#( jolie de beauvoir. )

[carmendesantos]

( ✉ → sms ) you haven’t watched my snapchat story all day. what are you up to????? 💖

imessage → loml 💖: i’ve been asleep! I’M SORRY.imessage → loml 💖: i had a late night commercial shoot.imessage → loml 💖: look at me working for once. rare sight. imessage → loml 💖: where can i get that cute jumpsuit you’re wearing in your stories though??? I NEED. 

[avahalliwell]

special delivery for : @joliedebeauvoir​

Ava would have loved the barbecue if events like this existed when she was younger. Roaming freely around the streets of Newport, running along the beach and drinking into the early hours of the morning — that was what freedom meant to her. Now freedom, it meant that she would have no ties to her husband anymore. She wished it would be just that easy. The emptiness of her ring finger did help though, even if that would raise some eyebrows if people knew she was still supposedly married. Which was why she had been hiding out at either her house or the funeral home, but if it wasn’t for her best friends dragging her out to this event, she probably wouldn’t have came at all. While the group of them parted their ways briefly to look at different stalls on the beach, the brunette seemed to eventually drifted back to the Korker Liquor stall anyway. Grabbing two beers, she wandered away from the crowd in hopes to search for her friends, before spotting Jolie on the edge of the coastline. “Let’s replace that empty bottle here,” She took the bottle from the blonde’s hand. “With another one,” She passed the new bottle to her friend, before jokingly said. “There we go, now we can party.”

[lizardkennedy]

for → @jodebeauvoir location: the brunch club time: march 22nd, 11:30am

Leaning on one hand, Liza glanced longingly at the mimosas and Bloody Mary’s being sipped around her, and sighed. Somehow, her parents had put out a notice with her picture on it saying DO NOT SERVE to every single establishment around the island — or, at least that was what she thought her parents did. How else did the waitress know to immediately remove the drink menu from the table, as soon as she saw her face? Liza knew she was pretty, but the looks she was getting from the servers and bartenders at The Brunch Club were more than stares of envy.

Thankfully, Jolie had showed up in the nick of time, and Liza immediately rose from her seat, going in for a hug. Jolie was a one-of-a-kind, generous soul, especially when it came to her words. There was something warming about her presence that Liza couldn’t explain, and she relished in the time she spent with Jolie. Liza got to know Jolie through Lourdes, mostly; envious over the years that her friend had such a wonderful older sister, but Jolie wasn’t the type to exclude. The woman immediately took Liza underneath her wing when she needed the guidance, and today?

Well, Liza was in need of some guidance.

It was almost law that every single young woman of pedigree on this island had some sort of wicked mother, ready to ruin the lives of their daughters. There was her mother, for one. Constantly shifting between hot and cold, there were days when her mother couldn’t get out of Liza’s hair, and others, when she couldn’t give two flying fucks about her. Then, there was Evelyn Halliwell, of course. She was a piece of work. Constantly hovering over all of her girls at once, pushing and nagging and shrieking. And then, there was Jolie’s own mother, Charity Howard, who was as cold as she was elegant. They were all the poor, trauma-ridden daughters, who were just waiting to repeat their mother’s mistakes all over again.

“Jolie!” Liza shouted, a genuine smile gracing her features for once. “Oh my gosh, it’s been too long. How’s everything?” She pulled back into the table again, picking up her menu with a flourish, perusing the entrees with mild interest. “By the way, no drinks. They banned me,” she huffed with a roll of her eyes. “They as in my parents. And every other place on the freakin’ island capable of serving me something that’ll get me drunk.”

[christcpherwells]

( ✉ → sms ) why do you reply so slowwwwwww 💖

chris: You’re lucky I reply at all, missy! 

chris: You know I don’t use this phone for social communication. 

chris: I only reply to you because I know if I don’t, you’ll be waiting at home for me when I leave work. 

[nadinehyun]

STARTER FOR » @joliedebeauvoir

WHEN: A Friday night, after hours

WHERE: Lash Out Loud

According to Nadine, the juiciest gossip wasn’t always the best. Sure—the rumors people spread happened to be entertaining from time to time, but if it wasn’t factual, she dropped interest. The woman didn’t think of herself to be nosy. She liked to refer to it as more... being informed. Aside from being surrounded by the people she adored to help serve to look their best and essentially do what she loved, there was one more beautiful aspect of running the facial spa: the gossip. Majority of the time it consisted of funny or abnormal bits of information about people she didn’t know. Other times it was all about celebrities, and even if the details weren’t true, she couldn’t resist poking an ear towards all of the whispers. When it came to any name dropping in connection with the de Beauvoir family—oh, did she listen. Admittedly, some of it was false and when people were conjuring up stories about the ‘missing and now returned de Beauvoir woman,’ Nadine was quick to refute their words and defend her longtime dear friend. 

“I kid you not. The bullshittery happened in that very seat,” Nadine pointed several feet away, before plopping down into the baby pink colored cushion of one of the salon chairs. Reaching over to grab the bottle of wine that was hidden in the back from earlier, she poured two glasses and handed the other to Jolie. Half of the lights were off and from where the pair was, they were hidden from any potential peering eyes through the windows. “I’ve got bad news and bad news. One refers to the smack people were saying about you, and the other involves the reality that is...your family probably knows you’re here.” She cleared her throat. “Let me not sugarcoat this. Charity and Kimberlin,” she scrunched her nose at the names as if she had just cursed, “definitely, got to, have to, must, already—all of those synonyms—know that you’re in town.”

[nathaliaa-xo]

DATE: FRIDAY, DECEMBER 13TH, 2019. TIME: 3:02 PM. LOCATION: JOLIE'S PRIVATE PRACTICE. OPEN TO: JOLIE DE BEAUVOIR.

This was it. This was the first step to getting her life back on track. Nathalia's work as being one of the most prominent models in the industry had taken over her life, and sadly, she had zero balance. She had been feeling so lost... Has been for a while. Like she had lost sight of who she was supposed to be somewhere along the way. Nathalia had the sinking feeling that she was betraying a part of herself. Somewhere along the way, the innocent, hopeful, earnest kid living inside her — the one who believed she could change the world and make a difference — had gone inside to grab a snack at a truck stop, and she'd driven off without even glancing in the rear-view mirror. Nathlia felt hopeless — and ashamed, because after all: Who the fuck was she to complain? She had no right to complain about anything, ever. So, she didn't. Nathlia kept everything, every little problem to herself. That was until her life went to hell in a handbasket and everyone who had a television or listen to the radio knew about her problems. Now, after a month of trying to figure out her next few steps, she found an add online for an assistant at a private practice. Nathlia had no idea what she was going to be doing or even signing up for when calling to set up an interview, but what else did she have to lose? This seemed like a good step in the right direction to get herself grounded. "Good afternoon." Nathalia greets the secretary at his front desk with a friendly smile. "My name is Nathalia Alves. I have an interview with Ms. De Beauvoir at three-fifteen." The mans nods and tells her to take a seat while she waits. Nathalia does so, rather anxiously, while looking around the space to keep her mind preoccupied.

[alanaxmurillo]

@joliedebeauvoir​

Cocky men made Alana feel a certain way and by that it really just encouraged her to crush their spirits, especially when it came to games she had a chance at. That was how she felt the moment she had heard the obnoxious remarks from the two frat boys obviously yet to be put in their place. They had won before, so they had some right to be excited, but that was one thing, it did not permit them to rub it in people’s faces and especially not in her face. Lord knows she wasn’t about to go down without a fight. So when David and John, as if their names couldn’t get more basic, offered to take down the next people, Alana was all too quick to offer herself up, innocent grin and all. And while she was confident she could take them on her own and kick their asses, she still needed a partner. That was where Jolie came in. Alana had seen the woman around, they weren’t exactly friends but she knew her name which was a start and she wasn’t a murderer so that had to count for something. Either way, anyone as eager to beat a bunch of frat boys as she was, would always find a place in her heart. Whether they truly won or not. But they’d be winning. There was no doubt in her mind about that. She sent their opponents a sweet smile, already thinking of her celebration dance, before glance at Jolie, a grin replace the look of innocence. “Are you ready to kick their asses and show them who’s boss?” She asked, raising her hand for a high five.

[vincassidy]

STARTER FOR » @joliedebeauvoir​

WHEN: Friday, Nov. 22 at 7 p.m.

WHERE: Zinqué

This was no longer a French bistro; it was a dimly lit circus. 

That is, if a circus transformed into a restaurant with a flirty ambience. He kind of liked it.

No rainbow wig, big red shoe wearing clowns in sight so it wasn’t full circus; however, the round and rectangular tables normally adorned with small condiments, glossy fold-up drink menus, utensils, and a tiny potted plant in the center were now arranged in 4x3 lines bearing square curtains to section people off into little cubicles. There were balloons, and lots of them—paired with brightly colored paper streamers, not that he could actually see the vivid color in this lighting. As explained by the host at the entrance door, the women were to remain in their respective chair as the men would move to the next date. Move, as in, roll on a black padded stool with wheels. Apparently, the majority of women were already seated as to not be known straight away. Each date would go on for ten minutes before a double chime signaled its time for rotation. People were able to see just enough to navigate through the place, but not enough to sincerely distinguish faces. The whole scenario screamed mystery, to which Vince silently chuckled to himself as he recalled a moment. ‘I’m not going to even try to decode it. It would probably ruin the curiosity,’ she had said. ‘Ruin the curiosity—you dig the enigma? I need to get to the bottom of it,’ he had replied. Miniature desk lights were at everyone’s station with a pen and a tiny spiral notebook, which was supposed to travel along and serve as a written ice breaker as people put down a greeting, a question, whatever was hoped to serve as a first impression, and then each pairing would exchange their mini notebooks under the curtain to write a reply back before simultaneously pulling the three foot long curtain rope to reveal their date after a single chime. That made three minutes of secrecy, seven minutes of face to face interaction, then the page would be turned to the next blank one, along with a new person to meet. The environment itself wasn’t as silly as a circus, but Vince admittedly felt a tad silly for being present for the sole reason that he didn’t go to these things... in fact, he never thought about going to these things. 

That is, until he met her.

In the past few months of knowing Jolie, he found himself doing more. The male had been a natural risk taker when it came to matters concerning his job, except he couldn’t deny that she prompted him to be open with more opportunities he hadn’t thought of. A friendship presented light, excitement, thrilling challenges. It was fresh, real. When she had invited him to this speed dating experience to set him up, he initially was going to laugh it off with a ‘Nah, what? Nah,’ and quite shocked as it was something not of his usual interest, but he appreciated the considerate thought and in all honesty, it was too good of a suggestion to pass up. Since she was the one to play matchmaker he figured he better send a quick text informing of his arrival. The glow of his iPhone illuminated his face as he opened his messages, and while he was attempting to type, it was interrupted by a young male clearing his throat followed by a finger pointing to a nearby sign on the wall: 

PLEASE TURN PHONES OFF DURING THE MATCHING PROCESS. THANK YOU.

“It’ll be just a second,” Vince said. “Bro, it’s the rules,” answered the same young man, who had to be around his mid-twenties. Who let this dude volunteer at this speed dating shebang? As a person familiar with the law, rules, regulations, and doing things for justice and fairness, Vince was going to eventually abide by the no cell phone rule. The time wasn’t 7 p.m. yet, the rule didn’t have to apply immediately.

iMessage to Jolie (6:48 p.m.) : I made it here, Cupid de Beauvoir. 

“Bro, I don’t make the rules, I jus—” “—enforce them. Right,” Vince retorted, shutting off his phone before putting it into his pocket.  He sauntered into the circus, but not a circus, restaurant with no expectations. Just taking a chance. Trying something new. The first couple three rounds were... fine? Date #1 wrote him a riddle to which he couldn’t figure out on the spot in those three mysterious minutes, and when she revealed her face she bursted in a laugh and told him the answer. It turned out to be less funny and more offensive, which was an instant turn-off. Date #2 slid a simple ‘Hello, I can’t see you yet, but you look wonderful’ note under the curtain. Date #3 wrote, ‘please don’t be another loser I just saw my ex lol.’

For the last three encounters, Vince made a doodle of a cartoon dog. It wasn’t giving away his penmanship off the bat in case someone were to recognize him, and it wasn’t like keeping his identity a secret had been necessary anyway, considering his face would be revealed at every station. People spoke delicately amongst each other, probably in an effort to keep with the mystery and prevent surrounding ears from getting an idea of someone before having an encounter. Even with the calm, quiet voices, he could have sworn he heard Jolie’s from another corner of the room. He could make out the sound of her voice anywhere. Was she here? A detail he never got confirmation of because he didn’t know whether she was able to reply to his text or not, thanks to the rule. Was she supposed to set him up for this thing and let him stick it out as she chilled at home? What if she was watching him from the side, observing her matchmaker magic? Watching from a control room? Or was she not actually here, come to think of it, she did tell him to tell her about the outcome, which implied she wouldn’t be present. Was he just thinking of her in a room full of eligible singles? 

On to the next one, Date #4, he rolled across to the next column of tables, deciding to switch it up. The energy of Zinqué in that moment inspired him to get a little more creative. He kept drawing the same dog, but this time he wrote a question underneath the drawing, before slipping it under the curtain: If I were to meet an angel in this place, and we only have seven minutes, does that make this a game of seven minutes in heaven? 

[estelle-perge-prost-blog]

Organisation

Tout s’organise avec méthode, la pharmacie pour la livraison des médicaments, l’aide ménagère du CIAS, le lavage des cheveux, l’infirmière pour les pansements, les courses. Il reste à voir pour le vendredi les “resto”, sinon tout est OK pour l’après opération.

Les choses sont aussi organisées pour l’éventualité de la chimio et mes cheveux... C’est ma Poupette qui viendra me couper les cheveux en me faisant un joli carré plongeant, et ensuite on verra. Car voir mes cheveux (1m de longueur) sur la brosse ou sur l’oreiller m’est insupportable, avec des cheveux plus court c’est moins traumatisant. Les cheveux repoussent. Je verrais pour une perruque (j’ai déjà repéré Wigs avenue Thiers) et des turbans... Comme Simone de Beauvoir, bien que je préférerais une toque en fourrure comme Simone Weil, et là je sens que mes amies vont hurler pour la fourrure.

[fabreysong]

Well, there are two moods...

[jodebeauvoir]

CATCH A GLIMPSE OF JOLIE L. DE BEAUVOIR’S INSTAGRAM.....

A clip transcript from Cleo Halliwell’s Podcast, A Piece of Cleo, with Jolie de Beauvouir: “My Instagram isn’t anything interesting.... well, besides the fact that I am really trying to promote my book club but other than that, I’m just Jolie de Beauvoir ─ granddaughter of Blaise and Margaux, the faces of Beauvoir Bicycles and I really try not to use my surname for any benefits. I did an Instagram Live once asking people about where I can buy some bowls for my new house.. websites and any nearby stores in Los Angeles/Catalina. Instead, I went on a tangent about Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. I have no idea how I got there. I’m pretty sure Miles asked me something about Harry Potter and it went from there. I won’t deny that I love the things that I love though. I may be thirty-one years old and I embrace that my interests are different. Also yes, before you ask, I am a House Hufflepuff. I am quite proud of my house sorting...... *something else briefly discussed here but not important* ...Anyway, whoever follows my Instagram is brave because my posts are so sporadic.. funny because I am far from sporadic in my day to day life. I love organization and schedules... oddly enough.”

featuring ; @vincassidy, @lourdeshoward, @nadinehyun, @countryqveen, @avhalliwell, @milesawayellis 

[joliedebeauvoir]

ON NOVEMBER 11TH, 2019, JOLIE DE BEAUVOIR UPLOADED ON INSTAGRAM.

“Officially a part of the Dirty 30 crew!” #BirthdayDinner

featured in post ; @jvliespencer, @coltgrey, & @nadinehyun

[avahalliwell]

( ✉ → sms ) im not DRUNK waht amkes you thijnk that 💖

( ✉ → jolene not jolie ): bitch, it’s 2 freaking am 

( ✉ → jolene not jolie ): if you’re not waking me up for emergencies such as hiding a body for you, you’re DRUNK

( ✉ → jolene not jolie ): you owe me like…five coffees for this

[cleohalliwell-a]

special delivery for ; @jvliespencer​

location ; catalina casino founders ball

time ; 11:45 pm

It didn’t astound Cleo by the gag-worthy dynamic of Julie and Rebecca floating throughout the Founders Day Masquerade Ball arm in arm, as if they were best friends. This must’ve been the thirtieth person Rebecca had called her best friend ─ according to the unfortunate Instagram post that appeared on her feed due to the mutual connection of Julie. Still, even if her own connection to Julie was far from near, it agitated at how oblivious the woman with a royal title couldn’t see the companion beside her was using her for a multitude of reasons. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to perceive it. They were the oddest friend combination to ever exist. And if Cleo was honest, it had almost seemed like Julie was replacing the infamous Jolie de Beauvoir, who was bawns and brains, with a has-been by the name of Rebecca, who was nothing but mediocre at the best, as well one the up-do stygian tressed female’s enemies since high school. It all came back to Theo. It was far from a competitive nature. Yet, Rebecca always made it out to be. It was proven she won the final round of stealing Theo’s heart whereas Cleo failed and fell for the infinite memories and broken-promises from her former male, best friend, who just happened to have moved back to Catalina to only spite and throw his merriment in her face. Far from the angel, she was, cunning and devious, the only person she would be cordial with was Julie Spencer. Even in the companionship, they had fleeting congenial moments, which shouldn’t be pushed aside for the sorceress, has-been on the other’s Versace sponsored arm. Immediately finishing off her Moët and Chandon, knowing she didn’t need liquid courage to approach the pairing, it was an added bonus. A false upturn of her mouth corners had been mastered for moments as such, amber hues latching onto Julie only, not even bothering making eye-sight with the person on the side, initiating a gentle embrace with the other, “Julie Spencer, you cease you amaze me.” Silvery tone cascaded off the tip of her tongue, creating a space between their bodies less than a few nanoseconds later, holding firmly onto her Oscar De La Renta Clutch. “I’m glad there’s someone else in this town able to match up to my level of perfection and cause the room to grow speechless,” she lightly noted. Her chin pointing to the marble floor underneath them, a vaulted brow shot toward Julie in the moment of stirring the pot was upon her. The grievous tone replaced her false care of words, “Did you let Jolie know that you have replaced her? Or is this what you do when your best friend is out of town?” Only to spite the discomfort of Rebecca further in her lack of welcome back to Catalina or for even showing her face at the Ball tonight. It was obvious Rebecca did not receive an invitation by her lack of cooderation to the event colors. A last minute extension must’ve been thrown into her lap by Julie. 

[catalinaroleplay]

Gender & Pronouns: Female, She/Her

Date of Birth: November 11, 1989 (30)

Place of Birth: Catalina Island, California

Neighborhood: Ventura

Length of Residency: Native ─ Returned 5 months ago

Occupation: Speech Pathologist

Face Claim: Elizabeth Olsen

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGERS: Parental Death, Substance Mention, Abortion.

I’m here, I said, and it felt shockingly comforting those words. When I’m panicked, I say them aloud to myself. I’m here. I don’t usually feel that I am. I feel like a warm gust of wind could exhale my way and I’d be disappeared forever, not even a sliver of fingernail left behind. On some days, I find this thought calming; on others, it chills me.

The legacy of the de Beauvoir Family in Catalina Island is prodigious. Multiple generations of the family graced town as they grew instantly to success with ‘Beauvoir Bicycles’. Years of patience and dedication to improving the family company, all of the hard work of their bicycle creation soon hit televisions at the 1982 Tour De France by French rider, Laurent Fignon. Not only did The de Beauvoir Family feel honored by a patron of their formerly migrated home of France representing their company, but the success brought endorsements and demands for an investment of more bicycles at a higher production rate. It caused the company to become known within the States and get used by future Tour De France contenders, Lawson Caddock and Ian Boswell. The promotion was simply the beginning of the success for the de Beauvoir family but as well of unbreathable reputation would soon be those generations to come.

Being born a de Beauvoir may come as a belle, anyone and everyone was full of jealously when the announcement of Jolie de Beauvoir was birthed on the 12th of August 1989, to the future monarch of Beauvoir Bicycles, Pierre de Beauvoir, and Charity de Beauvoir née Fitzgerald. The news of the doe-eyed sea-foam angel laced with honey locks instantly spread around Westlake without missing an entire beat. It was tears of happiness for the young couple. Hell, the birth of a child called for a celebration. Three days alive on this planet and Jolie attended her first official black-tie gala held by her family. Too young to even know what she was experiencing, per her mother words, everyone raved over the birth of Jolie and everyone swarmed her with gifts, lots of kisses and any excuse to take a picture with the newborn child who rumored to have cried her doe eyes out every time a camera flashed. People simply treated her as a doll within her first few days of being alive and present in the real world. Even though she was young and unaware of her surroundings, it was almost as if her gut aching knew more encounters and misfortunes in her life would tackle her as Jolie grew up due to her surname association. It was sadly one thing she couldn’t control – being born into this family but most importantly, having Charity de Beauvoir as her mother.

Misfortune soon rolled over once more. Pierre de Beauvoir, the future beloved monarch of his father’s bicycle creation, passed in a car accident before the paramedics and police could arrive on the scene. At this unfortunate incident, Jolie was only two years old. Memories were blurry. Voice of both of her parents instantly caused her ears to ring at the familiarity of them anywhere near her. It was burdensome for a young toddler, honey slow-growing locks secured in pigtails, dazzling heads with her distinctive taste of designer clothes, Chanel to be exact, to understand what death was or why her mother was crying in the first place. The noise alone made her shut her doe-eyed hues instantly in discomfort in the backseat of her car seat. The day, the accident, the sound of her mother reacting must’ve felt like an eternity to the young daughter. Yet, as the world moved at snail speed, everything of the bond between her mother and herself took an instant sharp change from that day forward. Nights, where Charity tucked Jolie off to bed, turned into her nannies’ responsibilities instead. Any moment and bond they formed before vanished into thin air. Whatever order her mother barked at her nannies, who were raising her, needed to be accomplished or else their heads would’ve been on a silver platter. Only at two years old, not only did Jolie end up losing her father but as well as her mother. It was a bitter beginning to what would be a cruel world ahead for her.

As Jolie grew into her age and beauty, were walking and talking was a first-hand nature without any struggles or assistance, the six-year-old came in contact with a new father figure in her life - Christian Howard. A gentle, dark-haired with facial stubble, knelt down to the petite fair toned girl, instantly bringing her into an embrace as this shown affection had become a rarity in Jolie’s youth from the only parent figure she had left – her mother. It was the first impression of the male which left a lasting impression on the young girl. It was like an ounce of happiness was finally on her side. Even if, as the time Jolie spent with Christian would somehow and someway get ruined by her mother and the toxic comments being thrown at her only daughter. It shouldn’t have been this way. Yet, it happened. It wasn’t as if Jolie did anything to her mother nor did she think so, it was the hostility at every given moment. It was unhealthy for a six-year-old to wish she was never born into this universe in the first place. As Christian became a permanent member of the family, new additions were around every corner. The birth of Jolie’s half-sister, Kimberlin, graced everyone’s life. For Jolie, it was for the worst.

As The de Beauvoir – Howard Family grew further into their looks, everything took a sharp turn in Jolie’s life. Drugs, sex, alcohol, boys – you named it, Jolie got her hands on it and was experimenting. Numbing all of the trauma, whiplash of words etched in her conscious and aching her deep within her soul, all of the substances made her feel at harmony at last. Even though, every night at a glorious evening out, the idea of returning back home to her mother and her half-sister, who started to become an identical version of the monster who has been ruining her life, made her want to scream. Christian, her stepfather, was a different story. The relationship between the stepfather and stepdaughter was the only sense of normalcy in her complicated life. Jolie was aware Christian knew about her sudden use of substances. It was clear by his disappointment at how he looked at his stepdaughter on the evening’s she stumbled into their glass mansion in Crystal Cove in a burst of hysterical laughter and happiness, never shown in her sober state. The teenage rebellion Jolie was encountering would proceed forward until her stepfather became her saving grace at seventeen. On the day of her birthday, when Jolie found out she was pregnant with her then boyfriend’s baby, she came running to the one person who would help her out. Her stepfather.

The secret on that frosty November eve brought the bond between stepfather and stepdaughter together. A promise, pinky promise, which could never be broken, had been sworn between both individuals in the parking dim lot before entering into the sterile office to remove what could be a definite change in Jolie’s life forever. And it did. Not in the way where she would have to commit all of her spare time to raise a child. Instead, to the consuming thoughts rattling her conscience about what life could’ve had planned for her and how Jolie potentially ruined life’s plan. She was never the type to think of these scenarios. As a young girl, she was constantly motivated to become her best self and honor her family surname by being the best and nothing less. If anyone ever found out about her pregnancy, even having a child at a young age and avoiding getting her education, it would’ve been more controversy than needed. That’s why she swore her stepfather to keep a secret. Only between them. Not even her then-boyfriend would find out about the brief existence of his child. On Monday morning, Jolie would attend school as if nothing traumatizing over the weekend happened.

Time after time, Jolie experienced trauma and agony from alternative sources. Left and right. Up and down. Things came flying her way. Every time, she stood tall, all she could feel were her knees were ready to buckle and begging for freedom from anyone who doubted her. Even when she didn’t allow other words to affect her on the outside, those words caused her to lay awake every night. It’s what drove her to accept a full-ride position at Saint Xavier University in the Fall, after high school graduation. While the heaviness of her mother’s words and hatred toward Jolie grew stronger along with breaking from the confines of Charity Howard, there were only a few people whom she would miss – her friends. It was why the decision to move to University out-of-town was difficult. But she begged for freedom. To live her own life without someone breathing down her neck and making her feel worthless. Two weeks before school started, Jolie started on a cross country road trip. Taking stops in cities she would’ve never expected herself to visit. Memories were flourishing. This was freedom. All by herself. The young adult was ready to experience her new life ahead of her.

The past eleven years had been some of Jolie’s favored. Having successfully graduated from Saint Xavier University with a Bachelor of Communications Science. Afterward, achieving a Master’s degree in Speech-Language to fulfill her long-term dream aspiration of becoming a Speech Pathologist. Ever since a young age, being there and assisting others came gracefully to her. The love and passion for the field caught her attention after meeting with an advisor her freshman year of university whilst as they provided her knowledge and fields they thought Jolie would succeed effortlessly in. Putting all of her hard work and effort into her education got her precisely where she wanted to be. Although, she studied and achieved the grades, graduating with Summa Cum Laude, along with the addition of having de Beauvoir as her surname, granted her internships and experiences, unlike other university students. It was never like Jolie took her surname for granted. If anything, she appreciated it. It was just the certain people – her mother and stepsister, who haunted her on the daily even with thousands of miles distance between both of them. Even though, she longed and missed for Catalina Island. After all, only one person could handle glacial weathers for substantial period of time. When her current contract with Northwestern University came to an end, the decision of her future was in her hands. It’s how Jolie decided to return back to her hometown and open up her private practice for her Speech Pathology in her quaint, seashore island of a hometown. With recommendations from the handful of trusted doctors at the Ronald Reagan University of California Los Angeles Hospital, patients flock onto a ferry port to Catalina Island for sessions with the trusted and highly reputable Speech Pathologist, Jolie de Beauvoir. As her work career is feverishly flourishing, the beginning for the doe-eyed seafoam graced, platinum tresses of a female, know the chapters of her future are only beginning. Being thirty years old never looked better on her.

PERSONALITY

Positives: Adaptable | Caring | Hardworking

Negatives: Anxious | Secretive | Stubborn

Jolie de Beauvoir is portrayed by Steph.

[bellarourke]

Bella has completely immersed herself into her work with the perfect set up at dining room table, clicking away at her laptop, both researching and generally just looking through the internet to waste time before supper was ready. The television in the other room was on with The Local News Channel on in the background - something about a double homicide in Long Beach, which, yes, that was fairly bad for a city such as Long Beach, but to Bella, it was absolutely mind-numbing. Her pencil tapped against the notepad she had been scribbling on here and there, but ideas for stories that she knew wouldn’t pan out or keep her interest. Other papers were also scattered around the table. She knew she’d have to clean up before Benjamin came back downstairs.

Then, the smell of something burning caught Bella’s attention - but not fully. Lazily, she looked over to see smoke coming from the oven. “Pap! The meatloaf is burning!” She calls to her dying father who’s upstairs, changing out of his midday clothes to put on something nice for dinner. Benjamin had already tried to get Bella to change out of her black and ripped skinny jeans and casual striped shirt, but after five minutes there was no use in arguing with the youngest Rourke daughter. As always. Not hearing a response after a solid three minutes, Bella grumbles and slips out of her chair to move into the kitchen. Grabbing a cloth, she opened the oven and pulled out the tin pan, tossing it on top of the coutner. She coughs as more smoke fills the room, waving around the fabric in her hand over the burning food only seemed to make things worse.

Just as she opens the window above the sink, Bella hears someone making their way into the entrance of the kitchen. “Thanks for showing up.“ She greets with sarcasm, whom she assumed was one of her sisters. Before figuring out that it was someone else, Bella turns her back on Jolie to open the fridge, "You’re just in time to watch Benjamin burn the house down.” She gives a quick, thoughtful look, “Which wouldn’t be such a terrible thing, would it? It would be about time he started fresh!” Bella cranes her neck, yelling upstairs so that the old man would hear her. It was no secret that Bella wanted Benjamin to move on with his life, seeing as it was becoming very limited. “ - Like a phoenix rising from it’s ashes, or some bullshit.” She rolls her eyes, flicking on the kettle.

Bella sighs, finally pulling out a carton of milk for her tea and facing Jolie. "Oh, what the fuck?" She sighs out with exasperation while leaning against the counter with a hand on her hip, "Christ. I thought you were one of my sisters." The kettle begins to boil and Bella takes it off the hot plate to pour hot water into a random glass that wasn't hers. "Maia isn't here, clearly. -- - Shit. Does that mean I have to have dinner with Benjamin myself?..." Bella looks at Jolie with sharp eyes. "You're staying for dinner." It was more of a statment than a request. "I assume you have nothing going on for this to get in the way if you had any other plans... Tea?"

JOLIE DE BEAUVOIR.​