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elliemarchetti · 2 years

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To Love an Archeron

Plot: The Archeron sisters have really bad taste in men, but maybe the good old meet cute (as suggested by @sjmromanceweek) could lead them to discover what love really is

Words: 2.300 for Feyre, 3.257 for Elain and 1.405 for Nesta, for a total of 5.702

Chapter 1 - Meet Cute

February 7, 2023, New York

The place, little larger than a wine cellar, was too crowded for her tastes. The stench of alcohol and sweat mixed with a hint of mould created a new, nauseating, fourth odour, but Feyre was sure Tamlin would appreciate such a large audience. The trio, made up of her boyfriend, drummer Andras and bassist Ianthe, hadn’t yet hit the stage, and judging by the absence of the usual backstage hustle and bustle, she suspected it wouldn’t happen anytime soon. A real pity, above all because the audio system didn’t seem made to support the terrible commercial disgrace that was currently coming out of the speakers. Probably a trip to the bar, a long counter with a reflective surface placed as the only defence between drunk idiots and a wall of shiny bottles, would have done her good, but since she knew she wasn't supposed to be there, and that the only thing between her and a denied entry was a fake ID she had since high school, she didn’t want to risk it. In Sacramento, where she was from, no one would mind giving her a shot or two because no one wanted to upset her father, or be blacklisted by her sister Nesta, who recently took over the company. After all, bars needed the biggest food mogul in the country, even if they didn’t want to admit it. The privilege of growing up in a wealthy and well-liked family hadn’t escaped Feyre, and although things hadn’t gone so well for a while, now everything was back to normal, she entered the school she dreamed of ever since she was a child, and her family was scattered across the United States, intent on building an identity outside their surname. If only her mother could’ve seen her, with her combat boots and smudged eyeshadow under her eyes. Tamlin didn’t like it, but Feyre felt she looked older wearing makeup, and nothing was going to make her abandon the comfort of her old Doctor Martens for a pair of stilettos. Acting like that made her a black sheep of high society, and if someone recognized her, maybe some economic geek, and posted a picture online, she was sure it would soon end up in some uninteresting tabloid with an exaggerated headline, but she never cared and wasn’t going to start now. In the beginning, attending the New York Academy of Arts had been just a childhood fantasy, but when, growing up, she realized it could put two days of road between her and the busybodies at the Camelia Waldorf, the dream almost turned into obsession. She missed nothing of California. Not the weather, not the sea, not the desirable appearance hiding one of the rottenest places in the world. The East Coast was different, grey in the northern part, sure, but every neighbourhood had a secret to uncover and no one tried to deny the rats roaming the garbage were the real owners of every city. Feyre was sure Tamlin fell in love with her cynicism, even if the songwriter used to repeat he appreciated how much she could see beauty in everything. They met in a café, his long blond hair pulled back as he scribbled on a leather-bound notebook. An involuntary sad smile spread across her lips. Things had changed a lot since the band started to gain exposure and with them who attended their shows. A small group of men approached her silently, all of them way older than Feyre and undoubtedly interested in something very different from the chit chat she was used to. The other patrons didn’t seem to notice anything, or maybe they didn’t want to, determined not to poke their noses into matters that didn’t concern them. It had been a long time since Feyre trusted in the help of good Samaritans, and surely there weren’t any hidden under bleached locks and pretentious second-hand purchases.

“What do you want?” she asked, upfront as every southern girl learns to be at a young age and at the same time feigning a disinterest and a detachment aimed solely at concealing the terror gripping her insides. They weren’t going to hurt here, not in the crowd, but maybe they wanted to bother her for a while and then leave, the worst-case scenario involving them trying to follow her to the bathroom.

“To have some fun, it’s been awfully dull here recently,” replied the taller one, who was positioned right between her and the backstage entrance. Even if Tamlin had leaned over to make sure she was okay, he wouldn't have been able to see her, hidden by that pair of massive shoulders.

“Well, I’m not funny, so I suggest you find someone else to pester,” Feyre retorted, trying to make eye contact with anyone beyond the circle of men who closed around her like a noose. Even though the danger wasn't so imminent, she was starting to feel short of breath.

“We like challenges,” the smaller one hissed, his lips so thin they almost annoyed her. He looked like a caricature, or the villain from some old Japanese cartoon, but his breath was definitely stolen from a horror movie. The idea of his mouth approaching hers made Feyre sick.

“There you are!” exclaimed a fourth man, making her flinch in surprise. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

The stranger was athletic, with slightly tan skin, an awful lot of tattoos and perfectly combed raven black hair. Unlike the others, he was a sight to behold, someone she would’ve liked to paint, cradled in darkness like a redeemable demon, with wings and fangs and a crown of gold. Even if his face was chiselled and his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes, so blue they nearly seemed violet in the dim light, exuded kindness and a silent, firm command.

Pretend to know me, they whispered, captivating as the music of a snake charmer, come to me. And Feyre did it. A single step, and she was beside him, the long nails of her right hand digging painful moonlets between the ink covering those muscular arms. He seemed unbothered.

“Thank you for finding her,” her saviour added, smooth and polished. “Enjoy your night.”

He seemed accustomed to deal with scumbags and scary people, and even though he was vastly outnumbered if his intervention escalated in a fight, he also demanded to receive the due respect. He had to be powerful, someone with a position able to instil fear if necessary. He reminded her of Nesta, with enough bite in their words to make people stiffen with just a greeting and a gaze so intense you wonder if they’re not able to violate your mind and read your deepest secrets. Though she liked to think they’d get along if they ever met, Feyre knew they couldn’t stand each other’s sight, no room big enough for two egos that big.

“What’s a girl like you doing in my uncle’s club?” he asked, sincerely intrigued, once the group of men scuttled back to their business without further comment.

“What kind of girl do you think I am?” she retorted, steering away from the inevitable topic of age. If his family really owned the place, there was no doubt he would soon be scrutinizing her fake ID with painstaking attention, and if he kicked her out, she'd have to take a cab home on the least ideal hour to be waiting alone on a street corner.

“One who doesn’t have enough friends, since you’re alone,” he replied, with cruel sincerity but no apparent intention of hurting her.

“My friends are in the band,” she corrected him quickly, a tinge of annoyance creeping into her thoughts anyway. She hadn’t really bonded with anyone at the Academy, after all, she’d only just moved when she met Tamlin. As quick as their relationship started, his friends became hers and the interests of the group everything Feyre had to worry about outside of school. It wasn’t bad, having someone make the boring decisions for her, but after a while it got monotonous, and obviously dangerous, given her current situation.

“Then you should find yourself some new ones – I went to check why they’re taking so damn long, and apparently they figured it was better to entertain a few rabid fans than earn the hefty fee we’ve offered, but I probably just can’t see the appeal of these budding idols…” the young man commented, as if he was much older than Tamlin and Ianthe. Maybe a year or two, but nothing that would allow him to behave so condescendingly towards them. In her regards, on the other hand… If she had been smart, if she hadn’t been so young, scared and annoyed at her boyfriend for having something that wasn’t her as his priority, she would’ve thanked the stranger and returned to her evening, but the three men, she knew it, were still lurking somewhere, and when musicians got lost explaining the making process to someone willing to listen, there was little to do but let them vent.

“Since you’re familiar with the place, you should tell me where to look for them,” Feyre retorted with the hint of a smile, and in an instant she found herself following her saviour to the uncomfortable bar stools. He offered her a suspiciously light beer, while for himself he chose a large glass of whiskey worth way more than it should’ve.

“Before I advise you,” he said between sips, “I need to know a little more about my damsel in distress. Heaven knows how guilty I would feel if I find you bored to death by an upscale soirée full of art critics.”

“What if I like art?” she asked, unable to stifle that haunting instinct that led her to flirt with every enigma she stumbled upon. Perhaps it was just a desire for adventure, for a lightness she constantly sought and, in the process, became more and more unattainable, but the thrill of astonishing others, of revealing herself to be much more than her scruffy aesthetic, made her euphoric.

“In that case, I am the friend you’re looking for,” he replied, without taking his eyes off hers, without implying she needed to be different to be somehow worthy of such occasion. To be totally honest, she was ready for that eventuality too. Not him asking her out, that was surprising, but the chance to mingle with the right crowd, as her father would call them. Deeply hidden in her wardrobe, away from Tamlin’s eyes, a large number of dresses from another life were meticulously hanged, designer pieces slightly out of style but still waiting for a situation requiring a strapless gown or a backless jumpsuit.

“Actually…” she stammered, wondering why she suddenly felt so embarrassed. “I… have… already started to see someone.”

To say she was just seeing Tamlin was the biggest understatement she'd ever uttered, worse than when she swore she was only pranking Nesta when she locked her in the basement for four hours straight. Feyre shared almost everything with her boyfriend: they always ate together, he picked her up from school and brought her back to class the next morning, and even when she painted or sketched sitting in the shade at Central Park, he was always nearby to provide the proper background music. They were a quiet couple who did well in solitude, and though the peace was sometimes disturbed by Ianthe’s influence on his choices, things were fine.

“I know, I know, the blonde douchebag has a heart of gold hidden under his enormous chest and he’s not as self-centred as the lyrics of his songs suggest, it’s just people like it more when you sing of something as relatable as the hardships and the guilt of having perfectly treatable avoidant disturb. The fact is that I didn't ask you to die by my side like we’re in the final act of a Shakespearean tragedy, but to come to an exhibition organized by a dear friend of mine,” he remarked, gulping down the rest of his drink.

“You said you don’t understand their charm, but it seems like you at least listened to their top track,” teased Feyre, wondering when he would put her in her place, how long he would let her play with fire before reminding her flames burn.

“One doesn’t exclude the other,” he replied. “It’s important to know where you put your money, especially in a city were a single misstep would turn even the most loving neighbours into bloodthirsty vultures. Unfortunately, this leads us to how you’re going to pay for my ruined tattoo.”

Feyre’s smile froze on her lips as he turned slightly, showing her four deep cuts on the back of his left forearm, no doubt the product of the adrenaline rush she had in her system when he saved her from the three men who wanted to take advantage of her. Thin red rivulets descended almost to his elbow, intertwining with the dark lines of the ink, a symphony of darkness speaking to her soul more than to her eyes.

“I suggest four platonic dates,” said her saviour, when he realized he would receive nothing but horrified silence. “And if at the end of these four outings you want to see me again, we can consider each other friends.”

“And in the meantime?” Feyre asked, wishing she could eat her tongue as soon as the half-thought words left her lips. How would she explain to Tamlin she was going out with another guy with no romantic intentions? How would he react? Would he be angry? Would he scream? Sometimes it happened, and it hadn’t been pleasant, but she’d never been afraid he might hit her or anything like that.

“In the meantime, you can say you’re apologizing to Rhysand.”

************************************************************************

February 8, 2023, Sacramento

Elain took a deep breath in front of the mirror, wondering how many more it would take before her nerves calmed down and the air flowed smoothly from her nostrils. She shouldn't dilate them too much, or at least that's what the Beauty Assistant recommended by Rita, her wedding planner, told her. According to Graysen, her future husband, she was the best in Sacramento, and even though her friends disliked the idea of someone so young always around one of California’s most eligible bachelors, Elain really trusted him. Otherwise, why organize such a sumptuous wedding? Mrs. Calloway, as she called her before their relationship became more informal, told her she was the youngest bride she ever took under her guidance, and although it was kind of an unwritten rule for her to never go under twenty-five, for Mr. Archeron’s daughter she made an exception. Nothing special about that, she was used to receiving preferential treatments wherever she went, and she was certain things could only get better by marrying the only heir of the Nolan family, yet she felt infinitely sad and angry. For the first time, her boyfriend said no to one of her requests. Her wish wasn’t that unreasonable, every bride wanted a wedding shower at Oak Point Events, but he argued it was an unnecessary expense and it was wiser to focus on good entertainment for the day itself. Elain was sure they could afford both, but since she had no desire to make a scene, she bit her tongue and came back to her home, empty since her father was on vacation in the cabin on the Great Salt Lake. She was undecided if she should envy or resent him. Running away like this when she needed him most was a cowardly move, but Mr. Nolan became incredibly pushy with his business proposal, and since he didn’t feel like hurting her soon-to-be father-in-law’s feelings with a reminder he was retired and Nesta was the one to deal with, he packed his bags and left, abandoning her to a whirlwind of facials and dietician appointments. No sweets had been the first terrifying rule she’d been given, and as hard as it was, she respected it so far.

“Don’t make that sad face,” Graysen told her, laughing. “It’s for the best. Just imagine how good the wedding cake will taste after you had nothing but salads for months.”

Although she wasn’t entirely sure his words were true, she kept silent and listened to him praise all the wonders she selected for the dinner menu only he had the privilege of tasting. No one cared if a man put on a few pounds, and it was nearly impossible when her boyfriend was so muscular and obsessed with workouts and meal prepping. At twenty-five, Graysen was in top form, while Elain, who had a notorious sweet tooth, had soft hips and a full bust, aberrant when the hottest dress for the season had a sweetheart neckline and her fiancé’s favourite was equipped with a reinforced bodice. So, they put her on a diet, and the story changed completely when she lost the famous twenty pounds. Elain didn’t feel so different, and although she liked her new, more athletic form, she was sure she wouldn’t continue to undergo the gruelling training sessions proposed by her personal trainer, suggested by the owner of the boutique where she bought all her bridal wardrobe. Truth be told, Elain had a little secret hidden away in her closet, a treat she would give to charity as soon as the ceremony was over. She called it her backup dress, something she could slip on in case the tight skirt of the one she purchased made her feel too uncomfortable. Rita said the lace off-shoulders screamed old Hollywood, and it didn’t matter that Elain liked her natural curls more than those stiff waves covering her right eye, everything was part of the theme, and the Nolans had been adamant on the idea that every guest should have the concept of old money well imprinted in their mind from their arrival to the last farewell. Nesta obviously liked it, she lived for silks and diva trains, and though Feyre might’ve been a good ally in her aversion for discomfort, she was now in New York, lost in her romance with a penniless guitarist, and her opinion would’ve worth little. She was outnumbered, as always, and expressing such opinions as the childish dream of a fairy-tale wedding, with the cake covered in edible flowers and candles as the only lightning source, would make her entourage act like she was throwing a tantrum more than expressing her preferences. Her friends endured it all with stoic resignation, until, on the day she’d been told that throwing dried petals instead of rice was tasteless since her father was a food mogul, they booked an appointment at Kleinfeld. For any women between the ages of fifteen and thirty-five, Say Yes to the Dress wasn’t just a TV show but an institution, an unattainable dream if you were on a budget and didn’t reside on the East Coast, but Elain had different means than all the other young dreamers and so her friends, which was how, under the pretext of accompanying her to visit her younger sister, they dragged her through the famous doors of the atelier. After a brief cognitive interlude, they went straight to the section dedicated to Pnina Tornai, where lace gloves and vertiginous slits were the boring and predictable norm, and even if it took all the poor sale assistant’s patience to satisfy everyone’s tastes, the effort and the subterfuges were repaid by a Tony Ward with a deep v-neckline enriched with a myriad of floral Zibeline appliqués. The voluminous skirt looked like a cloud, and Elain struggled to take it off, even more when they paired it with the cutest veil she ever saw, a shoulder length opaque thing with a little bow on top.

“With such beautiful hair, you’ll look gorgeous,” the saleswoman who finalized the purchase told her, mistaking the gleam in her eyes for tears of joy. Lost in memories, and in whatever it took to repress the disappointment and guilt of being so materialistic and stubborn, she hardly noticed the phone buzzing on her bedside table. Ready to put on her usual brisk tone, she glanced at the name on the display. Was her father planning to return? Perhaps he would’ve helped her to compromise at least on the music, because nothing sounded worse than a first dance on the notes of Frank Sinatra.

“My dear, don’t worry…” whatever the rest of the sentence was, Elain already had the car keys in her hand. An accident on the snow, that’s how her reckless father defined a displaced fracture of the femur and the consequent lesion of the right cruciate.

“Any struggle could make it worse,” explained the doctor who treated him at the Salt Lake hospital. “I’m not saying someone has to take care of him day and night, but if there was the possibility of some occasional visits, it would be ideal.”

Useless words, for Elain was already on the I-80 E and was about to face the longest road trip she ever took. She’d been the last in the family to get her license, and the craziest thing she’d done with the Camry was drive Nuala to San Francisco to adopt a cat she’d seen on Instagram. She’d never done anything illegal, and had never been outside California, which would inevitably happen at mile 120 of her first insane act. She was hysterical, drunk on her little rebellion, and even if her father didn’t really needed her, nor he wanted company with such urgency, still she sent pre-set messages to anyone she agreed to meet and cleared her schedule for the next week, intending to extend her stay at the cabin until the end of the month, if necessary. No one would’ve suspected it was the pressure that pushed her so far, they would only think the love she felt for her father was so great she couldn’t tolerate the idea of leaving him alone on a wheelchair. Maybe Graysen would understand and join her on Valentine’s Day, to hell the format and fonts for the ceremony program nobody would pay attention to. At the moment, though, he just seemed angry. He’d told her to come back at least a dozen times, and all the while Elain kept repeating she was past Reno now and there was no point in a senseless five hours drive when she would reach Lake Point in nine. Nine and a half, to be honest, and only if she didn’t make any stop, which she though quite impossible since she already had to pee, but he didn’t need to know that. Less than ten minutes later, it was Rita’s turn, who asked in an anxious voice if she would be able to return in time to sort out the thank-you gifts. Elain couldn’t hold back a sight. Not even a greeting, not even a hint of concern for her father’s health, which she tried to make seem considerably more instable than it actually was.

“I’m sure we can postpone it to a more convenient time, or at least deal with it remotely,” replied Elain, fighting to keep on the polite façade as she started to grow bored of the Nevada landscape she would’ve to endure for another five hours. She had once been a loner, a child fond of gardening and baking. Graysen changed her, and now she just didn’t know what to do with all this static free time. It used to be devoted to introspection, something Nesta didn’t consider particularly important and Feyre avoided like the plague. Meditation was vital, though, maybe even more than all those crazy exercises she underwent in hop to achieve a butt as firm as a Victoria’s Secret model’s. A stray tear, threatening to ruin her light makeup, forced her to put the reins back on her negative thoughts. Rita, Graysen, even his father, they all wanted only the best for her and if she had to lose weight in order to avoid some hurtful gossips, she would. Once the storm passed, she could enjoy all the desserts and relaxation she craved for on her honeymoon, and after that… Elain sighed again, this time louder. Obviously Mr. Nolan would’ve wanted a grandchild as soon as possible. What happier occasion to celebrate? No scene seemed more out of the American Dream than a young couple surrounded by children, and even though Elain didn’t have a real aversion to becoming a mother, if she had the choice she would’ve liked to travel first, explore the world and herself before devoting all her time to another human being. She wanted to be an excellent mother, who filled her children with attentions, love and the proper care. It was a nice image, perhaps a little empty of feelings, like an advertisement intended to sell a lifestyle rather than a product, but it could be worked on in the squalor of the little city where she stopped for a quick lunch. It was a matter of putting things in perspective: she wasn’t the globetrotter she wished to become, but at least she wasn’t going to sleep in dodgy motels or have permanent jet-lag undereye bags.

“Tell me Nolan is out of his mind because you left him to run away with a handsome Caribbean stripper,” she heard as soon as she replied to Cerridwen’s call.

“No runaway bride, sorry. Dad really broke his femur,” she replied, trying to suppress and amused smile. Her friends never told her outright Graysen wasn’t the man for her, nor had they ever stood in his way, but she knew deep down they hoped they would all die spinster in a house full of sick and crippled animals and they never missed an opportunity to make innocent jokes.

“Did you really heard him from your house?” Elain asked, wondering if it was guilt or satisfaction the feeling rising in her chest. The always impeccable Graysen lost his temper over so little. He too must’ve been exhausted and ready to leave all the preparations behind.

“For a moment, we feared he was talking to you, but eventually we figured out he was just venting to someone else and we calmed down, but we were ready to kill him with our bare hands,” Nuala replied, relief evident in her voice. She was on speaker, as always, for what one of the twins knew had to be knowledge of the other too.

“Is he still home?” Elain inquired, using to her advantage the fact her boyfriend and her best friends were practically neighbours. When they found out, they laughed for hours and promised to keep it a secret, so they could exploit the situation until the lovebirds built their nest elsewhere. For now, and if all went according to plan for a little longer, nobody spilled the truth and Elain had her own wonderful spies she repaid largely with cakes and manicures,

“He must be at Rita’s, maybe this time they’ll try to put make-up on him too,” muttered Cerridwen, who kept repeating to whomever listened that her friend was beautiful even without all those interventions.

"If it were up to me, you'd have to get married barefoot by a lake," she'd told her during one of their sleepovers. They were all pressed into Elain’s bed, the duvet covered with finished packets of potato chips and peanuts, and until sleep got the better of them, they chatted like little girls dreaming of an impossible future.

"I can see you, half naked and with a garland of flowers in your hair," Nuala teased, and though Elain had laughed, the image wasn’t far from her reverie. When they were younger, Elain posed for Feyre with Nesta, the painting long forgotten somewhere, but the experience of empathizing with a water nymph still fresh in her mind. She had enjoyed being wild, at least for a day, and though after a while she had started to shiver, she stood in the water the whole time, one with nature.

“Should we go check if the Wicked Witch is keeping her hands to herself?” asked Cerridwen, pulling her from the grip of melancholy. If only they both hadn’t been so busy, she might’ve seen Nesta a lot more, but even though they lived in the same city, it had been months since they’d last shared a coffee.

“Don’t worry, maybe I’ll call him later to let him know I’ve arrived in Utah,” Elain cut short, and soon she was again alone with her thoughts and the rapidly setting sun. The change in visibility wouldn’t have bothered her if she hadn’t been driving for so long, but her eyes were getting tired and since she forgot her glasses at home, maybe it was time for a stop, though judging by the nowhere she was in, the nearest town must be at least thirty miles away. Just before dusk, a heavy sleet made the road slippery, catching her off guard, and though her destination was just over half an hour away, Elain didn’t feel like moving any faster than she already was. In the dark, the snowflakes illuminated by the headlights engulfed her in a hypnotic embrace, a disorganized dance coming to an abrupt end on the warm windshield and of which even the memory was erased by the wipers. Maybe it was the monotony of those mechanical movements, or maybe tiredness just got the better of her, but in a blink of an eye the Camry went from being with its wheels on the wet asphalt to bouncing between rocks and small shrubs, making her stomach turn with tension. She fell asleep, and to say she felt stupid was an understatement, but what was more concerning was the completely unbalanced car, as if someone stole the left front wheel while it was in motion. She didn’t need to leave the hot cabin to know she had a flat, but said heat wouldn’t last forever, and Elain had no intention of spending the night alone by the side of the road. The only sensible option was to call her boyfriend and have him explain how to change a tire, any quarrel forgotten, and even though he was two states away, she was sure he would help and support her as he always did. On the fourth ring, however, Elain began to suspect her plan would fail. Maybe he was still working, or he was angry enough to ignore what he thought was a courtesy call. Elain tried again, and again, and on the fifth attempt, bitter tears began to sting her eyes, as blind panic crept into her mind. After a couple minutes of total silence and immobility, her phone ringtone made her jump on her seat. She replied in a split second, without even checking who was calling, sure it was Graysen, but it was her father’s concerned voice that reached her from the other side.

“Why are you stuck in Skull Valley?” he asked, without mincing words. Like a fool, Elain glanced forward, as if she expected to see another car parked by the side of the road, her personal saviour in a white Range Rover. There was no one, and the darkness unsettled her even more. Turns out her father installed a tracker on every car he so generously gifted to his daughters, and even though she was shocked at such an invasion of her privacy, deep down she was infinitely grateful. After he begged her no to worry for the car, he sent a friend to pick her up, and in the half hour of waiting, Elain wondered what acquaintances her father might have in Utah. Maybe kind neighbours, other middle-aged men who liked to spend the cold days in front of the fireplace drinking bitters and the sunnier ones on the ski slopes, or maybe locals, people able to recommend the best restaurants and used to the rapidly dropping temperatures. Certainly, she hadn’t expected a guy slightly older than her, with long red hair sticking out of a heavy wool cap and a deep scar crossing half his face. Something, whatever it was, took away his right eye, which had been replaced by a bizarre golden prosthetic.

“You should’ve waited in the car!” he exclaimed, taking off a jacket that would’ve been several sizes too big and draping it around her shoulders, regardless of whether she was actually uncomfortable and before she could even know his name. Elain sank into the warm fabric, smelling of cinnamon apple fritters and cedarwood.

“Your father will never stop bragging about his daughter who drove nine hours just to take care of him,” Lucien said when they were finally out of the snow, now a thick white layer ready to welcome their footprints. Elain had barely been able to introduce herself, too concerned in avoiding to stare openly at someone who so kindly pulled her out of a jam he had nothing to do with, but he didn’t seem to notice, and filled the silence as best as he could, leaving her just enough time to answer the few questions he asked.

“I guess we’ll see each other again soon,” he said as a goodbye, and though Elain should’ve told him something about Graysen, she just thanked him, convincing herself there hadn’t been the time or the occasion.

**********************************************************************

February 8, 2023, San Diego

Nesta learned from an early age that planning, calculating and observing could save her a great deal of unpleasantness, but planning to avoid disappointment wasn’t always easy, a fact which revealed itself in all its unnerving clarity under the dim lights of the first pub she had come across on the way from his new home to the city centre. She’d been sitting on the same stool for two hours now, but she had no intention of returning to deal with boxes and suitcases, or the solitude of her empty bedroom. Well over halfway through her fifth cocktail, Nesta looked more heartbroken than she actually was. If her love life hadn’t been such a mess, the merging, if you could call that the purchase of a competitor who could no longer stay afloat in an increasingly competitive market, would’ve been perfectly manageable remotely, but Cassian did his best to make things difficult, so they brutally broke up before she could even introduce him to her family. It was for the best, he wanted a wife and a horde of kids while she was a young businesswoman in charge of one of the biggest food companies in the world, but his insistence and his pathetic attempts to get back together that bordered on stalking had gotten on her nerves far more than their last furious fight. She moved right after she found an apartment in a nice area, and under the guise of waning to quickly handle the arrangements in person, she packed her bags without even telling her sisters.

“This is the last one,” the waitress announced, eyeing her half-empty glass. “I wouldn’t want you to forget your way home and spend your first night here wandering the streets.”

“Is it that obvious?” Nesta asked, hiding a guilty grin.

“This place isn’t famous and I’ve never seen you before, so you’re not a tourist nor a local, which narrows the field considerably,” the woman replied, polishing the glasses that had just come out of the dishwasher.

“You’re too perceptive to be someone who lives on tips,” Nesta commented, downing the rest of the reddish liquid.

“If you tell me your secret, I’ll tell you mine,” the barman joked, a faint smile on her red lips.

“No big secrets,” Nesta admitted. “I’m from Sacramento and I’m here on business.”

“Then why are you getting drunk alone and ignoring a slew of messages?” asked the woman, who must’ve been used to entertaining her customers with sagacity and sarcasm. Nesta rolled her eyes. The alcohol hadn’t only helped her pass the time but it also silenced the unnerving buzz of yet another apology from Cassian. For a moment, she was tempted to block him, but she was kind of sure he would show up at her front door if she did.

“He wouldn’t leave me alone at home, he probably doesn’t see why he should do it now that I can’t punch him,” explained Nesta, imagining how much effort would it take to hit that behemoth square in the face. When they first met, Cassian caught her attention for his statuesque, masculine figure. For a moment, she even deluded herself he wouldn’t feel threatened by her position and her independence, but she soon realized it wasn’t going to be the case. For a while, she’d been able to tolerate the jealousy, how he obsessively marked his territory by always sticking by her side, his large hand all over her, but in the end she blurted out and poured all the nastiness she’d so expertly reined. She’d been cruel, and she’d hit right where she knew he would bleed, but she hadn’t cared, and maybe deep down she thought he deserved it. Facing reality never hurt anyone, or at least she’d convinced herself of that in the days directly following their fight, but he must’ve taken it personally and he started doing too much, making a fool of himself.

“What do I have to do to have an Old Fashioned?” asked a new patron from a few stools away, his voice strong enough to snatch her from her sea of thoughts. The guy must’ve been a few years older than her, his choice in clothing too carefully designed to look casual. For a split second, their eyes met, warm amber and freezing ice.

“She’s too busy for you,” the waitress warned, but the young man didn’t seem to hear and moved next to Nesta, asking if she wasn’t up even for light conversation.

“I’m a pretty boring person,” she replied, studying the rows of bottles displayed on the wall behind the counter. Judging by the collection and the bartender’s skills, she could’ve asked for something more complicated than five Manhattans.

“I doubt it,” the guy retorted, forcing her to turn to study his amused expression. His face was beautiful, the features sharp and delicate at the same time, nothing more different from Cassian’s prominent jaw. He looked like a good distraction, someone she could lower her guard around, at least for the night.

“Eris, please, don’t torture my clients,” the waitress begged with a hint of exasperation, loud enough to be heard even as she was serving a long line of shots to an impossibly sad-looking middle-aged woman sitting alone at one of the tables. The small place was gradually filling up, and although the owner seemed gentle and the chatter of the patrons was good company, she couldn’t stay at the counter with an empty glass and no intention to order a mocktail.

“Why did your parents name you after the Greek Goddess of Discord?” Nesta wondered, desperately delaying her departure and at the same time working up the courage to ask for the bill and put an end to her night.

“My paternal grandfather was Greek and he was tired of hearing my mother argue with my father about baby names, so he put an end to the screaming matches in the only way he deemed appropriate,” he replied, downing the rest of his drink in one gulp. Given his tone and choice of words, he must’ve once been displeased with that decision, but now he seemed chill about it, as if he got used to those kind of questions.

“The hair is definitely not Greek heritage,” Nesta commented, alluding to the red mane stroking the collar of his shirt.

“Irish,” he confirmed, gesturing to the waitress to bring him something else. “But now I’m curious to know why you said so.”

“You’re not the only multicultural being of North America, you know?” she teased him, certain he would soon take the bait she was throwing. She wasn’t going to mess up that trip with yet another clingy man, but having her drink paid for seemed like a nice accomplishment.

“Let me guess,” he said, studying her so intently she nearly blushed. “Half Greek and half Eastern European?”

A bright smile spread on Nesta’s face, and she dared him to get the right country.

“What if I do?” he asked, his voice reduced to a purr. “What would I get in return?”

“What would you like?” she inquired, leaning slightly towards his seat. She wanted him to breathe in her perfume, to clearly see the deep neckline of her top, barely hidden by her light blazer. She wanted to bewitch him and leave him hanging, for statistically it was extremely unlikely to get the correct answer on the first try and from personal experience she had never met anyone who remotely came close to it.

“A whole day with you,” he decided, sitting straighter, as if he was used to that kind of deals. Maybe it was his way of flirting, maybe it was just part of his job, but Nesta liked it and jumped straight into business mode, never lowering or averting her gaze.

“If I’m not mistaken, you’ve already been told I’m a very busy woman,” she replied, unable to predict what his next move would be.

“I can be your chaperone,” he offered. “I would very much like to have a taste of corporate life, just to remind myself why I choose a different career.”

“You have to guess first,” she reminded him, but something in his victorious expression told her she wasn’t going to win, as if he knew who he was dealing with.

“There's a lot the press doesn't know about you, Nesta Archeron, but your mother's nationality isn't one of them.”

#sjmromanceweek2023 #feyre archeron #elain archeron #nesta archeron #tamlin #graysen #cassian #rhysand #lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #feylin #feysand #elucien #nessian #neris #modern au #acotar fanfiction

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callofthxvoid · 3 months

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Please welcome NADIA SHEHADI (SHE/HER) to Huntsville, WV. They are a 30-year-old RESIDENT who lives at THE COMMUNE. You may see them around working as UNEMPLOYED. Poor unfortunate soul. We'll see if they survive.

quick facts

Title: The Fixer

Name: Nadia Samira Khalil Shehadi

Nickname: Dee (by family)

Date of Birth: April 11, 1994

Age: 30

Place of Birth: Mardin, Turkey

Hometown: Huntsville, West Virginia

Languages: English, Lebanese Arabic, French

Faceclaim: Pinar Deniz

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Relationship Status: Single

personality

Myers-Briggs: INTJ - The Architect

Enneagram: Type Three - The Achiever (3w4)

Moral Alignment: True Neutral

Occupation: Salesperson at McVries Theatre (Gallery)

Role: Neither

[+] eloquent, strategic, decisive, poised [-] cold, calculating, mercenary, materialistic

Character Inspirations: Olivia Pope (Scandal), Blair Waldorf (Gossip Girl), Andrea Sachs (The Devil Wears Prada), Anna Brady (Leap Year), Kōyō Ozaki (Bungo Stray Dogs)

background

TW: Abortion, Depression, Death

Nadia Shehadi moved to Huntsville when she was twelve years old with her dad, her stepmom, and her two younger siblings. A well-travelled child, she had already lived in almost as many countries as years she had been alive, and it didn't take long for the novelty of life in an American small town to wear off. By the time she was halfway through high school, her biological mother had relocated to the east coast and invited Nadia to come live with her, which she happily agreed to. Sure, she found it strange when she stopped hearing from her family in Huntsville, but she assumed it was due to some lingering resentment from her decision to leave that had been left unexpressed.

She decided to stay on the east coast for college and quickly made a close group of friends there. Among them, she was known as the girl who worked hard but played harder; staying up all night writing essays followed by several days of partying, getting competitive internships at law firms followed by spontaneous road trips with friends. Somehow, she managed to balance the two perfectly—that was, until her last year, when in the middle of applying to law schools, she found out that she was pregnant.

She discussed the situation with her friends, going back and forth on whether she wanted to keep it, but ultimately decided to have an abortion. Nadia knew it was the right decision for her career, but nevertheless struggled with the aftermath of it all the way through to her graduation—and when she started law school in the fall, she wasn't quite the same person that she had been before. As she lost touch with her old friends, she found herself pulled into a life where everything was calculated and everyone was cutthroat, gradually shedding what remained of her carefree nature.

After finishing law school, Nadia moved to New York and did a brief stint at a law firm before becoming a crisis manager, otherwise known as a fixer. Her job was simple to understand but difficult to execute: take care of any mess her rich clients found themselves in, no matter how scandalous. It paid well, but having to perpetually live in a moral grey zone started taking a toll on her. She was heading for an early mid-life crisis when, out of the blue, she heard from her old college friends for the first time in years. It felt like a sign, especially when they started planning a road trip, and she figured she could use the break and the chance to reflect on and reevaluate her life.

Things were going well, and she was starting to remember the person she was back in college, when the group got into a car crash and ended up in Huntsville—arriving just in time for her to lose almost her entire family in the geyser while she was recovering at the commune. Now stuck in her hometown, with her life in complete disarray, she has no choice but to confront the person she has become and what her priorities are. Who is Nadia Shehadi? More importantly, who does she actually want to be?

#bio: nadia #huntsvilleintro

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hurtfm · 4 years

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〔 SOFIA CARSON, 23, CIS FEMALE, CURSE CREATION 〕 ╰ LUCRECIA ’ LULU ’ MARQUEZ just came over half - blood hill . you know , the child of NEMESIS who was claimed three months ago ? i’ve heard chiron say that she is RELIABLE & SCHOLARLY , but if you ask the aphrodite kids , they’d say they’re NARCISSISTIC & TREACHEROUS . i’d say they remind me of perfectly manicured nails , clicking of high heels on tile , and patron filled shot glasses , especially since they’re NEUTRAL TO THE NEW CABINS .

hello beans ! i’m weachy & this right here is lulu marquez . she is also a brand spankin’ new muse & i’m so excited to figure her out as time goes on ! however , what i do know about her is under the cut . trigger warning for excessive rambling as i truthfully don’t know when to shut up –– like right now ! anyways , as always , if you would like to plot with her , go ahead and press that little heart to the side & i’ll snake into your ims ! i’m so excited to be here and join all of you !

full name : lucrecia ‘ lulu ‘ rosalía marquez . date of birth : april 29th , 1997 ( making her a taurus ) gender : cis female pronouns : she / her sexual orientation : bisexual / biromantic goldy parent : nemesis ( goddess of balance , retribution , vengeance ) family : matías marquez ( father ) , isobel marquez ( step mother ) , andrés , sebastían , samuel , & gabriela marquez ( half brothers and sisters ) playlist : beautiful , dirty , rich ( lady gaga ) , do or die ( tony velour ) , affluenza ( conan grey ) , play date ( melanie martinez ) , cry for help ( macy kate ) , good thing ( zedd & kehlani ) , all of the lights ( kanye west ) , would i ( maggie lindemann ) , & hotter than hell ( dua lipa ) influences : blair waldorf ( gossip girl ) , carla roson ( elite ) , jackie burkhart ( that 70s show ) , guzman osuna ( elite ) , madeline mackenzie ( little big lies ) , & alex russo ( wizards of waverly place ) tropes : femme fatale & corrrupter pinterest : linked here !

01 . past .

the marquez’s have resided in san diego for generations . lulu’s grandfather came over from medellin , colombia with his wife and four sons . the eldest of those being a twelve year old boy by the name of matías . at the ripe age of eighteen , matías’ father had created the largest and most profitable oil company on the west coast –– marquez petró , inc . all four sons followed in their father’s footsteps and although the work was never easy , the profits were extraordinary . when matías was twenty - four , he met a lovely young lady and a year after that came lulu . two years later , he married the love of his life , isobel .

however , by the time the two of them had kids , the business didn’t seem like hard work anymore . after matías took over the company when his father retired , he was making more money in one phone call than his father had in a month . because of this , his family had seen more of him than he ever had of his own father . isobel and matías had four beautiful children together : andrés , sebastían , samuel , and gabriela . their father had always told the five of them stories of him going weeks without seeing his father –– hearing a door creek at 1am noting his father coming home and again at 6am noting his father heading to work –– almost daily . he’d tell stories of the times when he was old enough for manual labor , he’d go out onto the sites himself . however , the five of them never dared touch a tool or step foot onto a site . dirty nails and greasy hands and soaked shirts ? something they’d never experience .

that’s how the five of them grew up . learning of the struggles of creating such a business yet not living them themselves . this caused entitlement and pride to sneak in the way of their every day conversations . their parents had tried to keep them grounded , to remind them the sacrifices and work their family had put into this business . however , the multiple houses , memberships , and trust funds they were each rewarded at certain birthdays put any of that effort to ground them to shame .

however , the stories her father wouldn’t tell were about her mother . lucrecia had always known that isobel wasn’t her mother , but until she was thirteen years old , she’d never really known the truth . however , her father had kept the truth from her to protect her as well as to make sure that she was old enough to comprehend all of this information . it was there she learned her mother was a greek god , and instead of attending a regular high school , she would be attending camp half blood . her father wouldn’t tell her who –– she was sure it was his lack of knowledge exactly because he’d been open with her about everything else .

02 . present .

when she started attending camp half blood , she was a resident of the hermes cabin . ironically , she was thankful . despite the fact that there was so many residents , it made her feel more at home . she’d grown up in a big family , despite the fact that they weren’t crowded . however , as time went on , she whole heartedly wanted out . not necessarily because she hated where she was living –– but because she hated the fact that it wasn’t confirmed who her mother was .

she’d grown up with the greatest father possibly in existence & the fact that her mother wasn’t even keen enough to claim her daughter made that so much worse . it started getting worse and worse when she started putting the pieces together . her powers , the one’s she exceeded at , all pointed to nemesis . more ironically , when the law was passed and she was finally claimed as such , it couldn’t have been more fitting that a daughter of nemesis was the one who was so against the new cabins –– against going unclaimed for so long . the anger , the vengence , were all things lulu experienced –– practically first hand . although she’d never been extremely close to lyssa , she understood . even now , knowing the girl was her sister , it only fueled that anger in her , of going unclaimed .

03 . personality .

personally , her mortal life is the life she lives . she has kept her rich kid , better than you because i’ve never had to lift a finger personality in camp since she was thirteen years old . she is better than you and truthfully believes it . not that she expects the ground she walks on to be kissed by everyone in existence , but if it happens –– she wouldn’t fight it .

unless you have her respect , she pretends you don’t exist . she is not one of those regina george types to put you down to your face . if she has a problem with you , she’ll only put you down behind your back . however , if confronted , she won’t deny it . a lot of her first interactions have the phrase ‘ i’m sorry , who are you ? ‘ attached to them . she’s not bad with names or faces in the slightest , it’s just another reminder that remembering you is not a priority of hers . however , if she deems you useful , she’ll put on her gifted smile and practiced charm for the greater good . the side of her that’s real isn’t known to much of anyone .

she excels in particular aspects of camp , and is ruthless when it comes to those . apologizing is not on the forefront of her mind and making new friends is not a priority . basically , when she turned twenty one , becoming the best at what she loved was her priority , and making friendships or having fun were only side quests .

04 . instances of her powers in every day life .

looking back on it and knowing the truth , lulu can’t picture how she didn’t put it together :

decision making ––– in the silliest way possible , she has always been the best at decision making . any tough decisions that need to be made , she can do them with no emotion attached and put the plan to action . almost as if when it comes down to tough choices , she becomes a brick logic wall . vengeance sensitivity ––– this was really useful growing up in a house with four younger siblings . any tricks they tried to play on her or lies they tried to sneak past her were quickly debunked . any im sorrys that weren’t truthful were denied . it made her seem cold to them , when in reality she was just waiting for a better and more sincere emotion from them . best ally ––– if you are fighting , you want lulu on your side . although this is attributed to her mother , nemesis , she likes to claim this comes from her father . the marquez family has always been extremely loyal in their businesses as well as in their family alone . because family is everything to them , they will always stand by each others side . however , for lulu , it runs so much deeper . any sense of betrayal is almost like a physical injury to her . it hurts her soul and spirit to the point of actual pain . loyalty is a two way street but you’ll never catch her drifting off road . curse creation ––– she didn’t know this existed until she started attending camp half blood . however , as soon as she realized she possessed this gift , it was pretty clear who her mother was . it was the biggest give away for her . it took her almost years to master & now she has it down pat . she mainly uses it on quests , but she’d be lying if she ever said that she’d never used it for selfish reasons .

05 . wanted connections .

because she’s been at camp since she was thirteen and wasn’t claimed until she was almost twenty - three , anyone who has lived in the hermes cabin for the past ten years she would have lived with . i would love some people in that cabin that she would have gotten along with and maybe some that she didn’t . out of the cabin , i’d love if she had an ex or two ? maybe one that ended on bad terms & one where they ended up just friends ? friend wise , i’ve pictured her having a few select good friends and a majority of everyone else just puts up with her ? i also would love 1 / 2 people she’s gone on quests with before that have maybe gotten to know a little more about her that has nothing to do with her hard exterior . lastly , any other friends with benefits or enemies would be great too !

#me ? not knowing how to talk to people ? ya .#ambrosia:intro

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sailinghawaiianstyle · 4 years

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The Empty Nest.......

The absolute hardest thing for both Eric and me but especially for me was coming to the realization that the nest had become empty. When Kristen came home for spring break, with no chance to return to her beloved Verde Valley School to finish her senior year, enjoy the senior traditions and of course graduate, went house hunting and found an absolute knock out steal of a deal, a beautiful large 2 story home in Kona. Rande, Chucho, Sasha, Kristen and Koen decided to make it home and quickly moved in. We were not quite prepared that this empty nest could and/or would become a permanent arrangement so quickly but life has a way of pitching curve balls. I think I am still not accepting the fact that all my girls are grown and living their own very successful lives. This was the catalyst for Eric and I to realize that our dream of living aboard and becoming full time cruisers was actually going to be a reality.

KaiFe:

Falicia has FINALLY given up the exhausting work of serving in the restaurant business and has taken her next step toward working in education as she had always dreamed, ever since she was a young senior at Verde Valley School. "I am going to come back here some day as a teacher mom" she told me long ago. Now she is serving in the admin. office at Kona Pacific Charter School and wears many hats there at Kona's finest Waldorf school. Our little bolt of lightening, her son, Kai skipped first grade at his last Waldorf school up Hamakua Coast and will be entering second grade, right there where mama administers every day. He is a sharp little boy and can easily read at 4th grade level. He can do algebra problems in his head and solves most mathematical riddles before any of the rest of us can. He keeps his teachers hopping so they decided best if he skipped at least one grade. They packed up their truck and moved back to Honaunau not far from their home where Kai was born. These two are quite the team and words cannot explain how fun it is to watch them learn and grow together. They are the real beach buns of the family and on their spare time they are found exploring the island and her many hidden secrets. Kai has become quite the swimmer and is dying to put on a bc and regulator so he can breathe underwater like the fish. We look forward to teaching them both how to scuba dive in the near future.

FamVela:

Rande, Chucho and Sasha are living and loving their new home which they share with Kristen and Koen. Chucho has created a marvelously scrumptious garden which feeds them fresh food daily while he also works full time in construction and is waiting for the come back of Kona Brewing Co. Where he has earned employee of the month several times. I'd you ever make it to Kona Brew Co. you want Chucho as your server. Rande has become quite the entertainer opening their home to friends and family dinners. Their cat, Big Boy rescued two little pinkie rat babies who were only a few hours old and brough them to Ms. Rande. She and Sasha, being the animal lovers they are, nursed them, love them and kept them alive. Now they are thriving bouncing little baby rats who are so attached to these girls that all they want to do is play with them and won't stand still until they do. Rande and Sasha were giving feedings every 4 hours for weeks until Nibbles and Squeaks became old enough to eat formula on their own. Sasha Enjoyed her 8th grade year at Hawaii Technical Academy and, well, this year, will be learning from home like most of the kids on the islands. Sasha is quite the popular girl and the house is always busy with her friends around playing in the pool, yard and of course video games. Sasha is the champ and I don't know anyone who has defeated her yet!!

KrisKo

Kristen and Koen are precious to watch. They are so in love and devoted to each other. We have given them the name KrisKo because they truly have become one. Their graduation from high school this year was........unusual. it was at the height of the Covid scare and most people were afraid to leave their homes so we had 2 drive by graduation get togethers. They were both buried under their leis and even though it was not what they were expecting for their high school graduation. They handled it well. Their outlook together is always like, "well, that happened, okay, next!!!" Their bright outlook on life inspires EVERYONE they come into contact with. Kriaten graduated from VVS with her IB diploma so when she starts college she already has her first year of credits behind her so she received a nice jump start on that. She and Koen are planning to attend U of H Palamanui Campus in Kona and begin their education. Kristen is not sure exactly where she wants to make her career, she is things cosmetology lately and Koen wants to work in marine biology. They live in the right place for both of those venues plus Koen works very hard in his families business of providing and maintaining purified water filling stations throughout the island. They are both working their tails off and doing a great job of making their way in the world.

Eric and I feel very blessed and relaxed to know that the kids are all doing so well. We sleep well at night knowing the family is still stuck together, supporting one another and caring for each other in these trying times. The island of Hawaii is pretty much cut off from the world right now but no deaths from the virus so they are all making the very best of this situation which is anything but. Please enjoy these pictures of this bunch of kids that we miss terribly. We think of them constantly and thank heaven for whatsapp!!!

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kentonramsey · 3 years

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A Love Letter To Rory Gilmore’s School Style: The Only True-To-Form Uniform On TV

When I think back to my private school days in the suburbs of Chicago, it isn’t the assignments or even my teachers that I remember so much as my uniform: a red-and-navy check jumper that was only slightly more exciting than the pieces I was authorised to wear with it. Five days a week, for six long years, I wore the same outfit with either ballet flats or penny loafers — only black or navy — and a polo or Oxford-style shirt. Even my stockings — black, navy, or white knee socks or tights — were not of my choosing.

In sixth grade, I transferred to public school, shedding my uniform in the process and eventually making a career out of dressing for myself.

The only source of solace I had throughout my elementary school years, though, came in the form of Rory Gilmore, a fellow uniform-wearer however fictitious. The youngest Gilmore Girl wore a real school uniform, like I did, as opposed to the bespoke versions spotted on the Blair Waldorfs and Serena van der Woodsens of New York City’s upper crust. In my busted-up ballet flats, I couldn’t relate to the sorts of uniforms worn by the televised student body, which often included colourful statement handbags and tights, as well as designer belts, padded headbands, and layered-on jewellery. Hell, I wasn’t even allowed to wear nail polish (or say hell), let alone insert a pussy-bow blouse in place of my polo.

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Rory’s Chilton uniform was slightly different, enough to offer me a sense of hope. By my count, the 2003 valedictorian had a total of eight top options throughout her three illustrious years at the East Coast establishment, including one button-down shirt, two vests — one navy and one grey — three jumpers— a navy and a grey cardigan and a navy pullover — a blazer, and a peacoat. Though six more than I had, the restrictive colour palette and lack of eye-catching accessories was in sync with the constraints of my school ensemble. On the bottom, she always wore the same blue plaid skirt, which, apart from colour, was a near-exact replica of the style I would have worn had I remained at my private school past the fifth grade. (In the sixth grade, our plaid jumpers were replaced with equally plaid skirts.) Though her black-and-white Oxford shoes would have likely led to a citation in my day, they were still a far cry from Serena’s Stuart Weitzman thigh-highs.

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Which is not to say that I didn’t enjoy the “uniforms” (can we really refer to them thus?) featured on Gossip Girl. In fact, I loved them. As a longtime fan of both the books and the original TV series, I often daydreamed about wearing a loose tie with an untucked button-down shirt. I thought long and hard about carrying my books in a leather shoulder bag as opposed to a dweeby backpack and accessorising with jewel-tone tights and earrings that weren’t simple gold balls (the only kind we were allowed to wear). Despite being permitted to wear whatever I wanted (within reason — my affinity for short shorts was denied by both my parents and the administration) in high school, I often found myself dressing with Serena and Blair in mind, switching off between the boho and prep valances. I had a lot of missed opportunities to make up for, and wasn’t ready for Rory’s more understated sense of style.

But during those years when I didn’t have a choice in how I dressed, back when I had no choice but to relinquish any style autonomy despite my growing interest in fashion, fantasising about clothes that were off-limits felt like a waste of time. Instead, it was Rory’s finite sartorial options that kept me zipping up my jumper and slipping on my loafers every morning. Her rotating selection of mundane cardigans and blazers furnished me with an odd sense of solace. I wasn’t in this alone.

When I do my annual autumn Gilmore Girls rewatch, I’m comforted, not only by Luke’s flannels and Lorelai’s chaotic yet stylish selection of ‘90s graphic tees and zip-ups, but by Rory’s Chilton uniform, which to this day, remains one of the only true-to-form liveries on TV.

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A Love Letter To Rory Gilmore’s School Style: The Only True-To-Form Uniform On TV published first on https://mariakistler.tumblr.com/

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rosaliehalerps · 3 years

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MEET SAVANNAH GREY

THE ESSENTIALS

one of 3 daughters in an extremely wealthy manhattanite family, which makes her a bit spoiled out of touch with reality. extremely blunt (it’s just honesty, if you ask her), very aloof, and can be a bit of a mystery of a human just because she doesn’t give away much personal info. It’s really hard to make her care about anything, but if it involves fun or partying, that’s a surefire bet to get her interested. cares even less about being responsible than most things, so her career of choice is professional surfing, which her parents just love.

CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS

kourtney kardashian - serena van der woodsen & blair waldorf meshed together - lorde’s entire melodrama album - but also olivia rodrigo’s entire sour album - ron swanson - kat stratford - marissa cooper - kit riva (malibu rising)

LINKS

musings

threads

CONNECTIONS / PLOT IDEAS

TBD

FUN FACTS

The Grey family is from New York City. Sav grew up on the UES in Manhattan, and they are extraordinarily wealthy. They also spent their summers at their Hamptons house, which Sav personally likes more than the apartment in the city.

sav is very blunt. she considers herself ‘honest’, which she is, but she always says it like it is, and a lot of people like to hear things sugar coated, so they may consider her a bit abrasive or rude. but as far as she concerned, telling people the truth is more important than trying to soften things for them, so she just calls it as she see it

she also just like….doesn’t careTM. like that could be her entire slogan. most things she just views as unimportant and doesn’t see why people bother with things so much. drama, relationships, other people’s opinions, school, life, you know. it’s not that she’s, like, totally apathetic, she’s just extremely like….unbothered.

she is smart but she’s extremely lazy about school. like if she doesn’t want to do something, it’s almost impossible to motivate her to do it. however, when it comes to her wants/ideas, once she gets them into her head, she’ll stop at nothing until she gets it

aka very bullheaded (she is a taurus after all)

she can get quite competitive if you push her buttons in the right way

middle of three sisters, and has always prided herself in getting along with her older sister and their friends, she’s very mature for her age (or so she thinks)

sierra, her elder sister, is also the person she typically goes to if she needs advice or needs to confide something

however sav is very private, so most things she deals with herself and keeps them completely private until it’s resolved (and sometimes even then!)

she even keeps a lot of secrets from her friends, she just doesn’t like to show any sort of weakness or emotion or frailty, she likes to be able to keep the carefree/indifferent persona she has going of just like casually coasting through life

her indifference really extends to people too, so she doesn’t strongly dislike or like people very often, and to become close friends with her you almost have to prove yourself, but once you’re actually friends with her she’ll literally pull a knife on someone for you

even though she comes off pretty shallow, she’s actually an amazing listener and friend, if she thinks you’re like, worth the time to listen to. She will let her friends rant to her for hours and hours and then give whatever advice they need to hear

sav is always down for fun and while she’s not typically the one who comes up with wild ideas, she will often go along for the ride

Sav is a musician, she plays the guitar, mandolin, ukulele, banjo and piano, and she’s a lowkey singer-songwriter (just fyi if you were curious, her voice claim is brynn cartelli)

but like, not in a professional way. she mostly just wants to be low-level famous, and she likes playing music, but her true love is surfing

so, yes, he’s a professional surfer, much to her parents chagrin, because they absolutely hate that she doesn’t have a “real” career, even tho she’s damn good at surfing

she has gotten a dece amount of sponsorships/modeling jobs too, because she’s.....hot and rich and blonde, and actually good surfer

STATS

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Savannah Grey

NICKNAME(S): Sav, Savvy

DATE OF BIRTH: May 8th

AGE RANGE: 18-24

ZODIAC SIGN: Taurus

OCCUPATION: student OR surfer (depending on age)

HOMETOWN: Manhattan, NY

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Either NY, Hamptons, or Malibu

NATIONALITY: American

ETHNICITY: Caucasian

LANGUAGE(S): English

GENDER & PRONOUNS: She/Her

PHYSICAL INFORMATION

FACE CLAIM: Madelyn Cline

HEIGHT: 5'6″

EYE COLOUR: Brown

HAIR COLOUR + STYLE: Dirty blonde, usually worn natural - such as this - or in a messy bun - like this

TATTOO(S): TBD

PIERCING(S: TBD

GLASSES: yes, but she will literally rather go blind than wear them in the case she doesn’t have contacts

CLOTHING STYLE: athleisure, a lot of crop tops, doc martens, sneakers, mom jeans, sweatpants, oversized tee shirts and hoodies she steals from boyfriends

PERSONALITY

MBTI TYPE: ENTP

POSITIVE TRAITS: Loyal, Honest, Empathetic (to people who have proven themselves as her friend lol)

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Precocious, Dismissive, Blunt, Spoiled

GOALS/DESIRES: tbh like sorta none

FEARS: TBD

HOBBIES: surfing, music, going out lol.

HABITS: TBD

SMOKES?: no

DRINKS?: yes

DRUGS?: yes (literally will try anything once, and usually has a veritable pharmaceutical stash at her disposal)

EDUCATION

BASIC EDUCATION: Luxor Academy

COLLEGE EDUCATION: N/A

DEGREE(S): High School Diploma and that’s it YO

FAMILY

SOCIAL CLASS: VERY upper class - like on some forbes wealthiest list for sure

FATHER: Richard Grey (Johnny Depp FC)

MOTHER: Susanne Grey (Kate Moss FC)

SIBLING(S)? Two sisters - Sierra Grey (Olivia Holt FC), 2.5 years older and Sedona Grey (Lily-Rose Depp FC), 1.5 years younger

#are these going to get progressively more chaotic?? yes #muse: savannah grey #verse: luxor #verse: silver lake #*primary muse #*muse intros

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heyyyella · 7 years

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Sunlight, soul light.

My favorite day.

I was in 10th grade. It was summer. It felt golden. Everything felt happy. I had best friends. My family seemed okay. Which, was good enough for right now. High school wasn’t as scary or mean as it seemed in books or movies. I read walt whitman, and painted, and didn’t think about my body, I wasn’t self aware. I didn’t read the news. Social media didn’t exist. I didn’t really understand global warming, or the war in Iraq, or social injustices that were taking place.

That would all become very clear very soon.

But this summer day was I truly present in my own life and body. There wasn’t a past or a future. There was only right now.

It was a time capsule of who I could be without the knowledge that the world might one day end.

My best friend just got her driver's license. We’d drive out to the coast. And put our hands out the windows and let the air guide them up and down.

This day felt perfect. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was embarrassing.

My heart felt light. Like tiny swirls of happiness radiated off me. Like a strong golden energy. I’ll never forget the feeling. The only way to truly describe it... it’s the feeling of the sun lightly touching your skin. It’s not too hot. It gives you chills slightly because it is warm and it is nice.

I don’t even remember what we did. Just ran along the beach maybe. Daring the ocean to touch our feet. Rolling in the sand.

The great part of about this day is that nothing eventful happened. It could have been any day. It was just a Saturday where we went to the beach. But to me, it was the best day I’ve ever had.

I didn’t have a lingering anxiety, fomo, I didn’t have work or homework, or fear of judgement. I didn’t resent anyone, and I wasn’t bitter about anything. I was just a teen, open, kind, hopeful.

I don’t think I’ll ever feel that way again and that’s really okay. Too much has happened to go back the naivety of being an adolescent. It would be irresponsible.

When we graduated high school. I had a class of thirty people. Yeah, it’s a little weird. I went to an art school. A Waldorf school. It’s quite unique and I feel lucky.

Every morning we said this one poem to start the day. The day we graduated we stood in a circle and spoke the words together one last time:

I look into the world

In which the sun is shining

In which the stars are sparkling

In which the stones repose.

Where living plants are growing

Where sentient beasts are living

Where human souls on earth

Give dwelling to the spirit.

I look into the soul,

That lives within my being

The World Creator weaves

In sunlight and in soul light,

In world space there without

In soul depths here within.

To Thee Creator Spirit

I will now turn my heart

To ask that strength and blessing

For learning and for work

May ever grow within me.

It was the last time I would speak that poem out loud. But, I often think the words. I said them every morning for six years... so I will never forget them.

The words I say often though, the more specific line I repeat in my head over and over again. In sunlight and in soul light. In sunlight and in soul light.

That phrase to me represents the feeling of that day.

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kootenaygoon · 5 years

Photo

So,

Kite surfers rode the ocean gusts high above Dallas Road as Spencer and I worked our way down the winding stone steps to the beach. It was cold. We’d grabbed a six-pack and were looking to find some driftwood to hunker against for the afternoon. It was March 2016, I was halfway through my week off from the Star and this was one of things I’d been looking forward to most: seeing my roommate from the UVic years. He was crotchety, loyal, and completely predictable. The Statler to my Waldorf. I would call him a brother, but the truth was he was more like a wife. That’s the term my Mom starting using during the years Spence and I were roommates. I’d put aside two days to connect with him, so the night before we’d gotten sushi before heading to a movie at the Odeon. He was trying to be polite, but I could tell he was elated to finally be rid of Paisley. Neither of them made any secret of their dislike for each other.

As we settled on the beach stones I took a long swallow from my can of Pilsner. Spence and I affectionally called it Vitamin P, something we picked up in the Yukon when he came to visit me during my time at the Whitehorse Star. That summer we’d road-tripped up to Dawson City with some friends and done some heavy-duty drinking. Our glory days.

“Everybody keeps on telling me they’re sorry I’m going through this, you know, they’re checking in emotionally or whatever, but not one single person has taken this break-up as bad news,” I told Spence. “There’s not a single person who has said ‘I’m going to miss Paisley’ or ‘too bad, I liked her’, or anything like that.”

Spencer shook his head. “That’s because everyone hated Paisley. I hated Paisley. I think you secretly hated Paisley the whole time, but you just needed to prove you were a good boyfriend or something.”

“You know, she was going through a lot. Her health conditions and everything.”

“Sorry, Will. There’s no cure for being a cunt.”

I sighed. Seagulls were soaring in place, buffeted by the breeze, just above our heads. I decided to change the subject. “I hooked up with a new girl the other day, actually. This artist chick from Tinder.”

He gaped. “Aren’t you staying with your sister?”

“She took me back to her place. She makes art out of John Grisham novels.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It’s mixed media, so there’s tiny script in the back of a lot of the pieces and if you look closely you can read passages from A Time to Kill or The Client or The Pelican Brief or whatever.”

“You need to knock it off with the crazy chicks, man. Can’t you just date someone normal?”

Spence was an acquired taste. Absolutely obsessed with pop culture, particularly TV and movies, he had a tendency to spend entire conversations mapping out a particular actors’ career trajectory or recounting anecdotes from his favourite shows. He loved smoking cigarettes and doing crossword puzzles. He’d gone to film school twice, but the resulting student loan debt had scared him into a cozy salesman job at a scuba company called Aqualung. He was sarcastic, had a tendency to rage, and was absolutely devoted to a number of key women in his life. One was his sister Shannon, another was our friend Lindsay, and then there was his niece Taylor. They inspired in Spencer the sort of chivalric passion legends are made of.

There were a number of ways our lives had overlapped, starting in high school, but Spence and I didn’t really become friends until partway through my undergrad at UVic. One day we were chatting online when he mentioned that things were getting stagnant on the Mainland. He was thinking about moving to Vancouver Island to be closer to his sister, and it turned out I needed a new roommate. It was perfect. We lived together off and on for nearly three years, sharing everything from smokes to books and kitchen utensils. When I moved to the Kootenays I left him with a bunch of my belongings, including a shelf full of great literature.

Before that there was my lifeguarding years in Vancouver. Back then our eclectic social crowd orbited Commercial Drive and Broadway. Those were the years Spencer lived with our friend Bill, a child actor who had aged out and was making his living doing voiceover work for anime films. The two of them were persistent for months in trying to convince me that I had to watch The Wire. They told me it was worldview-altering, that there was no other show like it, but I was skeptical. Finally Bill put the first season boxed set in my hands and made me promise to try the first three episodes.

“If you’re not hooked by the end of the third episode, I’ll stop pestering you.”

“I don’t know, man. I don’t really like cop shows.”

“This isn’t a cop show. This is a story about a whole city, from the lowest drug addict all the way up to the mayor, the politicians, the lawyers. It covers all the different facets of Baltimore.”

“I’m not really into politics, either. What’s so interesting about Baltimore?”

“You’ll see, man. Trust me.”

Spence and Bill were right. By the end of the third episode I was hooked, and within a few weeks I’d burned through the four available seasons. We got together and discussed the central theme of “the game”, how everything came down to chess. We were three white kids from our privileged little suburb, dissecting the nuances of a ghetto drug trade we would probably never see in person. But as it turned out, I learned that the third season was based on real events that took place on the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver. Suddenly the narrative hit that much closer to home.

“I’m thinking maybe I should write a book about Nelson,” I told him. “Like Never Shoot a Stampede Queen, but set in the Kootenays.”

“A memoir?”

“I’m not sure. The stuff I’m covering is interesting enough on it’s own, like the Andrew Stevenson bank robbery thing, or this Ryan Tapp story. It could be true crime, kind of like The Wire but set in Nelson.”

Spence pondered. This was his favourite thing to do, dispensing his thoughts on how an artistic project should proceed. He’d wanted to be a director when he was younger, and had even filmed a short movie starring our friends Brandon and Amanda a few years earlier. I believed that one day he was going to get his shit together and film another one, and I was constantly encouraging him to do so. In the meantime, he was the one friend who truly engaged with my work and believed that I was going to make it one day. Whenever I talked about writing a book he always took me seriously, even though I never actually produced one.

“You said you know the police chief, right? And you know some pretty sketchy druggy dudes. Then you’ve got the business people and all the politicians, like that shady cop you told me about, the one who ran for mayor,” Spencer said. “That’s it. You just fill out that cast, try to hit all the different facets like David Simon, and I think that would work. I mean, if you’re compiling all these stories you may as well fucking use them.”

I nodded. That brought me to the next topic. The whole point of this trip to the coast was to give me some time to ponder whether I wanted to stay in Nelson or not. Really, I could take the content I already had and turn it into something fun. Stampede Queen’s author Mark Leiren-Young was only in Williams Lake for six months and was able to gather enough material, while I’d been at the Star for nearly two years so far. The other thing was the logistics of finding a place, of starting from scratch. Paisley had chosen to stay in our old suite, and I wondered if there was really enough room in the city for both of us. I’d been looking at my options, and moving back to Victoria was high on the list. If that happened, I wanted to live with Spence. I took a deep breath and explained where my headspace was at with it, and asked him whether he’d consider moving out of his sister’s place.

He bit his lip. “I don’t know, man. I don’t think I can. I’d love to live together again, but I’ve got a pretty good thing going.”

“This wouldn’t necessarily be right away. Like maybe I’ll go back to the paper for six months, something like that. I just thought maybe you’d want to get closer to the city again. Do you like being way out in Langford?”

“It’s Taylor, man. I like being around for her, driving her to high school. I like my set up there, being part of her life. I don’t know.”

“I get it, I get it.”

Spence shifted on the driftwood. “Listen, the real reason is you need to stick it out in Nelson. It’s obvious you’re not done yet. Your mind is so caught up in everything out there. Stop smoking so much fucking weed and you could have a really good thing going,” he said.

“Especially if you stop dating crazy chicks.”

The Kootenay Goon

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realtorsandloans · 5 years

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Best Costa Mesa Realtors, Here’s Our Top 3

One of the toughest decisions one has to make when moving to Orange County is which neighborhood to live in. This region has a wide variety of options that offer high quality of life standards. Here we will look at what makes Costa Mesa one of the top picks in the county and the best way to go about finding an ideal home.

Reasons to Settle in Costa Mesa

Strategically located between San Diego and Los Angeles, Costa Mesa is a great place for young professionals and families to enjoy. Reputed for its clean and safe environment, it hosts a population of about 112,930. Offering great suburban living with easy access to a variety of shopping outlets and restaurants means there is plenty to do during your downtime. Home to the LA Chargers, the Pacific Amphitheatre, and Orange County Fair, there are also plenty of seasonal entertainments to check out.

With its southern border, less than a mile from the Pacific Coast, and the Santa Ana River Trail nearby, outdoor enthusiasts with a penchant for healthy living have plenty of options beyond local parks. 61% of residents rent their homes, with the median home value estimated at $671,800. There is a good mix of housing options including detached, townhouses, and condos. The area has many highly rated schools to choose from, including Orange County School of Arts, Plaza Vista, and the Waldorf School of Orange County.

What to Look for in A Good Realtor

Whether you are new to the area, or a resident looking to sell or upgrade in the same region, engaging the services of Costa Mesa realtors is your best option. While online platforms like Realtor.com and Zillow can provide you with a good idea of what is in the market, there are a few reasons you should still opt to hire a local professional.

Local Knowledge– This is particularly important for newcomers that are not familiar with the neighborhoods and have a list of requirements to be filled. A realtor can help to quickly narrow down to the best neighborhoods that fit the bill and have access to unlisted homes for sale in Costa Mesa CA. Sellers can get the necessary help in better preparing their property for the market and setting the right price based on recent comparables. Realtors can also help filter out time-wasters and channel serious buyers their way.

Legalities– There is a lot of paperwork involved in buying or selling a home with most real estate files being between 1-3 inches. The disclosures can be even heftier with foreclosure and distressed property sales. A good realtor will have the expertise to ensure all is in order before you sign on the dotted lines.

Network of Referrals– From tradesmen and home stagers to home inspectors and mortgage brokers, there is a chance a seller or buyer will need extra help to move things along. Experienced Costa Mesa realtors can recommend other professionals in the field to help achieve your goals.

Negotiation Skills– You will always get a better result when you have a realtor who understands the business and ably acts on your behalf when dealing with sellers or buyers. Even if you do lose out on the deal, they can quickly move on to finding you a better choice at the price you are looking for.

The Top 3 Costa Mesa Realtors

1. Larry Weichman – The L3

If looking for experience in your realtor, then Larry is your best choice. With over 30 years’ experience in the real estate industry, he has earned a great reputation for being personable and highly knowledgeable of the Costa Mesa region. His clients can comfortably rely on his insights to guide them to the best choice of homes and his negotiation skills are phenomenal.

A long-standing member of the California Association of Realtors and National Association of Realtors Chairman, he has cultivated a wide network of contacts in the business that his clients have long benefited from, even beyond just the home buying/selling process. His warmth, tenacity, and charisma have helped put his clients at ease and made them feel less like a professional obligation, and more like personal friends.

2. Khoi Le – Torelli Realty

Well known for his responsiveness and flexibility, Khoi has become a top choice of OC realtors. He has endeared himself to clients through his prompt communication and attention to detail. His ability to accommodate a variety of schedules and other client demands without batting an eye has helped many become less stressed over these transactions.

With over 7 years working in sales, he has taken advantage of the negotiating skills learned and knowledge acquired in the real estate business to work out great deals for his clients. His patience, intelligence, and calm demeanor are a lethal combination that any real estate investor will want on their side.

3. Rand Penrod – Villa Real Estate

A highly regarded professional in the real estate business, Rand has excellent intimate knowledge of the Orange County market. Costa Mesa homes for sale listed by Rand tend to have a quick closing thanks to his excellent marketing strategies that have worked well for clients that are time-pressed. Buyers are not left out as they get to enjoy quick responses to their queries, any time of day.

His background in lending and finance and over two decades’ experience in Orange County real estate has ideally positioned him to advise on the financial considerations of clients and put them in touch with qualified mortgage professionals. A keen listener, Rand ensures that he fully understands his client needs before using this to find them their perfect home. His knowledge of the region allows him to make recommendations that unerringly fit just what the client wants.

Source: https://www.ocrealtordirect.com/

#houses for sale in Huntington Beach #OC Realtors #Homes For Sale

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ralphmorgan-blog1 · 6 years

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27 Rags To Riches Stories That Will Inspire You To Chase Your Dreams

http://bit.ly/2MJFfoC

Cataloged in Stories

27 Rags To Riches Stories That Will Inspire You To Chase Your Dreams

January Nelson Updated September 18, 2018

Rags to riches stories are meant to motivate you. They show you that anybody can achieve their dreams, no matter how much money their parents had in the bank account when they were younger or how many dead-end jobs they had to work in order to pay the rent.

27 Celebrities Who Went From Rags To Riches

1. YouTuber Casey Neistat lived on his friend’s couch: Left home and had a kid at ~16, went to New York, lived on his friends couch, made movies with his brother, moved to YouTube, and now is a multi-millionaire who has owned a company.

2. Ed Sheeran had next to no money: Moved to the states trying to make it in music with next to no money and somehow Jamie Foxx saw one of his performances at a small bar. Jamie saw something in him and told him he wanted to help him. Ed slept on his couch for 6 weeks as Jamie did his best to help him in his pursuit of his dream. Jamie got him a gig at the Apollo Theater in NY and if you don’t know the Apollo is a mostly black theater so having white musicians and stand up comics is fairly uncommon. Ed goes on stage with a ukulele in front of a full crowd and performs. Got a standing ovation and a encore. The rest is history.

3. Snoop Dogg was arrested for selling drugs: Snoop Dogg is considered a West Coast king but it wasn’t always an easily won title. Cordozar Calvin Broadus, Jr. was born in California’s Long Beach neighborhood. During a time when the hood was overrun with gang wars, young Snoop had to pick a side. Broadus joined Rollin’ 20 Crips as a teenager and was frequently arrested during his high school years for selling drugs. It wasn’t until he found the outlet of rapping with friends Warren G and Nate Dogg that Snoop took his mind off the streets.

4. The founder of Cirque du Soleil worked on the street: The Canadian-born Guy Laliberté began his circus career busking on the streets: playing accordion, walking on stilts and eating fire. He gambled by bringing a successful troupe from Quebec to the Los Angeles Arts Festival in 1987, with no return fare. The bet paid off, and the circus group was eventually brought to Las Vegas, where they became the world famous Cirque du Soleil we know today.

5. Arnold Schwarzenegger lived without plumbing or a phone: One of the richest action stars of all time, Arnold Schwarzenegger is a seven-time Mr. Olympia with a net worth of $400 million and a resume of movies that earned $4.73 billion at the worldwide box office. He also boasts the title of the 38th governor of California. When he was born in 1947, however, his homeland of Austria was devastated by World War II, and the future “Governator” lived in a home with no plumbing and no phone. Hunger-based riots plagued the streets outside his door.

6. Mark Wahlberg used to sell drugs: The actor dropped out of school at the age of 14 to become a street thug, who sold drugs and indulged in gang wars. Wahlberg also had to serve a 50-day sentence in prison for a violent assault on two men. His current estimated worth is around US$ 165 mn.

7. Eminem had a rough childhood: By ninth grade, he dropped out of high school and decided to pursue music full time. It took performing and local rap battles, working dead-end jobs and creating a crazy alter ego, the famous “Slim Shady,” to get noticed by the likes of Dr. Dre.

8. The creator of Forever 21 worked three jobs: Do Won Chang is the famous face behind Forever 21, who much earlier immigrated to the United States from South Korea, in 1981. Before he founded Forever 21, he worked three jobs simultaneously, as a gas station clerk, a janitor and a coffee shop employee. That period lasted for three years before he founded the company and opened its first clothing store, in 1984. This family business grew quickly by taking advantage of the benefits of “fast fashion.” Forever 21 is now multi-national and has 480 locations across the world. It has also managed to bring in $3 billion per year. And the next generation has been taken into the company, as Chang has brought his two daughters on board.

9. Celine Dion grew up in a poor family: Born the youngest in a family of 14 children, Celine Dion suffered tremendous poverty because her parents could not make ends meet to provide equally to all their children. Nonetheless, ‘her heart went on’ with her love of music. She started performing in small events, slowly acclaiming fame as a teen star with an angelic singing voice. With the support from her loving family, she endeavored to win multiple awards at a young age, and more as she grew up to be a hit singer. Her current net worth of $800 million speaks volumes of what she has achieved in her lifetime, because she had to mortgage her home just to release her first record. It also points out Dion’s never-ending dedication and passion for music.

10. Selena Gomez couldn’t afford gas: Her mother was just 16 years old when she gave birth to Selena and had to work several jobs just to keep a roof over their heads and put food on the table. She also revealed, “I remember my mom would run out of gas all of the time and we’d sit there and have to go through the car and get quarters and help her get gas.”

11. Walt Disney was unemployed for a while: He used to be the cartoonist for the school newspaper. Disney went through the jobless phase where no one hired him, and his brother had to help him out with his job search. He went from rags to riches by starting out with advertisements and going on to animating his own cartoons.

12. Shania Twain sang to put food on the table: Twain was so poor growing up in rural Canada, her parents would have her sing in bars on weeknights to bring in money for the family. She’s also talked about how she and her sister were almost always hungry. Today, Twain is one of the world’s best-selling artists of all time, having sold over 75 million albums worldwide. She is also the best selling female artist in the history of country music, with a net worth of around $350 million.

13. Oprah Winfrey was born into poverty: Winfrey was born into a poor family in Mississippi, but this didn’t stop her from winning a scholarship to Tennessee State University and becoming the first African-American TV correspondent in the state at the age of 19. In 1983, Winfrey moved to Chicago to work for an AM talk show that would later be called The Oprah Winfrey Show.

14. Sarah Jessica Parker was on welfare: The 49-year old actress may be an old timer in the movie industry but long before she found stardom inthe TV series Sex and The City, Sarah Jessica Parker and her family lived on welfare for many years. Growing up in Nelsonville, Ohio, Parker said in an interview that her family seldom celebrated Christmas, birthdays, and other family occasions. She vividly remembers living with no electricity and their phone lines cut because they couldn’t pay the bill. Today, Parker’s net worth has risen to $90 million.

15. Daniel Craig used to sleep outside: The Bond actor Daniel has many critically acclaimed films in his kitty, but according to Hollyscoop, the actor used to sleep on park benches during his struggling days. He is worth an estimated US $65 million.

16. Leighton Meester’s mother gave birth in prison: Leighton Meester may portray the rich spoiled brat Blair Waldorf without any difficulty, but Waldorf’s fictional life is nothing compared to Meester’s actual upbringing. Meester’s mother gave birth to her while serving time in prison and was raised by her grandmother for most of her childhood in Mango Island, Florida. When Meester mother got out, the two went to live in New York, where Leighton started a career as a model. In 2007, they relocated again, this time to Los Angeles, where she eventually managed to get a break in the show business. She is slated to star in three films, set for release this year.

17. Chris Pratt lived in a van: After cutting his teeth playing sidekicks and funnymen, the character actor was immediately promoted to the A-list when he was named the MCU’s Star-Lord, going on to secure gigs fronting 2015’s Jurassic World (and the sequel) as well as sci-fi tentpole Passengers and a Magnificent Seven remake. Turn back the clock to the late ’90s, however, and there were no red carpets and caviar, only shag piles and fleas—he was living in the back of a van with a friend.

18. Tyler Perry was physically abused: He was a victim of physical abuse, courtesy of his father, to the point of him even attempting suicide. Inspired from ‘The Oprah Winfrey Show’, he started immortalizing his life on paper, only to discover the joy of writing and eventually the desire to be a professional story-writer. He then began to create musicals and stage plays on sentimental themes, slowly building himself up to be one of the most successful playwright of modern times. His current net worth stands at $400 million, exemplifying how perseverance can always end up on top.

19. Leonardo DiCaprio lived in a dangerous town: The actor used to live in a seedy LA neighborhood where he saw drugs, poverty, prostitution, and violence at a very tender age. He told , “It goes back to that neighborhood. It came from the fact that I grew up very poor, and I got to see the other side of the spectrum.” Now DiCaprio’s net worth is estimated at $245 million.

20. Mila Kunis acted her way out of poverty: Kunis may be worth $55 million now, but she hasn’t forgotten her roots. She’s even publicly vowed that her and Ashton Kutcher won’t raise entitled children. And we guess the reason for that is pretty clear. It’s because she knows how it feels to be poor.

21. Halle Berry lived in a homeless shelter: The Oscar winning actress ran out of money when she moved to US to become an actress. She even stayed in a homeless shelter. During an interview to , Berry said, “It taught me how to take care of myself and that I could live through any situation, even if it meant going to a shelter for a small stint.”

22. Hilary Swank lived in a trailer park: Long before she became the Million Dollar Baby, Hilary Swank had to endure the hardships of poverty. Growing up, Swank lived in a trailer park back in Washington with only her mother to care for her and her two siblings. Swank’s father left the family when she was young. When her mother lost her job, the family decided to take a chance at life and moved to California. Living in their car, Swank and her family worked on several jobs before they could afford an apartment. Swank’s break came when she got a lead role in Boys Don’t Cry. The award-winning actress now lives well and beyond her former state, with $40 million stashed in the bank.

23. Steve Jobs could not afford college: Jobs was given away for adoption by his biological parents and he became interested in electronics after his foster dad showed him the joys of technical tinkering in their garage. He had to drop out of college, because his education was costing his foster parents a lot. He used to return Coke bottles for money and live on free meals at the Hare Krishna temple. A hippie who used to trip on LSD, Jobs went from a technician in Atari, Inc. to becoming the CEO of Apple Inc.

24. J.K. Rowling dealt with poverty: Born in a lowly English family, Rowling battled depression, suicidal tendencies and poverty to become one of the most loved British authors in the world for her hugely popular Harry Potter series. Highly imaginative as a kid who thrived on stories, she drew from her surroundings and the people in her life as inspirations for the books which have now become one of the biggest movie franchises. From her humble beginnings, she has gone on to become one of the most powerful women in the United Kingdom.

25. The manufacturer of Ray-Ban and Oakley lived in an orphanage: Del Vecchio was one of five children who could not be supported by his widowed mother. After growing up in an orphanage, he went to work in a factory making molds for auto parts and eyeglass frames, where he lost part of his finger. At 23, he opened his own molding shop. That eyeglass frame shop expanded to the world’s largest maker of sunglasses and prescription eyeware. Luxottica makes brands like Ray-Ban and Oakley, with 6,000 retail shops like Sunglass Hut and LensCrafters. His estimated net worth is nowabove $10 billion dollars.

26. Kevin Smith maxed out his credit cards to follow his dreams: Maxed out all his credit cards to make the movie Clerks. If it failed he would have been completely fucked.

27. Jim Carrey lived in a van: Comedian-turned-actor Jim Carrey boasts a net worth of $150 million and a resume of movies that have grossed nearly $4.9 billion worldwide. But before a role on “In Living Color” launched the Canadian comic’s career in 1990, things weren’t so smooth. At 12 years old, the actor was homeless and living in a van after his father lost his job