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[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

Send me a faceclaim and I’ll tell you who they’d be in my muse’s life as a NPC

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

ofxhera:

Yasmin. The girl with the voice of an angel with the common sense of a gnat. What might have once been endearing had quickly soured over the past few months and years, complicated by numerous things. The main source, however, came from a singular place. The girl’s reluctance to commit to her destiny - to Old Olympus. It mattered little that the two people who had practically raised her had been two of the highest members, or that her livelihood depended on the good grace of its Queen. Or even that she could have gone so far - been so much better than she was. Some people, she supposed, might admire her stubborn intention to keep to the middle path. But Victoria was wiser than that. She knew that the first people to fall in battle are those out alone in the cold. And she also knew she wouldn’t protect anyone not in her pack. Yasmin had been given that opportunity - and it had been tossed back in her face.

But by God could that girl sing. So she kept her job. For now. 

With an unamused expression plastered across her face, Victoria chewed her lip, musing over her reply. Given her (albeit complicated) affection for Gwen, she always did her best to toe the line. Better to keep Yasmin as close as she could. The further she drifted, the more risk she posed. Besides, Victoria really did like her music. “Clearly. It’s the reason you’re standing here today.” It wasn’t as if she held anything personal against Yasmin’s advantageous position. Victoria was hardly moralistic enough not to do the same thing in her position. But at least she had a sense of loyalty towards ones own - even if a little twisted in its manifestation. 

Soundcloud. Victoria nearly rolled her eyes. As if going up to people and trying to charm them was any way to get her name out there. Victoria knew these people. She had been raised as one of them. Now, she made money off their desire to get drunk each night - taking their Benjamin Franklin’s for her own. But here, slightly tipsy and all the more entitled, they wouldn’t take nicely to the doe-eyed little girl coming up and talking to them about jazz. But hey, who was she to offer advice? “Not really. I’ve never had to beg to get anything I wanted.” It was nothing more than the truth, if not a little harsh. Sighing, Victoria decided to play nice - to throw the dog a bone, even if to put it out of its misery. “If you want to get their attention then you can’t talk. It puts people off.” Her eyes flickered towards the occupied microphone (where a hired band stood, strumming a guitar). “You have to get up there and steal the thunder.”

Though Yasmin had been the one to bring it up, Victoria’s jab still stung a bit. Who needed guns, when the venom in Victoria’s words was the most lethal kind of poison imaginable? Even the most unassuming phrases held their weight; nothing Victoria said could have been ignored or forgotten. Everything that came out of the woman’s mouth was burned into the minds of anyone (mis)fortunate enough to cross her path, a skill Yasmin wasn’t sure she was born with or cultivated after many years of practice. Every conversation only further cemented the power imbalance between the two of them. Yasmin hated the feeling of being small in the presence of her boss, but she had a hard time believing that she’d feel any better in Victoria’s shoes.

Even if she was capable of filling those shoes, it wasn’t a path she desired to take. She had always wondered about what the people in Olympus had to do, had to sacrifice, had to fight for, in order to get to where they were. Yasmin was born into this ( something she wasn’t sure if she should be thankful for or not ), and all of her losses and her gains were not from a result of her own actions, but instead from forces outside of her control. The power that Yasmin lacked, Victoria wielded with ease - at least, that’s how she saw it. But that kind of power had to come with consequences she could not fathom. 

Judgement radiated off of the other woman, but Yasmin was not unused to it. People didn’t think much of street musicians to begin with, though it’d be nice to get a real break. The Warehouse was a decent gig, but no one ever aspired to sing in a bar for the rest of their life. And maybe Victoria understood that, or maybe she just expected Yasmin to make a fool of herself. Regardless, she was still drawn to the stage. It wasn’t a bad idea at all. Worst thing that could happen was that she’d get kick out of the party, but even then it’d still be a great way to get her voice out there.

Besides, the band was totally butchering Tom Petty. Someone had to show them how it was done right.

“Excuse me,” Yasmin said to Victoria, ending an unpleasant conversation in order to actually do something enjoyable. As the band started playing the intro to the next song, she hopped up on stage and snatched the mic from the tone-deaf lead singer. There were a lot of confused looks from the crowd, but the band didn’t seem too caught off-guard by her presence. Perhaps she wasn’t the first person to crash their set. Maybe they figured that she was the daughter of some billionaire, and could afford to take the spotlight. Or like her, they all agreed that it was only fitting for an actual American girl to take the lead with this classic.

Well she was an American girl Raised on promises

This wasn’t her usual style, but her voice still managed to mesh well with the band backing her up. And much to her surprise, the audience was receptive to the change in vocals. For the first time this entire trip, Yasmin felt comfortable and in her element. As much as she hated to admit it, Victoria was right; this was much more preferable than trying to talk to a bunch of celebutantes and elitist millionaires.

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

bvstiens:

There were some that got the truly genuine smiles from Bastien, the ones that lit his entire face up and made him look like a normal, slightly-nerdy guy and not the murderer he was.They werent many, these ones that got his truest smiles. Richard, a full spread of lips that spoke of devotion, of understanding. Arthur, a quick smile always accompanied by a laugh. Cheshire, a tiny smile up towards the sky, blinding in its beauty and its fleetingness. Yasmin got one of her own, his friend that he’d made through Down Under. It was quick, with a sharp edge that could easily be missed. There were times when she came in that too familiar smells hit him like a gun stock to the stomach. Another person that had dug underneath Syrus’ robotic exterior, or at the very least was associated with a man that smelled too similar to the friend that Bastien had had years ago.

But the sharp edges smoothed out, and he shrugged a little. “Go ahead. Whatever you want; for one drink.”

There something undefinably beautiful about this sight, Yasmin had trouble comprehending all of it. Perhaps it was all the festivities that allowed her to forget the war raging in the city, or the change in Bastien’s stance, now as a musician instead of a bartender or gang member. Yasmin was in unfamiliar territory, and often that feared her or excited her. This time, she was dazzled. There was no better accessory than a smile, and Bastien wore his beautifully.

“Do you like piña coladas?” Yasmin asked, holding out her own untouched cocktail while in her mind she was singing, And getting caught in the rain. “And do you like country music?” Yasmin wasn’t too savvy with the genre herself, but looking at Bastien and his acoustic made her immediately think of the little dark-haired boy Johnny Cash sang about in Tennessee Flat-Top Box. “If only you had on cowboy boots, and the hat, too. Then it wouldn’t take long until all the girls in the Hamptons, from nine to ninety, to become hypnotized and fascinated.”

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

atlasjohnson:

Yasmin was an anomaly, one that Richard did not actually want to solve and only entertained due to the nature of their so-called relationship. In a way, she was meant to be a sister to him, the very thought often making him grimace. Her very existence only reminded him that her godmother had been the cause of years of silence between him and Harvey, something bitter rising in him due to it. The girl, however, was always eager and bold enough to approach him as though she knew him. Though, after what happened at Club Nyra and Olympus, he supposed that her wanting to get to know him was something of a miracle. He’d be stupid to not take this opportunity to use her for information. Even so, it hardly meant he actually had to like her, despite Hyas’s betrayal. He’d found him nuzzling against Yasmin one day, tongue lolling out as though he actually liked her despite Richard’s own feelings towards her. If he hadn’t been thoroughly impressed at the time, he would’ve been a little angry. Hyas didn’t often take well to other people, especially not after the state he had found him in.

Richard met her eyes for a moment, a flash of indignation in them at the thought of Yasmin being able to spend her childhood with his father while he was left to his own devices in Germany. It was brief, but he was sure that she had seen it. Regardless, the look was quickly replaced with a kinder one, like he had come to terms with the fact that the past was the past and he couldn’t do anything about it but simply accept it. “You want to keep me company? I’m sure you have a billion other things to do than watch the waves with me.” He retorted, turning his face away from her once more, distant once more. “I’m afraid I’m probably not going to be all that interesting to you, it’s been a long day and we haven’t even gotten to the fireworks yet.”

It was hard to Yasmin to tell if Richard was pleased to see her, or downright annoyed by her presence. Perhaps she had developed a bad habit of overanalyzing their interactions, but she couldn’t help but care about what he thought of her. He was, in a strange way, her family. At least, she wanted him to be. Perhaps she was an idiot for feeling that way; she was not blind to the fact that, like anyone affiliated with the gangs, he had a complicated history. But he was also Harvey’s son; after losing so many people, he entered into her life. Maybe it was just coincidence, or a bad omen, but Yasmin wanted to believe that a door was being opened. A new family member, a new (happier) chapter of her life.

His response was amiable enough, and Yasmin took that as a good sign. “Don’t undersell yourself so much. The last guy I spoke to was drunk off of two mimosas and wouldn’t stop talking about this app he was developing. I’d happily talk to a crab at this point, but you’re a good alternative. And if your outfit is any indication, I’d say you’re perhaps one of the more fascinating people here.”

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

cerberusfelicia:

Felicia took another look and saw who exactly it was. Persephone, but she fondly knew her as Yasmin. Times with her were good, she almost thought she could heal after David but then well, like everyone else, she was sure Yas got bored and just… stopped. It was usually Felicia who did that to people, she didn’t think it’d be done to her after what she went through, but then again, that’s what she gets for opening up. Yasmin didn’t look at her, and Felicia only clenched her jaw from frustration. What, do I disgust you that much? It’s not like she tried to hide who she was, and she didn’t mean in the sense of New Olympus but in the sense of who she actually was as a person. 

Of course, she didn’t open up all the way, but she thought she was trying. Imagine how detrimental this would’ve been for her had she actually given the other woman her all? The thought made her frown ever so slightly. What she really wanted was answers, after all. 

Why didn’t she just tell Felicia to fuck off? Why did she stop spending time with her out of nowhere? She assumed it was because of the gang but goddammit she’s more than that. They were good together, she easily got lost in the other woman’s charisma, maybe that was another mistake of hers.

But she didn’t want to keep making mistakes. So what gives? Felicia raised her chin at her response, not finding it in her to be particularly soft towards her like she used to be. “Of course you would. Mm, I must be really entertaining. Something to enjoy and then later forget about, right?” Okay, so we’re doing this.

The switch flipped, realization sunk into Felicia, and Yasmin quickly received the cold reception she probably deserved. Felicia’s biting words shouldn’t have hurt as much as they did; after all, Yasmin was the one who made a mess of things. She relinquished any right she had to feel hurt over their falling out, but that didn’t mean she had lost all feeling towards her old flame. Especially when Felicia was standing right there, in the flesh. No longer the ghost of a bittersweet memory, but actually right in front of her.

It took all Yasmin had not to reach out and touch her, knowing that it’d only make matters worse and hurt them both. “You’re definitely not an easy person to forget,” she said, and took another sip of her drink, as though it’d be enough to mask the bitter taste those words left in her mouth. “Not that I would want to.” It wasn’t enough, she knew that. Felicia certainly deserved more than a simple line, no matter how genuine it might’ve been coming from Yasmin. It wasn’t an explanation or an apology, just a poor attempt at expressing her remorse over how things ended.

But it had to end. Yasmin wasn’t going to find happily ever after in New Olympus, and it was best to cut Felicia off before things only worsened for everyone. It was better this way, but Yasmin wouldn’t explain even if she could. Some things were more important.

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

medusaivatco:

It was almost flattering.

Octavia was used seeing fear eat like fire ants up the face of those she came in contact with. Whether it be the way her eyes could be flames or the way they could be stone, she didn’t know and only could assume that it varied based on the person. With Yas, if she had to place a bet, Octavia would say that it was the stone that got to her. Not that it really mattered - fear was fear.

The muttering, the cautious and awkward jokes, it was almost laughable - actually, it was laughable. Octavia didn’t even try and hide the tumble of chuckles that came at watching Yasmin flinch away from her, and made no genuine attempt to make her less uncomfortable. Instead, she settled in right beside the other, as if trying to make it clear she had no intentions of making this a short conversation, and offered an overly sweet smile.

“Oh no, don’t worry about grabbing me anything.” The smile only got sweeter and more exaggerated. “I’d much rather just talk instead. Tell me, Yas, how have you been?”

Perhaps the worst thing about it all was that Octavia could see her drenched head to toe in fear. That’s what got to her the most, how easily Octavia could get past whatever bullshit defenses she put up for herself, and tear it down with a single smirk or knowing glance. Her godmother would be so embarrassed if she knew, but Yasmin broke out into a cold sweat whenever Medusa crept beside her. There weren’t a lot of Olympians that intimidated her, but Octavia was made from a different sort of cloth.

The last thing Yasmin wanted to do was talk to her. What the hell would they talk about? Did Octavia know that she was up to something? Was she suspicious of how she’d been going out of her way to get closer to Syrus? Or was she just... messing with her? Yasmin figured it was just the latter, but couldn’t let her guard down easily. Who knows what she really had up her sleeve. “I’m feeling very... patriotic,” Yasmin said in a voice she hoped sounded convincing, and even went as far as to make direct eye contact in an attempt to not look too guilty. Though perhaps doing so just made it easier for Octavia to pinpoint her fear. “I mean, you wouldn’t think that a pescetarian could have fun at a 4th of July party, but there’s a lot of great meat-free dishes here. They must’ve gotten a great caterer. Have you tried the stuffed mushrooms yet? You totally should, they’re really tasty.” And get far away from her, while she was at it.

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

syrvses:

in the horrid day of unbearable heat, syrus found small refuge in a texting group pertaining the potential of a meeting of local business owners who ran a series of various clubs and other establishments that only flicked their open signs on when the moon graced the night. though often competitors, they had established a monthly time of neutrality to discuss marketing tactics and what has and hasn’t worked for them. the people who attended these conferences understand that often supporting each other was wise for club hopping was a commonality among club goers.

as for his other job, neutrality was thinly dispersed among the waves of tension that ricocheted between the mobs and pooled among those who waded in between the three warring zones. oh, if mob bosses were businessmen, how much easier syrus’ life would be. to reinvigorate a cliche analogy, business was chess, and syrus could outsmart even the bravest and brightest of opponents in chess. a gang war was far more like uno—some thought, some luck, and no one seemed to hesitate to use that damn draw four card regardless of the inane levels of cruelty it brought upon an unforeseen victim.

the conversation of flying texts concerning planning and plotting enveloped his consciousness and he allowed himself to be completely distracted by something far more appealing than the current situation. if he were to relinquish his stubbornness he would potentially realize the merits of the situation—for example, the sound of the waves was nice. he enjoyed seeing his people having innocent fun. he was able to speak to people he hadn’t spoken so casually to in years.

alas, obstinate was a key characteristic embedded into his core and thus, he couldn’t even admit to himself that there was a snippet of entertainment in this event other than perhaps his enjoyment of advertising club nyra.

one of the few things that had been able to disrupt the moodiness that rested under placid features was the sudden shout that arrived to him in a tumbling manner. admittedly, it startled him. though he did not quite jump, as he had become accustomed to not responding to abrupt disruptions in a dramatic fashion. the only indication of disruption came in the form of his head whipping towards the sound.

the face he recognizes at that moment is beautiful.

yasmin.

nervousness does not take his bones, not yet. his fate has been long sealed in their respective titles but he has yet to learn how disgusting it would feel to be so utterly enthralled with another human being that anxiety would cause steady hands to shake, a steady mind to crumble. he has yet to come to loathe it, yet to come to never want to admit it to himself nor others. yet to come to love it, yet to come to always want to parade the fact that he was had found happiness with another to the world of olympians, as a grand ol’ “fuck you” to whoever said a bad man couldn’t find joy.

but for now, he only sees the beautiful girl whose voice was background music for so many of his one-on-one meetings. the beautiful girl who he occasionally chatted with, perhaps in a fashion that slightly mimicked whatever being flirtatious meant for a boy clothed in formality in all respects.

“yasmin,” he spoke the syllables between laughter, a genuine laughter. he let the sound fade into the sea prior to continuing, “is this the part where i scream and run away? i’m afraid i don’t have very many escape options here.”

I’m in trouble.

She knew it the second her heart fluttered at the deep richness of his laugh. Actually fluttered, as if she was a young schoolgirl getting noticed by a cute boy for the first time; as if he wasn’t one of the deadliest men in New York and she wasn’t some poor excuse for a honeypot. A part of her wanted to flee right then and there, to cast aside any inconvenient feelings that would have gotten in the way of her goal. She was supposed to be finding his weakness, and here she was unveiling her own. Yasmin knew that this assignment of hers had the potential to be dangerous, but she never expected to be afraid of herself.

There was too much riding on this. Her mother was counting on her, so she had to do better. Yasmin tried to ignore how easy it was to smile back at him, to appear as if she was charmed by him and glad to be in his company. “I hope you don’t run away,” she said, even though she’d considered that option several times already. Though if he was as smart as everyone said he was, he would’ve done just that and avoided her. It’s his own fault for underestimating me, she thought to herself, as though that justified what she was doing.

“An escape from all this might be nice, though,” she mused, taking a moment to glance at the swarms of celebrities and one-percenters. People who were born lucky, or made their own luck. “Maybe I sound unpatriotic saying this, but these big parties aren’t really my kind of scene. You can hardly find anyone… decent to talk to around here.” And then she turned back and smiled at him, a carefully constructed mask she prayed he wouldn’t see through.“Thank goodness I found you.”

Not everything she said to him was a lie. When she was younger and had a more simplistic outlook, she briefly desired to be a part of this crowd of elites. She believed that all she needed was to have her name up in lights and perform in sold-out stadiums in order to be considered “successful.” It didn’t take her long to realize that literally any bimbo with stage presence and decent connections could get famous by making music. It was a discouraging to realize it, a real slap in the face from reality. But she essentially accepted the fact that although, realistically, she’d never become a household name by creating the music she liked, she could still have a fulfilling career if she stuck with what she was passionate about. Most of the people at this party were only passionate about money and power ( present company included ), but Yasmin’s one true love has always been jazz music.

“What about you?” she asked, glancing down at his phone as though she was only mildly curious about why he was on it at a party. In actuality, she was more concerned about what he was doing on his phone, though it was hard to get any useful information from just a brief glance at an obstructed screen. “Isn’t it considered kind of rude to be on your phone during a party? The whole point is to, you know, socialize and have a good time. You should be swimming on this beautiful beach, or dancing your heart out to John Mellencamp. You can beat your Candy Crush high score at home.” Though she highly doubted that’s what he was doing with his phone, but she couldn’t have just outright asked, “Were you just texting your New Olympus goons about your next big attack against my mom?”

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

lovxr-boy:

Admittedly, it had taken a second for Russell to recognize Yasmin. Maybe it was the way the sun shone in his eyes from behind her that made her a little difficult to recognize. Maybe it was the slight buzz of alcohol blurring his sight a little. Whatever the case, he knew it was Yasmin the second he heard her voice. At which point, he remembered the lectures and the statistics about what smoking does to the environment, and he slowly and carefully started to put the cigarette away in the pack as a small blush came back to his face.

He chuckled a little as her joking, taking another sip of his drink and wincing as he felt the slight burn of the alcohol moving down his throat. “You know, I should probably stay the hell away from them. I’ve spent way too long making sure these beautiful brows of mine stay on fleek.”

“Oh come on, don’t be a chicken. After all, it’s not really a 4th of July party until someone gets into a stupid fireworks accident.” There was a sudden pop that went off in the distance as she spoke, coming from a small group of Manhattan socialites who clearly thought the party had gotten a bit too quiet. Yasmin was in now way serious about having Russell head over there and light his cigarette with a firecracker, but she still couldn’t help but think that the timing was absolutely perfect. “I think giving up your eyebrows in exchange for a funny story would definitely be worth it. And you’ll be the talk of the Hampton social scene.” That last part was said with an air of exaggerated faux-haughtiness, clearly mocking some of the more stuck-up party-goers that made up most of the guest list.

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

The thick scent of barbecue smoke and sea salt mingled in the air, covering the affluent vacationers and party-crashing locals alike. The mimosa in Yasmin’s hand was already starting to go warm, and if she was a bit more rebellious she would have taken it as a sign to head out early. If this was any other party, Yasmin would have found a way to make herself known to the crowd of strangers. Knowing that many of the attendees were affiliated with a gang made her more cautious, making it more difficult to fully delve into a party mood. But it was easy to pretend, to fake it until the sun went down and the fireworks took over.

But it’d be a long, long day before nightfall, the sight of her employer ensuring that. There was a lot Yasmin had to thank Victoria for, and there was a lot she had to fear as well. There was a reason why Yasmin was typically the first person to head home after her shift at The Warehouse, and took a trip down under whenever New York’s famed master mixologist was behind the bar. It wasn’t that she hated her boss, but she wouldn’t necessarily jump at the chance of spending prolonged periods of time alone with her, either.

It was hard for Yasmin to tell if Victoria was joking or not. Maybe this was Victoria’s own version of small talk? “What can I say, nepotism is a powerful thing,” she responded airily. You know that better than anyone. It was hard to tell if Yasmin was making fun of herself, or making a subtle jab at Victoria. Most likely the former; Yasmin wasn’t that intentionally catty, and they both knew that out of the both of them, Victoria had accomplished a great deal more. Yasmin’s meager achievements as a no-name jazz musician paled in comparison. “I'm not ashamed to admit that I’m probably the only guest here trying to promote her SoundCloud. But a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do, right?”

Stars and stripes, blue, red and white - the world around her was a myriad of colour, a maze designed to confuse. Only those blessed with steely eyes and a sharped vision could cut through its delicacies to pierce at what - and who - laid underneath. All these guests might have counted themselves among the high and mighty, claimed to have understood the games of power - but Victoria saw them for who they truly were - the ignorant and weak, innocent to what truly lay underneath. Make no mistake, it might have been a beautiful day - one of celebration and patriotism - but even a place of gilded splendor can be a battlefield. When at war, the struggle never ceases. And they might have stripped her of her gun and dagger at doors entrance - but that did not mean she was powerless.

More amused at the sights that unfolded than anything else, Victoria sipped on her cocktail, the bitterness of the gin tender on her tongue. Above her, the sun beat down - but did little to melt the ice within. It would take more than summer to melt the winter of her heart. Catching sight of a familiar figure appearing at her side, Victoria crooned, seizing the opportunity to get the first word in - gain the upper hand, if you would. “The world is becoming too small.” Swallowing the last of her clear liquid and draining her glass, she caught the bartenders attention. “And here I thought this event was for the exclusive.” The words danced on her lips - halfway between a jest and an insult.

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

Yasmin smelled Francesca before she saw her approaching. The thick, toxic scent of cigarette smoke assaulted her nostrils and prompted her to wrinkle her nose in disgust, and her distasteful expression only deepened at the unwanted sight of her ex. A part of her was a bit surprised; she heard through the rumor mill that Francesca was sobering up, but apparently that wasn’t enough to dissuade her from making a trip down to the beach and join the Independence Day festivities (much to Yasmin’s chagrin). 

That familiar, sarcastic voice both irritated and hurt her, reopening scars she thought had healed ages ago. It’s amazing how just the sight of one person from her past could bring up all these unpleasant feelings, but Yasmin was going to try her best not to let herself get too riled up by Francesca. “I heard that cigarette smoke causes ten times more air pollution than diesel car exhaust,” she drawled, glaring a hole into the floor beneath Francesca’s foot. “Fascinating, huh?” Yasmin almost brought up how they were also detrimental to a person’s health, but didn’t want to give Francesca the impression that she still cared about the other woman’s health.

It shouldn’t have felt weird to be sober at a party. Yet the crushing weight of that feeling was literally burning a hole through her carton of Marlboro’s as she found herself more often in the smoking section than the actual party. At that point in the night, her hair smelled closer to an ash tray than the conditioner she used that morning. 

To Francesca, there was nothing more intimate than a party and at that moment she wanted nothing more than to talk to someone she knew. She spotted a familiar face on one of the lounge chairs near the pool, making a b-line straight to them. Adjusting her own chair, she leaned forward so they could hear her.

“According to the Jordan Belfort wannabe in the salmon shorts, we should all invest in tech companies because he has some inside info that the stocks will jump,” sarcasm dripping with every word that fell from her lips. “So, tell me. What hot gossip have you heard?” 

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

It wasn’t easy to avoid her. Like always, Felicia captivated everyone’s attention, intentionally or not. As much as Yasmin wanted to, she couldn’t look away either, vulnerable once again to the same beauty that had her falling the first time they’d met. It was masochistic, and yet Yasmin kept watching her strut through the room. People parted a pathway for her, as though she was Moses and they were the palpable ocean bending to her whim. Yasmin didn’t realize until it was too late that the path led straight to her.

It was only when Felicia took her place beside her did Yasmin turn her gaze somewhere else. She stared at at her drink, at the bleach-blonde socialites, at the gaudy floral arrangements, at anything other than the woman she both wanted to be with and far away from.

The sound of her voice halted all thought, and sprouted goosebumps on Yasmin’s bare arms. Then, an onslaught of memories overcame her. Of late nights and early mornings and all the things that were whispered during the hours in between. 

She should leave. But she didn’t want to, and Felicia was still there, talking to her. That had to count for something, right? So Yasmin found herself responding. “I’d love to see that,” she said coolly, carefully hiding any sign of the heartache she was currently feeling. “I’m sure it’d be an entertaining sight.”

She almost didn’t want to show up because of how much she hated going to bigger events back at home. Yet of course, she arrived looking nothing less than like a million bucks because she wasn’t going to let anyone else believe she was worth any less and the other gang members were free to underestimate her. Getting past security was easy, it was surprising how many people were willing to turn weapons into jewelry but hey, it worked. What kept her from becoming too anxious and antsy was the fact that they all were on the beach making this truly enjoyable if she let it, if the others let it. 

It was like she was back home, but not. She was drawing heads and not in a bad way this time, and for once? Her bruises were fully healed and her other wounds were also fading, so she didn’t have to worry about unwarranted attention. She took a sip of her wine, scanning the crowd before glancing at the person next to her, shrugging to herself as she thought aloud. “I haven’t been to one of these since I was a kid,” she commented as she took another sip, “although I’m sure now I’d be more likely to cause… how did my parents say it? A scene.” 

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

The notes were soft, but Yasmin heard them clearly over all the dull chatter. A musician first and foremost, she followed the soft melody across the room, determined to find the source. Yasmin was only slightly surprised that the music led her to Bastien, and found herself smiling at the sight of him holding the guitar. It was quite a different look, compared to the one she was used to: him behind the bar, grasping the neck of a bottle instead of an instrument. And here he was, asking her for a drink in exchange for a song. It was a strange bit of role reversal, though it did make sense for him to want someone else serving him a drink for a change.

“Do I get to pick the song?” she inquired, only half-joking. She was torn between asking him to play something ridiculous, requesting one of her favorite songs, or letting him show off his skills on his own.

A hum, the quiet movement of fingers, a vibration of strings, and a note, hanging in the air. The motions were repeated, and a song began to form as Bastien kicked back next to the bar, his foot occupying the chair in front of him. The other foot was pressed to the deck, his heel tapping in time to the tune he was pulling from the party itself, the music of the people moving and dancing and drinking. He hadn’t meant to look like he wanted to be approached, and his head cocked upwards, eyes careful and not quite unfriendly. His eyes narrowed a little, but his lips spread into a smile.

“If you want a song, you’ll have to buy me a drink.”

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

❀ WARDROBE: NEW BEGINNINGS ( EVENT 1 )

— ( graphic credit: @helpfulrps​ )

Loulou Cover-Up ( Anthropologie, $148 ) // Organic Cotton Crochet Triangle Top ( Free People, $130 ) // Wildflower Bikini Bottom ( Free People, $70 ) // Bernardo Taci Sandals ( Anthropologie, $198 )

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“...You don’t happen to have a light I can borrow, do you?”

The lecture was already at the tip of her tongue, ready to be fired at the poor party-goer that made the mistake of asking her to light their cigarette. It was such an innocent question, and her preachy response was a surefire way to make anyone annoyed with her. So what if spouting air pollution statistics made her a buzzkill; Yasmin was just looking out for Mother Earth.

Realizing that it was Russell who posed the question quickly changed her mood. After working together for so long, he already knew exactly how she felt about his bad habit, and it didn’t change anything. So instead, she nixed the lecture and cheekily replied, “Hello to you, too.” Yasmin resisted the urge to remind him that the air pollution emitted by cigarettes is ten times greater than diesel car exhaust, and instead joked, “I saw some people lighting fireworks earlier. If you’re brave enough, you could try that. Just be careful, or you might burn your eyebrows off.”

LOCATION: The Hamptons OPEN TO: All

Russ walked from the bar, a fresh drink in hand as he made his way past the crowd. He jokingly winked at and blew kisses to friends as he walked past, smiled and waved to acquaintances. As for people he knew to stay away from, he kept a distance, lifting his red solo cup to his lips and hiding behind the plastic cup as he sipped a bit more of his drink. When he finally saw the edge of the crowd, where people kept a bit of a distance from the massive crowd and the dancing, and he walked a few paces further. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his shorts, producing a single stick and placing it between his lips before shuffling through his pockets for a lighter. “Shit,” he whispered to himself, looking back at the edge of the crowd and walking over again, headed towards the first person he saw.

“I’m sorry… you don’t happen to have a light I can borrow, do you?”

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A few more drinks in her and Yasmin would be up on the bar singing God Bless the U.S.A. with the Senator’s inebriated daughters. It was a clear sign that she should quit while she was ahead - right after she finished the rest of her mimosa. After all, it was a party, and Yasmin would take any excuse to celebrate. Besides, it was a charity event, and every drink contributed to a good cause... Even if she couldn’t remember exactly what the cause was, at the moment.

However, Yasmin immediately sobered up the second she heard Octavia’s voice. She hadn’t even noticed the other woman slithering up to her, and was so caught off-guard that she actually flinched at the sight of her. It was utterly embarrassing; Octavia had barely said anything to her and already Yasmin felt as meek as a mouse. 

“I think it’s open bar,” she muttered. Though, Yasmin wasn’t actually too sure; she had been letting socialites order all of her drinks for her the entire day. “I’ll, uh, go get one for you anyway. No punch necessary - I don’t think a black eye goes with either of our outfits.” Though it was meant to be a joke, Yasmin’s words were measured and cautious. If she had a rattle at the end of her tail, it’d be going off like crazy.

She thought her eyes were going to roll back into her head.

The promise of free alcohol and the chance to wear a slinky swimsuit sparked Octavia’s interest in this barbeque on crack, but little to her surprise, the guests attending the event were just as boring as she imagined. Millionaires, celebrities, all of it sounded so enticing and yet at the end of the day all Octavia’s eyes were scouring for were faces that were already familiar, all her ears were searching for were names of known devils, all her tongue was tasting for were beads of sweat and blood belonging to old acquaintances. It was in them she knew she would find her excitement.

When she finally located, through the crowd, the visage of someone that actually mattered, her lips did the rest of the work. A smile, a sneer, a smirk, something twisted and in between broke her lips as she slipped her way beside them.

“I’ll let you punch me in the face if you buy me a drink?” The way her eyes rolled towards them was playful. “Or vice versa if you’d prefer.” She made no attempt to explain herself, almost narrowing her eyes a hair as if to challenge, to question, to encourage their reaction. Anything to make this less of a drag, Octavia was willing to try.

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Yasmin both loved and loathed parties; they left her feeling both exhilarated and exhausted. It’s fun when she’s soaking up sun, laughing with (and at) beautiful socialites, and dancing to a mindless pop song with other people who are so willing to celebrate life (and the pleasures of throwing their money around). On the other hand, being surrounded by so many people got overwhelming, especially while carrying the knowledge that she was amongst a pack of wolves in sheep’s clothing. Champagne bubbles go flat quickly, and Yasmin finds herself seeking peace away from the affluent party-goers, the sleazy party-crashers, and every conniving mobster lurking between them all. All day she went back and forth between these two extremes, from dancing with tipsy heirs to a solo walk along the beach; from sharing a bottle of champagne to nursing a cocktail by herself. Yasmin kept seeking a happy medium between the two; being amongst so many people was overwhelming, but being all alone was unbearable. 

At the sight of Richard, Yasmin believed that she’d finally found a solution for her on-going problem. It was rare to catch him on his own, and she didn’t want to let a golden opportunity slip through her fingers. He was the most interesting person she’d met in recent years, a puzzle she’d love to take time solving. That’s why she quickly abandoned her moment of solitude and joined him at his side, popping that bubble of isolation they had both created for themselves with an airy laugh. “Haven’t you heard? This is the best seat in the house.” As she spoke, she found herself having to crane her neck up higher than she expected in order to make eye contact. Despite the handful of times they’ve spoken, Yasmin still hadn’t gotten used to how tall Richard was. “I hope it’s alright I keep you company - unless, I need some kind of special VIP pass to talk to you.”

Richard did not like schmoozing, it was nearly exhausting to do so in a room full of people whose occupations and lives could not benefit him and his own line of business. However, he had long since learned that networking beyond his own visions would go quite a long way in the future. Business was business, whether it came from the hands of a billionaire philanthropist or the children who had grown accustomed to the lifestyle of the rich and famous. After several hours of playing to their needs, a charming smile here and there with some words of acknowledgement and understanding, Richie had grown tired of the whole affair and he just honestly wanted a moment to himself.

Ducking away from the party itself, he proceeded to the beach a little ways behind the party, intent on simply listening to the waves and letting some of his stresses melt away with it. It didn’t take long for him to feel the presence of another, a small sigh of wistful leaving him before they were able to make their way next to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy company, he just hoped it wasn’t someone who would put him in a foul mood. “Of all the places you could have chosen, it had to be here, next to me?” He asked, though his tone was light and teasing. “Am I that polarizing? You must really enjoy spending time with me.”

[yasminnajm-archive-blog]

LOCATION: THE HAMPTONS AVAILABILITY: CLOSED FOR @syrvses​

Her lips are stained red, her hands are wrapped around a stick, and her eyes are glued on a club owner. The moment Yasmin saw Syrus there, she knew she had to go over. It was part of her new job. It was what her godmother expected from her. It was why she came all the way out here in the first place.

So once she saw him, she went and got a popsicle. Promised herself she’d have more courage venture forth after she finished it. Once her fingers are coated with cherry syrup and she’s left licking a bare wooden stick. All of her excuses melted away with the frozen treat, eaten away by the sun. It was time for Yasmin to play her part.

Her nerves dissipated with every step she took, and her mind tried to figure out which opening line would make her seem the more unassuming, more gentile and innocent. Make her seem like anything other than the manipulative backstabber she’d recently become.

                                 Need some tanning lotion?

                                 I thought vampires couldn’t go out in the sun!

                                 Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?

He was no only a few yards away, and she was still completely unsure of what she was doing. She did noticed that Syrus seemed completely oblivious to her, completely engrossed with something on his phone. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she slowly approached him from behind, then suddenly jumped beside him shouting “BOO!” It was a bit childish, but it played in her favor. And if she could actually manage to surprise the big bad Hades, then that’d just be a bonus.