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Tristan Lampley


0 · 379 views · located in New York City

a character in “Gossip Girl: Spence High”, as played by Fandom_Fanatic




Tristan Grayson Lampley
"Typically, everyone calls me Tristan. The only people who address me as otherwise are annoyed faculty members at Spence who be on that "Mr. Lampley" b.s. and my moms. To her, I've always been Grayson."

Tris or Gray
"Tris to the rest of the world. Gray to my moms."

~ AGE ~
"Damn, last year of being a minor. How time flies?!"

July 2nd, 2001



Biromantic Demisexual
"I've never been a one-night-stand or causal sex kind of person which is definitely something that many of my male peers have and continue to give me shit about till this day. However, I don't give a shit! While most guys my age will stick their dicks in anything and walk away burning for it—it takes time for me to be sexually attracted to someone. What can I say? I have to befriend you before I can fuck you."

Heartbroken and Newly Single
"The worst part about only dating your friends is that nine out of ten times when the relationship ends so does the friendship. In my life, I've only ever had sex with and dated two people. The first relationship I had was with this guy I had known since the second grade. We dated for four years, from the sixth to ninth grade and when that relationship ended I honestly felt like I was gonna die. My most recent ex I've bee-- . . . wa- was with for a little over a year. We got together when I was a junior and she a senior and . . . I guess long decision just didn't work for us."

Not Currently Active || Not a Virgin
"I've had sex in the past but currently am as sexually active as a non-child-molesting priest."

12th || Senior
"Last year at Spence. Gotta admit I'm gonna miss this place when all is said and done."

Copacabana, Rio de Janeiro
"The Big Apple is cool, but, Brazil is home."

~ ROLE ~
"Don't judge a book by its cover and let the tats fool you—your boy isn't just a pretty face."





|| Reading || Drawing || Mocha || Halloween || Being With His Friends || Going Home to Brazil || His Mother || His Family || Horseback Riding || Sports || Vaping || Tattoos || Piercings || Video Games || Gum/Mints || Netflix and Hulu || Sweet Pizza || Comfortability || Brunch || His Freedom || Takeout || Straight Alcohol || Sushi || His Pit || Midnight Snacking || Providing For Himself and His Mom || Summer || Spring || Public Displays of Affection || Waking Up After 12pm || Being Cold || Straight Cut French Fries || Spicy Food || Reliable People || Going to Watch Movies at the Theater || Spence High || Uber and Lyft || Smelling Good || General Mills Cereals || Green Apple, Cherry and Strawberry Flavored Candies || Manscaping || Romance || Christmas ||

|| Rising Before Noon || The Smell of Subway Both the Metro and The Franchise || Dark Chocolate || Winter || Being Hot || White Cheeses || Non-Mainstream Music || Science || Losing || The Ending of a Relationship || Snobby Rich and or Wealthy People || Cheesecake || Sloppy People || Having to Try and Explain to People Why He Isn't Into Them Without Hurting Their Feelings or Ruining the Relationship || Breakfast Hours || Grape Juice || The Smell of Tobacco || His Father || Bullies || Racist || Bigots || Any Cereal You Can Get on WIC || Banana, Orange and Grape Flavored Candies || Teachers Addressing Him By His Last Name || Drinking Green Juices and Wheatgrass || Fruity Cocktails ||

Always Has One or More Books that He is in the Process of Reading || Wears glasses but doesn't need them || Can recite lines and quotes from books || Sketching || Always has a pack of gum or mints on his person || Vaping || Night owl || Rocks on heels when waiting | Donates Plasma Twice a Month || Drinks a Green Juice and Wheatgrass Shot Once a Day || Speaks with an Accent || Double Jointed |
"It should come as no surprise that as a labeled "bookworm" I am never not in the midst of reading something. Hell, there are times when I'm in the middle of reading a story and a teacher or the librarian at Spence well recommend or suggest something else that they'd think I enjoy and instead of waiting until I've finished one novel I'll just start reading the second story the second I get my hands on it and suddenly I'm just submerged in three different worlds—two of which being far more interesting than anything going on in my reality. Although I don't actually need glasses due to the fact that I have twenty-twelve vision, which is better than twenty-twenty, by the way, I always wear glasses when am reading a novel solely out of habit. Whenever my moms would do any of her "adult paperwork" was I was little she would always wear her glasses which I started stealing and wearing whenever I would sit down to read one of the books—which was often growing up. While my moms didn't have an issue with me wearing glasses as a kid because she had prescription glasses she was worried I'd fuck up my vision as a kid, so she got me some cheap glasses from a thrift shop and those became my "reading glasses." As I got older I never broke the habit but I am happy to say I did eventually change the frames.

The thing about books for me growing up is that I had . . . and still, have tons of books but it wasn't like a daily or weekly thing were my moms was showering me with literature on the regular. What would happen is that during the times when she came into some splurge money from either working extra shifts or just managing to make a check stretch better one month than she did another she'd buy me like two or three dozen books from a thrift store and because we didn't have tv back than all I'd do was read constantly. I'd finish books in a matter of days and by the end of the week be all out of new stuff to read and just end up re-reading stories. I did this so much in the past . . . and admittedly still do it a lot nowadays that I can recite lines and quotes from the majority of the stories that I read off the top of my head. It's not something I try to do constantly as I know that would become hell of annoying real quick to people but it's just something weird that am aware of that I do-do on occasion.

Another thing that I noted that I do a lot just from going through old notebooks and shit—I sketch a lot! Like, I don't know how I manage to pull the grades that I do because I swear if you'd looked at old notebooks and shit from years past it seems like I was never paying attention to anything going on in the classroom. Not that am complaining, the bulk of the tattoos on my body started out as a sketch in one of those old notebooks. On a more random note, I always have some kind of breath freshening type of candy on me. Not because I personally feel like I have bad breath or anything but just because my moms was a heavy smoker back in the day and while I loved and still love kisses from my moms, whenever she'd kiss me with her tobacco-laced-breath I use to cringe. Am sure she thought it was just that typical child being embarrassed by parent showing affection type of shit in public but nah . . . her breath used to be funky as fuck and I use to keep mints and gum on me at all times and just be reading her those bitches like dollars into a vending machine. Although in the last two years she's been able to quit smoking I still seem to always have a pack of gum or case of mints on me just out of habit I guess.

My moms is low-key the reason I started vaping. Well, her and just being around a lot of other people who smoke. When my moms first told me that she wanted to kick her cigarette addiction . . . and yes, I call that shit an addiction, not a habit. Anyways, I got on my little "Google-research" ish and started buying her the nicotine patches, the nicotine lozenges, and gum, the and through my research, I found out about ecigs. Which is how I started learning about vaping and . . . the point of all of this is to say peer pressure is a bitch and while I still refuse to smoke cigarettes, cigars, hookah, weed and anything else for that matter—I will contently puff-puff-and-not-pass on my zero-nicotine candy flavored vapor. Feel free to shit on my now but a couple of decades down the line, while ya asses are painfully and slowly dying for some disturbing kind of cancer me and my healthy ass lungs, will be out here living our best life. Yolo my ass! Why in the hell would I want to my only life a shitty painful one? Ain't nobody got time for that!

On par with me trying to live my best life, I drink a green juice and shot of wheatgrass every day. It's nasty as fuck and more than likely doesn't cancel out the occasional drinking but it allows me to trick myself into believing I live a healthier lifestyle than I know I do. On top of that, I also donate my blood plasma twice a month. Mostly for the refreshments, but also, I figure maybe the fact that I donate my body's plasma kinda . . . not cancels out . . . but . . . makes the whole poisoning the youth with drugs a little less awful. I mean, I can't guarantee that my bi-weekly donations have saved anyone's life, but, it has the potential to save like three people. So . . . that kinda makes the whole drug thing . . . okay-ish, right? No? I don't know. I'm just trying to provide for an awesome badass Brazilian woman here. I try not to think about too much otherwise I start feeling bad about my life choices and like with yolo—ain't nobody got time for that!

What're some other oddball things I think of about myself? Uhhh . . . am kind of a night owl, but I feel like a lot of people, especially teenagers, would be considered night owls. On weekdays, I don't go to bed before midnight, and on the weekends, it's a rarity for me to crash before dawn. If I'm waiting for something or on someone for more than five minutes I start rocking on my heels—don't ask me why because I don't have a legitimate answer. It's just something I realized I do. Am double-jointed which is kind of cool and at times gross depending on who I show it too. And, while I have grown to craft what I feel is a pretty convincing American accent, in my true speaking voice I still very much have a Portuguese accent. One of which I am proud of, but, in this "Make America Great Again" Trump presidency time that America is currently living in, I find it more beneficial to just speak as a "real-native-born-American" would. If I ever wrote out a list of things I ain't got time for, bigot racist would be at the top of that list."

Reading || Drawing || Running His Side Business || Partying || Social Drinking || Vaping || Being Active || Hanging Out with Friends || Netflix and Hulu || Video Games ||

"I feel like to say that I hate the word "hobby" would be using too passionate of a word, so, instead, I'll just say that I don't like the word hobby. It's just not a word that I would ever use to describe the day-to-day shit that I do. I mean, it's like I do shit but, I would never be like I've got mad hobbies. Like, the fuck?! It just sounds weird. Doesn't roll off the tongue or whatever. Anyways, obviously, as an identified and labeled "bookworm," I do a shit ton of reading. Have since I was um garotinho. While my moms mostly got me reading books as a child, every now and again she would come home with board games, puzzles, and sketchbooks for me. The puzzles for the most part never interested me, the board games weren't a lot of fun to play with alone which meant I didn't get much use out of them, which meant that the majority of my time was spent reading as well as drawing. Well, I would describe what I do as more so sketching or doodling but, the point is that the two things that have stuff with me since I was little from all of my moms thrift shopping is my love of literature and doodles. Every one of the tats on my body from the words to the illustrations is works of my own penmanship, design, and imagination.

Which in case it isn't obviously—I take pride in my tats. As well as the nose piercing and the dental piercing and . . . I guess my outer appearance as a whole. Not in like, a big-headed way, but in a sense that this is the only body that I got so Imma make this best out of it kind of way. I imagine in sixty or seventy years all the shit I've put on my body will probably look crazy as fuck, but at least I'll have some stories for the caretakers at the old folks home. Personally, as someone who's kind of scared of the whole dying, darkness thing I make a conscious choice to just not think about that kind of stuff and live in the present. And presently, am drinking a bunch of nasty green shit on a daily basis because of Joe Cross from the stupidly-really-good Netflix documentary convinced me that it was good for me, and I workout out consistently enough that whatever, not good shit I put into my body hasn't snuck up on me yet and am getting a "good-ish" amount of hours in sleep wise and . . . I don't know, I guess am doing fine. Truthfully, I hate eating healthy along with having to work out and I'm incapable of going to sleep before the start of a new day.

However, in spite of how much I hate doing it, I still do it, because Joe Cross and shows like My 600-lb Life made being out of shape and unhealthy look like the most unpleasantly terrible thing in all of existence and I just don't have it in me to put myself through that. So, I pay enough attention to what I put into my body to know when am overdoing it and need to slow down on all the takeout and snacks. While I don't go to the gym as much as I know I should I make up for it by finding fun ways outside of the dumbells and weighs to burn calories. And as far as sleep goes . . . if I don't have somewhere to be Imma sleep well past noon to make up for all the hours of sleep I didn't get when I was supposed to be sleeping at during normal people hours.

Going back to Joe Cross and My 600-lb Life for a minute, I feel obligated to say that until this past Christmas I had truly been sleeping on streaming sites like Netflix and Hulu and I just want to sincerely apologize to everyone who told me I needed to get up on both and I was too hard-headed to listen. I'm sorry. I was wrong. I'll happily take the L on that one. However, in my defense, I didn't buy Smart TVs for my house until this Christmas and while I know I could have gotten an Amazon Firestick long before that . . . I already said I was being hard-headed. Anyways, while I can't say I've sold my soul, I can say that I may have bargained away pieces of it. Not that I needed another reason to stay in the house between reading, drawing, sleeping, eating and video games—ah well, too late now.

Thankfully, I do have things that focus me to get up and out of the house. School is probably the biggest reasons, although no one really likes going to school outside of the socialization aspect of it so I don't really count it as a reason to leave the house. Running my "side business" and definitely one of the biggest things that gets me out of the house every day—can't make money if your sitting on your ass, right? Outside of that, it's mainly the want of human interaction that gets me out the bed every morning. While I don't consider myself a "social butterfly" by any means, I do like people and I'd always rather be in the company of at least one other person than somewhere by myself. Even if am reading or zoned into some other thing that's occupying my undivided attention—there's something almost tranquil about a comfortable silence. Not having to have an on-going conversation with someone out of fear of that awkward silence and feeling this need to fill the void with noise. The best kind of people to have in your life and be around are the people who you can lounge around with all day accomplishing absolutely nothing and still feel perfectly at peace and relaxed with.


Of course, as cool as it is having those friends you can just chill and nothing with it's also great to have the kind of friends you can go out and get turnt with. I am admittedly not someone who is enamored with all of the aspects of party culture—the obliterate drunks, the loose girls, and pushy guys, the people puking up their bowels because they can't handle their liquor and don't know their limits, the fighting because people are really drunk or too fucking high—it can be just a bit overwhelming at times. However, for the most part, if your someone like me who isn't trying to be at a party until either the cops come in and shut it down or it just dies out on its own you can get in and out before the real craziness goes down and just be around to hear all the insane highlights the following day. To me, a good party is like an imitate gathering at a friends house, I take a couple of shots, nurse a beer or two, they smoke, I vape, good conversation— a chill night out. Now, just because I'm not all that fond of the crazy club-atmosphere kind of parties, it doesn't mean I don't attend.

Those kind of parties are the best kind of parties to sell my product at and truth be told I would always rather do a transaction outside of school than on school grounds. Get caught dealing outside of school is one thing, but you get caught at school and now your talking suspensions . . . far more likely in my case, expulsion seeing as my moms is not cutting the school a six-figure check to keep me enrolled in the case that I get my ass busted. All the more reason to not get caught!"

Death of Loved Ones and Himself || Breaking a Bone || Going to Jail || Messing Up His Future || Being a Disappoint to His Mother
"Personally, I don't consider myself someone with a lot of fears. I actually have a lot of adrenaline-like tendencies according to my moms, although that is a grave exaggeration—I'm adventurous, not suicidal. I feel like the kind of things I fear are the kind of things that most people fear. I fear my moms and others who I care about dying as well as myself. While it's not something am like deathly afraid of I do have a slight fear of breaking a bone just because it looks disgusting and painful as fuck, although my inner ten-year-old self-does think it would be cool to have a cast just because who didn't want a cast at one point in their life. Giving my current "profession" serving jail time is a fear of mine that has the potential of becoming a reality for me. Oddly enough, the prison system itself isn't what scares me but more so the thought of leaving my moms and just having to face the amount of anger and disappointment that would inevitably come along with it. Along with going to jail, I do I guess worry that if I ever got caught and went to jail for any amount of time my future would be donezo. Hard to get a scholarship anywhere with time served being attached to your record."

Doesn't Have a Legit Part-Time Job || Deals Drugs || His Dad is Reaching Out
"A person who has no secrets is a liar. We always fold ourselves away from others just enough to preserve a secret or two, something that we cannot share without destroying our inner landscape." A quote from Anne Roiphe, who is undoubtedly in my top ten of favorite writers. I swear before I leave this city I am going to meet that woman. She is one of the few writers who I love who is actually still breathing and happens to live in the somewhere in this big ass city. Anyways, the point of me quoting Mrs. Roiphe is to say that I don't trust people who don't have secrets. Even the people I'm closest to in this world I assume have a secret or two that they've never disclosed to me for one reason or anyone and I'm not mad about it. Hell, I have secrets. What kind of hypocrite would I be for being pissed at someone else for not divulging everything to me when there isn't one person in this world outside of myself that knows all my secrets.

I feel like the biggest secret that am currently holding that could potentially have the most backlash is the drug dealing. Which probably sounds way worse than I feel it is. It's not like am slinging coke or dope or fucking bath salts! To put it as simply as possible, during my freshman year at Spence I met and befriended this senior who like a large percentage of the students who attend Spence was well off and he wanted to initially give me money just because he knew I wasn't as fortunate as him financially and I came from a single-parent household and my moms be struggling. While I did have a part-time job at the time at this comic-themed store on Boardway called Forbidden Planet it wasn't exactly paying a whole lot and the dude felt for me or whatever. Anyways, while I know he didn't mean it in a charity kind of way and I knew I could use whatever he could have potentially offered me—my pride wouldn't allow me to take what I considered a handout. Stupid, I know, but it is what it is. I said no, and he's the one that came out with the idea of providing me with product to sell.

Why selling pills as opposed to just taking the free money was more acceptable to me is something I could never explain in a way in which it would logically make sense—because logically it doesn't, but its what I chose to do back then and what am still doing now. Apparently, my supplier and still pretty cool friend till this day through one side of his family or another he has a plug into several big pharmaceutical manufacturing companies and how he goes about obtaining the drugs that he sends to me to sell I don't know and have never cared to ask questions to find out. The point is, this old friend of mine sends me "care packages" every couple of weeks that contain an ass load of prescription pills that I then take and sell off to a very generous clientele with really deep pockets . . . or at the very least parents with deep pockets who are too uppity or spendthrifty with mommy and daddy's money to know and or care about the market value of anything that I give them. People at this school will pretty much pay any amount of money as long as the pill does what they need it to do for them.

Currently, my stock consists strictly of opioids, CNS depressants, and stimulants. For opioids, I've got OxyContin, Codeine, Fentanyl, and Demerol. CNS depressants, there's Xanax, Klonopin, and Valium. Lastly, the stimulants are simply Adderall and Ritalin—and that is my inventory. Now, I have all these different pills and different dosages and depending on just have desperate my customers are for whatever kind of experience or high they're looking for I tend to make an easy couple of grand a week during the school year, which may be measle chump change that a better part of the Spence High student body but to me it's rent money and groceries and just a lot of other simply basic shit that most people tend to take for granted.

As far as my moms knows I'm still currently working at Forbidden Planet and am just that hard of a good worker that my bosses love me so much so that they express that love in the form of raises and bonuses every now and again. She'd probably send me back to live with my family in Brazil if she ever found out about my real "job", although she far more likely to just straight murder me out of disappointment in rage. Which is exactly why she will never know about it!

Along with the pills, another secret I don't plan on sharing with my moms is that apparently, my dad's around. I wouldn't even know the man if I walked by him on the street but presumably, he's been on his Sherlock Holmes tip because he knows where we live and he's been leaving little notes in our mailbox reaching out to my moms. I first discovered them when I returned from Brazil two weeks before the summer came to a screeching halt. My moms was still visiting family in Brazil when I first learned of these little messages as I flew back a week before she did. According to this sperm donor who I guess is hoping one day I'll actually call father, he wants to meet me. Once to form some semblance of a relationship after not being around for seventeen whole goddamn years! I don't know if keeping this from my moms makes me a bad son or a dick but . . . I just couldn't bring myself to tell her that he's apparently around and wanting to weasel his way into our lives after all this time. As far as am concerned the man can be dying of the deadliest cancer in the world—I don't want to meet him. I don't want to know what he looks like or sounds like or fucking smells like—I just don't want to know. I've been quietly praying to self that the guy returns to old habits and continues to fuck off the way he has for the last damn near two decades because it's my last year at Spence, financially my moms and I are in the best place that we've ever been—I don't need and or want a father. Am happy! I just want to focus on maintaining my grades, staying out of prison and going off to college in a few months."

So begins...

Tristan Lampley's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Camille Robinson Character Portrait: Iris Buchanan Character Portrait: Sienna Gancia Arnault Character Portrait: Mona Lynch Character Portrait: Moonflower Watson Character Portrait: Eunho Song
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ɢᴏssɪᴘ ɢɪʀʟ

Gossip Girl here, giving you all the details on the rather scandalous elites that attend Spence High. School has started back for these elites last week and it is the first weekend of the school year so I know there is bound to be some drama going down. Especially since the reigning King Bee, Denzel, posted on social media that he was having a yacht party to celebrate their survival from the first week of school. Just about anyone and everyone were invited to attend. The question is though, will you be attending? I know I will be. While there is a party going down in the matter of an hour or so, another scandal amongst these elites is after a sudden disappearance is the sudden reappearance of the flower girl known as Iris. Where has she been? No one truly knows but whenever someone finds out... I'll be here waiting. You know you love me.

X O X O,
Gossip Girl

͏ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴɢ ʙᴇᴇ



ᴅᴇɴᴢᴇʟ ᴡᴇʟʟɪɴɢᴛᴏɴ
Hex: #D0B083


Denzel could not help but let out a light scoff from his lips as he placed his phone back into his pocket, reviewing over himself in the floor stand mirror in his room. He had posted on social media, Snapchat and Instagram specifically, about his yacht party and it was basically an "here's to surviving week one of hell" type of thing. Denzel heard a knock on his door as his mother entered and smiled towards him. "Oh, no. You're not going to give me the responsibility speech, are you?" Denzel inquired as his mother chuckled as she stepped closer to him and adjusted his collar slightly. "No. I know you'll be responsible. Just make sure everyone else is responsible on your father's..." Denzel interrupted her by calling him the much more proper term. "Stepfather." His mother sighed as she raised a hand up to him. "Whoever. Just make sure people do not damage his yacht, okay?" His mother continued as he nodded his head and she exited his room so that he could finish getting ready.

A thought crossed his mind though. 'Iris is back?' He pulled his phone out of his pocket and read the latest Gossip Girl blog one more time. It seemed like it was official but he just had to find out things for himself.

To: Iris
Are you really back? Did not tell me anything? You must come to my yacht party tonight. Remember where the docks are?

Denzel sent the message then exited his own room as she walked down the stairs, which led into the kitchen as his mother looked at him. "Taking the limo. See you later." He mentioned towards her as he pressed the button for the elevator and stood there, waiting. Denzel was excited for the night, honestly. This was his first official party as King Bee so he hoped that he'd do a good job at hosting it. The elevator dinged and the doors rolled opened before him as he stepped right on the inside. Honestly, he was nervous about tonight as he rocked on the balls of his feet until the elevator stopped and the doors opened up before him again. Stepping out, he reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone to send her royal highness, Sienna, a text message along with Jeremy.

To: Sienna
Can you at least try, I do mean try, to be nice tonight?

To: Jem
You coming to party, right?

Denzel sent the texts and was really eager to see their replies. Denzel really wondered if Jem was coming to the party or not and if Sienna was going arrive with Cam, whom he needed for some banter right about now. He knew that it was sort of a mistake to do but he did it anyway. Once he exited through the revolving door, his family's driver, Thompson was already out there and waiting for him. "To the docks, Thompson." Denzel said as he got into the limo then pulled up Instagram again to record a video.

"Yo, yo, yo, peeps. This ya' boy, King Denny and I am heading to the docks to board the yacht. Will you be there waiting for me or will I be waiting on you? Let's see shall we?" He posted the video on the app and received multiple likes within an instant. Luckily for him, the docks were not too far from where he lived in the city so he arrived there within fifteen or so minutes. Some people were already there as he greeted them then stepped foot onto the yacht.

His eyes examined the food and drinks and even greeted the bartender, just to make sure everything was in order as more people started to arrive at the docks. Denzel pulled his phone out of his pocket to see if either Iris or Sienna responded to his message yet. He grabbed himself a glass of the champagne that was near then walked over to the side of the yacht and chugged the glass down. It was no doubt that he was nervous, which was a feeling he tried not to show but it was there and hope no one notices.

He checked to see what the time it was, which it was approaching about seven o'clock and the yacht was going to dock in a few minutes. Denzel removed himself from the railing that he was leaning on for the moment to take out his cell phone, wondering to himself if he should text Christian or not. Just a simple would be alright, wouldn't? Denzel sighed as he started to type those three little letters towards Christian anyway.

To: Chris