*Voice of Television Network Announcer*

The much-anticipated evening has finally arrived- the night when those in the Mafia Returns community gather for the first time to celebrate the writers and role players of the gray and black. Nominations were made, judges deliberated, and black envelopes have been stuffed with the names of the first class of winners for what we hope will become a yearly tradition. Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the First Annual Writers Vendetta Awards!

Let's get right into the action and take you live to the red carpet, where nominees and awards presenters are already beginning to arrive for the ceremony. This is a rare and wonderful glimpse at the personalities behind the characters; a real chance to see the who's who of the writers.

Oh, here we are- I see a car pulling up. Let's see who this is...

Flashbulbs begin to fire off and a flutter of excitement waves through the gathered spectators and paparazzi as a vehicle comes to a stop at the beginning of the iconic red carpet.

A limo pulled up to the red carpet.  All over the outside of the car was written, 'MR Meet 2019 or Bust!' The door opened and booze bottles clattered to the red carpet and huge cloud of smoke rolled out.  Inside tons of giggling could be heard just beneath the sound of pounding bass. 

Dee, dressed in a Keats fan-shirt and ripped up jeans, fell out onto her face laughing so hard she was nearly peeing herself.  "CORKY!!!!  WHERE'S THE BACON!?!"

A bit of bacon scarf flew out of the smoke-filled limo and slapped her in the face.   

"DEE WHO ARE YOU WEARING?"  People shouted at her as cameras flashed.  Dee shoved the bacon into her mouth and mumbled incoherently about the designer of her shirt.  She blinked her bloodshot eyes and looked around confused.

"Jon?  Charlie?  Manda?  I don't think this is the fucking MR meet, GET THE HELL OUT HERE - STAT!"

Dee pulled herself to her feet and began walking down the red carpet in a state of confusion.  She stopped at a woman with a microphone calling her name.

"DEE!  We hear you're up for an award or two tonight, how are you feeling about your odds?"

"Um... wait, this is an awards show like those ones on TV?"

"YES!  This is the first annual Vendetta Writer's Awards!"

"So... do we get swag bags like at all the real awards shows?"  Dee asked with a smirk.

"..."  The woman stared at her.

"Credits?"  Dee asked, hopeful.

"..."  The interviewer kept staring.

"Booze?"  She was losing hope that there was any reasons to stay.

"There is a green room..."  The woman began and Dee cut her off.

"CORKY! THEY GOT MORE FREE BOOZE INSIDE!  IT'S NOT THE MEET, BUT LET'S GO IN AND GET SOME FREE REFILLS!"

With that Dee began walking towards the front entrance looking for this green room and the promised free drinks, pulling her wedgie out as she walked looking for other people she knew.

Deep breaths Hope.  Deep breaths.  They do really like you girl!  Someone thought you were worth the time and effort to invite to this thing.  Standing in front of the full length mirror to check over her appearance one last time, she shook her head a little before pulling out the letter written in the most beautiful penmanship she had ever seen!  She was invited to take part in an awards show...  A real awards show!  It was so thrilling, but why did she want to badly to throw up her lunch?  Trembling all over as she set to buttoning the last button on her full length evening gown.  Now typically she didn't dress up, much preferring to wear jeans and a T-shirt to every occassion, but tonight seemed like a good time to spoil herself and spring for a new emerald green evening gown.  A tasteful scattering of glitter adorned the gown in a manner that some might find childish, but Hope found it to be perfect.  

That had been hours ago...  Now she rode in the back of a lovely sleek white limo that had been arranged for her.  Heck if she knew how to arrange such things, but she felt like an absolute modern day Cinderella heading to the ball.  She sat in silence there in the limo, feeling her breath catch as the car pulled up to the end of a luxurious red carpet.  Having been in full panic mode at the idea of being late, she had gotten ready long ago and made sure that they had enough time to deal with traffic and...  Breath Hope.  With trembling fingers, she reached out for the door handle only to find it was moving rapidly away from her as the door was opened for her.  Feeling her face turn scarlet with embarrasment, she reached up to catch a stray curl that had fought away from it's bonds before pushing herself daintily to her feet.  Why had she chosen the heels?  Sure they only added just shy of two inches, bringing her to just brush the underside of five feet, but still...  They helped a bit. 

Shifting her tiny frame out of the car, she stepped onto the carpet.  Fighting the urge to remove her heels and see if the carpet was as soft as it looked, she would stand before the crowds as they moved to get a good look at the woman who would head to the ceremonies next.  She bit her lip softly as she narrowed her eyes against the flashing bulbs of the cameras, seriously considering the idea of diving under the rug instead of walking upon it.  But steeling her nerves, she would lift her head high, but not haughtily so, and make her way down the carpet, smiling with the utmost warmth and care at any who felt it worthy to meet her gaze.  She truly was happy to be here, even if she felt nervous out of her mind.  She could do this.  

Once inside, she spotted Dee immediately.  "Dee!  Sister mine!"  She called out as she practically flew at the woman, thrilled and relieved that she had already found someone that she knew and loved.  Granted, the list of people that Hope knew and loved was large and ever expanding, but still!  Dee found herself among those at the top of that list of people here in this crazy community that was MR.  And she had found her.  This was going to be a good night after all.  Looking over her attire, Hope's eyes got a tad wide and she once again nibbled her lower lip.  "Dang.  I should have gone with the jeans."

Dee hugged Hope.  "Hope they got free drinks somewhere here... help me find the green room - I'm on the noble and epic quest for the legend of free booze!  ONWARD NOBLE KNIGHTS!"

She giggled, "I wonder if they have those hats that hold drinks and have straws!  I've always wanted one of those..."

Arm in arm she dragged her beautiful sista to find more alcohol.

Giggles poured from Hope as she listened to and watched Dee's antics.  She shook her head a little as she spoke of booze.  Hope wasn't always the huge fan, unless of course she could mix it with copious amounts of fruit juice, soda, or perhaps ice cream.  But she just shrugged with another bout of giggles and lifted her fist.  "Onward indeed!  Into the fray my sister.  Booze or death!  Or something like that!"  Hope found herself put quite a bit more at ease as she walked arm in arm with her dear friend and MR twin.

Hearing Dee call out about not being at the Meet, Manda stuck her head out the door before tripping over one of the bottles while making her way out by all of the flashing lights. Squinting at the bright lights that hurt her eyes, bringing up an arm in an attempt to block some of the painful flashes.

"Manda! Who are you wearing?" Multiple people seemed to be yelling this question out towards her. Picking up her glasses from the ground before they got stepped on and broken, Manda stuttered slightly.

"Uh-Uhh... Torrid?...DEE come back!!"

Trying to ignore everything else she as she caught up to Dee, wearing an oversized grey Nightmare before christmas sweater, black leggings and a pair of boots, scurrying off to catch up with Dee and the Bacon scarf.

"Dee! Wait! I want the bacon!"

Amongst the hustle and bustle of limos and celebrities, the one thing standing out was a cyclist winding its way through the traffic with a small rucksack on its back. Wearing nothing more than some shorts and a T-shirt and with their head down to keep out of the wind, the only thing that would give a hint as about the rider was the hairy legs; either a man or a slightly unkempt woman. If anyone standing around waited for half an hour, the owner of the bicycle would come running past, red faced and angry, looking for their property.  The cyclist slowed and moved down the dark alleyway near where all the “celebrities” were arriving. 

Slowly the person parked up the bike and in a scene that would become familiar to millions in generations to come, emerged from the alleyway...transformed from  an ordinary looking human into a very different sight...with his underwear on outside of the rest of his clothes. Quickly realising his mistake, he ducked back into the alley and rectified the situation. Re-emerging with a slightly more confident stroll, Stephen walked round to the front of the red carpet area and walked among some of the other more exuberant personalities there. 

Waving to the crowds and shaking hands as he entered, several people asked if he was confident about the forthcoming event. Stephen laughed and smiled. 

“I’m confident I’ll have some drinks, some food and I’ll make a speech or two...to be honest I thought the invite was for someone who else so I’m just happy to be getting the opportunity to get a night out.”

”What do I hope to win?  I heard there’s a raffle for a meal out in New York at Heston’s gaff. That’s what I want to win.”

”No. I couldn’t wear a kilt tonight. Some of the other guests get a little handsy after a drink or two and might just see a skirt.”

”No I won’t name names.”

“What?  Ummm...a thousand duck sized horses...a horse sized duck is a scary prospect.”

”Thanks everyone but the real celebrities will be here later, I’m here for the chicken wings.”

"Oh Great! There are cameras. I am gonna regret not dressing up all fancy for this." Reb groaned and stepped out of the cab. Unhooding his sweatshirt he tugged at the waist of his ill-fitting cargos and scraped the mud off his sneakers as he took out his wallet and paid the driver. Reaching behind his ear for the Marlboro tucked away, he rolled his eyes for what he anticipated was not the final time of the night. Inhaling deeply, he felt the familiar burn at the back of his throat as he meandered on along towards the entrance. The smoke cascaded out of his nostrils and the glowing embers of the cigarette held delicately between his fingers beside him, leaving a tell-tale trail of his movements.

"Time to put on a show Pagliacci." He muttered to himself as he smiled and stepped on to the red carpet. Sneaking in beside Stephen, he placed his arm on the man's shoulder and interrupted the reporter as he chimed in with "Do not believe anything this guy says, he's a Tyrant!" Chuckling he took a drag and tapped the man on his chest before gesturing to his attire. "Still not giving in to your inner prancer, Egghead? You disappoint me." He teased and posed for a few photographs before leaving the man to the reporters.

 As he began to back away from the reporters while offering simple answers about how he was glad to be a part of the event and how he did not prepare a speech because he did not expect to win, he bumped into someone. Once he turned around he saw a grey sweater or was that a blanket? A woman seemed to be buried under the fabric with hand jutting out in search of a pair of glasses. "Jinkies!" he said and rolled his eyes before kneeling and helping the woman up with her glasses. "Apologies." He whispered to the familiar stranger. The reporters were closing in asking him about his favorite writing partners and if who he thought should win some of the awards. Not wanting to get stuck in a compromising spot, he squeezed out a quick response to the stranger and began to retreat again. "Loved the uh... heartache piece by the way. Raw elegance to the conversation in that one."

Ducking and elbowing past people as he took in a few more drags he caught sight of a pair he knew. "Dee! I'm surprised to see you're still sober." He said with a charming smile and held the cigarette away as he leaned in for a hug. "Love the shirt, should start selling more of those. I know a couple of people who might want them." A tiny bundle of joy standing beside her caught his attention and he beamed momentarily when he took her arm and spun her around as if in a waltz.  "And you, my dear friend,"  He uttered through clenched teeth as he tried to hold onto the diminishing cigarette between his lips. "Seem as giddy as ever."

The grey sweater seemed to be hurtling towards their group as a large slew of reporters trailed her. "I think that's my cue. See you inside ladies." With a parting wink, he slipped away. As he made his way to an alcove somewhat hidden from the hustle and the bustle, he let his feet dangle off the edge and lay back down while the final few puffs of the cigarette entered his throat. A smile, sombre and true, crept on his face as he smiled at the irony of feeling the same way a past character had in a celebrated event with famous guests in a foreign land. Shaking his head to let the memory of the wedding in the Parisian chateau drift away he put out his cigarette and made his way back towards the crowd. 

Jon watched as the festivities began to unfold. He looked in the mirror, straightened his tie and stepped out into a lesser flash of bulbs than he would have if he hadn't timed it for someone else's arrival. The fact that two other men had shown up and, more importantly, that one of them was making a show of interacting with everyone, meant that he could slip down the carpet slightly less noticed than he would have been otherwise. So he stepped out of the limo and looked back.

"Whenever you're ready to join us Char. I'll be catching up to the two with the energy."

He looked himself over as he stepped back from the limo. There were no creases in his suit, and he couldn't tell if there were any pieces of lint. The sharkskin-grey suit did a pretty good job of keeping clean visually. He had on his lilac button-down and a violet and lilac diagonally stripped tie with a matching pocket square.

It wasn't exactly red carpet. But it was the only suit he had that still fit him well, and this was an awards event right? There were a couple of folks who looked the part. And then there were Dee and Manda who, he guess, purposely looked the anti-awards heroines. Whoever the diminutive woman next to Dee was, she looked the part, but the green would clash pretty hard with his lilac. He would have to not stand directly next to her, which was unfortunate because he liked shorter women.

"I'm not wearing anyone. Do you really think this is the kind of award show we could get someone to loan us attire? Come on people. It's a Jos A Bank suit I got on sale."

He shook his head. These were supposed to be entertainment reporters right? They should have some kind of idea that he was looking pretty shabby. Maybe they were asking specifically to poke fun at him. That made a lot more sense. So he buried his head for being stupid and made his way straight over to Dee and Manda.

"Hey guys."

Corky finally rolled out of the car after Jon got out. "Guess I should go make an appearance." She thought to herself as she yawned, though part of her wondered if they'd even notice she just chilled in the Limo and drank.   With a heavy sigh, a little determination, she zipped up her Overwatch hoodie, threw the hood up over her head and stepped out of the Limo.     The flashes of the camera's made her eyes hurt, "Sweet Cheesus, flashes shouldn't be legal outside the studio."  She closed her eyes for a moment to gather herself, "Let's do this," She said to no one, before yelling out "JON! Wait up!"  

Before heading to Jon the short woman gave a small cough, did a slow turn and addressed everyone, "IT'S LEVIS AND BLIZZARD WEAR!"

She ran up and nudged Jon, "How do celebrities deal with this?  It's..... annoying."  And motioning Dee and Manda, "...and how do they have so much energy, I'm exhausted.  Dee said they had more free Booze right?  Cause, I need a drink."

Beonard wasn't used to any of this, last time he rode in a limo was for his prom, and as he remembered, that night didn't go extremely well. All he could do was pray that this event was a tad bit more enjoyable. He never really considered himself an elite at what he did or what he tried to do, though in his mind he always tried to be the best, to actually get recognized for it was another thing entirely. He was nervous to be honest. It was a funny thing, he enjoyed recognition but he didn't do well with it. He spent most the ride over to the venue on the phone so that he didn't have to focus too much on the upcoming event, it was always in the back of his mind but he didn't wanna have nervous overload. He reluctantly didn't think to ask for some extra tickets so he could've brought his mom with him to see such an event, as she would've got a kick outta this, so he spent most of the ride over telling her all about it. Well, the bits and pieces that he knew about.

He knew he probably wouldn't be super known here, but he got the invite so he'd show up and do his thing. Ironically enough, he didn't plan to be too low key about it either. Once the limo came to a full stop, he asked the driver if he wouldn't mind getting the door. He was so entitled as to expect and any other time he would've gotten it himself. The driver obliged and said he didn't mind at all and this pleased Beonard greatly as that showed he didn't take it as a slight. Beonard reach in his pocket where he kept a few bills in there to be prepared for any occasion. Once the door was opened, Beonard stepped out and handed the man two 20 dollar bills and thanked him properly. He didn't know how much the man was getting paid but he figured he'd show his appreciation as well.

Taking time to just stand there as some of the cameras focused on the new arrival, he let himself be seen as he brushed off his pants and straightened out his suit jacket. He took more time than usual debating on how exactly he should showcase himself for said event and decided on a mix of formal and casual and he was glad for it. He wore a black suit jacket unbuttoned, with a Black T-shirt inside that read "Crenshaw" on the front in gold lettering. He wore black Levi jeans. On his feet he wore a new pair of the Chinese New Year edition Jordan 6's.  On his head he had a black fitted cap with gold LA lettering in the middle. The most expensive thing about the outfit was the chains he had around his neck. Three thick gold rope Cuban Linked chains hung around his neck each one just slight longer than the last one. On his wrist was a gold watch that his father had gotten him as a gift for Christmas many years ago. He hadn't gotten a new battery for it yet but it looked nice. He sure hoped nobody asked and expected to tell time with it tonight.

As he stepped forward and saw some of the other nominees he wondered if maybe he had over done it a bit. When he began walking forward a group of people with cameras asked him for pictures first, so he struck a couple of simple poses. He wasn't too big on taking pictures but he knew that the event called for it so he came prepared. Once they were done with pictures they began on the questions. He briefly thought about just playing the anti social type and giving short or simple answers to confuse and frustrate the few paparazzi, but decided against it. They were giving him a platform to speak so he would use it.

The first thing they asked about was something simple, like who was he wearing and with his outfit was he representing that he was an California native.

"I'm not wearing nothing too too heavy, you know. I wanted to look nice but not like formal ball event nice, so I picked out something nice enough to show up in you know? Little suit jacket to keep it formal too and gotta keep the jewels on to stay on point. Most important thing I have on is the shirt. A Los Angeles rapper by the name of Nipsey Hussle, was slain a few days ago, right in front of his own clothing store. He was a respectable man who did a lot for his community, and gave back a lot to the inner city and to the kids who are living in the tough inner cities of LA, and trying to educate and get them on the right paths. He also was working on ways to take care of his community financially, funding rebuild projects in many places before his life was taken so I wanted to show some love and support to him and his vision while on this stage. Now that he's gone it's up to us to carry on his vision and help those who are gonna do that so, much respect to that man and may he rest in power. As far as representing goes, I'm only reppin' this for him, I'm from Boston myself but the outfit is themed so everything I'm wearing goes with the theme." Beonard explained.

The next question he was asked was about his chances of winning the award he was up for.

"Aww man, it's an honor and I'm truly blessed to have even been nominated. It's hard to know where you stand with the community sometimes and how much your peers are checking out your stuff or what they think. View counts aren't always accurate and tips and stuff like that are nice but can't always be relied on to say if your stuff is a hit or a miss, but to be here with the best of the best of writers and storytellers, whether it be for one award or many awards is just an amazing feeling of recognition from my peers. I mean these guys and ladies work their asses of to put out the best of the best and I think the game right now is fortunate right now. We have a good group of active writers putting out top quality content and I feel like we're in a good place right now." He answered.

He then decided instead of answering another question he'd speak himself for a moment.

"To anyone out there writing though, hopefully you know it's just for your own love or passion that you're putting things out. I know there can be some benefits to writing these days and rewards, this award show not included, and there's gonna be people out there writing for these things or their own reasons. I represent a group of writers who genuinely have stories to tell and set up challenges for themselves and wanna bring actual good story content like a lot of these writers here. I think events like this are good for the future of having peers recognize other great writers as well and hope to see more of these, but if you don't win tonight, if you don't get nominated ever or it takes you a long time to get there. If you feel like or ever have any doubts that nobody is reading or listening to your shit or if you only have one fan or ten or a hundred, always remember to stay true to yourself and tell YOUR story, because that at the end of the day is an achievement nobody can ever take away from you. That you had the heart to step up, write and publish a story, you'll always have that achievement yourself even if it's followed by many more achievements or none at all. So shout out to all the writers here and at home and shout out to my personal family LKG. You know who you are, let's keep our heads low and activity high as my brother always says." Beonard said.

Once finished with that he made his way inside, giving a respectful nod to all those that he passed who were fellow nominees and writers alike.

As I sat in the limousine on the ride to The First Annual Writers Vendetta Awards, I could hardly contain my excitement. 

I was proud that I had been nominated for a award, but to share the red carpet with so many talented writers was an honor.

As the limousine pulled up to the red carpet entrance I made some adjustments to my Coco Channel gorgeous dress.  The black dress was made of 100% silk and features a ruched silhouette. It flaunted a halter neck with a self-tie detailing at the back.   

I remember when I went to pick up my dress Gabrielle told me

“A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous.” That to “dress shabbily and they remember the dress; dress impeccably and they remember the woman.”  She told me no matter what happens, if I get the award or not, that I looked very elegant.  I remember my last glance into the mirror and thought to myself indeed I do.

Bentley opened to the door to the limousine for me,  I stepped out into all the glitz and glamour, no matter what the outcome tonight, I knew I had already won.  

Reporters came like bees to honey. The cameras were flashing and I could hardly see.  One reported came up and asked me. “Do you think you are going to win tonight?

I told her win or lose it’s just an honor to be nominated with so many great writers.

Another asked “What inspired you to write a story like Find my daughter.

I like to write about real life issues.  Find my daughter is a story a fathers’ love for his daughter, how keeping her addiction a secret, was so important.  How young love is so misguided. I gave a little history in this life of ours.  Al Capone’s troubles were real with the College Kidnappers and how people are constantly harassed by the FEDS. 

Another woman reporter yeah out “you look fabulous, who designed your dress?

Thank you, it’s a Coco Chanel.

Bentley waved them off and walked me down the red carpet.

What a wonderful experience.

When we arrived in the main ballroom I grabbed a glass of champagne off the tray the waiter was passing out, to try to calm my nerves.  We walked around mingling with some of the best. 

Ana was looking a bit pasty. Some would argue it was because of too many night shifts as a nurse - they weren’t wrong! - but she has just spent a week homebound thanks to a wicked tonsillitis and also, she has been blessed by the same amount of melanin a squid had - which was none.

After five days of prescribed drugs to kill those fuckers, she was starting to lose her mind because all she saw was walls and Netflix. A lot of Netflix. She decided it was time to get out, hide her dark circles (that in turn had dark circles) and try and look presentable.

She knew she had a dress she wore to too many weddings, galas and celebrations that would come in handy: a mint green number, very discreet in the front but with a plunging back. Makeup wise she sucked as she was never one to use much: partly because of her job and other part because she was lazy and liked sleep a bit too much. She was known in her group of friends for her red lips and crazy red lipstick collection so she knew that was going to happen. Ana decided as well that it was time to not use her glasses for a new hours. She couldn’t see shit without them but God bless contacts. So, with the destrexity of a baby seal, she removed her glasses and put in her contacts looking like a Bambi blinded by lights. It wasn’t a bad look, but it made her chronic tiredness show a bit more. Oh the joys of being a health professional!

What appeared to be a lot of hours later, she was ready to go. She glanced over the mirror one more time, shrugged her shoulders like meh and decided she was decent.

Ana liked to be on time but, arriving to the event she realized the party has already started and she was missing some fun times.

Stepping out of the UBER, she was greeted by the flashing of cameras. Ana prefered to be the one taking the pictures, not the one they were taking pictures of. Mostly because she didn’t know how to pose and she always thought she looked terrible. All she thought in her head was that she hoped all those episodes of America’s Next Top Model she saw would pay off and that her smize would look Tyra Banks worthy and not like she was under the influence of something other than her antibiotics.

Looking down, she stared at her feet clad in her trusty white All Stars that - granted - were looking less white and more cream, with stains and dirt she refused to wash off. One particular dirt dot was the result of an ice-cream she had in La Boquería in Barcelona last summer when she went and some of the dirt was because of a music festival she went in June of last year as well, where she got to see Bruno Mars and sit on the floor to eat because that’s apparently what you do at festivals. Ana was sentimental like that.

She tried to rush the red carpet bit, not because she was hungry but because it was almost time for her antibiotic and she still had to put some food in her stomach. So she waved quickly and, like the former ballet dancer she was, flown through the red carpet. It helped she was small, because that means she would be able to hide behind people. Oh the joys.

Ana only thought about all the rissóis and pastéis de nata she would eat. And that she was glad to be here (she still suspected the invite was a mistake and that was meant for someone else). And that everyone looked good. And that anyone who won would be a well deserved win. This was going to be a good night.

Dee held up one end of the bacon scarf and offered it to Manda while she nommed on the other.

Dee hugged Reb.  "I'll be less sober when I find this green room they keep talking about.  Hey, you should sit over by us ... I'll share my bacon if you're down for bacon!"  

She chuckled as he greeted Hope.

Dee turned to Jon and gave him a ridiculously huge hug.  "Required by law whenever you walk up to me.  Just sayin'."  She said in way of explanation of the big hug and then she looped her arm into his.  "Now help us find the green room!"

It was then some of the staff running the show insisted she find her seat instead so this shindig could get started.  She sighed.

"Thwarted by the po-po of an awards show.  Shit.  Alright, let's find our seats."

Dammit, he was late again. Sometimes he felt like he was always late but he always got where he was going sooner or later.

Jason had never been to an awards ceremony and so wasn't really sure what to expect past what he'd seen on television in the past. If nothing else it drove home that this was the sort of thing that people dress nicely for so he'd dug out the only real set of nice clothes he kept in his closet which consisted of khakis and a blue button up shirt. After a moment's thought he added a black silk tie to his attire and made for his car. It was an attempt at class even if the overall effect was more an applicant for a cubicle job than an award nominee.

A short time later he was at his destination. It seemed that no one took particular notice of the little station wagon as it rolled up to the curb and he thanked his lucky stars. It always set his nerves to jangling to know that folks were focused in his direction. The biggest saving grace of it all was the assortment of other nominees that were going to be alongside him. He couldn't help but feel that some of them were in a whole other league from himself and that there had been some mistake in his invitation but it was too good to question so he was going to roll with it until he got kicked out.

Most of the crowd seemed to be migrating inside for the start of the festivities so he blended in as best he could among the throng of cameras and on-lookers until they hit the door. A sense of relief that had started to rise up was abruptly dashed when Jason realized that there were men checking tickets and guest passes at the door.

Dammit.

"Uh, excuse me, but I don't actually have a pass because...well..."

He fished out his invitation and tried to subtly show it to the doorman without letting anyone around him see. Of course, his figure and movements were roughly as subtle as a freight train so it was no surprise that a few people around him began to take pictures and generally make a ruckus. The guard for his part smiled and nodded at the document and calmly explained where he should go from here. With a nod and a warm feeling that assured him that he was going to end up blushing in embarrassment at the scene, Jason extricated himself from the crowd and slipped through into the building, purposefully trying to avoid the barrage of questions and bulb flashes that threatened to envelope him.

He saw the other nominees ahead, making their way to their seats and gave a wave.

"Hey there everyone. It's really a circus out there huh?"

The sight of some familiar faces at least helped him to perk up a bit and Jason made sure to sit close enough to talk with a few folks.

"Dee, Hope, you have no idea how glad I am to see you. God I wish I would have done shots before I got here."

In truth, Eddie was not a social person, he never had been and always found himself a little awkward in these type of events. He had a plan, just keep his head low and go on about his business. He knew that he could get that easily done, he noticed that many of the photographers had asked for a picture as he walked into the event, his eyes widening on the many people that were here, he noticed his good friend, Beonard among those that were gathered here today.

He knew that the man would not notice him yet but instead he played to the press and allowed them a few photos as they asked him his thoughts regarding the event, he thought about ways to answer this, considering he could truly bring his character to life if he acted like one of them but he knew that would not appropriate in this type of situation, he smiled smoothly as he answered the question with a certain British accent lacing his tone. 

"My thoughts on the event, people, it is merely something that rewards the very people who do this for fun, we have so many talents surrounding us. It's a truly spectacular time where we can all come together and just enjoy the work that we've done, share some laughs and have a good time. 

He noticed a few other questions being asked, some that he did not feel comfortable answering and others that he did not know the answer too, he heard one that did stick out and he could only smile, it was truly a great question and he bowed his head, already thinking, as he always did. 

"Well that question is a bit odd but you asked who has been a pleasure to work with most in the industry as a whole? Well, that is a difficult question, I've worked with so many talents and yet there are other people I have yet to write with, I don't think I can give an answer to that fully but I will try my best. Some of them are here currently as well, people like Dee, Beonard, and Reb."

Eddie paused for a moment as he noticed that he had gotten here a little late and the event was about to start, he turned back to the press as he smiled at the one last question they had thrown at him. 

"As you know gentlemen, whoever has written with me in the past, present, or even in the future, I hope to do this again sometime. It's already proving to be quite the moment, make sure to keep ya heads low and notepads out guys, I'll see ya."

Eddie chuckled at his own play on words and entered, he noticed people were beginning to be seated, he could see that many had chosen to stand while it seemed like some of them, by some, he meant Dee, had chosen to cause quite the commotion and had been told to sit down by the security. 

He chose his own secluded seat as he waited for the event to start, he did notice that they had no Oreo Milkshakes and pouted like a child, he would make sure to get some later then...

Standing in front of a mirror in one of the dressing rooms, Mars is seemingly giving herself a pep-talk.

"Go out there and walk the red carpet."

"No, that's dumb. I'm already here."

"Yeah, but this night is for all the writers.  ALL the writers. That's you too, tootsie."

With a nervous sigh, she took one last look in the mirror. Her simple, black evening gown with drop shoulders just barely brushed the ground as she walked on black kitten heels. She grabbed her keys and made the trek through the back halls of the venue and out to the parking deck.

Five minutes later, a sleek, shiny black Dodge Charger pulled up to the start of the red carpet. One last check of the bright red lipstick and bright blonde hair, and Mars opened the door and stepped out to a flurry of flash bulbs and shouts. She stopped for a few moments for the cameras, and then something hit her. Sheepishly, she looked around and then waved over one of the security guys.

"Yeah, I didn't think this all the way through. Would you go park my car back in the deck?"

Her stomach was doing cartwheels inside her. The night was finally here, and it was just as she pictured it: glitz, glamour, excitement, and hammered friends. Chuckling to herself and smiling, she waved to the gathered spectators and made her way up the red carpet.

"Mars! Who do you think is going to win big tonight?"

Pausing and tossing a sly glance and grin to the curious reporter, she replied.

"The Role Play community wins big tonight. Sure, there will be awards given out and individuals will go home with prizes, but this night is a celebration of everyone who gives this place character. Or, characters, if you will."

In an effort to avoid any more questions, she continued up the carpet and then into the venue once again. It's nearly showtime.

Heather parked her car around the block from the awards venue.  “This is weird. This is really weird.  I shouldn’t be here, I do not write things,” Heather thought to herself.  She thought about leaving but didn’t want to be rude to the hostess.  She pulled down the sun visor, digging in her bag.  She pulled out her bare minerals foundation and started fixing her face up.  May as well make an attempt to look presentable.  While applying mascara she did that thing where she opened her mouth really wide for no reason, which attracted the attention of some people who were walking down sidewalk next to her car.  Self-consciously she closed her mouth in an attempt to look less like a moron, but the result was some mascara staining her eyelid a little.  Signing she tried to wipe it away, but just smeared it.  Ok… smokey eye it is, she thought as she looked for her eyeliner.  Probably she could have done this at home before leaving the house, but that would have required her to have been less lazy.  Not normally her thing. 

Finished and mildly satisfied with the results she checked the time on her phone and decided to wait a little longer in her car.  Ideally she could go in just before the start and slink away at the end without being noticed.  Also, she had like 17 minutes on her shot timer.  May as well wait for that. She leaned back in her seat and turned up the radio.  Not finding anything but commercials, she turned her phone’s Bluetooth on, opened YouTube and started the Hamilton soundtrack.  She turned the music up and started singing loudly along with her favorite parts.

“…the ten-dollar founding father without a father got a lot farther by being workin a lot harder, by being a lot smarter, by being a self-starter…”

“…talk less, smile more. Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for. You wanna get ahead? Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead…”

“…oui oui, mon ami, je m’appelle Lafayette, The Lancelot of the revolutionary set, I came from afar just to say bonsoir, Tell the king casse-toi, Who’s the best, c’est moi…”

“…if you stand for nothing Burr, what’ll you fall for? Oh, who are you oh, who are you oh, who are you? Oh, who is this kid, what’s he gonna do?...”

“…meanwhile, Britain keeps shittin’ on us endlessly essentially, they tax us relentlessly, then King George turns around, runs a spending spree. He ain’t ever gonna set his descendants free, so there will be a revolution in this century. Enter me, he says in parentheses…” 

“…why should a tiny island across the sea regulate the price of tea? Alexander please. Burr I’d rather be divisive than indecisive, drop the niceties…”

“…and when push comes to shove, I will send a fully armed battalion to remind you of my love!...”

“…Any hope of success is fleeting how can I keep leading when the people I’m leading keep retreating? We put a stop to the bleeding as the British take Brooklyn knight takes rook, but look we are outgunned outmanned, outnumbered, outplanned, we gotta make an all out stand hey yo, I’m gonna need a right-hand man…”

“…how does the bastard, orphan, son of a whore go on and on grow into more of a phenomenon? Watch this obnoxious, arrogant, loudmouth bother be seated at the right hand of the father. Washington hires Hamilton right on sight, but Hamilton still wants to fight, not write. Now Hamilton’s skill with a quill is undeniable but what do we have in common? We’re reliable with the ladies…”

She had carried on singing more and more animatedly for quite some time, when she belts out Ladies and then realizes. “Fuck.” Shot timer is long gone.  Ugh she thought.  Reluctantly she paused the soundtrack.  She would have to turn it on during the ride home. 

She hopped out of the car and walked briskly to the event.  She walked up behind the crowd of photographers and edged her way closer to the door.  After a few excuse mes, and a couple gentle nudges, she made her way through the crowd and snuck in the door quickly, thankful to have avoided walking down the red carpet at all.  She took a seat near the back and busted out her phone covertly, trying to scroll through a few durdens for a bg or two before the curtain opened. 

Arriving late in fashion, as per usual, Eric stepped out of his black 1993 Cadillac, An El Dorado his grandfather passed down to him, before waving to to paparazzi and other attendee's.. He reached into the back seat and pulled out his son who was dressed appropriately in his own small suit and tie. They both turned and again waved to the crowd as they slowly walked down the aisle, Eric shaking hands with those he knew from the crowd and signing autographs along the way..

"Mr. Martinie!!" a member of the paparazzi called out to him

"A moment of your time sir?" he nodded to him, as cameras continued flashing off all around him

"Is it true that your a first time Roleplay writer?"

"Entirely... Roleplaying is not something I am accustomed to, Infact.. In the past, I may have shunned it... chalking it all up to nonsense.." he said softly as he continued signing autographs

"But deep down, I have always sort of roleplayed... I was just, too shy? To admit it.." he shook his head and grinned

"I think we're all sometimes too afraid to admit it..." 

"Can you elaborate? Are time is limited but I'm curious to what you mean by that?" the man said sticking the mic back into his face

"Well, we all a little bit of imagination in us, creativity.. it just takes a certain spark to light the fire and your off, and let's be honest here... we all have been doing it since we were kids, playing house.. or with our army men creating our own versions of battle's and what not" 

A cast member was now rushing Eric down the aisle, he was holding the entire thing up...

"It looks like that's all the time we have... nice chatting with you.." Eric said as he patted the man on the shoulder and continued with his son down the red carpet and into the venue

"Your seat is here Mr. Martinie.." the woman said gesturing to the seats next to them

"Thank you miss"

He said as he tipped her a 100$ bill and sat down and glanced over his shoulder to watch the next attendee arrive..

Remy was walking down the street to the Red Carpet of the 1st ever Vendetta awards he was late as always because his #Bestie @JoeLigambi was teaching him how to wrestle crocodiles again. He knew he couldn't miss this award show, he was still in absolutely shocked he was nominated or invited to this event and was looking forward to an amazing night with some friends and to celebrate the amazing people that helped make this community. Upon Arriving just like @Luis_Paangeli he was also spoken to by members of the media asking on his history as a writer and such other questions.

"Well I'm very new to the writing scene and I mostly got into of it because of my biggest influences @Isabella-Luciano AKA Dee, and LG. They are both huge factors as to why I got into writing and RP because they make things so interactive, and really give it a fresh take helping to create stories as well as amazing events. I've also gotten to make new friends such as @Eva_Hadley and @LouisMezzo through writing and it's just helped make this place so much more fun for me. If you guys excuse me though I have to go so Hi to Dee because I'm pretty sure she'll beat me up and steal my lunch money if I don't greet her!!!