there's usually something relaxing about coming to the guiding stars. it was likely on purpose, but it was not often a place was as successful as the shop was for mason. just the first breath in had him feeling less uptight (which wasn't all that much to begin with) and more at ease. his tattooed fingers were more likely to pick up a random book, tap around the crystals or the tarot cards, just...puruse.
usually being the operative word. there was a bit of a commotion from someone getting a reading. based on the sounds of it, it was not going well for them.
"you think it's really that bad?" mason whispered to another person in the shop, nodding his head back towards the source of the noise. were those tears? or was it another noise being washed out by something else? "-hope you're not here for one of those and get something like that. sounds like their whole day is going to be ruined, huh?"
Dilan stepped quietly from behind the shelve as a soft chime from door alerted her to a new customer. She wasn’t eavesdropping, it was more so attuning herself to another guest. There were some days that she couldn't stand this job and those were the days it was most hard to pretend.
"Occasionally, the cards say what we want to hear," she said gently as she approached Mason, her tone light and thoughtful. "Then sometimes, they say what we need to hear." She glanced in the direction of the back room, where the last echo of the commotion lingered like perfume after the most recent guest left. Then back to him with a sympathetic smile, "i do my best to not leave the guests totally wrecked as they leave," sometimes with a lie, "could I offer you a reading?"
who: open ( assumed connections are fine! they could be shopping together, bump into each other, anything )
where: a clothing store in magnolia
THE BLONDE HELD A BUNDLE OF CLOTHES IN HER ARMS, maneuvering her way towards the fitting rooms to try on the items she selected. she approached one of the stalls, reaching a hand towards the handle when the door suddenly opened. fifi jumped, startled by the sudden movement, but couldn’t help look the person inside up and down. “wow! that looks gorgeous on you!”
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she grabbed the handle of the dressing room door to take a look at the dress adorning her body in the floor length mirror just right outside. Stepping back at the sight of the intruder, she offered a sheepish smile, "thank you," she laughed, her gaze dropping to the pile of clothes in the strangers arms, "I almost grabbed that dress, but decided against it," she murmured with a smile, "need any second opinions?
location: noir, back kitchen
featuring: @paintcdnights ( milo )
"Fuckin' moron - if you breathe near me and this cake topples - " Adley had warned, and whispered, as she had finished up the desert potion of the night's menu and had been exactly precise about it. She had finished with the last bit of fresh berries on the cream as she did so, letting out a breath when she was finally finished. "There. The deserts are all done, Chef, and I swear to god if one of those servers drops a plate of it, I will throw oil on them like last time. I ain't joking." She told Milo wiping her hands on the apron as she sighed, moving around the kitchen like it was the back of her hand, because it was.
"Do you need help with poaching the chicken or what, or grinding the garlic? You smell like a fucking Macy's clearance rack, by the way - did Andy drop by on your break?"
Milo wished he had flinched at the exclamation that Adley had hurled into his general, but her sort of affection had been thrown around this kitchen far too often, "calm down Gordon, the cake will be fine," he muttered at her as he stared at each plate of appetizers that was going to be going out in just a moment, not a garnish out of place. The kitchen was his happy place, even with Adley yelling at poor unsuspecting waiters. For as long as he could remember this was what he wanted to do with his life, to feed those he cared for and take care of them. Had he wanted to do this in a random city in Arizona? No, but he would take it.
Shaking his head, "chicken is almost done, everything is mostly taken care of," he rolled his eyes, "and no, Andy did not stop by." Andy smelled like Luxardo cherries, sweet and tart with a bitter aftertaste. She wouldn't have been caught dead in a perfume from the Macy's clearance rack, "I had a coffee date before work," he murmured as he shrugged it off. A date that would go nowhere, but it was his attempt to move on.
open to: @paintcdnights for milo callaghan-vaughn
location: andy's flat, uptown, magnolia, arizona.
Andromeda had yet to find sleep, letting each passing moment bleed into one long hum of peace— or whatever semblance of nothing at all that could exist between the two of them. She wasn't alone, an occurrence that she hadn't intended to make a habit at this point. Milo Callaghan-Vaughn was entangled in her sheets, and if she would give herself grief, he was tangled in more even after all these years.
"You weren't suppose to spend the night."
It's not the wake up she anticipated, but this hadn't happened since they lived in more than just motel rooms. His breathing raking the stillness ever so softly, the scrape of his jaw and stubble across her shoulder in the middle of the night in some exhausted attempt at a kiss, the cold touch of his chain on her back— that didn't belong to them anymore. And yet, just for a breath that Andy holds to make it longer, she dwells in it. Not a reminiscence, but a single what if had the car pulled into any other lot in Magnolia that day.
She pushes it away with a hand on his shoulder. "Milo!"
Milo softly stirred, dancing along the line of awake and asleep as he attempted to continue to bask in the comfort he would continuously search for all of that within the woman who shifted beside him. His breathing slowly and steady, hoping that he could hold on to the weight of whatever this is for just a little while longer.
But she wouldn't let them have that.
Groaning, "just a few more minutes and I'll be gone," Why did she always have the desire to ruin a good thing? It was just like Andy to have a penchant for breaking unbroken things for the hell of it, "I didn't realize I overstayed my welcome," he mumbled as her hand jostled him awake, "I'm going," he exclaimed as he pushed himself up off the bed and leaned over to grab his shirt.
Muttering under his breath, "you know you called me, right?"
well, well. welcome to little ol’ magnolia, dilan özdemir! i heard that as our resident 28 year-old tarot reader at guiding stars, you can be kind of vulnerable? no worries, i think your effervescent nature makes up for it. anyway, keep up those smeared lipstick at the end of a very long night, the discoloration under skin as bruises faded away from memory + the shadow of the past that haunts her at every turn vibes. we’ll see you around downtown blasting alrighty aphrodite by peach pit, dilan!
STATISTICS
NAME: Dilan Azize Ozdemir
AGE: Twenty-Eight
GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Woman, She/Her
SEXUALITY: Bisexual
EYE COLOR: Brown
HAIR COLOR: Brown
HEIGHT: 5'6"
DATE OF BIRTH: December 13th, 1996
ZODIAC SIGN: Sagittarius
LEVEL OF EDUCATION: High School
LANGUAGES: English, Turkish
RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: None
OCCUPATION: Tarot Reader at Guiding Stars and Singer/Songwriter
BIRTH PLACE: Istanbul, Turkey
CURRENT PLACE: Magnolia, AZ
FACE CLAIM: Aslihan Malbora
CHARACTER HISTORY (tw: power dynamics)
From the moment Dilan could speak, she sang. Every word, every sentence—life was a melody to her, and she lived it like a song. Her parents dismissed it as a passing childhood phase, but for Dilan, it was a calling that never faded. Her father, a traditionalist and a formidable presence in her life, saw singing as a frivolous distraction. Singing was something to be indulged in youth, but abandoned in favor of marriage and duty. He expected her, like her sisters, to follow the path he laid out: university, marriage, motherhood. But Dilan was never meant to walk that path.
And she tried. She really did. She enrolled in university, hoping that maybe there was a way to balance her dreams with her father's expectations. But within a year, the walls of university felt more like a cage than a promise. When she dropped out, her father wasted no time organizing meetings with "eligible" Turkish bachelors, determined to mold her future through tradition and control. However, Dilan had reached her limit. Refusing to be bartered into a life she didn’t want, she finally did the unfathomable: she left.
With little more than her savings and a suitcase full of hope, Dilan drove to Los Angeles. There, in the vast and indifferent landscape of ambition, she chased her dream of singing. For a while, it was enough just to try. She busked on street corners, auditioned in dim clubs, and lived on coffee, borrowed time, and blind determination. She told herself it was better than the gilded cage waiting back home.
But LA was a hard place for a soft voice. Surrounded by thousands chasing the same dream, her talent was often overlooked and in the relentless hustle of the city, she began to believe what her father had always told her: that her beauty was her greatest asset. So, she leaned into it, using her looks to earn stage time, to get noticed, to try to carve out a space where her voice could be heard. But the promises she received were as empty as the clubs she sang in. Even the exchange of favors were hollow as she gave what every talent scout wanted: time behind closed doors. When it came to getting her return, they disappeared.
Years passed and her shiny dream began to tarnish. Rejections mounted, and with them came exhaustion, bitterness, and disillusionment. When she finally gave up on the stage, she had nothing left: her family had practically disowned her and she hung her head in shame as she returned to Magnolia. Although she still sometimes plays late night shows to those who could care less, Dilan has given up on her dreams and now just tries to get by.
well, well. welcome to little ol’ magnolia, milo callaghan-vaughn! i heard that as our resident 30 year-old head chef at noir, you can be kind of temperamental? no worries, i think your disciplined nature makes up for it. anyway, keep up those chain around his neck feeling more like a noose than a necklace + hands smelling of rosemary and citrus vibes. we’ll see you around downtown blasting sun bleached flies by ethel cain, dilan!
STATISTICS
NAME: Milo Adair Callaghan-Vaughn
AGE: Thirty
GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Man, He/Him
SEXUALITY: Heterosexual
EYE COLOR: Brown
HAIR COLOR: Brown
HEIGHT: 5'11"
DATE OF BIRTH: March 5th, 1995
ZODIAC SIGN: Pisces
LEVEL OF EDUCATION: Culinary School
LANGUAGES: English
RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: None
OCCUPATION: Head Chef at Noir
BIRTH PLACE: Brooklyn, NY
CURRENT PLACE: Magnolia, AZ
FACE CLAIM: Edward Bluemel
CHARACTER HISTORY (tw: pregnancy, miscarriage, car accidents, incarceration)
Milo Callaghan-Vaughn is a man built of love and ruin, thirty years old with a soul aged by grief, guilt, and a tenderness he doesn’t quite know where to place. He was born in the humming heart of New York City, raised in the arms of his single mother, Blair Vaughn, until the age of six. He was a bright eyed boy clinging to the warmth of a woman who carried too many unspoken things. Then, one day, she packed their lives into a suitcase and carried him across the country to Vegas, chasing the truth she could no longer hide: his father Fionn Callaghan
Despite Blair still being in love with Fionn, the three formed an unconventional family bound by loyalty and history. For ten formative years, Milo grew up in a home full of contradictions: love, tension, and secrets. When he was sixteen, everything shattered. Fionn was arrested for a crime he committed years before. Though guilty, his father’s case was mishandled, and a conviction tore their family apart.
He carried that loss like a torch. At twenty, he met Andromeda "Andy" Lynch, fierce and fragile in the same breath, while both were visiting fathers behind prison walls. They fell in love like a storm: sudden and reckless but all consuming. By twenty-two, they were married, much to the disbelief of everyone they knew. Milo refused the comfort of her family’s money. All he wanted was enough to buy his father a second chance, so they stole time, trust, and small fortunes. The pair were a modern day Bonnie and Clyde with aching hearts and noble intentions.
But fate seems to have its own way. A car crash, Milo behind the wheel landed them in a hospital room basking in sterile light. Andy was pregnant. And then she wasn’t. The silence that followed was louder than any fight. At twenty six, with grief threatening to hollow him out, Milo suggested escape. A road trip. Something to give them a new start.
They landed in Magnolia, Arizona, a town too small to hide in, too still to ignore your own thoughts. Milo thought they were healing, but Andy handed him divorce papers like a quiet goodbye, and he signed them, despite everything in him telling him not to. Was it just the miscarriage that led them to this or was there more he never saw?
Four years later, Milo still calls Magnolia home. He is now the head chef at Noir, a dream once too distant to name. He folds his passion into plates and pours his ache into the flames. His hands know how to make beautiful things. But his heart? Still tangled in the woman who lives just across town, the woman he never truly stopped loving.
He misses his family in Vegas: the father wrongly convicted, the step father who treated him like his own and the mother who loved with all her heart, despite her misgivings. The memories were filled with warmth and chaos, but they were his. However, he cannot bring himself to leave. Not while Andy is here. Not while some ghost of love still lingers in the air between them.
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