Westchester Hospital

Room 218

11:00 am

I shook my phone at Ryan, my raised brows begging her to check her texts. What we were about to discuss was NSFM—Not Suitable For Mom—but she was in the same room. Ryan and I spent the night over at Mom’s hospital room because we didn’t want her to be alone. She seemed pretty down lately, so we thought letting her take a jab at our weight all night would make her feel better. Our shift was over an hour ago and Jamie was supposed to take over. An hour later, and she still hasn’t shown up. We didn’t want Mom to worry (stress would only make her condition worse) so we stayed and pretended everything was okay. But time was running out and I needed to beat Westchester traffic and be on set in 15 minutes. Unlike my sister, I like to be punctual—unless it’s for a social event, then I prefer being fashionably late. Like Kendra Block used to tell Massie, “You should honor your commitments.” 


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The Marvil Mansion

The Living Room

8:25 pm

I kicked my Chanel flats off, breathing out the long day’s fatigue. Well done, Dylan, I thought to myself, you were great today. I’ll admit, I’ve always considered myself a couch potato. But ever since I started acting on Timeless, I’ve started enjoying this busier life. The kind of life that you need a planner for. Yes, I, Dylan Marvil, self-proclaimed slob, have gotten myself a planner. It’s surprisingly fulfilling. I pulled out my Kate Spade planner, turned to today’s page and ticked off “shoot Timeless“. What a satisfying feeling. I breathed in relief, realizing I’m free for the rest of the day. 

A subtle creek, followed by the shuffle of soft slippers against the marble floor, echoed through the otherwise empty house. “Hey,” Ryan said, “Long day, huh?”

I looked up at her, barely managing to find the energy to move my neck.”Nah, just sprawled across the couch for fun.”

Ryan chuckled, placing a hand on her hip, “I have neww-wws!”

“You’re getting your nose done again?”

“Haha,” she stuck her tongue out at me. “Do you want to know where Jamie was or not?”

I pretended to think about it. “Uhh… no, not really.” I love teasing my sisters.

“Uh-huh. Trust me, you do…” The tone of her voice changed to a more serious one. “She was with Dad.”


“Not just with D—”

“—Listen, Ryan, I’ve been thinking… maybe we shouldn’t try to stop her. It’ll only drive her away.”

“Yeah yeah yeah but lemme finish!” she dragged the last syllable. “He’s booked her singing lessons.”


Ryan paused for a breath. “Nu-uh!” she said as I opened my mouth to speak, “Wait for it! The lessons are at the exact same times she should be at the hospital with Mom. Eleven to one on Saturdays, seven to eight on Fridays, and six to seven on the other days that her Mom-shift falls on.” I looked at her in silence. “You can talk now.”

“If her Saturday class starts at eleven… why wasn’t she at the hospital at ten?”

Ryan ran her fingers through her hair, sat on an armchair and brought two fingers to her temple.”It takes two hours to get there and another two hours to get back, not counting traffic! Her classes are in the middle of nowhere. Well, they’re still in Westchester, but still pretty far away. I mean, there are at least five different places that offer singing lessons between here and the hospital alone! But apparently Dad brainwashed her into thinking she’s getting the Ivy League of singing lessons or something.”

“Damn,” I bit my lip, processing all of this, “It’s almost like he wants to keep her away…”

“He tried to persuade me into taking singing lessons, too. It’s almost like he’s trying to isolate Mom.”

“He asked me if I wanted acting lessons the other day.”

“What? What’d you say?”

“I told him I’m a professional actor.” We laughed. 

“It’s like he’s trying to keep us all away,” I said once we’ve calmed down.

“Yeah, something fishy is definitely going on here.”

“Can we figure it out tomorrow? I’m tired,” I moaned.

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The Marvil Mansion

Dylan’s Room

10:30 pm

I stepped out of my en-suite bathroom in a plush white robe, hair still dripping. The smell of my green tea scented shower gel filled the room, creating a relaxing atmosphere that begged me to finally sleep. And I was more than happy to comply. I just needed to take care of one more little thing.

I grabbed my phone and started texting Sienna. We’ve booked a special location for a very special episode of Timeless, but I still needed the address.

Me: Hey S! Can you pls send me 2morrow’s location?

Sienna: Sure! 1 sec

Bing! She sent me a screenshot of the address, saved in her iPhone’s Notes. Sounds good, I thought to myself, I know a nearby coffee place that’s great for a pick-me-up. Suddenly, my face stiffened. My eyes found a familiar name on the notification banner that spread across the top of the screenshot. Eh…ma…gawd.

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Scribbles Section

I’m back! This post was surprisingly easy to write. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Boooyy do I have a lot of trouble coming in Dylan’s way.
I’ve just updated my Donut Cravings and Luxuriate pages, so be sure to take a look at them!

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History Repeats Itself

I took a deep breath, eyes closed. Inhale… exhale. Breathe in the good, breathe out the bad.  Clear out all the negativi

“Girls,” Principle Stern’s voice interrupted my meditation. I opened my eyes slowly. Calmly. My eyelids fluttered open and I was pulled back into reality. Well, I guess you could argue what reality is. Some might say it’s more subjective. Personally, I think our inner universe is just as important as the physical universe, but this particular reality was a sauce-stained, raging mess that no meditation or visualization could soothe. Well, unless you’re really experienced and in a good state of mind. But the hurt of 5 teenage girls and the confusion of a bystander who got dragged into this had knocked my chakras right out of alignment. “I don’t know where to begin,” continued the principle, “I haven’t had this problem from any of you.” A faint cough could be heard. “Except from Claire Lyons,” continued the Principle. To be honest, I don’t really blame Claire for rebelling. She’s fighting a very messed up system. “Would anyone care to explain this?”. Silence. I looked down at my hands, avoiding any and all eye contact. More silence. Stern sighed, exhaling sharply. His lips were taut in an annoyed, grim frown. I could almost hear him grinding his teeth together,  jaw clenched. Some people should really be more mindful of the vibrations they send out into this world. “I was afraid of this. Look, girls, I’ve been in education a long time. I know you think the whole united front thing is gonna work. And it might. But I’ll let you in on a secret,” his lips twitched into a smirk, emphasizing his smile lines, “You’re all gonna clean up the cafeteria anyway.” 3 groans, 2 huffs and a puff echoed through the room. This is exactly what the government wants, I thought. They go on about us being a united nation, then break us apart when we willingly stick together because they are threatened by the youth. This is all part of their agenda. “You’ve all been excused from your classes for the day. The janitors set out three mops and 3 sponges with buckets. Get to mopping. Be happy I’m not suspending you.” Suspension is just another word for break, I thought.


Massie immediately stepped out of the office, and the rest of us followed her to the cafeteria. She’s been back for less than a day, and she’s already leading once again. Wow, talk about power. 

The silence was like a vacuum, creating an overwhelming sense of emptiness. “Okay let’s cut the crap. The silent treatment is SO middle school. And some of us have actually moved on from that,” Alicia finally broke the tense air as we reached the cafeteria’s double doors.

Massie shot her with a piercing glare. “Puh-lease. It’s not the silent treatment. There’s just nothing to say. We all know how this goes. And we all know that there’s only one winner.” There was a lot of anger in that sentence; their auras could be felt. Wrathful reds, stormy blues and distraught greens burned around them, expanding more and more as they fueled the fire. 

Massie was right. I’ve been making an effort to stay away from drama, but sometimes you’ve got to take a stand. And I know who I’d stand with.


Alicia had already started recruiting her team.”Well I’ve already got Liv on my side. She might be on vacation-“

“Getting a nose job,” Kristen coughed into her palm. Alicia scowled at her.

“ANYWAY,” she said, a little louder than necessary, “but she’ll be back next week. So I’ve got an advantage.”

“Since when is Faux-livia an advantage?” Massie retorted. A deafening silence followed. We all knew what was coming. Massie turned to us, “Are you gonna make a decision or are you just gonna stand there?”

Kristen inched towards Massie, one slow step at a time. “Sorry,” Kristen shrugged. “I’ve been in this fight before. I know how this ends.” So have I, Kris, so have I. The fact that the PC fell apart right after Massie left said a lot. She bonded us together by something that faded without her: loyalty.

“I’m with Kristen. Sorry Leash,” I said, joining Kristen and Masssie. Alicia’s face burned with wrath.

The pressure was on Claire now. She glared at Massie and Alicia, a contemplative look on her face. “Forget about it.” She shook her head. “I’m not choosing a side. This has been my life for way too long. Look, I like you both, but this Sophie’s Choice crap is getting old. I’m Switzerland.” She took a wide step backward, away from the war zone.

Alicia sighed, turning to the blonde who somehow got dragged into this.  “Well Lana? Who do you pick?”

Massie’s eyes shot daggers at this point. “Her? She’s not part of this.”

“She’s here isn’t she? So what do you say Lana?”

Lana stood confidently, especially for someone who was stuck in the aftermath of a thousand wounds she didn’t know much about. “Massie has a point. I’m not part of your little… Whatever this is.” Lana said. I was suddenly filled with a thirst for victory—something I hadn’t felt in years. A craving that was stronger than hunger, more filling than meals. “But, Alicia’s been a great pseudo-friend in the past.” She walked over to Massie until they were face to face. “Plus I’m pretty sure you threw the cake at me. And I’m not your biggest fan right now. So if I HAVE to choose? I choose Alicia.”

Massie’s eyebrow shot up. “You have no idea who you’re messing with,”

“Oh yeah? Well neither do you.”

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Hope you liked this post, guys! Please check out the rest of the PC‘s posts!calligraphic_dividers_by_andra04-d4rzraq 2 copyRDM

Game of Thrones

My burrito paused inches away from me, my mouth still open in anticipation of the burst of flavors. Alicia Rivera and Massie Block, in a head-to-head battle for the throne (aka table 18), no doubt. I sure was glad that my PC days were behind me– gone were the days of attaching status to material things. 


The sophisticated matte, red shade on Massie’s lips made me wonder what happened to her Glossip Girl collection. Did she sell them on eBay? Purge them after reading The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up? Or did she simply outgrow them? Did all the different flavors become too reminiscent of chapsticks for her? And more importantly, who has lips smooth enough for matte lipstick in this dry weather?

Massie’s eyes caught mine. I pulled my lips into a taut smile and gave a courteous nod, the kind you’d give someone before letting them walk in front of you.

I wasn’t paying much attention to their little argument, because, again, I had left the life of gossip in search of more spiritual satisfaction. But there were four words I couldn’t possibly ignore.

“Your daddy was bankrupt,” Alicia said, a proud smirk on her face. Massie’s perfectly painted pout fell open. Mine did, too. A quick scan of the room showed Claire and Kristen wearing similar expressions. Perhaps you don’t have to be in a clique to match.

I bit my lip; this was getting out of hand. I could hear a choir of whispers and gasps around the room, ascending and descending like waves. Each girl was clenching her jaw, raising an eyebrow in an attempt to intimidate the other. Their words challenged each other, pushing them to new limits, crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed. Sharing secrets that were supposed to be kept. It was almost like nothing had changed.

I got up, leaving a half-eaten burrito next to Layne, and raced to stop the catastrophe that was simmering.

Kristen, like a true athlete, got there first. “Stop it girls, this is getting embarrassing,” Kristen whispered, trying to lull the anger.

“Not as embarrassing as your bank account,” Alicia retorted back, her eyes piercing through Kristen. I could feel the tension rising in the room, like mercury shooting up a thermometer, getting closer and closer to scalding waters.

“Don’t say that, it’s rude,” I said defensively. I felt physically sick. I, of all people, should know that your bank balance does not make you superior to others.

“You ripping off of another clothing line is what’s rude, my dear. I don’t need input from a loser.”

The thermometer burst. The water boiled.

“At least my father didn’t have to lie about his ethnicity. Alicia Rivers, you are just as fake as your last name so I suggest you shut up,” barked Massie.

“Make me!” Alicia shouted, her voice shaking with furious energy. She reached for her salad bowl, fingers grasping it tightly, and heaved it at Massie. Splat! A spoonful of ranch dressing hit Massie’s neck, dripping down into her fur jacket, drizzling over her hair.

“That’s it!” Massie screeched, tossing a cup of fat-free yoghurt at Alicia, missing her by a hair.

“Can you all calm down! You’re acting like two year olds!” Claire’s voice echoed over us.

“At least that’s better than being a slut!” I snapped, flinging the first spoon I could find, hurling pasta all over Claire’s jacket. That sauce is gonna leave a stain, I thought.

“You did nawt just do that.” Claire threw a handful of sushi at me. I dodged, missing all but one piece of sushi.

Kristen’s signature cackle vibrated through the mess. 

“You think this is funny Kris?” Alicia shrieked, sending a plate flying towards her head.

My vision was blurred by a torrent of flying food and trays. My ears pulsed at the chaotic noise that engulfed the entire cafeteria. “Food fight!” someone cried out, and soon the entire cafeteria was caught in the mess that we created. Some started using their backpacks as shields as they made their way to the shelter behind the salad bar while others targeted them with an entire meal’s worth of calories. Spaghetti sauce stained the walls. Coke and green juice formed moats around the tables. Yells and squeals bounced off the walls. Flushing teachers tried (and failed) to calm things down.

Principle Stern’s voice crackled through the school’s speakers, silencing the room. “Good afternoon Westchester Grove Preparatory. Welcome back from winter break. I hope we can start off a good semester and year. Food fights, however, will not be tolerated. Massie Block, Kristen Gregory, Lana Lovitz, Claire Lyons, Dylan Marvil and Alicia Rivera must report to my office immediately.”

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Scribbles Section

Don’t forget to check out the rest of the PC‘s posts, and please welcome our new Alicia: LifeAsAlicia!

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Life Goes On

Dean & DeLuca

2:25 pm

Earth to Dylan!” Layne Abeley shrieked in a pitchy voice, waving her hand frantically in front of my face.

I jolted, my eyes widening, awakening from my trance. “Huh?”. I ignored Layne, my eyes helplessly drifting back to my view, back to the table by the window. Like a staring contest, I couldn’t look awa, even when my eyes started stinging. Alicia Rivera, Olivia Ryan and their 3 faithful minions sat at the PC’s usual table. Their table.

Although the PC had fallen apart a couple years ago–
Bing! I checked the notification, rolling my eyes at the name on the screen: Westchester Grove Prep Gossip, or as Layne liked to refer to her, Westchester’s very own Gossip Girl.


Ex-alpha? Massie wouldn’t come back without letting us know, would she? Sure, it’s been a while since we’ve talked, but a friendship–or rather, history– like ours couldn’t just be ignored. Could it? Maybe it’s not her. It could be Skye Hamilton or someone else. There had to be more ex-alphas in the history of Westchester Grove. Fell from the public’s graces? Excuse me!

I look up, my eyes meeting Alicia’s from across the room, her mouth agape, a perfect “O”, phone in hand.

 I huffed. A few months after Massie left, my sisters and I came out with our own clothing line, and it was absolutely stunning. The sales were great, up until WWD reported that our design team ripped off the collection from an LA based start-up, a secret not even we knew! After the scandal, the only times we ever made the news were when we got bad haircuts or gained weight, with headlines like ‘A Craving for Comfort Food?‘ and ‘Notorious and Nasty‘.

“Boy, she’s a mess,” Layne mumbled, in a trance of her own. I followed her eyes to Claire Lyons. Sweet Claire Lyons who we’d only ever see at lunch. Sweet Claire Lyons who stopped attending class, and started missing school all together. Sweet Claire Lyons who stopped being sweet last summer. Claire walked towards Kr– no, could it be? Claire Lyons and Kristen Gregory… talking? The moment right before you finally blink, when your muscles are forcing your flickering eyelids open and you almost don’t mind losing the contest. The struggle before relief, the storm before the calm.

tumblr_o0xenuUQhV1t2v1avo1_500I sighed, taking out my frustrations on a veggie burger. Stabbing and slicing through the centre, aggressively chewing. The four of us have barely been in the same room since Massie left.

Layne released her lips from an irritated purse. “I hear she’s failing,” she whispered in an attempt at condolance, “Must be asking for study help or something.”

I nodded. At least Kristen hasn’t changed much, as far as I knew. And somehow, I found comfort in that familiarity. 

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Dylan’s Room

7:45 pm

I yawned, rubbing an eye lazily. I had been staring at the computer screen for hours now, searching for weight loss tips that were a) effective and b) doable. While befriending Layne helped me stop caring so much about what others think, she says I still have a lot of work to do. She thinks me dieting, something I haven’t done in almost 2 years, is triggered by what WGPG had said about me. I stopped dieting a few months after the scandal broke out, but surprisingly, I am in the best shape that I’ve ever been in. I took all my embarrassment and frustration out in pilates and kickboxing classes, and even after I worked all the negativity out of my body, I still go pretty regularly, because (and I can’t believe I’m saying this) I actually like working out now. It’s empowering. On the days I do miss class, something always feels slightly off, like something’s missing. As for food, I haven’t followed any extreme diet since. I try to eat healthily, and indulge every once in a while without restricting or being too hard on myself. And lo and behold, great results!

Bing! iMessage’s signature tune chimed from my computer.


I set my status to invisible. I was shocked. I thought I might be happy to see Massie, but what if she’s changed like the rest of us? What if she dyed her hair blue, shaved the side of her head and wears Birkenstocks now? It’s probably too cold in England for Birkenstocks. Maybe heels with socks? I sighed, switching back to my diet tips tab. Perhaps WGPG’s status did affect me after all. Not in the way Layne thought it did, but perhaps I thought combining Massie’s return with old habits would turn back time.

Bet Layne still thinks I’m in denial though.

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Scribbles Section

I hope you guys enjoy this new storyline! It takes place 2 years after Massie leaves for England, and as you can tell, the Pretty Committee has changed.

I owe you guys an apology for disappearing, but tada, I am back, and with an amazing Westchester clan: MassieBlockandBean, RevivalofKristenMichelleGregory, XOClaireMadisonLyons and ILovitz!

Thanks to ILovitz for making that Westchester Grove Prep Gossip Facebook post!

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Big Talk

3 am. Can’t sleep. Thinking of moments too precious to lose to dreams.

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We’re here,” Blake announced nonchalantly, pulling over to a place that held so many warm memories.

He made me promise that we’d meet up once I came back from the Hampton’s. He promised to surprise me with a destination that would make it worthwhile.

A subtle chill blew across my collarbones as I stepped out of his car– autumn’s pioneer. My eyes glazed over the coffee shop we were walking towards. The coffee shop he took me to on our first date. Our coffee shop. My body seemed to recognise it, too. I could feel my senses prepping themselves for the aromatic cloud that was about to engulf us and the soft grinding of coffee beans.

The interior looked exactly as I remembered it. I welcomed the familiarity with open arms, and it returned the favor. They say that smell is closely linked with memory, and perhaps the caffeinated air bringing me back to 2013 is a good enough testimony. 

We chose the exact same spot we sat at last time. I don’t think we consciously moved there. It was more like gravitating towards a certain color. Like something cozy and kind. Like a soft blanket. Like reaching for your favorite coffee cup in the morning. The sun still spilled through the glass wall and onto the oak table the way it used to, casting a soft spotlight around us.

Blake came back with our orders, a mug in each hand. I took this opportunity to see if he’s still the way I remembered him, too. His hands were. Veins like roadmaps. Skin like chiffon. A little paler than I remembered. Probably the London weather.  His eyes were. Still dark, a glint dancing across them. Like a couple of streetlights at 1 am.

We caught up. He told me about how he’s taking a semester off college to figure things out. I told him about Juliard. He congratulated me. I thanked him. He found out I hated small talk. I found out he hated it too. He asked a hypothetical question. We spent the next hour discussing it.

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4 am. Stupid smile on my face. Begin to wonder whether the coffee tasted better than usual because of the good company or good conversation. Maybe both. Phone bings. See it’s from Blake. Reach for it. ‘So would you really rather say everything that comes to mind than never say anything again?’ Reply to it. ‘Only if you’d really rather jump on a cactus than give up burgers’. Even stupider smile on my face. 

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Scribbles Section

This post was rather effortless to write and I enjoyed every minute of it! I realize nothing particularly dramatic happened, but I really liked trying out this new tone. Didn’t really plan it out, just sort of happened (as with most of my posts tbh) because, well, I’m the archetypical type B person. Perhaps a calm post like this one is needed. I’ve got quite a few plots in mind, and let’s just say I hope Dyl enjoys the peace while it lasts 😉

Here’s the thing though, I typed this up in the wee hours of the morning and edited at 5 am a couple days later, so I really hope it makes sense to someone other than my energy-drained-but-creatively-charged self.  

Also school starts today for me. Like literally, class starts in an hour but will skip today. I wanna hear about your first day back though. Did you enjoy it? Was it better than you expected? Let me know by commenting.

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New York

I stood in front of the full-length Berdorf’s mirror, adjusting the straps of the printed chiffon mini dress i was trying on. I spun around, pulling my hair to the side to get a better view of the low back. A smile curled onto my lips as I tossed the dress into the ‘buy’ pile.

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I walked out the department store with a couple of bags hanging from the crook of my arm. Today was one of those days. The days when you realise it’s summer, and you’re free, and you don’t have to be anywhere. Struck by the sudden realisation, I put my phone away and decide to explore, because, hell, I was in New York. Looking up from the screen, I realised why tourists were so attracted to The City. The skyscrapers, they make you feel so small. Walking down the sidewalk, past rushing strangers, I realised something. New York doesn’t wait for anyone. And I guess that can be equally terrifying and comforting. The thought that no matter how much you screw up, life goes on. But perhaps that comes with a price. The risk that every time you stumble, you’re slightly behind everyone else. And I guess we’re lucky, in the sense that we can all get lost in the crowd, be who you are one day and change the next, because chances are, no one will recognise you anyway.

I retreated into a bookstore I’ve never been to before. I sighed in relief the second I stepped in. The subtle smell of roasted coffee beans and paper intertwined together into a welcoming gesture. This place was gorgeous, to say the least. The bookcases, the door frames, the displays. Everything was so well put together and satisfying. As much as I loved Barnes & Nobles book selection, it wasn’t a place I frequently visited. Something about their interior just isn’t very, well… pleasing. My walk to the starbucks in the corner was interrupted by a display I couldn’t keep my eyes off. A sign which said “Blind Date with a Book” in thick, jet-black calligraphy hovered above a sea of books wrapped in brown paper and twine. The book itself was completely anonymous, with only a few words written in permanent black marker hinting at the plot. I bit my lip, dragging my finger along the top of each book, trying to settle on one to get.

“I suggest this one,” a smooth, warm voice answered. I turned my head, my eyes following the book he was holding in his hand. Sci-fi, comedy, satire and friendship were boldly written on the brown paper.

“Sounds good,” I smiled, turning my face. “Thanks.”

My eyes met his.



It can’t be.

“Surprised to see me?” Blake chuckled, handing me the book.

“Yeah, a little bit, to be honest,” I laughed nervously, my hands tightening around the book for comfort.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling in just the way I remember. “You still have my number, right?”

“Uhm, I’m not sure.” Lie. Yes I do. I tried deleting his number a while after he moved, once the conversations moved past ‘stale’ and into the ‘dead’ zone. But I couldn’t do it. No matter how hard I tried, my thumb kept quivering whenever it neared the delete contact button.

“Well,” he said, taking the book back and scribbling on the back of it, “just in case you don’t.” I tried to smile as he handed it back to me. What was I supposed to do? Thank him?  “Let me know how you like it,” he said.

“I’ll try,” I chuckled awkwardly before shuffling to the checkout.  Was I supposed to say bye? See you later? Pulling my wallet from my Dior purse, I realised I picked a good day to dress up.

Maybe New York isn’t as big as I thought it was, after all. Although big, it is very, very crowded. There’s no where to hide. I guess you’re bound to bump into someone somewhere. Maybe there isn’t safety in numbers.

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Scribbles Section

I‘m officially back! I know, I took a pretty long hiatus. I’m sorry. Not blogging was torture. I found myself getting random plot ideas and getting the sudden urge to type up posts and stalk read my favourite blogs but I had to restrain myself. However, the torture was worth it! I’ve gotten my life (partly) back together, and I am better than ever. And who knows? Maybe absence does make the heart grow fonder. Speaking off, I will be going on vacation in about a week, but I will try to schedule a few posts by then! 

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Ever since I started uni, I’ve been finding myself saying the same sentence over and over again– “I’m busy.”

When I’m swarmed with papers to write, scripts to memorise, rehearsals to attend, exams to cram for–“I’m busy.”

But now that we’re in the midst of winter break, I still find myself saying those two little words, accompanied by a throbbing migraine and a few hundred things to cross off my to do list.

Today was no exception. As I pushed past the glass door and stepped into Starbucks, desperate for a shelter from the frosty New York air, I couldn’t help but feel more stressed than ever. Hugging my notebook and iPad to my chest, I surveyed the room for a familiar bush of red hair. A small smile stretched across my lip as I spotted my sisters and joined them at their table.

“Hey!” they greeted me simultaneously.

“Hiiii!” I greeted back, semi-exaggerating my excitement.


After settling down with our hot drinks cupped in our hands and trading calorie talk for small talk and the typical holiday-season ‘how are you’s and ‘you’ve lost weight’s, we found ourselves still in the unavoidable vortex that is awkward silence.

“GoshIcan’tbelivewehavetodthis,” Jamie sighed after a few almost-silent minutes of tapping our nails against our cup and checking our phones by the second. Ryan and I responded with a series of sighs.

“But we have to…” Ryan whispered to herself.

“Why should we?” Jamie mumbled, rubbing her temples.

“You know exactly why,” Ryan retorted with a raised eyebrow.

“Guys, come on,” I urged, “Mom has been throwing New Year Yves for… her whole career. We can’t let her streak end because she’s too sick to throw it.”

“But why us? She has a whole team of assistants and event managers!”

“Because, dear old sister,” Ryan started, her patience shrinking, “if we don’t, Dad will swoop in, and God knows what he has up his sleeve.”

Jamie sighed in response. She was still in denial, still holding onto the hope that the dad who brought her presents was still there. She screamed and shook her head when we told her about the vial, but she eventually came around. At this moment, I was grateful that she was sitting with us on the same table.

We promised Mom that we were gonna try our best to make sure this New Year’s Yves is just as extravagant as the previous ones, holding true Marvil essence. But to do that, we needed to get all the three Marvil girls together. Needless to say, the pressure was driving me crazy. Planning, colour schemes, themes, food.. the list’s endless.

“Okay,” I clicked my pen, breaking the tension, “any ideas?”


Scribbles Sections

OH MY GOODNESS THIS POST WAS SHEER TORTURE TO WRITE! I have the worst case of writer’s block and no matter how hard I scratched my head, I could barely tap the right keys to form a semi-coherent sentence. Sorry if this isn’t up to my normal standard, I just needed to publish it and move on, otherwise I would’ve dwelled on this forever.