Champagne Problems

[perignonkisses]

✧ GENERAL ✧

Full Name: Keani Ho'oipo 'Aukai-Kahele

Aliases/Nicknames: Kea, Kiki (only tolerated from certain people)

Age: 25

Birthday: July 22, 2000

Zodiac: Cancer sun, Sagittarius moon, Gemini rising

Gender & Pronouns: Cis woman & she/her

Sexuality: Lesbian

Relationship Status: Single

Occupation/Role: Musician, Lyricist & Frontwoman of Akrasia

Nationality/Origin: Native Hawaiian / American

Up Next: If Lyrics Were Confidential by Waterparks

✧ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ✧

Height: 5'4"

Build/Body Type: Petite and wiry; all nervous energy and expressive gestures, like she’s perpetually halfway through a thought she forgot to say out loud.

Hair Color & Style: Dark brown, usually worn loose with messy texture or half-up after shoving it out of her face mid-writing session. Occasionally impulsively dyes streaks of color into it whenever she’s spiraling creatively.

Eye Color: Dark brown

Distinguishing Marks: Tiny scar above her eyebrow from stage equipment falling during an early Akrasia show, multiple ear piercings, tattoo of soundwaves wrapping around her ribs, chipped nail polish almost constantly.

Clothing Style: Chaotic pop-punk disaster with expensive taste hidden underneath it. Oversized hoodies, layered jewelry, tiny skirts with combat boots, ripped fishnets under sweatpants, vintage band tees, heavy eyeliner, rings on every finger, and jackets covered in old tour pins she swears she’s going to organize someday.

✧ PERSONALITY & TRAITS ✧

Positive Traits: Charismatic, Creative, Passionate, Perceptive, Deeply Loyal

Negative Traits: Self-sabotaging, Avoidant, Restless, Defensive, Emotionally Reactive

Hobbies: Writing lyrics in Notes app drafts at 2am, doomscrolling, collecting vinyls, rewatching comfort movies obsessively, making oddly specific playlists, late-night drives with no destination, online shopping while emotionally compromised.

Fears/Phobias: Becoming emotionally stagnant, being misunderstood, losing creative relevance, intimacy that feels too real.

Likes: Neon signs at night, overcast beach days, hearing crowds sing lyrics back, energy drinks, hoodies that smell like someone else, impulsive tattoos, inside jokes that become entire languages.

Dislikes: PR training, invasive interviews, forced vulnerability, silence after arguments, people pretending not to care, anyone touching her guitar without permission.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

MBTI: ENTJ

✧ HEADCANONS ✧

Writes songs that are painfully specific and then acts shocked when people realize they’re about real events.

Deletes social media apps dramatically and reinstalls them twelve hours later.

Has at least twenty unfinished voice memos labeled things like: “WAIT THIS IS ACTUALLY GOOD.”

Makes playlists for people instead of communicating directly.

Thrives in chaos but complains the entire time.

Can sleep through thunderstorms but not through her own thoughts.

Owns an alarming amount of oversized hoodies despite living somewhere warm most of her life.

Will disappear for hours to “clear her head” and come back with coffee, new lyrics, and absolutely no explanation.

Chronically leaves drinks unfinished in random places.

Has a tendency to joke through emotional conversations right before accidentally saying something devastatingly honest.

✧ BACKGROUND & HISTORY ✧

Hometown: Kohala, Hawaii

Current Residence: Electric Avenue, Cider Point, MA

Family: Leilani Kahele (Mother; 51), Makoa 'Aukai (Father; 54), two older brothers back in Hawaii who still treat her exactly the same despite her fame.

Brief History:

Keani Ho'oipo 'Aukai-Kahele built an entire career out of saying the things people were never supposed to admit out loud.

Growing up in Kohala, Hawaii, she was loud, emotional, impulsive, the kind of kid who felt everything too intensely and turned it into music before she knew what else to do with it. Her parents encouraged creativity, but nobody expected the girl recording chaotic demos in her bedroom would eventually become the face of one of the internet’s most obsessively followed pop-punk bands.

Akrasia started as an accident.

A few songs uploaded online. A few live shows that got bigger too quickly. A frontwoman with too much eyeliner, too many opinions, and lyrics sharp enough to make strangers feel exposed.

People connected to Keani because she never sounded polished. Her writing was messy in the way real emotions are messy; hyper-specific, self-aware, romantic, destructive. Songs about wanting too much. Feeling too much. Loving people badly and wanting them anyway.

Especially the wanting.

That became her trademark without her realizing it.

As Akrasia exploded in popularity, Keani became impossible to separate from the persona fans built around her: emotionally reckless, painfully honest, all neon heartbreak and spiraling late-night thoughts wrapped in catchy hooks. Interviews loved to paint her as chaotic. Fans treated her lyrics like clues to a puzzle. Entire corners of the internet dissected who every song was about while Keani laughed it off publicly and wrote even more personal lyrics privately.

The truth was never as glamorous as people wanted it to be.

Fame started feeling less like freedom and more like surveillance.

Every relationship became content for strangers. Every breakdown became marketable. Every lyric felt like handing pieces of herself to people who wanted ownership over them.

So a year ago, Keani disappeared from the spotlight almost entirely.

No dramatic breakup post with the band. No official hiatus announcement. Just fewer appearances. Fewer interviews. Silence where there used to be constant noise.

Now she lives in Cider Point under the excuse of “taking a break,” though anyone paying attention can tell she’s still running from something, maybe herself most of all.

She still writes constantly. Still hears melodies in grocery store aisles. Still wakes up at 3am with lyrics stuck in her chest like static she can’t shake.

But for the first time in years, nobody in town really expects anything from her besides showing up.

And Keani still hasn’t decided if that terrifies her… or saves her.

[grxndvoile]

🪐 sadie was always kind. one of the few people in this life he never had an issue with sharing what was going behind his eyes. though, to an extent. if she knew the complex thoughts about their dynamic, the tried and true method of ignoring the subject might finally have to be acknowledged. in all honesty he didn't think she'd seek him out earlier tonight, not in a crowd this dense. not when their was alcohol around. "nice of you to insinuate i have any musical talent." he smiles, stepping forward towards her.

saul had indulged himself a lot lately in the luxury of attention and affection as a means to process a broken heart, he'd managed to keep strict rules and didn't plan to take anything further than a mutual understand of physical benefits. but it was harder when one of those people was his best friend, the waters were muddy and he often wondered when they'd cross the line to the point of no return ruining things. because at this point it was a matter of when, and not if.

was it selfish of him to seek it out regardless? probably.

"thought i'd need to hit the line for the bar if i was going to get through any more beiber-esque acts tonight." an expression half way between a grin and a wince sits on saul's features, looking back towards the stage now vacant as stage crew began to switch up the instruments on the stage. "i got you something." he holds out the alcoholic canned drink that had hung precariously from his jeans pocket.

he allows sadie to settle closer, watching the crowd disperse from the stage front. "now, the band that opened — they were good." though anything that was rock adjacent saul could get into, hopefully more bands along that vein would grace the stage for the rest of the evening. as the stranger brushes by them, he can't help but flick skewed brows in the direction of the man. he lets his palm rest on sadie's back to help keep her stable, once she removes her own from his arm. most of the time he'd shy away from physical contact with her in public, but the action felt safe. appropriate. "you alright?"

"i think being emotionally instability and heartbreak comes with the job." a smile dances across his lips. though, he catches the routine segue of conversation that often came immediately after moments like the prior. he'd learnt long ago how to read sadie's social cues. "otherwise what would they have to sing about?"

[perignonkisses]

Sadie’s mouth curved at his answer, though the smile came with that familiar look she always got around him: half amused, half like she was trying not to think too hard about why things with Saul always felt so easy.

“Oh, no." She said, eyes flicking up to him with exaggerated suspicion. “That’s even worse. I feel like I should be offended on principle that you didn’t think I needed full musical talent to be suspicious of a guy.”

Her tone stayed light, but her attention kept snagging on the details of him in that way it always did when he was close enough to touch; his expression, the way the crowd moved around them, the ease of him beside her that made her forget other people were even there. The stage behind him was being reset under strings of amber light, the sound of someone testing a microphone crackling faintly through the speakers. Around them, the waterfront glowed with festival color and motion, people drifting between bars and stages with drinks in hand, all laughter and warm light and half-finished conversations.

At his comment about the bar and the endless acoustic heartbreak acts, she let out a quiet laugh and shook her head.

“Honestly, fair." The brunette said. “This whole night is basically one long exercise in how many men can stand under dim lighting and make the same four chords feel emotionally life-altering.”

When he mentioned the drink was for her, it made her pause.

Not because it was a big gesture. Because it wasn’t. Because it was just Saul being Saul: thoughtful in a way he didn’t make a show of, observant in a way he probably didn’t even realize he was. Her expression softened for a second before she hid it behind another easy grin.

“You got me something...” She repeated, a little quieter this time.

Then, because she could feel the moment getting dangerously sincere, she nudged it off course with a crooked smile. “Look at you. Being competent and considerate. I’m going to have to start accounting for that in my expectations.” She accepted the drink from him and curled her fingers around the can for a second before opening it, the little hiss of carbonation cutting softly through the festival noise.

When his hand settled at her back as someone moved past them, she instinctively stilled for half a beat, then relaxed into it almost without meaning to. The contact was brief, casual, the kind of thing nobody else would notice. Her hand had already lifted to steady herself, but now she let it fall back to her side, fingers tightening once around the can instead.

“I’m fine." She said, though the softness in her voice made it sound less defensive than it might have with anyone else. Then she glanced up at him and added, quieter, “Thanks.”

His comment about emotional instability and heartbreak drew a small, knowing huff from her, and she tipped her head toward the stage. “That still feels like a terrible business model." There was a tsk in her tone. “But somehow it keeps working for them, so what do I know?”

Her gaze drifted over the crowd, the open space between stage and bar, the lights caught in people’s hair and glasses. She let herself look for a moment without speaking, then turned back to him with that same easy, familiar expression.

“I think you’re right, though." She stated more thoughtfully. “People like music because they want somebody to say the thing they’re already feeling but don’t know how to admit.”

Then, with a small shrug and a smile that was back to being light again, she added, “Or because they want an excuse to stand in a crowd and act like their life is a movie.”

Her shoulder brushed his again, deliberate this time only because being near him always seemed to pull her closer whether she meant it to or not. Well, and as she sipped at her canned beverage, she could feel tipsy Sadie starting to shine.

“And as for my mysterious musician fantasy,” She began, mouth tilting into something a little wry, “I think it was just that. A fantasy.”

She looked at him over the rim of her drink, the smile turning gentler. “Turns out the much more convenient option is the guy who already knows how I take my drink and doesn’t need to dramatically strum a guitar to get my attention.”

Then she added, dryly, “A devastatingly practical arrangement, really.”

[lovedearlove]

Noah was absolutely buzzing after his performance. Who could blame him? He got to perform with his boyfriend, who looked hot as hell, and he loved being in the spotlight, a little so... safe to say, he had fun. And then he got to drink and hang out with his friends, before returning home with said boyfriend, to continue the celebrations. His giddiness made him want a beer, all fizzy and fun, so he made his way over to the bar and soon, a Corona was sitting pretty in his hand. What could be better than this?

It was then that he noticed Sadie, and his smile grew even wider. "Sadie Baby!" He raised his bottle, and nodded emphatically. "Wes doesn't count as a musician, really. But singing up there on that stage with him? Watching him belt his little heart out in skin-tight leather? Hot damn! I've been converted." He laughed as he said it, but that didn't take away from how true it felt. "Alright so maybe we were in a bit more of the second category... but look. I'm down bad for the guy. And he wanted to do something so beyond stupid with me, and that's like... it's fuckin' special, is what it is." He turns to her with a dopey smile. "How's the night treating you so far? Any hot musicians for you to fawn all over?"

[perignonkisses]

Sadie snorted into her drink the second he hit her with Sadie Baby, shaking her head like she’d just been personally victimized by affection. “Okay,” she said, pointing at him with the rim of her glass, “I need you to understand something very important.”

“That nickname is making me lose credibility in three separate social circles right now.” She didn’t sound actually mad, more like someone mildly inconvenienced by a lifelong problem she’d already accepted. Still, she nudged his arm lightly with her elbow anyway.

At his whole Wes conversion arc speech, the brunette leaned back against the bar, watching him with that familiar, half-amused, half-“I have known you too long to be normal about this” expression.

“Oh, you are so annoying.” She said fondly. Then, immediately, “…and also disgustingly happy, which I hate for you but also don’t.”

She took a sip of her drink, eyes flicking toward the stage again as she processed the chaos of his emotional state like it was weather she couldn’t control but had learned to live with. “Skin-tight leather and emotional bonding does sound like your exact weak point though.” She added, raising a finger. “Honestly, I’m surprised this didn’t happen sooner.”

When he asked about her night, she let out a slow breath and scanned the crowd dramatically like she was conducting a formal investigation. “No hot musicians for me.” The woman said at last. “Unless we’re counting a guy who just dropped his pick and apologized to it.” Then she glanced at him. “But honestly? That feels like your demographic, not mine.” She bumped her shoulder lightly against his again.

“You, however,” She continued, eyes narrowing playfully, “look like you’re about three drinks away from telling Wes you’d follow him into battle or something equally embarrassing.” Then softer, teasing, “Should I be preparing a speech for when you come back emotionally transformed and wearing his jacket?”

[stup1d4u]

this was definitely charlie's scene to say the least. the music, the vibes, the people she doesn't remember seeing before blurring in between the familiar faces. it's exactly where everyone should be with the way the weather has been warming up. she brings her beer to her lips, nodding her head in approval at the singer wrapping up their set. however, her attention quickly shifts to the person next to her speaking. in a desperate attempt to answer quicker, charlie almost chokes on her drink, but she is quick to recover.

"i mean-" she looks at the stage again "isn't this the perfect place to catch a crush?" she asks, looking around them. her attention turns back to the other, nodding her head a bit too enthusiastically "so is that your husband?" she's teasing a bit, questioning about the guy getting off the stage now. the next words that come out of the girls mouth make her laugh, a bit too loud probably, but the rest of the music spilling from the stages around them drowns it enough "what did brandon do to you? you know, the chances of one of them being called brandon is high." charlie points out, but the image that was painted is enough to make her grimace as she drowns the feeling with another swing of her beer "definitely generous with the support..."

[perignonkisses]

The woman laughed immediately, head tipping back slightly like Charlie had just confirmed something she deeply believed about the universe. “Okay, first of all,” Sadie began, gesturing vaguely toward the stage where the singer was wrapping up, “Yes. This is absolutely a legally recognized environment for developing unnecessary feelings for strangers with guitars.” She leaned in slightly like she was sharing classified information. “It’s actually in the fine print on the wristband. Right under ‘no glass containers’ and ‘emotional vulnerability encouraged.’”

At the 'husband' comment, her hazel eyes widened in exaggerated offense as she looked back toward the stage. “My husband? That man just gave three minutes of intense eye contact and a minor key apology for something I didn’t even do.” She pointed at the performer as if filing a formal complaint. “I don’t even know his middle name. That’s not commitment, that’s atmosphere.”

Charlie’s laughter pulled another grin out of Sadie, easier this time, and she shifted her drink between her hands as the next performer started setting up. “And Brandon?” She repeated, horrified and amused at the same time. “Brandon is absolutely a name that guarantees at least one emotional betrayal per set.”

“I didn’t say he did anything to me,” She added before snorting at where her mind was going, squinting toward the stage like it might explain itself. “I’m just saying he had the energy of someone who’s about to ask the crowd to forgive him for his entire personality.”

She took a sip of her drink, then nodded toward the stage like she was settling a debate with the universe itself. “Anyway, I think supporting live music is just code for ‘watching strangers make questionable life choices in real time,’ and I fully endorse that experience.” She barely took a moment to breathe before adding, "Do you have a favorite set, for far?"

[grxndvoile]

closed   !!   —   for   @perignonkisses   (   sadie   ) 📍  rhythm & waves festival ground

🪐      "sades!" saul pushes through the crowd, the wisps of brown hair is the only point of familiarity in the darkness. "there you are — was getting the feeling you ditched me for someone more fun." how the pair behaved around each other behind closed doors compared to out in the open was stark. he'd long decided to not unpack what that meant any further a long time ago.

[perignonkisses]

Sadie turned at the sound of her nickname, immediately spotting Saul weaving through the crowd toward her beneath the blur of lights and hanging handmade festival lanterns. Relief genuinely hit her features.

It always did.

“There you are.” The brunette shot back the second he reached her, like she hadn’t spent the last several minutes scanning the crowd for him between songs. Her grin came easy, instinctive in a way she tried not to examine too closely and hopefully he didn't either. “I was starting to think you ditched me to join some Walmart version of The1975.”

The music from the nearby stage pulsed through the ground beneath them, loud enough that she had to lean slightly closer just to be heard over the crowd. Around them, people drifted between bars and stages with drinks in hand, all warm lights and blurred movement and live music echoing through the waterfront air.

But Sadie’s attention narrowed instinctively the second Saul showed up. It always did.

Sadie lifted her cup toward him accusingly. “For the record, I waited a very respectable amount of time before deciding to become emotionally dramatic about your disappearance.” A moment passed before she finally unveiled with, “It was like… seven minutes.”

The joke landed easily. It always did between them. That was the dangerous thing about Saul; everything with him came naturally. The teasing. The closeness. The way he slid so effortlessly into her orbit that sometimes she forgot where she ended and he began.

Best friends. That’s what everyone saw. And most days, Sadie tried very hard to make sure that was all she saw too.

She looked him over briefly then, expression softening for the smallest second before the teasing returned to cover it up.

“There’s also a very real possibility I was about to send out a search party,” The woman added. “Or worse.” Her hazel eyes narrowed mischievously. “I was going to text you something passive aggressive.”

The threat lingered theatrically between them before Sadie shifted slightly closer at his side, shoulder brushing his for half a second like it happened naturally.

Which, unfortunately, it kind of did.

“Also,” She continued, glancing toward the stage behind him, “you missed a guy named Winston perform what I can only describe as an emotional hostage situation with an acoustic guitar.”

She shrugged, casually, “I think it changed me as a person.” A laugh escaped her softly, though it faded quicker this time.

Someone brushed between them in the crowd, and Sadie instinctively reached for his arm to steady herself before realizing what she’d done. Her hand lingered there for half a second too long. Not enough for anyone else to notice. Enough for her to, though. She pulled back slowly, fingers tightening once around her cup instead as she cleared her throat and quickly jumped onto a new topic.

“You know,” Sadie said, swirling her drink slightly as she looked out over the shifting crowd, “I did briefly entertain the idea of being swept away by some mysterious musician with questionable emotional stability and excellent stage presence…” It was a tease, written over her features in the form of her signature 1,000-watt grin.

[fcreverlasting]

you’d think a man who lived with two musicians would understand, but that’s precisely why he can’t. because he’s spent many a headache with his door closed and every window open to get rid of the smell of weed, and even longer watching his groceries and toiletries and anything else that’s apparently prime for the taking disappear. it’s hard to understand how anyone can find people you know leave their dirty laundry all over shared areas ( almost certainly specifically to piss him off ) and leave threatening messages written in fridge magnets attractive. but each to their own.

“mood lighting. is that what we’re calling this? it’s just dark as shit.” he’s only pissed because his eyes had stung earlier, having forgotten his phone brightness was on max before he’d tucked it in his pocket. “the next—“ he’d really like to argue the next indie superstar isn’t hiding out in cider point, massachusetts, but said housemates are both on the line up tonight and at least one of them deserves it. the other ate his leftovers for lunch today so a lifetime of disappointment seemed like fair karma. “I think his name’s winston, actually.” he clicks his tongue. “I don’t know if you saw danny and sandy earlier, but turns out, there’s actually a terrifying third option: too-old theatre kids with a thing for public humiliation.”

[perignonkisses]

Sadie was already laughing before he finished speaking, nearly choking on her drink as she turned toward him with immediate delight written all over her face. “Winston?” The brunette repeated incredulously. “Oh, that is a man who absolutely owns at least one scarf he describes as ‘textured.’” She pressed a hand dramatically against the bar beside her like she needed support.

The woman's hazel eyes widened immediately at the mention of Danny and Sandy before she let out a loud, horrified laugh. “Noah and Wes actually did the Grease performance?” She asked, grabbing lightly onto his arm like the information physically destabilized her. “Oh my god, I missed it?” The devastation in her voice was dramatically genuine.

“I leave for one drink and suddenly my friends are out here committing live-action musical theatre crimes without me?” She pressed a hand against her chest. “That is so deeply disrespectful.”

The grin tugging at her mouth only widened the longer she thought about it. “Wait, no, because now I’m picturing Wes fully emotionally committing to Sandy and honestly? Terrifying.” There's a second where nothing is said, mostly because her thoughts are racing. Was Noah ever in theatre? She wouldn't recall. “Noah probably made eye contact with the audience too much, didn’t he? Theatre people always do that when they think they’re changing lives.”

She leant more comfortably against the bar. "You being this judgmental about the vibe tells me you’ve absolutely been emotionally affected by it against your will, Squidward." It was clocked easily. A slow grin followed.

“Because nobody complains this passionately unless they secretly care a little.”

[ilovethismood]

Closed for @perignonkisses Location: Arcade on the boardwalk Time: Afternoon

After spending majority of the afternoon playing different games, Jason and Sadie were neck and neck in their wins. Groaning Jason pushed away the air hockey paddle as the scoreboard flashed 5-6. "I don't know how you managed it, but that child bumping into my leg was purely strategic." Jason joked. He took a sip of the soda he'd been nursing and looked around the arcade for a new game. His eyes landed on skeeball and he grinned, turning back to Sadie. "You down for some skeeball? Loser buys pizza, winner chooses the toppings."

[perignonkisses]

Sadie gasped like he had just accused her of organized crime, clutching her chest dramatically as she stepped away from the air hockey table, victory glowing obnoxiously across her face. “Excuse you? That child was an independent third party.” She pointed accusingly at him with her soda cup. “I would never weaponize a small civilian for competitive advantage.” A moment lingers in the air. “Not when I’m already naturally gifted.”

The scoreboard still blinked triumphantly behind them, and Sadie absolutely spared it one more smug glance before following his line of sight toward the skeeball lanes lighting up across the arcade. Immediately, her eyes narrowed with dangerous enthusiasm. “Oh, absolutely.”

She pushed off the machine and started walking backward toward skeeball like someone entering battle. “But, let’s establish terms right now because you slipped something deeply sinister into that deal.” Her expression turned suspicious. “Winner chooses the toppings?” Sadie pointed at him dramatically. “That’s too much unchecked power for one person.”

The arcade buzzed loudly around them; flashing lights, game sounds overlapping into cheerful chaos, kids running past with armfuls of tickets while the smell of pizza and grease lingered permanently in the air. She grabbed a handful of skeeball tokens from the dispenser before tossing him one.

“And just so we’re clear," She added, squinting toward the lanes, “if you win and choose pineapple out of spite, our friendship enters a review period.” A grin immediately broke through the fake seriousness.

“Prepare yourself, DiLaurentis doesn’t lose at games involving vaguely athletic throwing motions.” There was a pause that followed before stating, “…Ignore the air hockey child conspiracy. That’s unrelated.”

[emilysource]

Emily Bader for Vanity Fair's party

[petaltexturedskies]

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[carlaconnors]

GILMORE GIRLS REWATCH ↳ “The Nanny and the Professor” (4x10)

[perignonkisses]

Location: Rhythm & Waves Festival Grounds Status: OPEN (@ciderstarters)

Sadie had decided approximately six minutes after arriving at the Rhythm & Waves open mic night that live music was scientifically proven to make people hotter. There was simply no other explanation for the energy around the festival grounds right now; string lights glowing overhead, music spilling from both stages at once, strangers swaying with drinks in hand like they’d all wandered accidentally into the same coming-of-age movie. She leaned against the side of one of the bars with a cocktail she’d chosen entirely because the bright blue color looked fun, festival wristband sliding down her arm every time she gestured dramatically toward the stage.

“See, this is exactly how people develop crushes on musicians with absolutely no survival instincts.” The brunette announced as someone nearby finished an aggressively emotional acoustic cover to roaring applause. “One man sings into a microphone under mood lighting and suddenly everyone’s like 'that’s my husband now.'” Sadie took another sip of her drink before narrowing her eyes thoughtfully toward the lineup board. “Also, open mic nights are terrifying because there are only ever two possibilities: either you witness the next indie superstar before they make it big… or a guy named Brandon performs seven uninterrupted minutes of emotional warfare while maintaining direct eye contact with the crowd.” The woman let that marinate in the air for a moment. “And honestly? I support both.”

[perignonkisses]

✧ GENERAL ✧

Full Name: Sadie DiLaurentis

Aliases/Nicknames: Sades, Sadie-Bear (family only)

Age: 29

Birthday: December 10, 1996

Zodiac: Sagittarius sun, Leo moon, Virgo rising

Gender & Pronouns: Cis woman & she/her

Sexuality: Pansexual

Relationship Status: Single

Occupation/Role: Travel Concierge (out of town)

Nationality/Origin: American

Up Next: The Bolter by Taylor Swift

✧ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ✧

Height: 5'8"

Build/Body Type: Lean hourglass; slim with subtle curves, a defined waist, and an understated athletic build.

Hair Color & Style: Warm medium brown with natural sun-lightened pieces (especially around the front from summers in Cider Point). The syle is long, layered, and slightly wavy; usually worn down, messy in a deliberate way, or twisted into a loose claw-clip updo when she’s working.

Eye Color: Hazel

Distinguishing Marks: White scar on her right palm from a broken glass during a waitressing job, freckles across her nose and cheeks that appear darker in the summer, and a scripture tattoo of 'wildflower' on the inner side of her left wrist.

Clothing Style: Effortlessly coastal and travel-worn: linen shirts, vintage denim, sundresses, oversized sweaters, and pieces collected from years spent moving. Feminine without being overly polished.

✧ PERSONALITY & TRAITS ✧

Positive Traits: Adventurous, Charismatic, Empathetic, Adaptable and Loyal

Negative Traits: Restless, Avoidant, Impulsive, Guarded, Escapist

Hobbies: Street racing/late-night driving, making hyper-specific playlists, collecting postcards, impulsive road trips, learning new skills (is currently learning cooking recipes from around the world via online).

Fears/Phobias: Being trapped, feeling stagnant, being fully known

Likes: Summer storms, sleeping with the fan on, window seats, cafe-hopping in new towns/cities, driving with all the windows down, the smell after it rains.

Dislikes: Wet socks, sticky hands, rigid routines, performative people, chain restaurants during travel, people messing with her playlist queue.

Alignment: Chaotic Good

MBTI: ENFP

✧ HEADCANONS ✧

Knows how to drive manual transmission because her father insisted.

Has an entire shoebox of: receipts, motel keys, ferry tickets, foreign coins and random maps.

Makes friends with strangers easily but forgets to text people back for days.

Orders breakfast food at inappropriate hours.

Keeps three pairs of sunglasses in her car and loses all of them repeatedly.

Can fall asleep almost anywhere except when she actually needs sleep.

Leaves books unfinished at page 200 because she doesn’t want them to end.

Is weirdly competitive at: mini golf, card games, racing games and bumper cars.

Always notices exits when entering a room.

Has a well-loved faded-sage Ford Bronco named June-Bug.

Gives personalities to stray cats and random dogs.

✧ BACKGROUND & HISTORY ✧

Hometown: Millbrook, PA

Current Residence: Penny Lane, Cider Point, MA

Family: Luke DiLaurentis (Father; 59) and Claire DiLaurentis (Mother; 55)

Brief History:

Sadie DiLaurentis has made an art form out of leaving.

Born to a world-famous Formula 1 driver and a preschool teacher, she grew up caught between extremes: a father who lived at impossible speeds and a mother who believed every scraped knee deserved patience. Her childhood was divided between glamorous paddocks, airport terminals, and long summers in Cider Point; where salt clung to her skin, everyone knew everyone else’s business, and she swore she’d never end up.

People always expected Sadie to inherit one life or the other: polished and high-profile like her father, steady and rooted like her mother. Instead, she became restless. At eighteen, she left her hometown of Millbrook, PA, with two suitcases and a list of jobs that read like someone collecting alternate lives: waitress, ski resort receptionist, yacht stewardess, festival coordinator, bartender in cities she barely remembers, travel blogger for six chaotic months, and eventually a flight attendant.

Flying suited her. No permanence. New faces every day. Entire versions of herself built in airport lounges and abandoned before landing. Sadie became the person strangers confessed things to over tiny plastic cups of wine. She was magnetic in that dangerous way—warm, impulsive, impossible to pin down. The kind of person who leaves a place and somehow becomes a story people tell afterward.

But after years of living at 35,000 feet, she started to wonder if movement was freedom or avoidance.

Leaving her flight attendant career surprised everyone except Sadie. Becoming a travel concierge felt different: curating experiences instead of escaping into them. Helping other people find meaning in places while quietly searching for her own.

So she returned to the one place she’d spent years insisting she’d outgrown.

Cider Point.

Not because she failed elsewhere. Not because she had nowhere left to go.

Because for the first time in her life, staying felt braver than leaving.

Now Sadie lives in a weathered rental on Penny Lane, knows the best sunrise spots and worst tourist traps by heart, and is trying (awkwardly and reluctantly) to build something permanent. She’s still impulsive. Still takes midnight drives with no destination. Still books trips she doesn’t need. But beneath all the movement is a woman learning that home isn’t always the place you escape from.

Sometimes it’s the place that waits until you’re ready to come back.

[consecuences]

[slayer-barbie]

GILMORE GIRLS (2000)

7x11 | "Santa's Secret Stuff"

[petaltexturedskies]

Virginia Woolf, A Passionate Apprentice: The Early Journals

[ngalitzine]

EMILY BADER as Poppy Wright 🩵 — PEOPLE WE MEET ON VACATION (2026) dir. Brett Haley