wcitingroom

[wcitingroom]

status / closed , @apcthetics location / wren's star party !!!

               aniyah   wasn't   looking   at   her   phone   again   !   they   were   looking   to   the   ground,   counting   to   ten,   and   singing   the   chorus   of   honey   in   their   head   before   she'd   check   her   phone   again.   that   was   until   wren   bumped   into   her   and   ruined   her   manifestation   method   (   and   they   knew   it   was   on   purpose   )   !   "   see,   now   if   she   doesn't   show   up   or   send   me   a   text   that   she's   coming   it's   going   to   be   your   fault.   "   aniyah   chided,   locking   her   phone   but   keeping   it   close   to   her   chest.   the   '   she   '   in   question   being   clem.   aniyah   had   invited   her   to   come   tonight   (   it   only   took   four   tries   and   looking   at   the   wall   beside   her   head   instead   of   directly   at   her   ),   and   she   was   sure   that   she   would   show   up   !   until   she   hadn't.   at   least   not   yet.   "   have   you   seen   her   ?   for   a   small   apartment   it   sure   is   hard   to   find   anybody.   since   when   do   you   know   this   many   people   ?   "

[wcitingroom]

               perhaps   it   was   the   already   overwhelming   nostalgia   filling   her   lungs.   or   maybe   the   validation   of   being   remembered   that   could   only   come   from   a   close   friend;   either   way,   salt   water   pricked   the   corner   of   her   eyes   as   she   listened   to   honey   speak.   "   stop   it,   you'll   make   me   cry   !   "   she   admitted   without   issue.   being   touched   that   someone   she   loved   enjoyed   her   work   wasn't   out   of   the   norm   for   eren.   especially   someone   who   knew   how   difficult   the   art   world   was   to   break   into   and   how   important   it   was   the   recognize   improvement   as   it   came.   eren   didn't   think   a   few   light   tears   would   raise   any   alarm   between   them,   so   she   let   the   tears   fall   because   there   was   no   way   she   could   hold   them   back.   "   our   drinks   ?   at   this   rate,   it's   going   to   be   me   walking   around   with   a   cup   of   my   own   tears   and   who   wants   to   drink   that   ?   "

"it's you though, isn't it?" her arm is linked through the other woman's, giving it a gentle squeeze as her gaze moves to take in her friend's work. "and we all have to start somewhere, but i still think it's beautiful, and every time i pass it i'll be reminded of you" her roots as a teacher subtly shine through; to her, there's no such thing as bad art, just different perspectives waiting to be discovered. she stood for another moment in silence, really taking it all in. in this moment, honey is immersed in the artistic language, unaware of the personal journey hidden within the canvas. the swirling colours and abstract patterns evoke a range of emotions within her, each stroke seeming to tell a unique story. little does she know that the mural mirrors the internal struggles her friend is facing, a silent expression of a battle unknown. a thoughtful pause lingered before honey broke the quiet, suggesting, "how about we take our drinks on our own little tour of your work?"

[wcitingroom]

               unfamiliar   with   being   paid   attention   to,   giselle   was   aware   the   jackson   was   speaking   about   her.   his   insinuations   were   lost   on   her   because   she   (   foolishly   )   believed   that   she   hid   her   addiction   to   her   work   and   hid   it   well.   it   would   be   a   mystery   fit   for   a   fool   to   say   that   there   was   no   way   to   know   how   she   ended   up   like   this.   giselle   had   always   been   this   way.   her   parents   encouraged   it.   with   ever   straight   a   report   card   she   brought   home   they   wondered   about   her   valedictorian   status.   with   every   organization   she   led,   her   parents   wondered   what   she   was   doing   watching   tv   on   a   saturday   morning.   with   every   fight   they   had   with   their   son,   they   wondered   what   giselle   could   say   to   make   gio   behave   better.   working   hard   to   anticipate   problems   and   give   solutions   before   it   became   the   only   way   giselle   could   feel   at   ease.   and   no   one   had   ever   noticed.   it's   no   surprise   that   she   didn't   think   jackson   would   notice   either.

               as   he   spoke,   the   only   thing   she   could   think   about   was   lucky   she   felt   that   it   was   her   he   decided   to   share   it   with.   giselle   knew   ⸻   well,   more   accurately   ⸻   giselle   heard   from   other   people,   people   who   seemed   close   to   jackson   (   in   ways   she   once   thought   she   was   close   ),   that   he   was   usually   a   quiet   person.   the   type   whose   thoughts   usually   came   in   the   form   of   grunts,   curses,   or   one   word   replies.   none   of   that   sounded   familiar.   it   didn't   sound   like   the   jackson   she'd   spent   nearly   fifteen   years   missing   and   loving.   of   course   it   gave   her   something   of   a   complex.   as   if   she   was   special.   like   she'd   pull   something   out   of   him   that   no   one   had   seen   before.   somehow,   she   had   made   him   feel   safe   enough   to   open   his   mind   to   her   and   share   what   he   was   thinking.   even   if   it   was   only   the   things   lingering   on   the   surface.   it   had   to   be   a   step   in   the   right   direction,   right   ?

               giselle   could've   sworn   it   had   only   been   ten   minutes.   with   each   correspondence   responded   to   she   thought   '   oh   this   won't   take   me   long   '   and   set   herself   off   on   a   different   side   quest.   it   was   a   blur   of   requests,   documents,   and   clarifications   that   were   only   never   ending   because   she   wouldn't   allow   it   to   come   to   an   end.   she   always   offered   more   help,   went   searching   for   the   answer   to   a   question   that   wasn't   answered,   or   placed   more   time   she   didn't   have   on   a   calendar   already   packed   for   people   who   wouldn't   do   the   same.   the   tonal   shift   was   easily   picked   up   by   her   ears.   worry   consumed   her   immediately,   and   her   eyes   darted   to   the   clock   which   only   made   her   feel   worse:   how   had   two   hours   passed   ?

               "   i'm   sorry   "   her   voice   quiet,   as   if   she'd   forgotten   how   to   use   it   in   the   time   she   was   silent.   giselle   decided   not   to   look   at   the   drafted   email   on   her   screen   as   she   shut   her   computer   for   fear   it   would   pull   her   back   in.   she   crossed   her   arms   over   and   leaned   over,   giving   up   an   apologetic   smile.   "   i   could...⸻   make   it   up   to   you   with   a   song.   "   she   nodded   towards   the   guitar   between   his   legs.   "   i   mean   ⸻   you'll   have   to   teach   me   how   to   play   said   song   but   i'll   play   you   a   song   if   you   want.   i   can   make   it   work.   "   giselle   pushed   herself   up   from   the   table,   purposefully   leaving   her   computer   behind   but   grabbed   her   phone   out   of   habit   and   moved   to   lower   herself   beside   him.   her   chin   resting   on   his   shoulder   and   her   hands   coming   to   rest   on   his   bicep   as   she   peered   up   at   him   with   sorry   eyes.   "   can   you   forgive   me   ?   "

closed  starter  for  GISELLE  (  @wcitingroom  ) jackson's  apartment

*˖ ⊹ ────────  "  ──...because, i mean, there's  this  walter  benjamin  quote  about  our  obsession  with  self-alienation  as  aesthetic  pleasure  in  the  age  of  technology,  and  he  was  just  talking  about  picture-video.  the  internet  wasn't  even  invented  yet.  "  jackson  rambles  without looking up from his project to  the  silence  of  his  living  room.  neither  duchess  or  giselle  have  offered  a  sound  in  the  last  twenty  minutes,  the  former  absorbed  in  her  vain  attempts  at  grooming  her  unruly  white  fur  and  the  latter  pouring  over  emails.  the  record  player  speakers  balancing  precariously  on  a  few  uneven  stacks  of  books  clicked  with  the  end  of  the  miles  davis'  album  a  long  time  ago.  he  doesn't  seem  to  notice.

jackson  is  lost  in  this  somewhat  incoherent  argument  while  changing  out  the  strings  on  his  old  guitar  and  waiting  for  giselle  to  finish  up  whatever  she's  working  on.  as  usual,  what  was  supposed  to  be  ten  minutes  turned  into  two  hours,  and  while  he  isn't  frustrated,  he  is  concerned.  he  wants  to  gently  pull  her  from  the  cocoon  of  words  she's  retreated  into,  on  the  dimming  blue  light  of  her  laptop  screen,  but  doesn't  know  how.  he  can't  figure  out  how  to  explain  to  giselle  that  he's  worried  about  her.  real  conversation  is  not  poetry.  he's  afraid  of  sounding  ungenuine  or  condescending── like  he  has  some  right  to  dictate  her  life  and  jackson  thinks  there  are  enough  people  that  do  that around them.  she's  smarter  than  him.  she's  a  doctor  armed  with  the  tools  to  understand  her  own  self  better  than  anyone  else  could.  yet  he  feels  like  she's  nothing  but  fraying  edges  that  are  slowly  unravelling  in  a  series  of  flights  and  appointments,  with  very  little  of  giselle  left  at  the  centre  of  it  all,  and  he's unsure of what  he's  supposed  to  do  to  stop  it  from  happening.

so,  jackson  picks  at  his  own  thoughts  in  the  naive  hopes  she  might  get  the  same  soothing  effect  out  of  them.  we  feel  as  though  we  are  cogs  in  the  machine,  but  we  aren't.  we  are  in  control  of  our  own  person,  our  own  thoughts.  we  don't  owe  other  people  our  lives,  and  the  guilt  that  comes  with  feeling  like  we  do  was  engineered  that  way.  making  grand,  sweeping  statements  about  the  tech  companies  profiteering  their  data  and  the  unnamed  corporate  '  they  '  destroying  the  planet  are  comforts  for  him,  as  though  identifying  those  problems  no  longer  give  them  control  over  him.  he  doesn't  know  what's  going  on  inside  her  head  that's  pushing  her  so  close  to  what  jackson  thinks  is  the  edge  of  her  health,  but  he  prattles  on  nonetheless  in  the  hopes  maybe  she'll  internalize  that  he's  really  saying  '  it's  okay  to  put  away  your  laptop  and  do  something  you  want  to  do. nobody is going to die.  '

he  turns  in  her  direction,  the  old  pullout  creaking  under  his  weight.  he  rests  the  body  of  the  guitar  against  the  ground  between  his  feet  and  leans  into  it,  fingernails  picking  distractedly  at  the  initials  he  carved  into  the  neck.  when  he  speaks  again  it's  softer,  more  vulnerable,  a  tone  exclusively  reserved  for  giselle,  his  chin  resting  against  the  head  of  his  acoustic.  there  is  no  malice  or  frustration when he quietly asks,  "  are  you  almost  done  ?  " 

[wcitingroom]

               trinity   constantly   felt   like   she   was   walking   a   tight   rope.   it   didn't   matter   how   far   away   from   the   ground   and   the   crowds   she   thought   she   was,   she   could   feel   the   watchful   eyes   of   through   a   telescope   waiting   to   watch   a   star   burn   out.   as   trivial   as   it   might   have   been,   trinity   couldn't   help   but   imagine   the   upturned   features   and   whispered   giggles   if   anyone   else   saw   even   a   shadow   out   of   place.   she   thought   if   she   could   get   caleb   to   corroborate   her   story   then   she'd   have   a   good   excuse   if   her   parents   questioned   the   double   manicure   charge.   except   he   didn't.                it   wasn't   fair   to   him   for   trinity   to   be   wary   of   how   much   she   let   him   see.   caleb   had   always   been   a   good   friend   to   her,   but   she'd   thought   that   of   another   friend   and   nearly   ended   up   in   a   rehab   center.   so   trinity   had   learned   to   be   cautious.   "   i   can't   ask   them   to   do   one   nail,   what   if   the   color   is   slightly   off   or   the   gloss   is   weird,   then   i   have   to   do   the   whole   hand   and   then   the   other   hand   so   everything   is   the   same.   "                she   explained   taking   her   hand   back   but   not   looking   at   the   nail   again.   she'd   just   have   to   push   down   her   worry   until   she   could   get   a   new   set   the   following   week   to   avoid   raising   concern.   "   it's   fine,   i'm   probably   just   hungry   and   seeing   things.   "   trinity   swiped   his   drink   before   he   could   drink   any   of   it   and   took   a   small   sip.   "   what   do   you   want   to   eat   ?   "

*˖ ⊹ ────────  gnawing  away  at  the  red  straw  tucked  into  his  empty  coke,  caleb  is  mindlessly  scrolling  through  instagram  when  trinity's  hand  appears  in  frame.  he  tries  hard  to  see  what  exactly  she's  pointing  out,  squinting  and  twisting  his  face  to  the  side  ;  he,  of  course,  can't  see  the  heart  as  anything  less  than  a  little  red  dot  on  the  end  of  her  perfectly-manicured  nail,  but  he's  come  to  learn  over  years  of  trailing  trinity  around  on  shopping  trips  that  he  just  doesn't  have  the  eye  for  this  kind  of  thing. he doesn't feel confident that he's the right person to answer her question.

"  do  you  think  it's  crooked  ?  "  he  turns  the  question  back  around  on  her,  dropping  the  plastic  cup  on  the  table  between  them.  the  ice  rattles  inside.  shifting  forward,  he  brings  her  slender  hand  towards  his  face  so  he  can  study  the  nail  art  closer.

"  i  honestly  can't  tell,  trin,  but  you  know  it's  gonna  bother  you  all  day  if  you  don't  do  something  about  it.  "  when  he  lets  go,  caleb  shrugs  and  reaches  for  his  cup  again.  "  maybe  you  can  get  them  to  just  re-do  the  one  nail  for  you  ?  "  

[wcitingroom]

               alejandro   knew   he   was   losing   days,   but   he   hadn't   expected   to   lose   weeks   too.   at   the   mention   of   his   mother's   birthday   he   froze,   eyes   looking   around   for   the   discarded   calendar   he   hadn't   swapped   from   last   year.   the   realization   making   him   sigh   with   embarrassment.   "   it's   your   mother's   birthday   !   "   he   exclaimed.   alejandro   was   someone   who   was   usually   so   good   with   the   important   dates;   birthdays,   anniversaries,   holidays,   special   planned   events.   he   was   the   type   of   person   who   not   only   remembered   them,   but   showed   up   with   a   gift.   every   year   he   managed   to   swing   by   brady's   childhood   home   long   enough   to   drop   off   a   homemade   cake.   except   this   year.                "   oh   man,   i'm   sorry   ⸻   did   you   tell   your   mom   i'm   sorry   ?   should   i   call   her   ?   "   he   was   asking   questions,   but   he   wasn't   listening   for   the   answers.   he   moved   away   from   the   cabinet   he   was   in   front   of   to   grab   his   phone   and   started   searching   for   her   number,   and   paused   again.   "   wait,   i   shouldn't   call   i   should   just   head   over.   do   you   think   that's   okay   ?   "   he   took   a   step   forward   and   stopped   again,   turning   towards   the   fridge.   "   i   should   make   the   cake   beforehand.   i   shouldn't   come   empty   handed,   but   that   might   take   awhile   ⸻   "   he   was   talking   out   loud   as   he   moved   from   area   to   area   in   the   kitchen,   brady's   questions   flowing   in   one   ear   and   out   the   other.   "   did   you   guys   eat   ?   i   could   make   dinner   for   everyone   ?   or   make   her   a   fruit   basket,   that   might   be   quicker   um...⸻   what   do   you   think   ?   "

*˖ ⊹ ────────  he  doesn't  mean  to  startle  his  friend,  nor  is  he  here  to  coax  any  fresh  fruit  out  of  him.  raising  a  flat  palm,  brady  shakes  his  head  gingerly.  "  no,  it's alright. i  just  ate.  "  he  insists.

his  sneakers  shuffle  soundlessly  as  brady  crosses  the  meticulously  polished──  if  not  old  and  scuffed──  ornate  wood  floors.  sliding  his  hands  into  his  back  pockets,  he  peers  out  the  back  window  into  the  familiar  backyard.  coming  back  to  this  street,  the  houses  that  litter  it,  the  beautiful,  massive  garden  behind  the  b&b  always  gives  brady  a  sense  of  uneasy  nostalgia.  the  dead  self  he's  tried  so  desperately  to  bury  always  tries  to  claw  his  way  out  when  he's  here.  he  tries  to  stifle  it  by  keeping  himself  distracted,  moving  from  neighbour  to  neighbour,  losing  himself  in  their  idle  small  talk  instead  of  reckoning  with  why  he  feels  haunted. why, despite all of his travelling, home still doesn't quite feel like home.

"  do  you  need  any  help  ?  "  his  hands  move  to  grab  onto  the  door,  hanging  off  the  hinges  that  alejito  must  have  decided  need  changing.  reaching  one  arm  up,  he  presses  the  half-screwed  hinge  into  place.  "  it's  my  mom's  birthday.  i  was  on  the  island  and  i  thought  i'd  stop  by  a  visit  since  i  took  the  ferry  all  the  way  here.  "  he  pauses,  before  adding  thoughtfully,  "  unless  you're  busy.  i  don't  want  to  add  more  to  your  plate.  you  don’t  have  to  entertain  me.  you  should  know  that  by  now.  "  

[wcitingroom]

               giselle   was   shaking   her   head   in   disagreement,   but   to   no   avail.   grace   had   long   turned   her   attention   away to   the   bag   beside   her.   if   it   were   anyone   else,   giselle   would've   felt   the   familiar   weight   of   guilt.   as   if   her   inability   to   foresee   all   unfortunate   events   and   avoid   them   accordingly   was   some   type   of   burden   to   those   around   her.   that   was   never   an   issue   with   grace.   the   typical   (   brutal   )   honesty   that   slipped   out   more   often   than   not   led   giselle   to   the   easy   belief   that   if   she   was   doing   something   that   bothered   grace   she   wouldn't   hesitate   to   let   her   know.                "   no,   no   you   don't   have   to   go   out   there   right   now.   we   can   get   them   once   we finishing   eating.   "   giselle   would   accept   the   shoes,   but   knew   she'd   adamantly   disagree   to   taking   a   pair   of   pants   from   her   too.   despite   knowing   she   wasn't   a   burden   to   grace,   giselle   still   couldn't   remove   the   innate   fear   that   she   was   taking   advantage   of   a   kindness.   "   the   pants   will   probably   dry   by   the   time   we're   done   eating,   you   worry   too   much   !   "   giselle   waved   her   away   before   picking   up   her   menu.   "   have   you   even   looked   at   what   you   wanna   get   yet   ?   my   treat   for   being   so   late.   "

*˖ ⊹ ──────── it  was  just  a  couple  of  emails  that  grace  wanted  to  finish  before  giselle  was  supposed  to  meet  her  for lunch── but  those  couple  of  emails  turned  into  an  ongoing  argument  with  this  one  jackass  judge  who  is  making  her  life  difficult,  and  grace  lost  of  track  of  time.  it  doesn't  seem  weird  at  all  that  giselle  is  late,  so  it's  instictive  when  painted  lips  part  and  she  prepares  to  launch  into  her  latest  tiraid.  before  the  first  words  leave  her  mouth  and she  hits  the  enter  key  with  empathetic  triumph  she  looks  up.  her  expression  shifts  almost  instantaneously. 

"  are  you  alright  ?  " with  stiff  movements,  as  if  on  autopilot,  she  sits  up  and  starts  digging  through  the  large  bag  sat  beside  her.  "  i  have  an  extra  pair  of  sneakers  in  the  car  i  can  give  you.  "  when  they  come  into  contact  with  the  cool  metal,  she  holds  her  hand  up,  dangling  the  keychain  with  crystals  hanging  off  of  it  from  her  fingers.  "  that can't be comfortable. i might even have a pair of pants. those look soaked.  " 

[wcitingroom]

JEREMY ALLEN WHITE | NYC (22.09.2023)

[wcitingroom]

greta onieogou via tiktok

[wcitingroom]

Charithra Chandran as Edwina Sharma in Bridgerton season 2 (2022).

[wcitingroom]

status / open location / a cafe somewhere !

               "   i   can't   believe   it's   still   here.   "   her   voice   was   soft   as   she   peered   up   at   her   first   act   of   vandalism:   a   mural   splattered   in   tints   of   reds,   pinks,   and   yellows   circling   an   abstract   design   of   a   brain.   dramatic   as   it   was,   it   was   how   she   felt   at   the   time   of   her   diagnosis.   like   her   body   was   betraying   her.   it   still   was,   but   there   wasn't   a   sadness   in   her   when   she   looked   at   it.   the   girl   she   was   when   she   drew   that   wasn't   the   girl   she   was   now.   even   though   there   were   parts   of   her   eren   missed,   she   didn't   miss   the   anger.   "   could   definitely   use   more   than   a   little   practice   on   my   line   work,   no   ?   "   she   asked   with   a   soft   laugh.   "   i   think   i   was   trying   real   hard   to   be   edgy,   like   bad   art   can   be   good.   aren't   we   glad   i   grew   out   of   that   ?   "   

[wcitingroom]

               nevaeh's   worst   kept   secret   ?   how   much   she   enjoyed   customer   service   work.   it   didn't   matter   the   problems   that   arose   or   attitudes   she   encountered;   nevaeh   was   a   people   person.   a   social   butterfly.   someone   who   never   got   enough   love   or   attention   at   home   so   substitutes   the   inability   to   mitigate   her   relationship   with   her   father   by   solving   much   smaller,   less   emotional   issues   at   her   job   !   however,   being   a   '   people   person   '   was   easier   on   the   tongue.   time   seemed   to   fly   by   whenever   she   worked   a   shift   at   the   diner.   she   practically   floated   from   table   to   table,   smile   easy   on   her   face   as   she   conversed   with   staff   and   customers   alike.   it   was work she enjoyed,   and   something   she'd   always   done   so   smoothly.   the   only   thing   that   could   make   her   stop   and   stutter   had   walked   through   the   door;   back   from   tour   and   with   something   pressing   to   show   her.                reminding   herself   of   the   swear   she'd   made   to   wren   (   '   we're   just   friends,   nothing   else   '   ),   she   swallowed   her   nerves   and   made   her   way   over   to   him.   lucky   for   her,   she   didn't   even   have   to   think   of   something   witty   or   casual   to   say   but   he   knocked   the   wind   out   of   her   by   pulling   out   a   snake   suit   in   a   plastic   back.   the   sight   elicited   a   small   squeal   and   a   harsh   jump   back.   "   it's...⸻   "   she   finally   spoke   after   the   shock   died   down.   "   ⸻   it's   certainly   something.   why   did   you   bring   that   all   the   way   here   ?   "   nevaeh   moved   closer   when   she   realized   it   wasn't   going   to   rip   out   of   the   bag   and   jump   onto   her.   "   and   why   are   you   in   a   sleeping   bag   ?   can   you   put   the   carcus   back   in   the   sleeping   bag   please   ?   it's   looking   at   me   funny.   "

closed  starter  for  NEVAEH  (  @overwhlcmed  ) the  diner

*˖ ⊹ ────────  seba  was  cold.  he  didn't  like  this  whole  new  york  winter-thing,  with  all  of  his  heavy  snowfall  and  high  rise  buildings  that  acted  as  wind  tunnels  to  amplify  the  cold.  even  as  he  buries  himself  under  piles  of  coats  and  blankets,  he  can  never  quite  shake  the  way  that  the  ice  burrows  right  into  his  soul.

of  course  he  would  return  from  tour  just  in  time  for  the  biting  wind  to  pick  up.

shivering,  he  steps  through  the  entrance  of  the  diner.  his  eyes  scan  the  lights  and  holly  that  covers  every  spare  surface,  but  don't  seem  to  notice.  they're  looking  for  something  in  specific...

ah,  okay.  there  she  is.

tugging  the  thick  mittens  away  from  his  fingers,  he  skirts  a  few  empty  tables  to  hop  onto  one  of  the  stools  at  the  counter.  he  then  waves  down  nevaeh  excitedly.  "  guess  what  ?!  "  from  his  pocket,  seba  whips  out  a  plastic  bag,  something  discoloured  and  snake-like  inside.  "  noodles  shedded  !  "  he  shares  about  his  green  tree  python  eagerly  (  nevaeh  did  babysit  them  for  him,  after  all  ;  and  yes,  this  did  need  to  be  shared  in  person,  not  just  via  text.  )  "  it  took  a  few  days  but  it's  basically  in  one  piece.  cool,  hm  ?  "  he's  proud,  puffed  out  while  looking  ridiculous  in  the  puffer  coat  drowning  him. 

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Yara Shahidi for Cartier Trinity 100 celebration

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ALL AMERICAN UNIVERSE APPRECIATION WEEK Day 7: Best Dressed ♡ OLIVIA BAKER

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status / open location / we shopping besties !

               "   is   the   heart   on   this   nail   crooked   to   you   ?   "   she   didn't   mean   to   interrupt.   if   she   did   end   up   interrupting.   trinity   had   always   worried   about   appearances; looking   pristine   was   more   than   just   a   throw   away   compliment   to   her,   it   was   a   requirement.   even   more   so   recently.   adderrall   had   felt   like   the   only   thing   in   her   life   that   she   had   control   over,   and   with   it   gone   there   were   too   much   out   of   her   hands.   it   made   trinity   turn   her   appearance   into   the   same   crutch   that   the   pills   had   once   been;   from   the   way   her   hair   looked,   to   ensuring   her   make-up   was   flawless   and   went   with   every   wrinkle-free   outfit,   to   sitting   in   a   nail   chair   nearly   weekly   to   make   sure   her   manicures   were   kept   up.   even   though   trinity   had   left   the   nail   salon   nearly   an   hour   ago,   she   couldn't   shake   that   her   nails   looked   just   the   slightest   bit...   off.   "   should   i   go   back   ?   or   do   you   think   i   should   just   go   somewhere   else   ?   i   could   probably   get   an   appointment   for   today.   "

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— HALLE BAILEY

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status / open location / a cafe or someting

               giselle   was   never   one   to   miss   an   appointment.   she   always   found   a   way   to   resolve   any   emergency,   push   through   all   exhaustion,   and   ignore   any   gnawing   at   her   mind   that   she   could   cancel   because   of   course   she   couldn't   !   so   it's   not   a   surprise   that   despite   a   broken   heel   of   her   shoe,   pants   splattered   with   slush   water,   and   a   slight   headache   from   the   lack   of   water   she'd   been   drinking;   she   still   hobbled   her   way   into   place   she   promised   to   meet   the   other.   "   hi,   hi   !   i'm   sorry   i'm   late   !   "   she   exclaimed   through   pants   before   falling   into   the   seat   besides   the   other.   her   body   thanking   her   for   the   rest   by   slumping   against   the   back   of   the   chair   for   brief   moment   before   sitting   up   straight   again.   "   i've   had...⸻   such   a   day,   but   i   won't   bore   you   with   any   of   the   annoying   things   when   i'd   rather   hear   about   you,   and   what   you've   been   up   to   !   ⸻   did   you   order   yet   ?   "

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status / open location / alejandro's b&b

               he's   lost   in   something   of   a   mix   between   exhaustion   and   a   state   of   hyper-fixation.   after   a   long   night   of   catching   up   on   chores   he'd   been   neglecting,   alejandro   had   a   long   morning   of   piano   lessons.   he   swore   he   was   going   to   allow   himself   to   take   a   small   nap   after   making   himself   some   tea,   but   one   creak   in   a   kitchen   cabinet   door   and   he   lost   his   morning   and   parts   of   his   afternoon   to   doing   minor   repairs   (   switching   out   the   hinges   in   all   the   doors,   y'know,   small   things   ).   he   was   mostly   finished   when   the   other   walked   through   the   door.   so   focused,   he   hadn't   heard   the   bell,   their   footsteps,   or   any   shuffling.   it's   only   until   they   clear   their   throat   did   he   think   to   look   up.   "   oh   !   hey   !   "   the   surprise   is   genuine,   unsure   if   the   two   had   made   plans   or   not.   "   i   didn't   hear   you   come   in,   i'm   sorry...⸻   i   don't   have   anything   made   for   a   snack   but...⸻   "   he   looked   around,   and   then   peered   out   the   window   before   turning   back.   "   i   can   go   pick   some   apples   or   pears   if   you   can   give   me   ten   minutes   ?   "