothing left worth saving.

she almost never speaks about the divorce publicly, which only made people more fascinated by it. tabloids painted her as everything from emotionally unavailable ice queen to secretly reckless cheater depending on the week. florence, as always, let them talk. explaining herself has always felt too close to vulnerability and vulnerability has always felt dangerously close to losing control.

current day !!

socially, florence can be surprisingly charismatic when she chooses to be. she knows exactly how to perform elegance: the measured smile, the perfect posture, the low voice that makes people lean closer without realising. she photographs beautifully, speaks intelligently, makes people feel studied in conversations, which often reads as fascination even when she’s simply analysing them. she is excellent at playing the role expected of her - wealthy surgeon, poised socialite, untouchable older daughter - but very few people ever meet the version underneath all that armour.

and underneath it? there is someone painfully lonely. someone who secretly envies people capable of softness, someone who wants intimacy desperately but mistrusts it the second it’s offered, someone who has spent so long being admired for what she can do that she no longer believes she would be loved if she ever stopped performing usefulness.

florence loves with frightening loyalty once someone earns their place in her life. she becomes protective to the point of possessiveness sometimes, quietly observant of everything that could harm the people she cares about. she remembers tiny details no one else does, she notices when someone is tired before they admit it, she keeps emergency contacts memorised, she listens more than people realise but she is also incredibly difficult to reach emotionally. she avoids vulnerability by intellectualising everything, deflecting with dry humour or cold logic whenever conversations become too personal. if someone gets close enough to genuinely hurt her, her instinct is usually withdrawal rather than confrontation. disappear into work. disappear into silence. pretend none of it affected her at all.

the tragedy of florence montero is that she has mastered saving other people’s lives while having absolutely no idea how to take care of her own.

wanted  connections  !!

the  ex-husband  !! the  man  who  loved  florence  before  the  tabloids  did.  before  the  galas,  the  awards,  the  impossible  surgeries  and  impossible  expectations.  their  marriage  didn’t  fail  because  the  love  disappeared  —  it  failed  because  exhaustion  replaced  it  slowly  enough  that  neither  of  them  noticed  until  resentment  had  already  settled  into  the  walls.  his  affair  shattered  something  fundamental  in  florence,  but  there’s  still  history  there.  anger.  guilt.  unfinished  grief.  maybe  they  still  speak  occasionally  in  the  strange,  painful  way  divorced  people  sometimes  do  when  they  once  knew  each  other  too  well.

the  socialite  patient  !! someone  wealthy  and  high-profile  whose  loved  one  ended  up  under  florence’s  care  years  ago.  maybe  it  was  a  parent,  sibling,  spouse  or  child  -  someone  florence  operated  on  during  the  worst  night  of  their  life.  maybe  they  project  something  onto  her  because  of  it.  they  keep  reappearing  at  galas,  charity  events  and  private  dinners  under  increasingly  thin  excuses  until  people  start  assuming  they’re  a  little  closer  than  they  actually  are.

the  one-night  stand  she  can’t  forget  !! florence  usually  keeps  relationships  emotionally  distant  and  carefully  compartmentalised.  then  there’s  this  person  -  someone  who  got  under  her  skin  far  more  than  they  were  supposed  to.  maybe  it  happened  during  the  breakdown  period  of  her  marriage,  maybe  after  the  divorce  -  either  way,  the  problem  is  not  the  sex.  the  problem  is  that  florence  can’t  stop  thinking  about  them  afterward.

the  childhood  best  friend  !! someone  who  knew  florence  before  medicine  hardened  her  edges  completely.  they  remember  who  she  was  before  she  learned  how  to  weaponise  composure  and  perfectionism  and  maybe  they’re  one  of  the  only  people  willing  to  tell  her  when  she’s  destroying  herself. 

the  family-approved  match  !! someone  from  another  wealthy  old-money  family  pushed  toward  florence  post-divorce  because  they’re  considered  “appropriate.”  on  paper,  they  make  perfect  sense:  successful,  intelligent,  respectable.  emotionally,  it’s  a  disaster.  maybe  florence  keeps  trying  to  force  herself  to  want  it  because  it  would  make  her  life  easier.

the  soft  person  !! someone  genuinely  kind  in  a  way  florence  doesn’t  know  how  to  deal  with.  patient,  emotionally  open,  gentle  without  being  weak.  the  exact  sort  of  person  she  secretly  envies  and  instinctively  mistrusts  at  the  same  time.  the  dynamic  becomes  florence  waiting  for  them  to  eventually  leave  while  slowly  becoming  addicted  to  the  safety  of  their  presence.

the  person  who  sees  through  her  !! someone  entirely  unimpressed  by  florence’s  reputation,  status  or  intimidation  tactics.  they  challenge  her  directly,  call  her  out  when  she’s  cruel  and  refuse  to  let  her  hide  behind  professionalism.  florence  should  hate  them  for  it.  instead,  they  become  one  of  the  few  people  she  feels  genuinely  honest  around.

the  affair  rumour  !! someone  florence  was  falsely  accused  of  cheating  with  during  her  marriage.  maybe  they’re  another  surgeon,  a  donor,  a  politician  or  someone  equally  scandalous.  tabloids  practically  built  a  fake  relationship  around  them  despite  nothing  actually  happening.  now  they’re  awkwardly  linked  forever  in  public  perception,  whether  they  like  it  or  not.

[gifstache]

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[camelcts]

an apparition she is, poised with chin tilted skyward, throat bare to display of stars unable to gaze upon in the city as a cigarette burns between slender digits ⎯⎯ her mother would loathe the sight. soon his voice threads itself through her stillness, prompting a startled twisting of torso and femme swiftly discards stick, crushing it with heel. knows him, of course but mostly in passing, functions in which both of their families were honorary names in attendance. “ i do get what you mean .. but i still kind of hate it. ” lithe shoulders rise and fall coolly in tandem with words, “ all of it, actually. i mean, at least back home you don't have time to think about whether something's real or not .. you just keep going, you know ? ” a beat. “ i can't wait to get back. ”

[inhvritance]

he  watches  the  cigarette  disappear  beneath  her  heel  without  commenting  on  it,  expression  barely  shifting  beyond  the  small  twitch  at  the  corner  of  his  mouth.  he  understands  more  than  most  the  instinct  to  hide  things  before  somebody  can  make  them  into  a  problem.  “ yup. ”  agreement  flows  easy,  lacking  the  charm  he  usually  wore  around  people.  attention  slides  back  toward  best  friend's  sister,  lips  curled.  “ honestly?  i  think  i'm  just  impressed  that  you're  saying  it  out  loud  -  most  people  would  rather  die  than  admit  they're  miserable  at  one  of  these  things. ”  gaze  flickers  over  her  face  for  a  second,  easy  and  unguarded.  “ so  i  kind  of  like  that  you're  not  trying  to  sell  me  some  perfect  version  of  it .”

[lovedsme]

"   my   head   hurts   because   i'm   trying   to   hard   to   plan   the   best   first   date   for   some   girl   whose   name   i   don't   even   know.   how   did   mr   ingrid   bianchi   win   you   over   ?   i   need   help   and   i'm   desperate.   "

𖥻 𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱.  𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆‚  @inhvritance.

[inhvritance]

“ see,  that's  your  first  mistake.  nate  didn't  win  me  over  -  i  practically  hunted  that  man  for  sport. ”  grin  appears  instantly,  lazy  and  unapologetic  as  she  reached  over  to  nudge  his  arm.  “ stop  trying  to  make  it  perfect,  women  can  tell  when  something  feels  rehearsed.  if  she  likes  you,  she'll  probably  just  want  to  see  you  being  normal,  which  unfortunately  might  be  difficult  for  you. ”  words  trail  off  for  half  a  second,  expression  narrowing  slightly  as  realisation  finally  catches  up  to  her.  “ who  are  you  seeing? ”

[gljtz]

STATUS open to all LOCATION the set of “ rise & shine ” , valmont studios

paloma knocked twice before letting herself into the green room. she had slipped out mid-blowout. “ hi there! we are so happy to have you on the show. i've been looking forward to this interview all week. ” she walked closer, hand smoothing the front of her blazer out of habit. “ is there anything i can get for you before we go out there? the coffee here is amazing. ”

[inhvritance]

marlowe  glances  up  from  where  she's  half  sunk  into  the  chair,  one  leg  thrown  over  the  other,  sunglasses  still  on  despite  the  fact  they're  indoors.  “ if  i  had  to  interview  me,  i'd  need  at  least  two  drinks  and  a  legal  waiver. ”  her  voice  has  that  rough  edge  to  it  –  tired,  maybe  hungover,  maybe  both.  she  shifts  enough  to  sit  up  properly.  “ how  amazing  are  we  talking?  because  i  made  the  mistake  of  getting  coffee  at  a  gas  station  this  morning  with  my  manager  and  i'm  pretty  sure  it  stripped  paint  off  the  inside  of  my  throat. ”  the  corner  of  her  mouth  twitches  faintly,  standing  up  fully  to  brush  her  trousers  down  her  legs.  “ if  it's  good  coffee,  i'll  love  you  forever. ”  head  tilts  slightly  then,  attention  settling  back  on  the  other  properly.  “ you  always  this  calm  before  interviews  or  are  you  secretly  panicking  inside  too? ”

[theydivine]

his arrival instantly made her smile brighten, spreading up to her eyes, and fingers wrapped around the offered glass. were it not for words inviting her to look elsewhere, she would've let surroundings fade away but couldn't resist hunger for entertainment.  ❝ next someone is going to slip and fall in the spilled drink, ❞   she whispered in his ear, free hand shielding her laughter. body leaned into his — two puzzle pieces fitting together. ❝ good. this is exactly where i want to be. ❞

[inhvritance]

his  laugh  is  quiet,  immediate  against  her  ear  -  the  kind  that  only  happens  because  she's  close  enough  to  pull  it  out  of  him  without  trying.  “ don't. ”  he  murmurs,  amusement  threading  through.  “ because  if  someone  does  fall,  i'm  absolutely  pretending  i  saw  nothing. ”  his  hand  tightens  slightly  at  her  waist  as  she  leans  into  him,  instinctively  pulling  her  that  little  bit  closer  until  there's  no  space  between  them.  like  if  the  room  insists  on  being  this  ridiculous,  he  can  at  least  have  this.  the  corner  of  his  mouth  lifts  slightly  at  her  words,  something  quieter  settling  into  his  expression.  “ good  -  because  i  think  this  might  be  the  first  part  of  tonight  i've  actually  liked. ”

[soixantequinze]

“  did  julien  end  up  favouring  just  one ?  ”    their  time  at  the  build-a-creature  popup  in  germany  ended  with  pippa  offering  to  buy  half  of  the  stuffed  creatures  ingrid  picked.    and  more.  it was a mistake to ask  for  pippa’s  opinion—  one  who  loved  to  spoil  whenever  she’s  given  the  chance  to.    “  i  honestly  think  we  should’ve  gotten  the  dragon  in  moss  green  too.  ”    

[inhvritance]

“ he  did  actually. ”  laugh  comes  easy,  head  shaking  as  she  reaches  for  her  glass  to  take  a  quick  sip  from.  “ the  sea  monster.  apparently  it's  his  best  friend  now  -  it's  been  dragged  to  breakfast,  into  the  bath,  into  the  car … ”  there's  no  real  complaint  in  her  tone  -  just  fondness  as  usual,  the  kind  that  settles  warm  whenever  firstborn  gets  attached  to  something.  “ but  now  you've  said  about  the  dragon  again  and  i'm  thinking  maybe  we  did  make  a  mistake. ”  eyes  narrow  thoughtfully,  dramatic  for  effort.  “ because  imagine  him  running  around  with  a  moss  green  dragon  tucked  under  his  little  arm  like  he's  about  to  defend  a  kingdom.  i'd  have  eaten  that  up. ”

[wells-hannah]

RUE BENNETT EUPHORIA | 1.08 “And Salt the Earth Behind You”

[dynast1es]

it's  not  his  scene.  all  these  people,  all  this  horror.  kent  would  rather  spend  his  day  surrounded  by  true  monsters  than  all  these  feathers,  yet  he's  here  for  one  reason,  and  one  reason  alone  -  and  she's  never  looked  more  beautiful.  ❝    ignore them, sweetheart. this  is  your  night.   ❞  squeezing  her  hand,  he  draws  her  closer,  and  turns  to  face  only  her.  ❝    and  none  of  them,  not  a  single  soul,  is  worth  your  attention.   ❞ he presses a kiss to her forehead, ❝    i, for one, am quite proud of you for all of this, you know.    ❞

[inhvritance]

the  tension  in  her  jaw  eases  slightly  as  he  turns  towards  her,  shoulders  loosening  by  degrees  beneath  the  weight  of  his  attention  alone.  “ that's  because  you're  biased …  and  you  have  to  say  that. ”  words  quiet  now,  lacking  the  sharpness  from  moments  before.  her  thumb  drifts  absently  across  the  back  of  his  hand,  grounding  herself  there  while  the  noise  of  the  gala dulls  somewhere  behind  him.  “ i  don't  feel  very  graceful  tonight,  nate. ”  she  admits  after  a  beat,  the  façade  of  her  glowing  smile  on  the  carpet  in  front  of  the  photographers  fully  gone.  “ everyone  looks  like  they  belong  here  and  i  feel  like  i'm  one  comment  away  from  becoming  a  cautionary  tale. ”  and  yet,  the  corner  of  her  mouth  lifts  faintly,  small  and  softer.  “ but  you're  annoyingly  good  at  making  me  forget  that. ”

[poetr1es]

OPEN STARTER : laurence riordan a random cafe near graham records

laurie looks up at the footsteps beside their table, flipping its notebook closed and pulling it out of the way to make space for their guest. the other goes to speak, and laurie holds up a hand. “ give me a sec, ” they say, downing the last of their coffee before setting the cup down. “ okay, i'm all ears. what's got you looking like someone hid vegemite in your chocolate ? ”

[inhvritance]

marlowe  looks  like  death.  there's  sunglasses  covering  most  of  her  face,  hood  half  up  despite  the  weather  and  the  kind  of  slow,  careful  movement  of  someone  whose  body  is  currently  rejecting  every  life  choice  she's  ever  made.  “ if  you  speak  above  a  reasonable  indoor  volume,  i'll  actually  die. ”  she  drops  in  the  chair  across  from  the  other  with  a  groan,  pressing  the  heels  of  her  hands  into  her  eyes.  “ and  for  the  record,  vegemite  in  chocolate  sounds  less  traumatising  than  what's  currently  happening  inside  my  skull. ”  she  reaches  across  for  the  water  on  the  table  without  asking,  drinking  like  she's  been  wandering  the  desert  for  three  business  days.  “ i  don't  remember  getting  home,  which  is  usually  my  first  sign  that  maybe  i've  made  a  series  of  deeply  concerning  decisions. ”