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this time, he looks at the cameraman and points an accusatory finger at him. "so you lied!" perhaps, if loren had thought things through, he would've realised they shared a secret once upon a time and teetering near that territory wasn't the best of ideas. "just one! it can be a small one." an arm goes round her shoulders then, bringing them to face the camera once again as he teases, "i just want the people of this good nation to know that you're not as scary or uptight as you seem."

elena  raised  an  eyebrow,  feigning  surprise.  "oh?  and  where  exactly  did  you  hear  that?"  she  asked,  her  voice  amused.  "because  i  read  my  contract  front  to  back  and  don’t  remember  seeing  that  little  detail  anywhere."   she  tilted  her  head,  a  smirk  forming  as  she  narrowed  her  eyes.  "unless  …  you’re  just  trying  to  get  me  to  spill  my  secrets  to  you."

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mook grimaces as elena adds another shot of espresso to her drink, as if she'd witnessed another millennial in athleisure. comfort should never take precedence for it showed a lack of care. she feels the same applied to elena and her caffeine. "i'm commenting because it's seven in the morning." but that wasn't the real reason for her judgement. something about selena fueled her with the ugliest envy, towards all of her achievements and talents. it makes her pedantic and critical. "that much coffee will damage your stomach. but whatever. you're only ruining your own body."

elena  raised  an  eyebrow  as  she  hovered  over  her  mug,  holding  the  espresso  shot  loosely  above  her  coffee.  she  glanced  at  mook,  a  small,  almost  amused  smile  playing  on  her  lips.  "are  you  serious?"  she  questioned,  raising  her  eyebrows  as  she  dropped  the  next  expresso  shot  into  her  iced  coffee.  elena  started  every  morning  with  a  triple  shot  from  cocoa  and  cream,  and  she  wasn't  about  to  stop  because  mook  was  suddenly  concerned  for  her  health.  "because  i  really  don’t  think  you  should  be  commenting  on  my  caffeine  habits  at—"  she  paused,  glancing  down  at  her  watch,  "seven  in  the  morning."

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she looks uncomfortably between ben and adrian, blinking a few times as she has to will herself to forget she ever saw the look on ben's face. if adrian wasn't so popular on twitter, and if he wasn't dating the girl mook was trying so hard to befriend again, she would've spoken her mind.

"his name's actually ben." she couldn't help but correct him, so pairs it with a sweet smile. she thinks the staff are nice to her because she remembers their names and lets them do their jobs. because, yes, it was their jobs and it was probably unkind to do it for them.

"i'll have an espresso martini but why don't we let him make the drinks? that way, you can tell me all about how it's going with serra and i don't have to worry about getting alcohol poisoning."

dressed in grey sweatpants and matching hoodie, it's quite obvious adrian doesn't belong behind the bar of the residents' lounge, but what choice does he have when the bloody mary they handed him a minute ago tasted like drinking pasta sauce straight from the jar?

"dan doesn't mind. you don't mind, do you?" he asks, turning to the bartender whose name tag clearly says ben. ben hovers awkwardly at the edge of the bar, shaking his head with that sort of smile that's polite but not necessarily comfortable. "see, he doesn't mind." adrian grins, dropping a piece of celery into his glass before taking a sip of his spicy concoction. "now that's what i'm talking about."

he turns his attention back to mook, because he's having more fun than he should be and mook looks like she could definitely use a pick-me-up. "can i get you anything?"

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he lifts his shoulders into an exaggerated shrug, one that almost reaches his ears as he holds his hands up in the air to either side of him. "and would that be so bad?" it was the fastest, and also the best, way to really get to know someone. "don't worry, it'll just be between you and me." and probably the rest of the entire country. "and i have the memory of a goldfish, so really, it'll still just be your little secret."

Marcus turned his attention to look at the other camera when it was pointed to him. For a moment he was perplexed and smiled at the camera before turning his attention to the other. Hearing his words he raised his brows before finally responding. "Is this a trick for you to know about my deepest darkest secret or something?" He asked.

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from one thing to another, his attention jumps around all over the place. one second it's the camera, then it's serra, and next thing you know, he's crouched over whilst petting her dogs with equal amount of love.

at her smooth avoidance, he glances up at her, as if he was one of her puppies that'd been forgotten to be fed. "whaaaaaaaaaat? not fair, that's not how this works!" loren likes to think he's an open book -- ask and you shall receive -- until he's forced to acknowledge his mistakes.

"no one with a snake and a guinea pig in the same flat has a boring secret. c'mon, what's the fun in keeping things to yourself?" turning back to the dogs, he talks to them about whether or not they want their mummy to spill the beans. "see? they also want to know." then, he begins to chant, "tell us, tell us, tell us."

serra brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips as she glances back at him. it’s an odd moment for confessions, leash in hand and two dogs by her side, but she doesn’t immediately mind.

“my deepest, darkest secret?” she repeats with a wistful lilt, letting the words linger as she sifts through her catalog of secrets—little cursed treasures kept carefully buried away. “i’m afraid it would only disappoint,” she says with a laugh lighter than air, “secrets always sound better before they’re spoken.”

with a tiny flourish of her fingers, she looks at him, bright and curious. “but, puh-lease, don’t let that stop you from telling me yours.” she teases, her gaze drifting briefly to the camera, like a fleeting, unspoken dare.

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a dramatic gasp cuts through the air as he spins to face micah. with wide, buggy eyes, loren stares at micah and for a moment, there's a silent exchange of words. but he needs to hear it out loud. "was that-- that night-- when you--?" he slowly pieces things together, and his whole thought process is shown in his expression. "mate!" he bursts into laughter, clapping micah on the shoulder in approval. "she's a proper worldie too. you need to get her out here. her sister too. we'd have a sick time."

micah  doesn't  read  stipulations,  he  mostly  hands  every  contract  he's  been  given  to  his  lawyers  and  lets  them  give  him  the  spark  notes  ——  so,  naturally,  he's  very  amused  by  this  revelation.  "wait,  for  real?"  he  beams  with  a  stupid  grin  on  his  face.  "how  about  hooking  up  with  the  prime  minister's  daughter  and  doing  lines  together  at  a  rave?  true  story,  by  the  way,"  pointing  his  finger  at  the  camera  cockily,  he  laughs.  "and  you'll  never  get  to  air  it!"

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when their eyes meet, mook doesn't shy away from letting daphne know exactly how she feels about it. smoking was a disgusting habit. she hates herself for giving in to the temptation to look cool and swears every week that she will quit. she'd never forgive herself, for the thin lips and wrinkles. "it's illegal to smoke indoors, daphne." doesn't she want to protect her beauty? at the very least, she could follow the rules. systematic and societal. her father had told her women shouldn't be seen smoking, and his beliefs had sunk claws into her skin. but at the risk of appearing too callous to a recovering addict, she softens her tone. "there's a smoking area around the corner, outside, that'd be so perfect for you. it's just- the smoke is getting onto my hair and my clothes, and i have a luncheon to go to." she just got it blowdried!

📷 : 𝗱𝗮𝗽𝗵𝗻𝗲  looked  down  at  the  lit  cigarette  nestled  between  her  two  fingers.  she  slid  her  sunglasses  down  far  enough  to  make  eye  contact  with  the  other  woman  in  front  of  her  before  sliding  them  back  into  place.  sure,  the  residents  lounge  didn't  usually  allow  people  to  light  up  cigarettes inside,  but  the  staff  at  the  avalon  had  long  since  stopped  trying  to  get  daphne  not  to.  ❝ do  you  see  anyone  making  a  big  deal  of  it?  ❞  she  gestured  around  them,  as  everyone  went  about  their  business.

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location: front entrace of avalon

"oh look! there's another one!" he stares right into the lens of a camera, despite having been warned not to. "apparently they can't use the scenes if we look at them. quick, tell me your deepest darkest secret."

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location: anywhere inside avalon

"i really don't think you should be doing that."

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the instructions to meet someone at an art gallery was less than subtle. there was not a single painting that didn't make her feel sick. she'd already grown tired of the cameras following her every move. nevertheless, she fixed a positive attitude. with a warm smile, she greets serra as they stand side by side. her gaze is sent heavenwards, and her expression turns unreadable.

"my dad used to say it's not about what you think but what you feel." cue: eye roll. yes, it was important she distinguished herself from her father, separating them as two separate entities. "but i think..." a knowing glance. she didn't want to sound too pretentious, but she didn't want to sound too simple. "someone should've stuck to balloon twisting." then, her eyes land on serra, even more aware of the camera lens pointing at them. "you? any particular thoughts?"

who: open to anyone (0/3) where: expressions

the art gallery's the only place you'll ever find her alone, no one at her side, just the art to keep her company. well, and the not-so-discreet cameraman-producer pair. she's actually grateful they're there, a reminder she's not entirely by herself.

a glassy glaze forms over chocolate hues as they trace the installation suspended above— twisted neon wires contorted into fragile, human silhouettes. it's unsettlingly familiar, and she senses her mind slipping, thoughts spiraling along with the cable. "bound, but still on display." the words in her head float out, caught not only by the mic they pinned on her, but also someone nearby. she draws her lips closed, surprise softening into a polished, airy smile. "what do you think of the new installation?" she asks, gesticulating, as if inviting them into her world for that moment.

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[...] basics :

name.         ───         loren vanders.

nickname(s).         ───         lors ( pronounced laws ), vanders.

gender      +      pronouns.         ───         cis   man,   he/him.

age.         ───         twenty-seven.

label.         ───         the manchild.

date of birth.         ───         8th august.

hometown.         ───         london, uk.

occupation.         ───         dj   +   owner   of   several   failed   business   +   heir   to   a   candy   empire   ( think   mars ).

penthouse.         ───         21C.

time in avalon.         ───         six years.

nationality.         ───         british.

zodiac.         ───         leo.

traits.         ───         impulsive,   incompetent,   stubborn,   unfocused,   carefree,   curious,   enthusiastic,   easy   going.

aesthetics.         ───         a   get   out   of   jail   card,   falling   off   a   treadmill   when   a   baddie   walks   past,   toasting   to   an   empty   room,   a   warm   smile   and   cold   hands,   calling   the   one   person   you   shouldn't,   shirtless   selfies   from   a&e..

net worth.         ───         $11.8B ( tied   up   in   assets   in   a   trust   fund ).

character parallels.         ───         michael kelso,   jamie tartt,   ferris bueller.

[...] summary :

the   vanders   family   acquired   their   wealth   through   a   candy   empire   that   has   been   passed   down   several   generations.   loren   was   lucky   enough   to   be   born   to   two   loving   and   understanding   parents,   but   unfortunately   ill-equipped   to   handle   his   constant   need   for   attention   and   restlessness.   to   this   day,   he   thinks   being   shipped   off   to   boarding   school   as   abandonment.

he   has   a   good   relationship   with   his   parents,   though   his   lack   of   ambition   and   desire   to   live   off   family   money   made   them   worry.   a   pleasure-seeker   who   chased   only   the   good   times,   and   escaped   anything   which   threatened   that.   things   became   rocky   when   he   learned   what   his   parents   did.   he   would   in   the   far   future   inherit   shares   in   the   company,   but   he   has   limited   access   to   his   trust   fund   until   he   ears   his   own   million.

but   this   changed   very   little.   nearing   thirty,   having   refused   to   join   the   family   company,   all   he   has   is   several   failed   businesses   under   his   belt.   turns   out,   even   with   some   help,   it's   hard   to   earn   a   million   dollars.   he   still   doesn't   understand   why   mismatched   socks   didn't   blow   up.   but   his   focus   has   never   lied   with   work.   all   of   his   escapades   have   only   lead   to   disappointment   which   suits   him   as   he   buries   his   head   in   the   sand.

he   moved   to   new   york   to   have   some   more   freedom,   with   this   belief   that   his   parents   will   change   their   minds   one   day.   his   days   are   filled   with   having   fun   with   his   friends   and   his   evenings   are   going   out.   like   any   icky   man,   he   has   also   taken   up   dj-ing.   maybe   this   show   will   help   him   earn   his   first   $1m,   but   for   that   to   happen   it   needs   to   succeed.   does   he   capitalise   on   his   relationship?

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[...] basics :

name.         ───         mookda chiayadech.

nickname(s).         ───         mook, mooks.

gender      +      pronouns.         ───         cis   woman,   she/her.

age.         ───         twenty-five.

label.         ───         the social climber.

date of birth.         ───         21st september.

hometown.         ───         nyc.

occupation.         ───         ??? she is a socialite. a professional arse licker.

penthouse.         ───         17B.

time in avalon.         ───         one year.

nationality.         ───         american.

zodiac.         ───         libra.

traits.         ───         two-faced, manipulative, self-serving, sociable, charismatic, naïve.

aesthetics.         ───         vogue   blue   super   slim   cigarettes,   cursive   handwritten   letters   on   a   bedside   table,   hot   summer   nights   on   a   yacht   with   no   escape,   hours   drafting   instagram   posts,   st.   mortiz   cap   and   family   signet   ring,   practised   smile   for   any   occasion.

net worth.         ───         $215M ( inherited ).

character parallels.         ───         yasmin   kara-hanani,   alicent   hightower,   marnie   michaels.

[...] summary :

born  to  a  mother  who  comes  from  a  line  of  mothers  with  bad  taste  in  men  and  a  father  who  has  a  general  disregard  towards  women.  her  dad  made  his  name  in  the  art  world,  boasting  impressive  collections  stored  in  his  renowned  gallery  in  new  york.  her  mother,  in  return,  created  wealth  of  her  own  by  cultivating  a  social  empire.

mook  grew  up  under  the  eyes  of  two  people  who  criticised  beauty  for  a  living.  it  birthed  many  insecurities  and  an  obsession  with  her  own  vanity.  she  learned  the  importance  of  her  own  femininity,  how  to  use  it  well,  the  need  to  play  a  certain  role  rewarded  by  society.

the  scandals  surrounding  her  father  and  the  damage  he  has  brought  to  her  reputation  has  fueled  a  desire  for  her  to  make  a  name  of  herself.  how?  she  isn't  so  sure.  she  has  tried  a  lot  of  things,  but  in  the  end  she  is  talentless  and  spoiled.  because  of  this  need  to  succeed,  she  is  easy  to  take  advantage  of.

all  in  all,  a  repressed  girl  (  religious  trauma  anyone  ??  )  who  is  affection-starved  and  finds  her  value  in  status.  she  wants  to  marry  a  nice  boy  with  a  good  name  who  will  help  her  with  a  standing.  obsessed  with  her  image,  she  wants  the  public  how  hard-working  she  is,  and  believes  if  she  plays  her  cards  right  she  could  be  loved  by  many.

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MICHAEL EVANS BEHLING @ Giorgio Armani

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Club Friday Season 15: Conditional Love (2023) dir. Pantip Vibultham

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Phaedra (1962) dir. Jules Dassin

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mook chaiyadech. intro. threads. loren vanders ( muse 10 ). intro. threads