it’s a dog eat dog world, and ASTRID RAQUEL AQUINO has to learn how to bare their teeth without letting the cameras flashes catch anything other than a smile. with a face like MARIS RACAL, the world wants nothing from HER except all that SHE has to offer. ASTRID has had FOURTEEN YEARS in town to learn the rules of living it up on top. but at just TWENTY-SIX, will they try to make peace with the golden scale that’ll try to tell them their heart is in the right place or fight for what they want? with LONG HAIR PULLED INTO A TIGHT BRAID, THE CHOICE BETWEEN CONTENTMENT AND ENDLESS AMBITION, FAINT LAUGHTER LINES ADORNING TIRED EYES to make up their reputation, let’s hope the TENNIS PLAYER & MODEL won’t look for the saints in the city of angels to help them. there’s nothing holy about hollywood.
BRIEF HISTORY (TRIGGER WARNING FOR CAR ACCIDENT, DRUNK DRIVING):
after winning her debut grand slam juniors tournament at age 12, astrid aquino moved to los angeles with her family, a promising tennis career on the horizon. no longer would she have to watch her parents come home exhausted from work with scraps from their paychecks to put food on the table. more wins means more notoriety, more money, more money to support her parents and siblings, and who doesn't want to see their loved ones thriving?
she couldn't ask for better #1 supporters than her loving parents. they helped astrid keep her feet on the ground and her head out of the clouds. her former mentor referred her to one of the best tennis coaches in the city who really helped hone her skills and practice while being mindful that she's still a kid at the end of the day and deserve some fun.
fast forward many years later: celebrating yet another victory at a soiree that night. her parents decided to call it early into the party, so she called an uber to pick them up and drive them back to their house. little did she know that that would be the last time she'd ever see them. hours later, she receives a call from the hospital: they didn't make it. cause of death: vehicular manslaughter—the driver recklessly driving intoxicated.
not only were the next couple of years her lowest, but also her busiest. she drowned herself in eat, practice, travel, repeat, masking her grief for the cameras every single day. it wasn't until two years ago she'd begun to face a new aspect in her life: a new child.
PRESENT:
astrid's tennis career began to plateau slightly due to her pregnancy. newfound motherhood can have that effect on people. it's been two years since she gave birth to her baby daughter charlotte, and she's been slowly making more public appearances. after reading headline after headline about 'the end of astrid aquino's career' and 'wasted potential becoming a stay-at-home mom' the last two years, frankly she's had enough.
as long as astrid has control, she'll do everything in her power to keep her livelihood afloat and her personal affairs behind closed doors, including that of charlotte's father, sinclair james of william's river renown. she's made the whole cast and crew of the upcoming reboot sign NDAs barring any discussions about their child.
HEADCANONS:
born and raised in cebu city, philippines as the youngest of four children with two older sisters and one older brother. her older brother still lives with her at her residence in beverly hills while her sisters have since moved out, living in san francisco and san diego respectively. astrid absolutely adores her siblings. no matter how much they've bickered and fought throughout the years, they would be there for each other at the drop of a hat, no questions asked.
after her first professional tournament at 14, she signed a multi-million dollar deal with adidas, impressed by her potential on the field. this cultivated into a blossoming modelling career on the side, coupled with becoming a brand ambassador for several luxury brands as well as walking a couple runways in her late teens and early twenties.
she swore off all kinds of alcohol for the first couple years after the death of her parents. she never drank that much to begin with, but years of therapy have put her in a much better place, opting to drink a little less than socially over anything else. however, she has become hyperaware of how much booze she consumes compared to her peers since then.
How was he suppose to ask this of her? Sinclair had done all he could to ensure that he was the one cleaning up his own mess, staying far away from anyone else's and making amends. To ask this of Astrid was surely doing the opposite, and he was unsure of how to explain his intentions even if he believed they were rightfully founded.
"I need you to get me into Glass House on Friday," He started, arms folded across his chest and finger tips digging into his skin as he fought to take action. Every part of him was already regretting it. "It's not to party or anything. I need to keep an eye on someone. They told me they're ready to take on a scene like that, but they've only just started the steps and... They're not ready, Astrid, and I want to keep them from learning that the hard way by getting even lower."
astrid steels herself for whatever he could possibly ask of her that is so paramount, and it takes her a brief moment to process the request in her head. “glass house? wait, you're talking about this friday, for their anniversary? how am i supposed to…” a dry scoff escapes her instinctively the moment she connects the dots, defenses building up the longer she hears sinclair speak, blocking out the tail-end of his so-called justification. memories she wishes would stay suppressed bubble to the surface along with the rancor that led them where they stood today. “what? no, sinclair, you’ve got to be kidding me. there's no way you’re being serious about this. isn't there anyone else you could've asked instead? your castmates, anybody?”
Whenever an invitation became the talk of the town, it always seemed to end up in the wrong hands. While it was a choice, there always seemed to be an obligation even if attendance hadn't been confirmed. Sinclair had fallen into it multiple times, giving in to the setting instead of his own rules. That was why he was adamant to find a way in now, though it was for someone else's sake.
"Hey," He said, stepping on to the court but teetering around Astrid's space. "I figured it was easier to explain it in person than over the phone."
He didn't get an invitation, but Astrid had. She remained untouched by Sinclair's brass divinity. His membership had been revoked from Glass House a long time ago, but he still needed to be there. The last time they had thrown something like this, though, had been the last time they'd ever been anything at all.
astrid immediately picks up on the quiet unease the other radiates the moment he steps foot on the court, like he's walking on eggshells, like he shouldn't even be here. she could say the feeling's mutual whenever she’s scheduled to be at underwood for the day for charlotte, but sinclair came here on his own accord. the vague, almost cryptic text messages he sent did little to kill her curiosity. just what did he come all this way for? “well...” she blinks at him expectantly, arms crosssed. “this better be good. what are you waiting for?”
“i was searching it up and hoping that netflix doesn’t have it.” she explains, pursing her mouth as she is reminded of her one-sided bitterness directed towards the streaming service. xirin is then trying to reach for the remote control there, intending to keep it out of astrid’s reach so she could change to something else. anything else. “and stop laughing! that’s hardly a fair deal! i doubt you had your first kiss immortalized forever in film publicly.”
“you had your first kiss on camera? was that in this one too—woah!” astrid notices xirin’s figure moving in her peripheral vision and beats her to the remote. she’s an athlete first and foremost, but even that leaves her in slight surprise. “hey! i’m not judging, xirin. pinky promise,” her hands come up in mock surrender as she slowly places the remote back on the farthest edge of the table, lips quirked in a mischievous smirk. but she shows no intent of grabbing it back, body slumped against the couch. “i’m sure there's worse first on-screen kisses out there, horror stories galore. but if you really want to call it even, what do you think is on the same level?"
@selfmythclcgy / location: private tennis club, outskirts of beverly hills
the practice courts are relatively quiet if not for the sounds of footsteps shuffling against clay and her racket popping every volley thrown her way. astrid’s grown used to spectators over the years, but there's a nagging feeling she can't shake off, an unfamiliar gaze burning in the back of her skull as she turns off the tennis ball machine. her suspicions prove correct when the person behind it all is none other than sinclair james himself, striding in her direction.
“that favor must've been really urgent if you actually made it all the way here, huh? aren't you supposed to be shooting today?” if it weren't for the fact she had been sweating buckets in the burning july sun for the past couple hours, she might even color herself impressed. never to his face though, certainly. “what was so important you dropped everything for this?”
"So, I wasn't aware that you had a kid, Astrid. My, my. Aren't we adventurous?" Emersyn had gone to have some dinner with a few friends and had of course run into Astrid, a tennis player that had been quite famous. Here and there, Emersyn had run into her, but had never seen the child with her. It was interesting to say the least and just as charming as Emersyn could be with adults, she could be with children - even though she would rather choke on a hairball than ever decide to have one. A sucking incubus fetus clinging to her and taking her nutrients and life for nine months and then pop out, cry all the time and need its every care taken care of? Emersyn had better things to do - and in all honesty, like most sociopaths, she'd get bored of her own child, sick as it was. No, she was better suited to never be given the task of child rearing.
"But anyhow, darling, how are we? She's adorable, Astrid. How have you been of late?"
astrid has encountered a vast ocean of personalities ever since she stepped foot into the city of angels a little over half her life ago. some of which have made a lasting impression, for better or for worse. over the course of her stay she has also learned that the city is smaller than one would think, names and faces that pull the strings behind the scenes. emersyn barnes is certainly no exception. what with her seemingly pristine reputation, there is certainly more than meets the eye when it comes to the socialite. she’s just as sure the other harbors a similar sentiment. however, the athlete’s not keen on entertaining that thought when she’d much rather get back to having a nice, simple dinner with her manager.
“long time no see!” she greets emersyn as she plasters a feigned smile. “yes, she's absolutely wonderful, everything's been fantastic. i’d love to catch up some other time, but i really must head back now.”
“boy bawang is literally one of my favorite snacks from back home. i just had some again after what feels like ages, and i used to go through bags of them like nothing as a kid. they’re garlicky corn snacks, but they’re super garlicky. like i’m talking you-can-smell-your-breath-after-eating-one garlicky, so just be warned. but they’re so good, just take my word for it.”
“does this mean i have to choose between @selfmythclcgy, @bcbyteeth, and @doqtoothed? let me think—” she takes a moment to ponder before responding. “i'll say i would marry bex, fuck roman, and… kill sinclair, i guess."
"That's nice. Does she fuss around then at all?" He asked, curious to Charlotte outside of his own visitation. He didn't want to intrude, and he made an excuse despite doing nothing at all. He didn't want to look like he was asking for an invitation, and so a lie came out with too much ease. "I've just got a few reshoots. Mic was working well, someone caught it at the end."
Sinclair could confidently say he was a good person— though the emphasis was more on was than good. He'd taken on too much and what little he had left of himself he'd chosen to take ownership of simply to ruin it. After that, he had to keep the fragments to himself. He'd become selfish in a different way as a means of mending himself back together, and Sinclair wasn't sure it had prepared him for this. Was he trying to redeem himself to be seen as who he once was, or was he just trying for anything?
"You know— " His own voice caught him off guard, but he couldn't live another second with the weight of that thought. "With everything, I'm not doing all of this to just get on your good side, Astrid."
It's different with her. This isn't some old friend I've gotta face the music to and learn to live without, or someone who's better off without me— at least not yet. I've still got a chance with her. She hasn't met who I was before, what I let myself turn into, and I'm working to keep it that way... and I know I'll be doing that for the rest of my life, and I know a lot of people will be looking over their shoulder for the day I fuck it all up again. I want you to know that I'm not doing it for me. I learned a long time ago that sometimes you can do good by someone else even if you're not good yourself."
“it took her some time to warm up to my sisters, but she always gets shy whenever kuya’s around. i'm talking like, giggling and hiding from him in the house." a small chuckle escapes her lips at the memory, followed by a quiet hum of acknowledgement, albeit she squints slightly at his answer.
a beat, then sinclair speaks up. she braces herself as she lifts her resigned gaze at familiar baby blues she used to get lost in. they’ve grown weary as years passed, but she recognizes a glint of desperation that eerily mirrored her own. to save herself from an inevitable media frenzy, fear drove her to become the controlling puppeteer that she vehemently detested seeing in other people behind the scenes. she questions herself every day if she made the right decision. perhaps they were doomed to fail from the start. she releases the deepest breath she didn't realize she had been holding.
"you're trying your best, clearly. i see it, i do, i really do. i look at you and i see a man who’s trying to be better for our daughter, who i want to try so hard to forgive… but behind him is the man who completely disregarded my feelings, said some of the most sickening shit about me, about my parents—” the anger she's held back for so long finally explodes, indignation coating her voice and glassy eyes, “—and the cruelest part of it all? you knew how much i was hurting after they left. i needed you, i trusted you. but instead you took a knife and just stabbed me in the spot you knew would cut the deepest. you can't pretend that just doesn't affect somebody, sinclair! i mean, do you even remember what happened that night?"
as soon as astrid arrives at the site of the photoshoot, she beelines straight for the dressing room under her name and plops herself into her seat for hair and makeup, knees hugged to her chest. she makes a mental note to properly greet everyone once she downs her first iced coffee of the day, though the decision of completely leaving charlotte in her siblings’ hands for the day has her more wiry than any kind of caffeine. she knew she could rely on her siblings—especially her older sisters—to take care of their niece when they all practically took turns raising astrid when they were kids. granted they were all still children themselves, the oldest at eight years old when astrid was born, but the aquinos grew to be a strong support system whenever they need each other.
she doesn’t even want to touch her conversation with sinclair from last night. as far as she's concerned, it never happened.
brown hues dart between the door and her manager when a sudden knock brings her head out the clouds, but the familiar face that pokes through leaves her baffled.
“i didn’t see your name on the rundown for today, oliver. it's too early to be pulling a dumb prank right now, don’t you think?”
“look, all i’m saying is maybe you should stop watching old films i was in when i was fifteen.” she complains, throwing the other a look. “preferably not in front of me, at least.”
astrid’s too busy grinning amazedly at young xirin on the tv in her trailer to notice current xirin’s distasteful look beside her. "look, i just wanna see you explain how your movie is one of the first things that pops up on your netflix on your tv? something's not adding up here," she chuckles. "look, we can watch one of my matches when i was fifteen after and we'll call it even. deal?"
It was a trait Sinclair swore their daughter shared with him as well, but he took her word to decipher a different kind of resilience. He could only hope that Charlotte didn't inherit the way he chose a self righteous relief above all else. Upon learning his own faults, he looked for the signs of it in everyone around him in hopes of some form of prevention. Sinclair just had a nasty habit of venturing off to see just what they were nearing, challenging every second he spent trying to turn away. He had yet to give in, but there was always some doubt that it would happen soon.
"Shit, sorry about that. I swore she was alright when I handed her to you," He grimaced, pushing ash into the patio's fence where the embers burned red in protest before going out. "I can give you a shirt, if you need to go someplace after this."
Overcompensation seemed be his worst habit thus far, but it was exclusive to Astrid. He seemed desperate for anything from her when it came to Charlotte, but at least he had the aversion to a fight this time around. It was a few years ago now, but it was hard to forget. He sought out whatever he could get including a crack in what little was left between them as a means of anything at all.
her poor heart stutters against her chest at the gesture, immediately followed by warning sirens blaring in her head. there he goes again, astrid muses to herself. at this rate, he’ll spend the rest of his life repenting for his mistakes. after all, the whole nature of this arrangement was to keep sinclair at arm’s length. if she didn’t know any better, she’d suspect he's grasping at straws to restore a semblance of what once was. even if what once was has turned into ashes flicked off a lit cigarette. the least astrid could do is keep her end of the deal.
to the best of her ability, she does, shrugging him off with a shake of the head. “don't worry about it, you know i'm no stranger to looking like a mess." though a naïve, selfish part of her wishes he would insist, give her the tiniest glimpse of a better future. “i have a lot on my plate tomorrow, but my ates offered to drive up and spend the day with charlotte since they’re on vacation. if they’re lucky they might even get kuya out of the house.” she cannot bring herself to look at him, so fingers settle on fiddling with a loose thread at her shirt hem instead, "what's tomorrow looking like for you?"
