@renownd

𝗂   𝗀𝖾𝗍   𝗌𝗈   𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗒,   𝗂   𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵   𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍   𝗂’𝗆   𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁

Pinned

📽      𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗢𝗪𝗡𝗗      ,      brought   to   life   by   kayla   (   twenty6,   she/her,   est   )   for   manhattantv.   a   study   in:   fame   as   inheritance   ⸺   a   crown   passed   down,   tarnished   but   gleaming.   the   performance   stitched   into   your   bloodstream   long   before   you   could   speak.   desire   mistaken   for   ambition,   vulnerability   spun   into   spectacle.   the   ache   of   being   adored   and   misunderstood   in   the   same   breath.   the   dynasty   behind   you   whispering   be   brilliant,   be   perfect,   be   more.   the   mirror   becomes   both   altar   and   executioner.   what   does   it   mean   to   be   seen   by   millions   and   known   by   no   one   ?   what   happens   when   the   mask   begins   to   love   the   face   it   hides   ?

𝖼𝖾́𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗱𝘂𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲    (    bruna    marquezine    )    ⸺    dirty   gin   martini,   academy   suite.
𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻:   a   hole   in   the   wall   restaurant   on   the   lower   east   side,   6:45PM.   accepting   replies,   no   cap.
slipped   into   the   narrow   restaurant   wedged   between   a   laundromat   and   a   florist,   windows   steamed   with   cooking,   the   air   thick   with   garlic,   butter,   and   the   faint   tang   of   fresh   blooms   from   the   corner   shop.   her   hoodie   hung   loose,   glasses   perched   just   so   on   her   nose,   hair   twisted   into   a   careless   bun   that   caught   stray   sparks   of   light   from   the   dim   overheads.   she   traced   lazy   spirals   in   the   condensation   of   her   water   glass,   letting   the   low   murmur   of   conversation   and   clatter   of   dishes   wrap   around   her   like   a   velvet   hush. and   then   their   eyes   met,   brief,   almost   shy,   a   recognition   of   two   people   wandering   somewhere   they   weren’t   meant   to   be.   that   fraction   of   a   second   made   the   space   feel   less   alien,   a   quiet   thread   connecting   two   people   in   a   place   neither   would   usually   call   home. a   sigh   escaped   her,   soft   and   resigned,   and   she   brushed   her   glasses   higher   on   her   nose,   a   gesture   both   protective   and   inviting.   “   please   don’t   say   my   name,   ”   she   murmured,   voice   low,   wry,   a   thread   of   humor   curled   through   the   tiredness.   her   foot   nudged   the   chair   across   from   her,   careful   but   deliberate.   “   if   you’re   gonna   blow   my   cover,   ”   she   added,   letting   the   words   linger   in   the   spice   scented   air,   “   at   least   sit.   it’s   less   awkward   when   i   pretend   we   planned   this.   ”
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open: to anyone [0/4]

we were just having fun , it’s not that deep .” some would call it a cry for help while others would deem it a cry for attention . either way , missy didn’t care .

not   that   deep,   she   thinks,   eyebrows   knitting   slightly.   “   okay,   but   you   sure   it’s   just   fun   ?   ”   her   voice   is   light,   steady,   threading   through   the   quiet   between   them.   “   because   it   shouldn’t   leave   you   feeling   …   hollow.   ”   she   shifts   her   weight,   fingers   brushing   against   the   edge   of   her   pocket,   listening   to   the   words   settle   in   the   air.   “   guess   sometimes   we   all   lie   to   ourselves,   huh   ?   ”   the   sentence   drifts,   soft,   curious,   more   a   reach   than   a   judgment.
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notifying ...   everyone !        /        @openstarter. location ...   the streets of manhattan.
i’ve  lost  my  earring ! ”  for  some,  a  minor  inconvenience.  for  leyla,  the  end  of  the  world.  she  was  only  semi - above  getting  down  on  her  hands  and  knees  to  search  for  it,  but  that  would  mean  scuffing  her  jeans  and  making  her  look  even  worse  when  turning  up  for  her  classes  that  afternoon.  a  beautiful  chrysoprase  flower  down  the  drain.  now  i  look  ridiculous  with  just  one ! ”
stops   midstep,   the   sleeve   of   her   jacket   brushing   against   leyla’s   arm   as   she   turns,   eyes   catching   the   lone   chrysoprase   bloom   still   clinging   to   one   ear     a   tiny,   lopsided   tragedy   that   somehow   suits   her.   she   almost   laughs,   a   soft   inhale   catching   in   her   throat,   before   she   sinks   into   a   crouch   without   a   second   thought,   palms   hovering   over   the   cold   manhattan   pavement.   “   okay,   wait     show   me   where   you   were   standing,   ”   she   says,   eyes   sweeping   the   hairline   cracks   in   the   concrete,   the   dark   mouth   of   the   drain,   searching   for   a   flash   of   green.   “   it   has   to   be   here   somewhere.   things   don’t   just   disappear.   ”   tires   hiss   through   rain   swept   streets,   a   dog   calls   out   somewhere   behind   them,   and   a   wayward   breeze   brushes   célina’s   hair   across   her   cheek   as   she   lowers   herself   toward   the   pavement.   “   you   don’t   look   ridiculous,   ”   she   murmurs,   glancing   up   at   her   with   a   crooked,   conspiratorial   smile.   “   you   look   like   …   you   lost   an   expensive   earring   in   the   street,   which   honestly   ?   happens   more   than   anyone   admits.   ”   her   knuckle   brushes   aside   a   fallen   leaf,   slow   and   careful,   as   if   the   city   might   reward   gentleness.   “   we’ll   find   it,   ”   she   says,   certainty   warm   in   her   voice.

⋆˚࿐   [   bruna   marquezine,   cis   woman,   she/her   ]  hey,   i   think   i   just   served   célina   duarte   !   you   mean   the   twenty   seven   year   old   actress   known   for   their   backless   black   gown   that   moves   like   liquid   shadow,   bare   shoulders   gleaming   under   camera   flashes   ?   no   way,   what   did   they   order   ?   dirty   gin   martini.   wow,   no   surprise   for   someone   whose   garnered   a   reputation   for   being   enigmatic   and   restless.   i   heard   the   hostess   say   they   were   being   targeted   by   @/robinhood   because   of   célina   duarte’s   kimmel   meltdown   goes   viral   ⸺   live,   unedited,   unhinged.   maybe   it's   just   me   but   it   doesn't   align   with   the   tabloids   screaming   about   her   mother’s   voice   like   velvet   and   daggers:   “   smile,   célina.   ”   her   father’s,   a   ghost:   “   make   them   remember   you.   ”;   all   that   glitter,   all   that   praise     and   still   she   feels   like   a   body   built   for   other   people’s   dreams;   critics   call   her   “   pretty,   ”   as   if   beauty   were   a   cage   and   she,   the   bird   who   learned   to   sing   through   grit   teeth   whenever   their   name   comes   up.   make   sure   to   deliver   the   drink   to   the   academy   suite   (   table   2,   drink   a   )   and   let’s   hope   they’re   a   good   tipper.   if   not,   i’ll   happily   send   in   some   stories   of   my   own.

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