#tw Ivy neg

[garbagepile]

The depersonalisation/dehumanisation of mystreet Garroth. A character analysis.

I am not sure if that’s the right term, depersonalisation is about lack of own identity, dehumanisation is stripping someone away from their positive human traits. But I don’t mean either of that, I mean just treating someone as not human?  Garroth is often either extremely over idealised in pdh or seen as a moron in mystreet.

This is pretty long so I'm putting a read more here.

First off his father over glorified him, him being the golden child and all. Being the golden child actually sucks. You have all the pressures, and the feeling of being a fraud as he was praised for stuff he didn’t do. We see Garte canonically praising him for stuff he hasn’t done. And this causes feelings of being a fraud and a fear of being exposed.

Then we have all his fangirls in highschool, obsessing over him and over glorifying him yet again. He isn’t recognised for him as a whole with his flaws, he isn’t recognised as just a human.

I noticed a pattern; very often, it's as if the better people know Garroth, the less they like him. The more he is just an idiot. This probably increases the feelings of being a fraud. 

He is the comedic relief now, to the point some fans don’t recognise him of having any serious sad feelings at all because he is the comedic relief. Now everyone just sees Garroth as an idiot, too dumb to be seen as a person.

And you have the fact he was experimented on, a very dehumanising experience probably. They also refer to them in code names during it I think[A1, A3, A3, A4 and A5]  making it more dehumanising, in a scene in starlight you see a photo of Garroth as a toddler with A1 under it, katelyn being A2 and Travis A3. This hints he was the first to get a forever potion expiremented on him. This would also mirror season 4 and 6. As then the order would be Garroth, Katelyn, and Travis. Just how in season 4 the possession order is Zane, Lucinda, and Aphmau. Those people being the ones to set them free out of their possession in season 6 and that being the order in which they get depossessed in season 6. that's irrelevant really but I just wanted to mention it because it makes Garte look even worse.

Not to mention his possession being one of the most depersonalising and dehumanising ones of all. As unlike all the others, he doesn’t say anything except a few words during it and doesn’t show off much if any emotion at all. The screen also goes over to Garroth when Michael says “And your little toys are mine” basically referring to Garroth as a toy. Garroth during the possession is also almost like a robot, or a puppet, he attacks Nana being in the way but doesn’t continue because he directly switches targets when ordered to. Seeing yourself act like that and someone in your friend’s body boss you around like that is sure to mess you up you know. And then you have him becoming a werewolf, making him “less human” too.

Despite being basic he isn't really like his peers in a way. Oh also his basicness in itself is also kinda depersonalising, ‘Golden children’ often end up having to perform to please their parent. Due to this act to keep their status they often lack individuality and creativity. Perfectly in line with Garroth’s basicness and lack of an interesting taste and so forth. A lack of an personal identity. this is soo interesting with it being implied Elizabeth made the Ro'meave's forget about Garte in the mystreet season 6 finale. That's an identity crisis waiting to happened.

He also turns his own feelings into jokes in a way.

Like his fear of Ivy. She blackmails him to be with her in pdh season 2 aswell as constantly making him uncomfortable and just making it all about her getting his name wrong. As if he doesn't recognise his own feelings so he searches for a superficial reason to explain the feelings he is feeling. And how he after that he kinda forces himself to get over it without a real apology for it from Ivy. I only remember her apologising to Aphmau and explaining her lisp to Garroth. So since everyone is okay with Ivy and it's all about the lisp it's good now. But during their relationship Ivy consistently crossed boundaries and she blackmailed him. He was visually afraid of her in pdh for reasons outside of the lisp.

And we have in the good cop bad cop sidestory thing where in a conversation it was revealed his bad cop joke was actually backed up by him actually distrusting Gene. But after a conversation with Laurance he gets Gene a house a few episodes later.

He doesn't care about his own feelings,in a way. Like how Garte doesn’t care about Garroth's reluctance to inheret the company and still makes him do so.

#garroth #mystreet #tw Garte #tw Ivy neg #tw child abuse #tw emotional abuse #<-mentions of that #not meant as Ivy neg #bc I love her btw #garroth ro'meave #aphmau garroth #garroth aphmau #aphverse

[bluetooththereptile]

Unwelcomed embrace

Yandere super family x neglected reader

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: Well since apprently you guys enjoy reading angst and neglect related fics,I've thought of making one for super family! If you guys like it there's the chance of making another part for this one as well!

Summary: As a not so hostile hero you are trying to find your place amongst other heros, but apprently going to higher rankes needs a veteran's support, but you are alone, and it's the reason why your wishes will be turned down. This makes you to lash out and start an storm that shakes your whole life!

Tw: mentions of past abuse and neglect and anger issues

"For God's sake Bart, can you stop babbling for a second?" You snapped at the flash boy, making him close his jaw quickly, looking away. Kaldur arched his brow at you, you were more snappy than usual, there must have been something in your mind that was bothering you, he knew something was wrong but didn't acknowledge it, pressing further would have resulted in an angrier you and a huge mess, he didn’t want that, especially now that you were in the justice palace.

You tapped your feet nervously as you tried to listen to the conversation going on in the meeting room, but the advanced technology on its walls muffled every sound and this made your mood even worse, making you furrow your brows deeply as you scowled, every second that passed more people around you stepped away, not wanting to get involved in your ranting. As a hero, you were known for your problematic anger issues, and if it wasn't for your efficient way of working and powers, you wouldn't be in the league at all, "We need protectors, not warriors!" Batman once had yelled at you when you had thrown a whole truck filled with criminals down the cliff, thankfully superman was there to take the truck, speaking of superman...he was in the meeting room as well, making you even more anxious, something told you that your hopes were going to be put down.

You took in a deep breath, trying to not think about negative things too much, you were going to become a superhero, there wouldn't be anything against that right? Minus those numerous records of destruction and disobedience of course. But there wouldn't be a problem if a veteran took you in, looking after you for a while so you wouldn't make more problems, but that was where your real concerns laid, none of them liked you. Your reputation as the illegitimate child of superman didn't help you that much, your mother's infamous deeds rubbed off his good name and presented you as a threat, your behavior didn't help much, for a person that was into plants you were too angry, always expecting something from the world you were born into by Poison Ivy, aka, your sweet mother.

She was so sweet that she left you behind, putting you in Superman's arms as a "gift". But Clark was already building up his own family, dating Lios Lane...he couldn't have a child out of nowhere from a "forced" affair pop into his life and ruin everything. You were not wanted by anyone, and your life seemed pointless at the age of just 11 days old. Clark couldn't let you go through the normal adoption process, no normal family would take a half Kryptonian, half magical nymph into their home, so he decided to give his green child a chance, he decided to let Lois know about you, so she could take care of you, but what a young busy woman without any experience with babies can do with a baby that has special powers?  The whole thing was doomed to end in disaster.

At just 6 months old, finally, Clark gave you up for adoption services, you were not made to be in his family, your constant screams, crying, and need for attention annoyed the couple, but now that you thought about it, apparently Lois did not like to have the child of another woman in a crib, next to her bed, you were proof of her lover's affair and she didn't like that at all, and Clark, he was ashamed of having you around for obvious reasons. So you were given up, like a piece of furniture. Months later, When Lois's job crisis ended, she'd come to her senses, it was not your fault that you were born that way, but it was too late...you were given to a family already. But Clark could come and take you away! But he didn't.

It was nice, at least for some years, that your parents kept up with you, knowing your situation. Your mother loved plants and you would pop a rose for her daily, to see her smile, and her smile brightened your small heart. Your father, a strict but kind man, loved his wife, and seeing her happy made him feel good as well, so you, the reason for her happiness, were precious to him. Until the day your mother died in an accident, and your father went into depression. His friends introduced him to liquor and well...let's just say it didn't end in something good. Your anxiety and anger issues were the results of your father's abuse. It turned so bad that you left home at the age of 15, flying away to find your real father.

You were smart, you could see your powers were familiar with someone else's, superman, that was why you decided on following him around, only to find out his true identity, and where he lived. But it was not like how you had imagined, your real father, Clark, had a son of his own now, and his family seemed so happy, you felt by showing up you'd ruin their happiness, but you decided on knocking on the door in the end, you couldn't deny yourself, you needed love and happiness as well!

But you were not greeted warmly. "Tell that woman I don't want to do anything with her!" Clark said as he pushed you away from the door frame so Lois couldn't see you. "B-but my mother is dead!" You said, now shivering, your green skin not showing how pale you were, your foster father was a scary man, but the man of steel was much more terrifying. Clark didn't believe you, he had been manipulated before, and a teenager was not going to fool him again. So you have pushed away, now being on your own.

Life was not easy on you at all. That was why you decided to become a hero so you could be great, so you could be heard and seen, you saw all of those magazines and headlines of superheroes, and you wanted to be like them, you wanted to be loved again, but the world was not going to show it's a good side to you.

The door of the meeting room opened, and members of the justice league walked out one by one, you tried your best to not jump in and ask about the result, looking desperately to batman as he walked toward you and other members of the young justice league. "The chosen one this time will be Red Robin." Tim smiled in disbelief as others cheered for him, but you felt as if your whole world crashed down on you. What? After all of that effort, you had put into getting close to wonder woman now this was what you were getting?

You approached Diana "This is not what we had made a deal on!" You said not so calmly "You are not ready." Diana said, making you groan "I've passed every damned test you had set up for me...now you are telling me I am not ready?" Diana sighed "You have to work on your anger management Y/N, your record is not clear enough!" You scoffed "It's not that! You all just want me to stay in the lower league to use me!" You yelled, now getting everyone's attention "You are all just a bunch of pricks that care about your friendships more than people's worth! Red Robin was chosen because he's Bateman's son, no one wants to have me here!"

"Come on Y/N, don't whine like little kids!" Conner said, making you glare at him "You shut up clone!" You insulted him, now saying what was in your mind for a long time, Conner's existence angered you to no end, Clark had taken his clone in, but not you! Why? He even had taken in a piece of dumb meat named Bizzaro and not you! Why? WHY? The question circled in your mind as your eyes found superman, who was looking at the whole ordeal with a worried look. Since the time you had joined in, he always was worried, he now could see the errors of what he had done, but it was too late...too late.

You punched Conner in the face, still not having the courage to attack Clark himself, so you took it upon his son's anger making you see red. Conner attacked you as well and soon you two were a bloody mess, punching each other, Conner was taken back by your friends as you were put down with help of Diana and Bruce. "You are suspended Y/N!" Bruce said "I don't fucking care!" You hissed, the taste of your blood on your tongue, as you were taken away, your powers suppressed with the use of kryptonate.

.....

"What do you want?" You mumbled as you saw Superman's large frame in the shadows, you tried to make yourself steady, your mind being not in the right state since you had inhaled too much pollen, trying to take your misery away, your foster father's impression on you still followed you in your late teen years. "Y/N, we can talk...you are taking it so hard on yourself!" Clark walked closer to you, now giving up his attention, fully. You couldn't help but chuckle at that as you tried to make yourself stay steady, you were out of the league for six months now, this time was enough for Clark and his family to realize your situation, you were giving up everything you had built for years.

"I don't care!" You said, chuckling bitterly as you sniffled more pollen, your vision turning blur. Clark reached out to you, but you refused his touch. "I wanted to be great...and I will be...just wait and see...I will be...one way or another!" Clark thought of what you were saying as result of the pollen drug but he didn't know what was in your mind "Y/N, you're not in the best condition to talk, let's get you somewhere safe so you can take that stuff out of your system!"

"No touching!" You slapped his hand away as you sat on a bench, the bushes around you slowly engulfing your body, Clark watched this and it felt like you were fading away "We'll meet again Superman..."your middle finger raised to let him know what you thought of him, and it was not good, at all. You'd meet him soon...

#yandere batman #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere superman #yandere clark kent #yandere dc #neglected reader #yandere jon kent #yandere conner kent #yandere karen starr #yandere kara zor el #yandere lois lane #yandere bizzaro #yandere krypto

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Sorry for all the asks lately but I have to know... what are some relationship turnoffs or deal breakers for (your versions of) Killer Croc, Riddler, Bane, and Harley?

"Dealbreakers" Killer Croc, Riddler, Bane and Harley Quinn

You're all good! I have plenty of asks in my box to keep me mentally distracted from animal hospital work externship and bullshit at my regular job lol.

Note: all of my interpretations actively have the dealbreaker if the person is homophobic, racist, ableist, etc. As well as judgement over criminal careers. So those are a baseline.

TW: suggestive/discussing kinks, brief mentions of abuse

Killer Croc

Obviously the big one is people being Weird about his condition. Either as a fetish or out of disgust. He's experienced both, fetishes creep him out. Yeah, yeah size kink is fun, he's on that. But he's a Person first.

Treating him like he's stupid. Is he the brightest guy? No, he'll be the first to admit to that, but he's not an idiot. Condescending anything will get you nowhere fast.

Mentions of kids, pregnancy kink, stuff along that line. Fill you up, marking you? good. Bringing up his very complicated relationship with genetics and offspring? bad.

Riddler

Ignorance. Stupidity annoys him, yes, but you can teach stupid. Stupid can be changed and molded in the right hands. Ignorance is purposeful and stubborn. Ignorance... refuses to learn. It's the scourge and plague of humanity to a man like himself.

Complete restraint. He's been in full suit restraint at Arkham a number of times and not having that control makes him paranoid and itchy. It's ironic because HE likes tying up his partners and having control but no you can't do it to him. Fuzzy handcuffs and MAYBE light bondage okay.

Shushing him. Oh. That fills him with unbridled rage. If he's in a certain mood, gags are a kinky submissive thing but SHUSHING HIM while he's TALKING? You might as well have told him you don't think he's intelligent. the unmitigated GALL.

Bane

Seeing him only for his physical strength rather than all of him. If someone were to treat him as if he were just a brute for example. Instant relationship killer. Ogling his strength is fine and good but there's a fine distinctive line there.

Most forms of roleplay. He doesn't really... get it? Logically, he understands the why, he doesn't feel any emotional connection or attachment to it. Police or prison roleplay is something that will make him actually angry. If he's going to have sex with you, he wants sex with YOU.

Spooky stuff. Look, he knows what he looks like, he knows who he works with at times. That adrenaline that makes people horny and fun when they get a little spooked at movies or haunted houses? No, he wants to punch a wall when he's startled. Do not try moves on him.

Harley

Anything that's a potential red flag for abusive behavior. Trying to isolate her from friends and family, breaking her things, raising your voice a certain way- She is very careful to try and not show big visible reactions to triggers because of how others could take advantage of that but if you know you can see how it bothers her.

Telling her she's weird and meaning it in the negative. Been there, done that, get on her level, loser!

Anyone who dislikes Ivy. Sorry, Pamela is a part of the package, even if it's not romantic/sexual. She's the reason Harley is alive in the present, Poison Ivy's not going anywhere.

She's really not into pain as a kink. Sparring is a separate thing and that can lead to other things- Hurting her during sex is a hard turn-off. Reminds her way too much of Joker and his bullshit.

#killer croc #riddler #bane #harley quinn #x reader #foxwriting

[mermaidsirennikita]

Weekly Book Recs: 3/8/24-3/15/24

The Seduction of Molly O'Flaherty by Sierra Simone

Technically, this is a series made up of one short story and two novellas, beginning with The Seduction of Molly O'Flaherty (FYI: if you listen to the audiobook, which I would recommend, it's combined with the second installment, which honestly makes sense), then The Persuasion of Molly O'Flaherty, and finally The Wedding of Molly O'Flaherty. Spinning off of her Ivy Leavold trilogy, it's basically a Victorian erotic romance with all the bells and whistles. It's on the somewhat darker side (TW for past assault and abuse and ongoing trauma) but there's a surprisingly tender love story at the core, between the independent and take-charge Molly and Silas, her longtime friend and casual lover, as they realize that they're actually in love with each other... at the worst possible time. It's stupid hot and, per Sierra Simone, super angsty with a wry wit to lighten it up. Silas.... Good God that is a hot hero.

The Next Best Fling by Gabriella Gamez

Aaaah, I love it when a debut author makes me happy! Can't say too much about this one yet as it isn't out until July 9, but it's such a fun romcom (and when I say romcom, I do not mean a sexless one, it's most definitely not that) in which our heroine and hero meet because she's in love with his brother and won't say anything, and he's in love with his brother's fiancee and is about to say SOMETHING before our heroine steps in and they start FUCKIN'. Also, library positivity! Ugh, so fun. (And yes is the one where she's like "don't pick me up I'm too heavy" and he just tosses her across the couch so he can get down to BUSINESS.)

Hyacinth by S.M. LaViolette

I liveblogged about this one a bit, but my GOD was it refreshing (and hot--ridiculously hot). An incredibly compelling neurodivergent heroine; a scarred hero who is just so taken with her from day one, even if he doesn't realize it; cross-dressing for the sake of card games; bondage; a lil "ejaculating untouched prompted by some riding crop action"; and so much emotionality and discussion of everything from sex negativity to double standards. It's super steamy, extremely romantic, and a combination of the old school historical vibe and a refreshingly modern take on character dynamics.

#romance novel blogging #book recs #romance novels #books #book reviews #book recommendations #weekly book recs

[disruptedlogic]

ayça ayşin turan. 31. cis woman. she/her. ┊┊ ESEN SAHIN, better known as agent RAIN has been with cerberus corp as an eo since 2018 and is LEVEL II. A BAD CAR ACCIDENT IN A STORM has gifted them WEATHER MANIPULATION, though A CONSTANT STOMACHACHE has also been noted. when they aren’t protecting the tri-state area, they are fond of BALLET and are never seen without A NECKLACE FROM HER MOTHER. civilians think they are RELIABLE & ORGANIZED, but some of the other agents see them as SHORT TEMPERED & IMPULSIVE. cerberus corp should consider the fact that their last mission status was SUCCESSFUL WITH ONE CASUALTY when giving out the next one.

(tw - car accident, blood & loss of family member)

001 GENERAL .

name esen aylin sahin nicknames es, essie (close friends/family) age 31 date of birth october 25th, 1992 zodiac scorpio place of birth chicago, illinois current residence new york city, new york gender cis female pronouns she/her sexuality bisexual occupation level ii agent faceclaim: ayça ayşin turan height 5’6” tattoos “love you to the moon” on right forearm, ivy on left wrist, butterflies on back of left shoulder, small raindrop on inside of wrist piercings ears distinguishing features piercing blue eyes positive traits reliable & organized negative traits short tempered, impulsive, overthinker labels / tropes the wanderer likes leaves changing color in fall, her parents, floral paintings, freshly manicured nails & iced coffee dislikes answer (i'll get back to this) fears disappointing her parents & actual death hobbies ballet habits picking at her nail beds

002. EXTRA ORDINARY .

near death experience… it was a rainy night and her parents were driving her back from her nursing school graduation and her cousin decided to ride with them and the weather increasingly got worse. while close to home, her dad couldn't see because of the rain and spun out and hit a tree which caused her and her parents to be severely injured but her cousin died later on at the hospital from her injuries. power… her ability allows her to manipulate the weather which includes her having a connection to the earth's atmosphere which allows her to feel different changes in air pressure and incoming weather patterns. she has a good amount of control over her powers but she's working on how to use it for things other than in battle. she found out a week after her cousin's funeral of her new power. she was at a park alone and she had an overwhelming feeling of sadness and next thing she knew the sky opened up and it started to rain only in the place she was focusing in on. she tries to not use her abilities as much as she can outside of a battle due to the excruciating stomachache she gets after which lasts until the next day or if she uses it too much, several days later. drawbacks / vulnerabilities… esen’s biggest issue with her power is the severe stomachache she gets from using it. another drawback is that sometimes when her emotions run high she has problems controlling her power (example: pouring rain or snowstorms). so far she hasn’t encountered any powers that interfere with her own. (even though i think it’s obvious that like if she made it rain someone who has ice powers or water powers could use it to their advantage or even control that on their own. did that make sense) cerberus corp… she auditioned a few months after she found out about her abilities due to the fact that she no longer had interest in pursuing her nursing career. her parents fully supported her decision to go off and figure herself out so she moved to the city and it's been five years and she hasn't looked back. she does good on missions but she doesn't like to do solo missions. as skilled as she's become in combat over the years to help lessen the use of her powers, she feels more comfortable with a partner or a team. she's only a level ii agent and is very comfortable with staying that way until she can fully have control over her powers. codename… rain. it came from a friend because esen’s go to is making it rain as heavily as possible if it’s in battle or her emotions running wild. she prefers going by esen by isn’t opposed to being referred to as her codename.

003. EXTRA .

spoken languages: turkish & english

#cc.intro #( intro ; esen ) #84 years later here is her intro #pls love me

[twocolorz]

More freeze sketches.

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‼️TW/CW: Eating disorder mention and shown‼️

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After Nora's sickness he doesn't exactly takes care of himself, forgetting to eat or anything else important since he buries himself in finding a cure for nora

Also freeze wears wilted gray flowers in his hair, and obvious symbol of friendship with ivy, the flower would appear blooming or well-taken care of when happy or anything positive. It'll appear as very dead and wilted, being angred and any negative emotions. Then when being neutral or normal its a calm slightly gray color. Idk just lil details I'll put when I put I draw him again

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#digital art #fanart #mr freeze #victor freeze #victor fries #poison ivy #pamela isley #batman rogues #batman rouges gallery #batman au #dc fanart #tw eating issues #cw eating issues #trans victor freeze #trans mr freeze #trans victor fries #trans headcanon

[ofxlilac]

(Davika Hoorne) [THE SALUBRIOUS]. Please welcome [IVY CHAMBERLAIN (SHE/HER)] to Huntsville, WV. They are an [30]-year-old [RESIDENT] who lives in [TOWN]. You may see them around working as a [ART TEACHER AT HUNTSVILLE HIGH]. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.

BASICS

NAME: Ivy Chamberlain AGE: 30 BIRTHDATE: March 18th SIGN: Pisces  LABEL: THE SALUBRIOUS ― someone good, forgiving and understanding. can also be used for someone who cares for their and others health and well-being. GENDER: Cisfemale ORIENTATION: Demisexual OCCUPATION: art teacher LOCATION: Huntsville

PHYSICAL

HAIR: dark brown  EYES: honey brown HEIGHT: 5’9″ MARKINGS: flower tattoo on her wrist x

FAMILY

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single   SIBLINGS: none PARENTS: deceased

SKILLS

PHYSICAL PROWESS: She looks pretty petite, and average. She does however have toned muscle calves, as she likes to be active and run. SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English, thai, Latin HOBBIES: Listening to music, going to all kinds of events, watching movies. ABILITIES: she knows basic self defense, and what to do if she was ever in danger. however she is great on acting right in the moment, fight or flight. she can handle pressure and is very calm.

TRAITS

POSITIVE: determined, loyal, assertive, passionate, daydreamer, organized NEGATIVE: distant, reserved, overthinker, blunt, naïve, stubborn

PREFERENCES

COLORS: Fall like colors, red, brown, yellow, whatever she feels in the mood to wear. she goes with the flow. SMELLS: cinnamon bread, coffee, hot chocolate. Home cooked meals. She loves cleaning, so making things smell new, using scented soap, or when she does laundry. DRINKS: Drinks lightly, a few beers. But she loves iced teas, lemonades, smoothies. FOOD: she’ll eat anything, except certain seafoods.

CHARACTERS:

HUMAN : Elena Gilbert Disney princess: Jasmine Friends : Rachel

FEARS: to fail herself or others. She hasn’t truly accepted that she’s truly alone. TRIGGERS : n/a

BIO  - tw mentions of adoption

Growing up, she lived in a beautiful place, prestigious side, there was so much to see and she was able to see it all. Ivy enjoyed that, she was always on the go, and if she didn’t know a certain path, she made it her goal to study it, and memorize it. Her mind was open, she was quick to catch on to many things. This made her excel in her studies. She was the honor student of her class, and she knew she wanted to do something in business. Every day she’d take a shortcut to school, and find herself listening to the people in town playing music. Sometimes instrumental, and others acapella. She found that sound, she was drawn to, and like she was connected to the people.

She knew at a young age that she was adopted into the Chamberlain family. that didn't make her feel left out, or abandoned. If anything, her family chose her right? she eventually began University and had to learn to grow up on her own. it wasn't anything new considering her parents did whatever it was they felt like. the only person she could rely on was Freya--but even that was short-lived. Ivy decided to study art, she loved paintings and she felt as though art could transport a person back in time. since she went her separate way from Freya, that didn't mean she wanted them to be out of touch, unfortunately with Freya excelling in her career (or so Ivy thought). ivy realized there wasn't room for her in Freya's life.

After graduating college, she decided to move and found herself coming back to Huntsville when the storm hit, life wasn’t the same. Hearing about all these people passing, and that creatures still lurked at night, she was still plagued with fear. She tries to be hopeful, and positive, but that can only go on for so long.

PERSONALITY

Ivy can tend to be reserved at times, she is observant and would rather listen. she likes to see what is going on before jumping to conclusions. when she is in deep thought, she can appear to seem like she is ignoring someone. that is not the case. however, she is not afraid to say what she wants. she is passionate in her love for the arts and loves teaching the kids at the high school.

CONNECTIONS

Worth fighting for (x-inspo) : someone she was close to, and they became distant. They were close enough that they could have been something. But the distance separated them. Let me be your shelter (x-inspo): Ivy trusts your muse, she didn’t think she could have a real connection, but she feels safe around you. That is enough for her. Hurricane (x-inspo): she hasn’t made the right choices along the way. Your muse could have been a fling, or something to pass the time. Though oddly you two are good friends. A part of me (x - inspo): this person is like a true sibling to you. They understand you and frankly, you’re happy to have them in your life.

more to add later

#huntsvilleintro #intro #intro: ivy #tw mentions of adoption

[ncstalgics]

(  vanessa morgan,  cis woman,  she/her  )  —  🎬  just  announced, america “amy” roberts  is  casted  as  jenna sommers  in  upcoming  the vampire diaries   reboot.  the    thirty one  year  old  is  trending  as  people  are  debating  if  the  preppy clothes, polaroid pictures scattered on the floor, a weeping angel, falling asleep in the dressing room, fading away into a blank canvas  that  they  are  known  for  is  enough  to  make  them  as  good  as  original.  a  quick  google  search  shows  that  their  fans  call  them sentimental,  but  internet  trolls  think  they’re  more  critical.  i  guess  their  newest  interview  for  variety  where  they  talk  about  how she gave up pre-law to become an actress  will  let  people  to  know  them  better.

BASICS:

Name: America Renee Roberts Age: 31 Birthday: May 15th (Taurus) Sexuality: Heterosexual Marital Status: Widowed Positive Traits: sentimental, tidy, energetic, intelligent, logical Negative Traits: critical, anxious, indecisive, awkward Hobbies: Painting with watercolor, watching movies, taking Polaroid photos, decorating

THE STORY (tw; death by car accident):

The fable of the fallen angel began in 2011. America Roberts was a determined, tenacious, and cutthroat student. She went to a very prestigious high school that was known for getting kids into Ivy League universities, and her parents wanted no less for her. They pushed her hard, often comparing her to the students who bullied her as a tactic to get her to work harder. It all came crumbling down, piece by piece, when she fell in love with movies. Amy loved movies. She would watch all the director commentaries, the deleted scenes, the “making of” documentaries. She wanted to be part of that magic. She snuck in a few acting classes at USC, but when her parents found out, they disowned her, which forced her to drop out of school. Luckily, a friend in her class took her in as her own sister. Amy was cast as Spencer Hastings in "Pretty Little Liars" at 20 years old, and since then, it's was almost as though life was getting easier and easier. She filmed "Les Miserables" between season, which got big Oscar recognition, and gave a promising career and very strong start. She even met her husband in the industry, too. Vincent was as a script writer, one of the best in the business. He was strong and passionate and thoughtful. He didn’t know how to laugh, but his stoic expression is what made her giggle. By 2017, they were married at age 25. Life could not get any sweeter... and it wouldn't. He wanted so badly to be with Amy that he left early to finish his script at home, where his muse was. He rushed home and a pick up truck driver made an arrogant choice that cost Vincent his life. The tabloids only read that “Husband of Pretty Little Liars Star Tragically Killed” and it angered Amy, seeing how he was reduced to a single headline and nothing more. For two years, America Roberts hasn’t been seen by the limelight. She dropped out of all of her projects, lived off of Vincent’s family’s inheritance, and stayed home most of the time. She grieved. She got a part time job doing something mundane and useless from home. Her absence was noted as one of the most tragic falls from fame. It took a lot of convincing, but they promised to start small, something that would only last a couple seasons. Aunt Jenna from The Vampire Diaries reboot was practically written for her as a way to reintroduce the great Amy Roberts back into the light. Maybe her star could learn to shine again. Maybe she could fall in love all over again with the art of storytelling. Or maybe it would bring back all of those happy, yet painful, memories.

TLDR; Amy was supposed to be a pre-law student, but when her parents found out she wanted to act, they disowned her and she was forced to drop out. She got taken in by her friend's family, who got her the audition for Pretty Little Liars and kicked off her career. She even married a script writer at 25, but he tragically passed away 2 years ago. She pretty much pulled a Taylor Swift and disappeared for those years. Now she's back to play Jenna Sommers in The Vampire Diaries.

CHARACTER COMPARISONS: Amy Santiago (Brooklyn Nine-Nine), Isabela Madrigal (Encanto), Jane Porter (Tarzan), Elsa (Frozen), Wanda (The Fairly OddParents), Katara (Avatar: The Last Airbender), Kate Sharma (Bridgerton)

WC's:

I'm Coming Out by Diana Ross: I'm mostly imagining any friends she had in the industry before Vincent passed away. They're not that close to her, so they sent her some sweet text messages every now and then, but now that she's back, Amy's really looking forward to reuniting with these people. Ain't No Mountain High Enough by Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell. Her best friends, the ones who took her in when her parents disowned her, the ones who were right there beside her during her grief. She's lost A LOT and they've always been right there through the absolute worst of it to keep pulling her out of it. Ain't No Sunshine by Bill Withers. Maybe someone who had a thing for her before she got married? Would have been sometime around 2015. Or maybe an ex from back then? Lil Boo Thang by Paul Russell. This is just an idea, we can kinda build based on chemistry and what happens. But I'm thinking now that she's kinda ready to move on (one step at a time, of course), I would love for someone goofy and funny to kinda surprise her out of nowhere. The one thing about Vincent was that he didn't really have a sense of humor, so giving her something new to look forward to would be sweet.

I'm hoping to go more off of chemistry, so these are just ideas we can kind of build off of. Don't feel like you have to stick to any of these, but if you get inspo, I would love to hear what you're thinking!!

#2000s.intro #muse: amy roberts

[t4tdanvis]

AND HERE I AM AGAIN. I ALWAYS COME BACK! Okay so I may be reaching here but-

So before we start this TW for mentions of  Garte and of emotional child abuse and child expirementation and possession and slight Ivy neg? okay now we have that cleared let’s go-

Okay so on the topic of mystreet and dairies Garroth, let’s talk about The depersonalisation or dehumanisation of Garroth. I am not sure if that’s the right term, depersonalisation is about lack of own identity, dehumanisation is stripping someone away from their positive human traits. But I don’t mean either of that, I mean just treating someone as not human?  Garroth is often either extremely over idealised in pdh or seen as a moron in mystreet.

First off his father over glorified him, him being the golden child and all. Being the golden child actually sucks. You have all the pressures, and the feeling of being a fraud as he was praised for stuff he didn’t do. We see Garte canonically praising him for stuff he hasn’t done. And this causes feelings of being a fraud and a fear of being exposed.

Then we have all his fangirls in highschool, obsessing over him and over glorifying him yet again. He isn’t recognised for him as a whole with his flaws, he isn’t recognised as just a human. And on top of that, I noticed a trend of the better people know Garroth the more distant more people seem to get from him. This probably increases the feelings of being a fraud. 

He is the comedic relief now, to the point some fans don’t recognise him of having any serious sad feelings at all because he is the comedic relief. Now everyone just sees Garroth as an idiot, too dumb to be seen as a person.

And you have the fact he was experimented on, a very dehumanising experience probably. They also refer to them in code names[those being numbers]  making it more dehumanising, in a scene in starlight you see a photo of Garroth as a toddler with 01 under it, katelyn being 02 and Travis 03. This hints he was the first to get experimented on.  that's irrelevant really but I just wanted to mention it because it makes Garte look even worse.

Not to mention his possession being one of the most depersonalising and dehumanising ones of all. As unlike all the others, he doesn’t say anything except a few words during it and doesn’t show off much if any emotion at all. The screen also goes over to Garroth when Michael says “And your little toys are mine” basically referring to Garroth as a toy. Garroth during the possession is also almost like a robot, or a puppet, he attacks Nana being in the way but doesn’t continue because he directly switches targets when ordered to. Seeing yourself act like that and someone in your friend’s body boss you around like that is sure to mess you up you know. And then you have him becoming a werewolf, making him “less human” too.

Despite being basic he isn't really like his peers in a way. Oh also his basicness in itself is also kinda depersonalising, ‘Golden children’ often end up having to perform to please their parent. Due to this act to keep their status they often lack individuality and creativity. Perfectly in line with Garroth’s basicness and lack of an interesting taste and so forth. A lack of an personal identity. this is soo interesting with it being implies Elizabeth made the Ro'meave's forget about Garte in the mystreet season 6 finale. That's an identity crisis waiting to happened.

He also turns his own feelings into jokes in a way. Making his fear of Ivy and her blackmailing him to be with her in pdh season 2 aswell as constantly making him uncomfortable and just making it all about her getting his name wrong. As if he doesn't recognise his own feelings so he searches for a superficial reason to explain the feelings he is feeling. And how he after that forces himself to get over it without a real apology for it from Ivy, I think? I only remember her apologising to Aphmau and explaining her lisp to Garroth. And we have in the good cop bad cop sidestory thing where in a conversation it was revealed his bad cop joke was actually backed up by him actually distrusting Gene. But after a conversation with Laurance he gets Gene a house a few episodes later. He undervalues his own feelings in a way. Like how Garte undervalues Garroth's reluctance to inheret the company and still makes him do so.

AUGHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD THANK YOU ANON i am furiously writing this all down to use in my rewrite i love this so so much

#❄.txt #ask box #like DAMN u put so much thought into this holy SHIT #this is so so amazing #i love this so much i am EATING it

[unravellingsilencehq]

“Oh, Merlin, tell me, does THE QUEEN OF WANDS get what she deserves?” She is in THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX & is CLOSED to finding out. 

— she walks through the world as ;

name → lily evans pronouns → she/her identification → cis female year of birth → september 1959 - september 1960 face claim → ellie bamber blood status → muggle-born sexual orientation → up to applicant occupation → researcher in the spells and curses research wing at the ministry of magic future information → wife of james potter, mother of harry potter

— she is best described as ;

She’s IMAGINATION & PURE CREATIVITY, she’s the SPARKLE in a SPELL & the PROUD SMILE of ACHIEVEMENT. She’s the NATURAL BEAUTY in the WORLD around her, the FIRE of DETERMINATION & WILL and the SOFTNESS of a FLOWER PETAL floating on the WATER.

— her story starts with ;

tw: death

Raised in Cokeworth to a muggle librarian and a muggle school teacher, her upbringing was relatively simple. Her home was dreamed up and doodled on the back of pieces of notepaper when her parents were young, with ivy growing up the walls and beautiful flowers adorning their cottage garden. Lily and her older sister PETUNIA EVANS [sibling/adversary] were named after those flowers, securing a special bond Lily thought they’d share forever. Her sister was her best friend, until the day it became clear that Lily Evans was different. When she was seven years old, playing in the garden with her sister Lily noticed as she and Petunia danced and twirled the flowers in their garden danced too, singing a merry tune as she had once seen in a film. Lily realised she could do extraordinary things, she blew a dandelion into butterflies and could make a bud bloom in her hands. Lily considered herself special, her sister did not. Petunia became jealous of her, saying cruel and spiteful things about Lily’s abilities until tears rolled down her cheeks. A freak was what she called her and her best friend became her adversary. A young boy in Spinner's End became a place of safety for Lily, SEVERUS SNAPE [adversary/former best friend]. 

A quiet boy, who sometimes appeared awkward in his own skin, Lily brought out some confidence in him, a look of awe in his eyes as she made nature transform into something even more beautiful. Severus told her the magic of the world behind the curtain from her own. Apparently she was a witch, like Severus’ mother and one day she would arrive home from school to a letter from PROFESSOR ALBUS DUMBLEDORE [former professor/leader] telling her she had been selected to attend a magical school for people just like them. Sure enough her letter arrived and Petunia was delighted to hear Lily would be moving away to boarding school, comparing it to a prison rather than a place of education. Lily did not want to leave on bad terms with her sister, but as she boarded the train for school just aged eleven she knew their relationship was well and truly over. Sorted into Gryffindor, Lily quickly befriended a few fellow lions she was fortunate enough to be sharing a dorm with that year. MARLENE MCKINNON [best friend], MARY MACDONALD [best friend], and DORCAS MEADOWES [best friend] were unique characters who made the transition to her new life easier. 

Mary was her rock during the process, also a Muggle-Born, they were bubbly, friendly and seemingly unphased by the hustle and bustle of their new world. Lily attempted to follow suit and the beginning of classes signalled a new found confidence for Lily as it quickly became established amongst her peers that she was an incredibly talented witch. A firm favourite of her professors, particularly Professors Slughorn and Fltwick, Lily’s talents began to attract her both positive and negative attention at school, as people flocked to be her friend and ask for her help with their studies. JASPER AVERY [adversary] was particularly jealous of Lily’s talents and frequently made it known he believed her to be lesser, due to her blood status. Lily however, would never be deterred and garnered a bit of a reputation for late night duels by The Black Lake to take down those who dared to challenge her and put their abilities where their mouth was. Lily had thick skin and a sharp mind, which meant cleverly orchestrated insults often followed the sting of her spells. It was this fire that attracted the unwanted attention of JAMES POTTER [close friend/potential love interest/former adversary], a fellow Gryffindor, who Lily found terribly arrogant.

To Lily, James, SIRIUS BLACK [close friend/former adversary] and PETER PETTIGREW [close friend/former adversary] were self-entitled bullies who had found entertainment in making fun of others, namely Severus- though these dynamics quickly shifted. In her fourth year after a stern talking to from McGonagall about her fighting, Lily accepted a position as a prefect with REMUS LUPIN [close friend] and began to see things differently without blood red rage. Her once good friend had sought the company of Avery and LARKIN MULICBER [adversary] another boy Lily despised due to his disgusting treatment of Mary which had left her beaten and bruised. Lily couldn’t understand why he would associate with such people and when she caught him calling her a mudblood with his ‘friends’ and heard James Potter of all people defending her, Lily had little time for his antics. She was still not convinced of James and his friends, but her mind was made up on Severus. From then onwards, Lily was ice cold towards him, not even bothering to insult him but rather looking through him with as much disdain as she could muster. 

After graduating both a prefect, head of her class and Head Girl- Lily was anxious to get her life started. As much as she loved her parents, she had no desire to spend any time with her sister and quickly moved into a house-share with American witch PRUDENCE OWENS [housemate] and JONATHAN REEVES [housemate] whom Lily vaguely remembered from school. It was jarring living with people she’d never met after spending so much time with her friends, but strangely Lily liked the separation and enjoyed the oddities of her two flatmates who couldn’t be any different from her. Prue and Jon mostly kept to themselves, which worked for Lily who enjoyed staying in her room after a long day at work. Lily accepted a position working for The Ministry of Magic in their Spells and Curses research department, studying spells and trying to push the limits of magic as they knew it. The job suited Lily perfectly, with a curious disposition and a joy of learning she hoped would never fully be quenched in her role. She saw her job as somewhat academic and didn’t realise how important it would become until people began disappearing. It was because of her skillset that Lily was asked to join The Order of The Phoenix, a secret underground group, it seemed most of her friends had been drafted into by their former headmaster. 

When BOOKER BAGNOLD [person of interest] died on Halloween in 1983 everyone suspected a werewolf attack but PANDORA FORTESCUE [friend/colleague] thought differently, though no one quite paid any attention. A whimsical witch, though she was talented, people often overlooked her- but Lily was in awe of Pandora and paid attention to her research, though admittedly long after the Booker case was closed by the Ministry. It had irritated Lily that no one had listened to Pandora and privately Lily began working with her on the case, conducting research into what they thought might have caused the wounds on Booker and looked for any similarities. Annoyingly when ROSALIE FLINT [person of interest] went missing there was no body for her and Pandora to look over and BENJY FENWICK’s [person of interest] vampire attack seemed to be just that. Lily parked her research for some time, irritated that hers and Pandora’s theory didn’t quite seem to fit. Booker hadn’t been attacked by a werewolf, that much she was sure of- even if Benji had and Rosalie had just gone missing. With bated breath Lily waits for the next person to fall, as ghoulish and gruesome as it sounds. Lily knows the Ministry or perhaps their feared rival organisation are framing creatures. All she needs is proof and motive, so maybe her quiet and secretive housemate Jonathan, might be a good place to start.

— she is a LEVEL 7 WITCH & readied for war ;

#hp rpg #literature rp #1959 to 1960 #lily evans #ellie bamber #tw: death #order member #ministry #m petunia evans #m severus snape #m albus dumbledore #m marlene mckinnon #m mary macdonald #m dorcas meadowes #m jasper avery #m james potter #m sirius black #m peter pettigrew #m remus lupin #m larkin mulciber #m prudence owens #m jonathan reeves #m booker bagnold #m pandora fortescue #m rosalie flint #m benji fenwick #taken order member #taken #taken witch

[alleanut]

— William Isaac Henderson

TW: Blood ⋆ Implied Trauma ⋆ Death ⋆ Murder

I. INTRO ⋆ II. EXTRA ⋆ III. RELATIONS ⋆ VI. PAST

————————— I. INTRO

AGE: 1249 MENTAL AGE: 27 SPECIES: Vampire GENDER: Male SEXUALITY: Pansexual ETHNICITY: British & Japanese

—————— I.I Powers & Drawbacks

CORRUPTION: A disorder all vampires fall victim to. It affects the soul and mind. The disorder shows up mostly as intrusive thoughts, which the one affected, will act upon, specifically not realizing the wrongness or immorality of it ——— When a vampire has not drunk blood in a week, they become very agitated. If blood is not consumed on the day the agitation starts, they turn into a reckless shadow form with the only goal of soothing their hunger. It will not stop at any means unless they consume at least a drop of blood. After they return to their normal form, their body is extremely exhausted, even sick. Many vampires pass this way Superhuman agility / reflexes: Ability to react faster than a normal human and to possess greater flexibility and with higher / farther jumping capacity Summoning: Ability to summon beings or objects for assistance. This may range from shadow objects to spirits Superhuman strength: Ability to have a level of strength much higher than normally possible given their proportions Superhuman senses: Ability to see, smell, taste, feel and hear more than a normal human ( most hungry vampires under corruption have the same abilities that are listed. )

METAMORPHOSIS / SHAPESHIFTING: Ability to change one's physical, biological form to mimic the appearance, characteristics or power set of other individuals ——— The individual who they want to shapeshift to must be dead. The second he shapeshifts into an individual, they appear to "live" in his head IMMORTALITY: Ability to live forever and also an inability to age normally ——— Takes an absolute toll on your mental health in many different ways INVULNERABILITY: Ability to be immune to any form of physical damage ——— Takes a long time to regenerate

-—————-————— I.II Personality

——— POSITIVE TRAITS Intelligent ⋆ Humorous ⋆ Loyal ⋆ Dedicated ⋆ Tactical ——— NEGATIVE TRAITS Aggressive ⋆ Manipulative ⋆ Argumentative ⋆ Rude ⋆ Obsessive

-—————–———— I.III Appearance

————————— II. EXTRA

PRONOUNS: Any NICKNAMES: Will, The Undead Vermillion BIRTHDAY: September 10th ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo OCCUPATION: CEO of his company LIKES: Wine, Human blood, Getting what he wants DISLIKES: Humans, Food, Talking about his trauma LANGUAGES: Old and Modern English, Japanese ( can't write or read... ), a little Spanish and Chinese

—————— III. RELATIONS

————————————— III.I Family

MOTHER: Kanai Henderson FATHER: James Michael Henderson OLDER BROTHER: Frederick Edgar Henderson OLDER SISTER: Annalina Maria Henderson GRANDFATHERS: Zachary Jace Henderson, Kaede Yoshiyuki GRANDMOTHERS: Tuesday Ivy Henderson, Akemi Yoshiyuki UNCLE: Yoneda Yoshiyuki EXTENDED FAMILY: Kuraisha Wahyuni ( "cousin" ), Zen Luo Yi ( "nephew" )

——————————— III.II Romantic

EX-GIRLFRIEND: Aleta ??? EX-FIANCÉES: Himari Kim, Rina Gaea Junianus EX-WIVES: Kathleen Githa Fraser, Yamina Safiya Bishara, Ethelinda Johanna Peschl EX-HUSBAND: Minsheng Quan UNREQUINTED LOVE: Fabiana Yesenia Soto Ruíz ( he enjoyed her company, but he didn't have feelings for her as she did for him )

——————-————— III.III Platonic

CLOSE FRIENDS: Itachi Kobayashi, Allen Moore, Hansuke Yaoyorozu GOOD FRIENDS: Ousmane Mefine, Amira Kateb FRIENDS: Yulia Golubeva, Markko Rosenberg

——————-————— III.IV Other

( FUTURE ) CO-WORKERS: Leonardo Brando, Cyrene Hecate Chastise, Mikayla ???, Azazel Hera ASSOCIATES: Eustachy Kazimierz Olszewski COMRADES: Jakov Bogović, Nehuen Medina Franco HUMAN FORMS: Naman Jai Gandhi, Hansuke Toudou, Amira Kateb

————————— VI. PAST

——————————— VI.I Childhood

COMING SOON...!!

—————————— VI.II Teenhood

COMING SOON...!!

—————————— VI.III Adulthood

William spends his days pretending to be someone else. His latest human form, Hansuke Toudou is a model. After his work, he either spends his time with his close friends, mainly Itachi, or prepares himself for his next meal. He has no shame when it comes to killing others, as he is a ruthless vampire after all. He has gotten away with years of his killings because he simply has his ways and connections. He is always three steps ahead.

LINKS: Picrew creds to Y_at Superpower Generator

#{🦑} my posts #{👤} chars #{🫀} william #THIS TOOK WAYY TOO LONG #original character #oc #oc intro

[cursivequiet]

[cis woman and she/her]  Welcome to Aurora Bay, [CATALINA NAVARRO]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [DANIELA NIEVES]. You must be the [TWENTY FOUR] year old [ATTENDANT AT SWEET SPOT ICE CREAM SHOP & PSYCHOLOGY GRADUATE STUDENT]. Word is you’re [GRACIOUS] but can also be a bit [VULNERABLE] and your favorite song is [CONEY ISLAND BY TAYLOR SWIFT]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [SEABROOK QUARTER].

STATISTICS

NAME: Catalina Alessandra Navarro

NICKNAMES: Cat, Lina (only by Liam)

AGE: Twenty-Four

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Woman, She/Her

FACE CLAIM: Daniela Nieves

EYE COLOR: Brown

HAIR COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 5'2"

DATE OF BIRTH: September 29th, 1998

ZODIAC SIGN: Libra

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: Bachelor's in Psychology, working on her master's

RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: Catholic, but is unsure if she believes anymore

OCCUPATION: Attendant at Sweet Spot Ice Cream Shop & Psychology Graduate Student

HOMETOWN: Aurora Bay, CA

IN TOWN: Entire Life

NEIGHBORHOOD: Aurora Bay Drive

POSITIVE TRAITS: Gracious & Soft

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Prim & Vulnerable

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY (TW: ABORTION, RELIGION)

Reflecting on her childhood, Catalina couldn't remember a time that she was miserable or sad. She grew up in a good home with her father, mother, older brother and even a hamster at one point as an attempt to teach Catalina about responsibility and taking care of something other than herself. Her parents came to Aurora Bay from Argentina to start a family in a safe, small town and they made sure to shelter their two children against the darkness that clouded the world around them. Catalina grew up sheltered, without worries even if her parents were middle class at best.  Her grades and extracurriculars could get her to an ivy league school if she desired, but was too scared to think about the what was to come next. 

On the precipice of the next phase of life, she met someone who changed her life. It seems cliche to think that a boy could have changed everything for her, but he did. A stupid boy from the wrong side of town, who grew up without a stable family and a stable home came to Catalina when she was at her most lost and what she didn't expect was for Liam to turn her entire life upside down. They started dating, despite objections from the people who knew her best. However, he was there in a way she never expected and even after she decided to stay near for school and go to UCLA in Los Angeles, the two were inseparable as much as possible even if long distance was getting in the way. It seemed that all she had hoped for in her life was finally happening, but things never turned out the way that they had originally hoped.

Catalina would come to find out that Liam had his own demons he had been fighting in secret for so long. His addiction to drugs, something he had kept hidden from her had worsened until she was deeply immersed in it. Her studies and personal life suffered as she helped him through every high and the lows that followed. Every time she had to help him, tore her apart, but it seemed to be getting for better once he had agreed to go to rehab. Things seemed to finally look up for once for the two of them but again she would face disappointment.

With him, she had become the cliche she hated so much and it was only the beginning. Liam would get out of rehab, things would be good for a small moment and then he returned to his former addicted self. Her studies had shown her that being an addict was difficult to break and every time he returned to his bad habits, she felt inadequate in her ability to help him. It was attempt number two of his where her own well being had been affected. The pregnancy test showed two lines and all she had done to get this far in life was ruined. There was only thing to do: an abortion. She had a crisis of faith, but she couldn't have a kid, not with Liam when he was going through his own issues. He would go into rehab and she would take care of it. After that their relationship was never the same.

Somehow, Cat managed to get through school, but her own guilt and shame sent her running back to Aurora Bay. The abortion was something that she had never dealt with and refused to talk about it to anyone, the only person who knew was Liam's brother Lennon and neither would say anything to Liam to avoid triggering another slow descent into hell for him. Worrying about him, she decided to stay in Aurora Bay for grad school, in hopes of being able to take care of him. Each time, he would disappoint her further each time. Catalina thought the third time in rehab would be different, but he eventually turned back to his old habits. Finally, she had enough when she found out Liam had taken her most precious belonging: a necklace that was given to her by her grandmother, an heirloom, all to sell for more drugs.

Finally, Catalina had enough and ended things. It had been the most painful thing she ever had to do and felt a loss that she couldn't describe. Despite her trying to avoid him at any cost, Liam would reach out to her trying to apologize. With every call she felt her defenses fall, but even if it hurt her she wouldn't give him the attention he wanted. Catalina still knew all about his comings and goings, heard about how he had gone to rehab once more and he was out. All Catalina wonders is how long she can keep her guard up before falling into the same patterns as before. @aurorabayaesthetic

#aurorabay.intro #tw: abortion #tw: religion

[sullivanxshaw]

“ I don’t wanna be me anymore “

Welcome to Aurora Bay, [SULLIVAN “SULLY “ SHAW!] I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [ROHAN CAMPBELL]. You must be the [TWENTY-FOUR] year old [DELIVERY AT SWEET NOTHINGS BAKERY ]. Word is you’re [PROTECTIVE] but can also be a bit [ANXIOUS] and your favorite song is [I DONT WANNA BE ME BY TYPE O NEGATIVE ]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [OCEAN CREST APARTMENTS ]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

Tw: Death, Anxiety,Physical Abuse, Alcoholism Drug addiction

FAMILY

Step Father: Nicholas Stephensen(deceased )

Mother: Annie Shaw (deceased)

Biological Father: Peter Shaw

Sister: Summer Shaw (21 yrs old)

Half Sister: Selena Shaw (15 years old)

Half Sister:Sera Shaw (6 yrs old)

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Coworkers: Liza Levin, Noelle Driscoll

Friends: Emerson Cassidy, Kylee Anthony, Sage Williams, Aubrey Carson

Former Crush On: Liza Levin

Exes: Sage Williams

Current Crush On: Sage Williams

Someone With Crush On Him:UTP

Former Friends: UTP

The Bad Habit Connection:

Mentor Figures: Noelle Driscoll, Ann Thompson, Calin Sava

BIOGRAPHY

Raised on Aurora Bay Drive, Sullivan Shaws family seemed perfect from the outside. His mom owned a small business in town and was a large part of the community. Everyone knew the Shaw family and everything seemed idyllic to the untrained eye. Sully graduated high school near the top of his class and was saving up money for the next couple of years working in town and attending the local college so that he could go to med school. He was the oldest of four and felt like he had to set the standard; especially considering that their father was a horrible drunk who had a tendency to disappear for days on end; leaving his mom to not only run her shop but to leave her raising four kids. Sully wasn’t the type to sit back and let things happen though and began helping his mom with work. It was aways instilled in him to take care of those who needed it most and he was why he wanted to also attend med school. He also had the grades to make it pretty far in life, but wasnt in a rush to leave and attend an Ivy League school yet.

Whether it was helping one of his sisters with school work or stepping in the middle of a bullying situation, Sully felt like he was always supposed to offer his help. He wasn’t a very confrontational person naturally though and would only ever step in based on impulse to protect the people he never wanted to see hurt. That was quickly followed with the realization he was in over his head and about to get beat up. Which happened a fair amount. But as long as his family was safe he would always step up for them.

Sully always felt like he always had to be the the one to keep things together, especially in response to his dad. For most of his early life he felt like being the big brother was something to always take seriously. And when he got into it with his biological father he came home and saw the man attempting to hurt his mom, Sully acted in pure impulse and stood up to him. Despite getting a broken nose for his interference, Sully made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt his family. From his mom to his littlest sister Eloise everyone was going to be safe from his dad. His dad wasn’t required in their family to be complete and the man finally walked out on his mom officially. Eloise was only a couple of months old at the time, but none of it mattered when your father would rather throw a punch and ran off to find himself at the bottom of a liquor bottle. He sent nothing but divorce papers as a goodbye to the Shaws and Sully finally felt like things were going to be okay.

His mom struggled a bit to find her footing for a couple years but eventually fell in love again with a longtime friend and remarried. The man was someone that had gone above and beyond what so many others wouldn’t do and took on dating a single mother of four and treated them as his own. It didn’t matter that Sully was already a legal adult by that point, he still wanted to feel like they could be one big and happy family. He wasn’t scared anymore that someone could hurt his mom like his bio dad had, but he still felt this need in his family to look after things when he could. Sully was just relieved he could finally let his guard down and start to focus on what he really wanted to do in life.

The world had a habit of changing so fast though.

His oldest sister was helping keep an eye on Annalise and Eloise, while Sully was out at work all night at his moms shop. His mom and step dad had gone out for their anniversary and the oldest Shaw siblings were helping out with the family obligations. When he came home and noticed the police cars that surrounded his home he knew something had gone horribly wrong. It was a drunk driver on the road and his parents died on impact. Sully was beside himself over what had happened and before he could really process any of his grief, they had to bury his mom and step-dad

In the months that followed, Sully felt like he wasn’t really existing; instead just going through the motions of his life and unable to truly let himself fall apart. He would just smile and accept other’s condolences and hope to God they would stop talking to him about his dead parents. He felt incredibly overwhelmed and in over his head but he was trying to keep it all together. He had to stay a strong front for his siblings though. He had to make sure they could come to him even though he was trying hard not to spiral. He couldn’t let him see himself slipping. After all he was always going to be the protector, whether it was standing up to their dad or their bullies, Sully would always be there for them.

He was the oldest.

He was the big brother.

He had to keep it all together.

He had no choice.

When the town decided they were done morning the Shaws and moved on with their lives it was both frustrating and a relief. Sully hated being reminded of his families loss, so he was more than grateful to stop hearing “ Sorry about your parents “ but it did frustrate him that just because they were done mourning for his family it didn’t mean the Shaw kids weren’t done mourning their loss. People say a lot of pretty and nice things when it is right in front of them, but they move on rather quick; especially when things started to go south for the Shaw family. Those helping hands that were once offered were nowhere in sight.

And as the Shaw family had to close down the business, and CPS came and tried to split up the family or send his sister to live with their dad. None of the well wishers had tried to intervene on their behalf. It was all on Sullys shoulders and he had to act fast. He went to the few people in town he knew could help him and tried to build a case to be granted him custody of his two youngest sisters. With his oldest sisters help and a few faces he held dear to him on the outside he went to court and fought for the legal guardianship of his sisters Eloise and Annalise. When his father walked in and tried to portray himself as a good man and not the abusive alcoholic he really was; Sully had enough and stood his ground. It was emotionally taxing but by the time they had reached an agreement, Sully was granted custody of his two youngest sisters with his other sister staying with them to help out. He also vowed if he ever saw his father back in Aurora Bay, he would make sure he never saw his kids again.

While he was out of the woods in some ways, a whole new battle was taking place. Without the income of the shop, the legal fees, and four mouths to feed, the money left from his mom and step dad was drying up fast and, in order to save money, the four moved to Ocean Crest and both Sully and his sister took jobs in town to help.

It’s been a couple of years and even though the Shaws aren’t living the way they used to, they were as happy as they could be considering the circumstances. His sister Annalise might be in her angsty teen years and his little sister Eloise seems to think Sully is her dad, but they’re making it all work. He likes to think he’s doing the best job he can, but his issues with anxiety started to magnify ever since the death of his mother and step dad. He’s never had a moment to breathe since the accident and it’s only building up in him and had nowhere to go. The mourning he never did, the anger he felt toward his dad, the overwhelming sense of having to always appear perfect so he doesn’t lose his siblings, it was all starting to weigh down on Sully. It never ended. It never slowed down. And he just always smiled through it and hoped they didn’t see the ball of nerves he’d become. At a certain point Sully had started to be unable to sleep at night and would chemical ways to help him just so that he was able to get through the day. He was never going to touch alcohol because of his dad, and because of what had killed his mom, but Sully is aware he’s playing a dangerous game as he slowly slides into addiction and is hoping someone can give him the help he’s always been too scared to ask for his whole life. He was always going to be a protector, but what do you do when you can’t protect yourself ?

@aurorabayaesthetic

#about #aurorabay.intro #tw: abuse #tw: alcohol #tw:death #tw: addiction

[uuponastarr]

[ kim chungha, cis woman, she/her. ] ✧·ﾟ is that [ IVY FROST ] who just stumbled into town? rumour has it that they’re the [ TWENTY-SIX ] year old child of [ JACK FROST ] from [ THE SANTA CLAUSE 3 ]. i’ve also heard that they’re [ CLEVER ] but [ APATHETIC ] and have [ 2 ] sibling. i could almost swear i heard [ MOUNT EVEREST - LABYRINTH ] playing when they appeared. 

basics:

full name: ivy lorraine frost.

nicknames: ice queen. ( negatively ) 

zodiac sign: aquarius- january 28th.

sexuality: bisexual, homoromantic.

skills/hobbies: figure skating, pranking, flirting.

aesthetic: frost covered windows, snowflakes caught up in icy blonde hair, perfectly manicured nails filed to a point, a stare that sends daggers into your soul, an artic like breeze in the morning.

[ pinterest board link here ]

bio tws; abandonment.

ivy was born on a cold winter’s night to an absent father and a mother who was never ready to have a child. shortly after she was born her mother left her abandoned in the cold all by herself. somehow the poor girl was found by jack frost who took pity on the child and decided to adopt her as his own, effectively giving the girl a second chance. growing up the child of a legendary figure meant that ivy lead a different childhood than most children, but that was alright with. she lead a fairly carefree childhood, her father teaching her everything she knew, and allowing her to constantly tag along after him to help cause mischief whenever she could. this meant that most of the kids around her were hesitant to befriend the young girl due to her troublesome nature, causing her to lack playmates. her father wouldn’t let his daughter grow up without friends and adopted two more children to raise alongside ivy. as she grew ivy blossomed into a beautiful young woman, leading her to attract many that spotted her. ivy had no interest in love and only ever really enjoyed having a little. she would frequently lead others on only to ghost them shortly after. she didn’t care about toying with others emotions. 

to say that she and her siblings lead the kind of life that all children would want was an understatement. no responsibilities, no worries just fun. however, that didn’t mean their life was free of problems ivy didn’t fail to take notice of the unfair treatment her father received, and how he was virtually ignored compared to most of the other holiday icons. so when she learned of her father’s plan to try and take over as santa she was in full support of his plan, even helping behind the scenes as well. after all, why should santa be the only one to get all the recognition? 

wanted connections: 

tba...

#{ ~ cause i’m on top of the world / ♡ ivy; bio } #{ / ♡ general; bio }

[orchestrahearts]

it’s midnight so you know what that means.

a muse rant.

here’s a thing on ivy’s compulsive issues with people pleasing, disregarding her problems, and need for independence. tw for mention of emotional neglect and narcissistic/emotional abuse.

So Ivy’s one of several of my muses who was emotionally neglected as a child. The biggest problem they struggle with is being uncomfortable with other people caring about them. Which is bad enough as it is but Ivy also had to deal with a certain amount of emotional abuse at the same time. Ivy needed to be good or it’d reflect badly on Leigh. She needed to be perfect to measure up to Leigh’s standards, which were both impossible and out of Ivy’s control. If she didn’t meet those standards, Leigh would criticize her or just completely ignore her. Her physical needs were met, but she spent a lot of time raising herself. She was brought to sets and behind the scenes at shows where she was left to her own devices or in the care of behind the scenes employees and occasional costars.

She was told that isn’t she lucky? Her mother’s a huge star. She gets to live her life in the arts and her mom is so successful, she’s even paying for a child actor tutor so she doesn’t have to go to regular school (Leigh couldn’t be bothered to take her and, what, be seen at a school? She has an image to uphold and it’s not a domestic one.) Ivy grew up being told to love these things and to a certain extent, she did. She always knew she wanted to be an artist too, a performer. She loved sitting in the audience every night and seeing a show be brought to life. She also loved meeting some of the most important people in the theatre scene and they’re so impressed at what a good, smart girl she is.

The problem was that she never received the care or validation that a growing kid is supposed to get from family. Her grandparents were never in the picture and the only things Leigh ever had to say about Ivy were critical. Instead she found her validation in other people. People telling her how nice she looked, how smart she was, how talented she must be. Leigh may not see what a perfect golden child she could be, but other people did. But she also noticed that if she slipped up, if she had anything negative to say, about her life or her mother, the response was never good. People would wonder how she’s doing and Leigh would be even more upset with her than usual while in the same breath calling her sensitive and dramatic.

She learned to filter herself. Not entirely, she has plenty of instances in her life being caught intentionally or unintentionally saying the wrong things, but there are certain topics she’s learned to just not talk about. She doesn’t explicitly discuss Leigh’s less than loving and supportive treatment, she doesn’t talk about the amount of time she was left alone, and she doesn’t talk about how sometimes she feels so so empty inside. They affect the way other people see her and she wants control over that. They might have certain opinions about her, about choices she’s made or the way she’s acted, but she’d rather have hate than pity. Why should they pity her? She has every advantage life has to offer her. She’s been given so many gifts. She’d only look shallow and selfish and ungrateful to spurn them.

#neglect #emotional abuse #⭐️ | back on top in june ( about ivy ) #long post

[ghostwriterofficial]

The Ghostwriter (5 Chapter Sample)

Well, hello there! For my own safe keeping, I am posting the first five chapters of my work-in-progress novel, The Ghostwriter.

If you stay to read I would appreciate it greatly if you would tell me what you think in the notes!

This is my first ever novel, so I hardly know what I'm doing. Criticism, (both negative and positive) really helps me.

Cw/tw for cursing, drug reference and alcohol, as well as mild sexual references and a potential eating disorder (I promise it's not as edgy as that makes it seem)

(Also musical theater. Ew.)

Story is under the read more 》

  Chapter I

September 12th, 2012

A thin bar of moonlight crossed my face as I stared up at the ceiling, counting the cracks and then recounting them as I had been since about ten pm, which is when I gave up on television and attempted to sleep. At this point, though, I was giving up on that, too. I rolled over and checked the time on my alarm clock. 3 AM. Practically morning, I decided.

 I rolled out of the blankets and sat on the edge of my bed, holding my head in my hands. It’s better if I don’t sleep, anyway. I thought. When I slept, the dreams returned. Dark hair in the wind, bundled up in a parka, a small child. Ready for the bus, only to miss it- 

I shook my head, clearing the memory, and stood up. I stretched until my back popped and then I shuffled sock-footed down the hallway and into the kitchen.

I opened the fridge, removed the milk carton, and gave it a shake. 

“About half full,” I muttered, opening it and taking a swig. 

I set it on the counter and took a can of coffee out, along with one filter out of the bag that I kept up there. I placed it in my old coffeemaker, and then poured a spoonful of coffee inside it. I checked the water level, and noticed it was full, so I closed the top and pressed “start” before opening the cupboard where I kept dishes and grabbing my mug. It was a wedding gift from about five years ago- a cheap thing, with ‘Mr.’ printed in black serif on the outside.

 I liked it because it was just the right size, and in my experience conducted heat better than any other mug I had. I refilled the dog’s water dish and wiped my counter down white I waited for my coffee to brew. I smiled slightly when the comforting scent began to fill my apartment. Colin was sleeping on the couch, curled in a tight black ball. He wasn’t technically allowed to be there- he sheds like crazy- but I didn’t have the heart to kick him off.

 His old bones needed rest.

He stirred a bit in his sleep and I left the kitchen to give him an affectionate pat on his shoulder. He tapped his tail, very slightly, and sighed. 

“Good boy.” I murmured.

Just then, the coffee maker beeped, and I went back to the kitchen to pour myself a cup. I added some milk, and a little honey, and leaned back against my counter, mug warming my hands, as I waited for it to cool to a temperature just under the limit of what my mouth could handle. I glanced out the kitchen window, at what I could see of the sky. The stars weren’t visible- they never were, here- but the moon was.

 The first signs of dawn were beginning to appear on the undersides of the clouds, but the sky was a rich grayish black and a fat full moon shone in sharp relief against it. My brain hummed with the faintest sign of inspiration.

“Only the brightest lights are visible, but the moon is only bright because it reflects something brighter.” I muttered to myself, forgetting how hot my drink was and taking a thoughtful and artistic sip. 

I had been standing there for a second, breathing through my mouth to soothe my burned tongue, when my gaze dropped to the ivy plant on my kitchen windowsill. 

It seemed dry so I filled a glass half-full with water and poured some into the soil.

The plant was growing in the other mug in the wedding set, the one marked “Mrs.” 

I had wanted to break it when Ellie left, but I couldn’t bear to even throw it away.

At the same time though, I couldn’t stand seeing it just sitting there in the cabinet among the other mugs, as if it was just waiting expectantly for her to lift it off the shelf. I found a better use for it where it is now: on the sill, with an ivy in it.

With both mugs full, I felt less like half a set, and more like… well… 

Something else.

But in a good way, I think.

I took a sip of my coffee, now at a drinkable temperature, although the pain on my tongue had not completely faded.

I sighed, and set about the long task of enduring what was left of the night.

Chapter II

I managed to fall asleep soon after, despite the coffee, despite the fact that I had been sitting in an office chair, and despite the biting cold seeping through the drafty window in my office. I had been waiting in vain for an email to appear out of thin air, but it hadn’t three weeks ago, and it wouldn’t now.

It would’ve been smarter for me to just give up, at least temporarily- rather than waiting anxiously for a sign, any sign at all, that I had a client.

Business was always somewhat catch-as-catch-can in the ghostwriting industry, but never had it been so unreliable; I hadn’t had work in months, and my funds were running painfully thin.

My clients were the rich and powerful (or, far more often, the mildly famous) who wanted an “auto” biography without having to write said material. A few days ago I put in applications to work at the nearest fast food joints, just to keep myself alive, in case i couldn't get a client before my funds ran out.

I stretched, wincing at the soreness in my back, and stood up. 

I couldn’t tell the exact time from the light outside, as the sky was clouded over, mirroring the thick blanket of fog that had crept in on me as I slept. The worst kind of weather, in my opinion.

What made it worse was the fact that I had to go walk the dog.

I went to the door and called Colin.

Immediately I heard the telltale clicking of a dog’s claws on hardwood, and the boy himself appeared in the doorway, expectant dog grin on his face.

“Walk?”

He let out a quiet woof in response and wagged his tail like a helicopter.

I smiled despite myself and grabbed my coat and his leash off the hooks by the door, and after putting them on we departed.

I cannot stand fog; it makes everything damp and obscures your vision to the point that you almost have to navigate by sound alone. 

If it weren’t for Colin, I wouldn’t leave at all when it’s like this. At least it was a distraction from my depressing lack of emails- I knew if I were inside, I’d be checking it every five minutes, and that wouldn’t be healthy, really.

I congratulated myself for being positive for once as I followed the dog through the hall and down the stairs, fishing my pockets for cigarettes. I located one loose in my coat pocket along with a cheap lighter just as we were arriving at the door.

 It didn’t occur to me until I was faced with the swirling gray in person that I might not even be able to light the thing because of the oppressive moisture in the air. It also couldn’t hurt to try. I stood under the alcove and managed to light the end and set it smoldering. I took a puff and stepped off the stoop and onto the sidewalk, allowing Colin to lead me where he chose. Despite the cigarette, I couldn’t ignore the ominous presence of the fog. I couldn’t see ten feet in front of my face, and sounds were muffled. I felt goosebumps forming on my arms as I followed my dog into the void. I told myself I was acting stupid. I mean, this was practically a phobia, and for what? Some floating water vapor?

I shook myself off and tried to think of something, anything else, like how nice it was to be outside despite the weather, and think of all the calories I was burning by walking!

Except, no, it wasn’t nice really, and I needed all the calories I got. I was already underweight, although I didn’t like to admit it. It wasn’t that I couldn’t get food per se, I just kind of forgot to eat most of the time. I never really felt hunger a lot of the time, and whenever I realized I hadn’t eaten in a while, I had to force myself to eat anyway, so what was the point of cooking? Most of my calorie content was from the shit I put in my coffee, to be honest. I exhaled smoke as I sighed.

“It never gets better, does it?” I said aloud, surprising myself as much as the dog, who turned to face me, looking concerned. It was a thought I had been having internally for a long time, turning it around in my mind like a gas station hot dog, but I don’t think I’d ever voiced it. I took a long drag and released it. Fuck, I knew I didn’t need an answer for that question. I knew the answer. Maybe it had been better once at some point, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to survive long enough for it to ever be that way again. And if I was being honest with myself I don’t think I wanted things to be the way they were. Unless I could turn back time to before shit started to hit the metaphorical fan, anything I did would be tainted by my memories. Any happiness made me feel vague guilt as it was- it might’ve eaten me alive if I let myself be happy all the time.

Maybe things got better for some people, but as far as I was concerned, things were as good as over. I had smoked that cigarette down to the filter and half finished another (a completely different brand, who knows where it came from? Certainly not me-), by the time Colin was ready to head back to the apartment. I smoked the other one down and crushed it under my heel. Instantly wishing I had more. It was less of an addiction to nicotine (although that helped), than just the desire to focus on something. I used to smoke pot, but it was one of the first things to go when I started budgeting- it just wasn’t as important as food.

If you asked me that now, I’d probably have a different opinion, but that didn’t matter anyway, because my food budget had shrunk to be far lower than what my weed budget used to be.

I stepped in a puddle and almost cried.

I squelched home in abject misery, mentally cursing God, Zeus, and the local politicians.

Colin led the way into the building, up the stairs, down the hallway, and waited patiently while I fumbled with the keys.

I threw off my shoes, peeled off my socks, and, standing there in my bare feet, decided to go the whole extra mile and just take a shower. When I finished, I put another pair of sweatpants on along with a clean shirt, and threw a hoodie over it because the apartment was cold. Slouching into the kitchen, I noticed Colon's empty food dish and poured a scoop into it for him. Hearing the tinkle of the kibble, he came trotting in from the living room, grin on his face, and began inhaling it.

I patted his head and left him to it. The door to my office (used to be a bedroom) caught my eye, and I stood in the living room with what looked like an intense internal conflict all over my face, when in reality I had blanked out and there were no thoughts going on whatsoever.  I remembered where I was and opened the door. The bulky old computer, at least half my age, sat taunting me from the rickety old desk I had picked up from a yard sale at a house a couple blocks down the road. I took a seat in my office chair and reached out a hand to boot the thing up, before catching myself.

"C'mon Jack. You know there's nothin' there…" I muttered aloud, immediately pressing the power button anyway.

I watched in sulky silence as the dinosaur of a computer struggled to boot. As it loaded itself up, I reminded myself that there was no way that there would possibly be anything in my inbox. I opened Gmail with that mindset, and I had to come to terms with the fact that it was the wrong one pretty quickly when, despite the odds, I was faced with an email. Not just any email, either- an email from a potential client, which had been sent hours ago, while I was sleeping right in front of the goddamned computer. With shaking hands I opened it and began to read.

In essence, the agent of one Ossory Black, famous Broadway actor, required someone who could write a biography for him from his point of view, without credit but with a fat stack of cash as reward. They wanted confirmation of a lunch date/interview over the phone, and had enclosed their number as an open invitation.

I felt giddy. I could live for months on that type of money, which, while the numbers had been vague at best, I was sure was a good type.

I practically scrambled to call the number, nearly dropping my Nokia several times. Which wouldn't have been a problem, but was still frustrating.

It rang three times before a disgruntled female voice answered me.

"You've reached Lilly Harper," she growled, "the fuck do you want?"

"I'm Jack Shmidt," I spoke slowly to avoid pissing her off. "The ghostwriter?"

"Oh, right." She cleared her throat and seemed to straighten herself before continuing. "Sorry about that, I thought you were… someone else…"

I had ideas about who that someone could be, but I didn't say anything.

"It's alright. You wanted to negotiate a deal?"

"Yes." She said, "But damn, have you got your work cut out for you."

Chapter III

We spoke at length about rates, before negotiating a meet time. I hung up the phone with a grin and turned to my dog, who had come over at the sound of my voice.

"We're safe now, boy!" I laughed, attempting to pick him up, before my strength failed and I gave up. I shook it off and petted him instead, but it still worried me, somewhere in the back of my mind. I was always able to carry him before, even when he was a strong young adult. Now he was old, and light, and somewhat frail and I should’ve definitely been able to carry him with ease, but I couldn’t and it made me uneasy. I went out onto the balcony and lit a cigarette.

It hit me that this book may very well be my big break, so to speak. 

Although I knew I wouldn't get any credit for the work publicly, Black was famous enough that hopefully the right people within publishing would catch wind of it. I realized then that this job was more important than just this one client- it could make or break my career.

I chuckled and snuffed my cigarette out on the wooden railing. Kind of late for that, honestly. An opportunity like this should've come a decade ago; career determining events belong in your twenties. Not that I was complaining, this way I knew I wouldn’t botch the job- I had an extra ten or so years of experience under my belt.

I pocketed what was left of the cigarette and went inside. I knew what I had to do to prepare for the project.

I spent the next three days researching the theater, so I could at least appear knowledgeable. I even found a few illegal recordings of plays circulating online, including some that Black himself had performed in. He didn’t look how I expected him to. Honestly, I was kind of expecting an older guy- after all, why would a young guy want a biography when he wasn't done having experiences worth writing about? He seemed to be in his mid to late twenties, a little younger than I was, and he had vibrant red hair. I thought I’d seen redheads before, but Ossory Black was a whole different category. I had never seen anyone with hair that shade, and my first instinct was to think it was dyed, but by the time I finished all the material I could find, I wasn’t so sure, although I wasn’t able to find any pictures of him with different colored hair to prove it.

 He seemed to own any stage he was placed on, even when he played more minor roles, which is probably the reason he wasn’t put in minor roles more than a few times, in his early career.

 I wasn’t able to find any plays featuring him in any roles, even minor ones, earlier than 2004, but I chalked that down to him only being in local performances, or more niche productions. His wikipedia page was uncommonly bare as well, which was surprising as he was somewhat of a celebrity, with a good number of fans. 

The only information on his page that I hadn’t found out myself through mere deduction was a birth date; November 1st, 1985, which meant he was 27, so I was more or less spot on when I guessed his age. I was intrigued by the incredible dearth of information relating to this guy, and found it exciting that I would be the one who would reveal his backstory to the world, and judging by the comments sections on the many MySpace posts related to him, a lot of people wanted to read it, too. 

I woke up to the alarm I forgot I had set blaring in my ears, and it took me a solid thirty seconds to remember why the fuck I had set it in the first place.

I slapped at it until it shut up and then I groaned and rolled out of bed, stretched, and trudged, bleary-eyed, into the kitchen, where I brewed myself some coffee and thought about maybe making toast. I decided against it (pretty sure the bread was stale anyway), and went into the office, where I saw my notes from yesterday and nearly spat out my drink with the shock of realizing that it had actually happened. Jack Shmidt in reality is never so lucky… until now, I guess. I gathered my notes, skimmed over them to jog my memory, and checked the time. 

“Shit.” I sighed. I needed to hurry or I’d be late. 

 I showered quickly, blow dried my hair, and shaved. Then I went to figure out what to wear. I found a sweater vest in the back of my closet, a pale blue button-down shirt, and a pair of khaki slacks.

I got dressed and hunted down my comb so I could fight the knots out of my hair. I seriously needed a haircut. Like, a professional haircut, not just the stationary-scissors trims I would give myself once my hair got long enough to brush my shoulders. I hadn’t gotten it professionally cut since my ex wife and I were emo and I wanted it fringe. I lost focus reminiscing and accidentally yanked the comb too hard.

I cursed and shook my head to dispel the pain and the memories. As I did so I noticed the wall clock out of the corner of my eye- I had fifteen minutes to get there. I cursed again and stood up, scanning the room for things I may need. I grabbed my keys, phone, notepad and wallet and shrugged into my coat. Colin heard my keys jingling and came running, thinking I was taking him for a walk.

“Sorry, buddy,” I told him, crouching so I could give him a hug,  “You can’t come along this time.” I held his face and rubbed the graying hairs on the side of his muzzle and sighed.

He was getting old fast. He had been just a puppy when Hope was born. I stood abruptly, startling the dog, and turned to leave.

On my way out I peeked at myself in the full-length mirror by the door and sighed. The idea was to make myself look like the kind of person who would enjoy theater, but I just felt like an office worker like this. I glanced into the coat closet, found my favorite knit cap, and put it on.

“Yeah, I guess this works.” I shrugged and pulled on my converse.

As I was leaving my apartment I turned to look over my shoulder at Colin.

“Bye.” I said again.

He answered with nothing but a tired sigh that ate at my heart, and I shut the door behind me, leaving him alone.

When I turned around I found myself face to face with my neighbor, Crystal.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” She asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“Interview.” I said, trying to move past her.

“You finally got a real job?” She elbowed me teasingly. “Mister ‘Starving Artist’?”

“I’m the one doing the interviewing, dumbass.” I snorted.

“Ohhh…” She adjusted her glasses, (which I knew were just RealD 3D glasses with the frames popped out, but whatever). “Well, at least you’re being paid, cause the way you’ve been living…”

“Yeah… I, uh…” I nodded my head in the direction I needed to go. “I’m actually gonna be late if I don’t-”

“...Absolutely cray cray.” She continued. I doubt she had even heard me, because she was now texting someone. “Who is your client, anyway?”

“Uhhh… some guy named Ossory Black?”

She nearly dropped her phone. “Ossory Black??”

I nodded and tried to escape while she was distracted, but she grabbed my sleeve before I could get away. “Ossory fucking Black? The actor?”

“Yep. That guy.”

“O.M.G that’s cool as shit.”

“Can I go now?”

“So that’s why you’re dressed like a bargain bin Onceler.” She grinned.

“That’s the best diss you could come up with?” 

“Not really a diss, you know…” She said, moving closer. “You know I’m a Once-ling. I kinda dig the scrawny hipster aesthetic.”

I cleared my throat. “Crystal, we talked about this.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun, Jack. If you didn’t want to see me anymore you should’ve moved away like I told you to.”

“You know full fucking well that that’s not happening.” I growled.

She moved away. “Sheeeeeeesh…” 

As I turned to leave she called after me,

“Hey, get an autograph from him for me, pretty please? I’m a big fan!”

The car ride was uneventful, and traffic was somewhat light, luckily, but I still ended up five minutes late. 

I locked my car, a little Honda Civic with nothing in or on it worth stealing, and crossed the rain-shiny parking lot to the little diner we had agreed to meet at. Surprisingly humble in my opinion, due to the theatrical nature of my client’s profession, but I didn’t mind either way. 

When I stepped through the heavy wooden push-door, I skimmed the tables for my client.

He wasn’t hard to find. Aside from his eye-catching hair, he seemed to exude an air of confidence that drew the eyes. Also, he was reading one of my books.

I stumbled as soon as I noticed. He was sitting sideways at the booth, leaning against the window, with my book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He took a sip and flipped the page, seeming engrossed. 

I had no idea if he knew I had written it (though if he didn’t that was a crazy coincidence), but I still scanned his face for signs of approval and willed myself to walk.

When I neared the booth he raised his eyes to meet mine. They were bright green and full of humor. I realized that I had dressed incorrectly. Black himself was wearing ripped black jeans and a dark green sweater that was unraveling at the edges, in contrast to my pale business casual.

“Good book?” I asked as I struggled to arrange my thoughts.

“Actually, yeah,” He grinned. “And who are you?”

“Jack Shmidt… I’m uh…” 

He thought about it for a moment before he realized.

“Oh! You’re the ghostwriter, aren’t ya?”

I grimaced. “Well, I wouldn’t say it out loud like that.”

He closed the book and turned to sit at the table normally.

“Eh, who gives a damn, my reputation is already shit anyway,” He said, gesturing across the table, “Have a seat, why dontcha?”

I obliged, and he continued.

“So Lil hired you to write down my life story, right?” He asked, stirring his drink, which at closer range was revealed to be not coffee, but tea.

“Ah, yes. Yes, that’s correct.” I nodded.

An elderly waitress noticed us and came over to take our orders.

“Well would you look at that, its my favorite reoccurring customer. And you've got a new friend?” She twittered. "Double the business!"

“Doris, this is Jack,” Black gestured towards me and I waved sheepishly. “He’s been hired to write my biography.”

“That’s wonderful honey, I hope it sells well.”

“Thank you kindly.” He answered with a warm smile.

“Can I getcha anything, dears?” She asked, glancing first at Ossory, then at me. 

“Just the usual, please.” Black answered

“Oh, of course. It's always potatoes with you in some way or other, you ginger."

 Watching them laugh together made me grin despite myself. 

She turned to me with a sparkle in her eye.

“And what can I get for you?”

“Oh, no thank you,” I said, shaking my head, “I’m not hungry.”

“Oh nonsense, dear.”

“No, really. I don’t need anything to eat.” I insisted, “But I would like some coffee, if you have it.”

“Suit yourself, dearest,” she shrugged, “But if you get hungry just let me know.” she gave a pert nod in my direction and shuffled back to the kitchen.

I looked down at the table and sighed quietly enough that I didn’t think anybody could hear me over the din of the diner, but when I looked up, I saw that Black was examining my face with a vague expression on his face.

“You… alright, over there?” He asked.

“Oh, totally. Just had a big breakfast, that's all.” I lied cheerfully.

He laughed. “I get it.”

I cleared my throat and changed the subject.

“Anyway, that book we were working on?”

“Oh, right, well, what is it you need to know?” He asked. “Where should I start?”

“Well, uh.” I pulled out my notebook and opened it at an empty page. “I guess, the beginning? You know, where were you born? To whom?”

“I…” He thought for a moment, closing his eyes with concentration, “Well I was born the first of November, In 1986.” He said.

“Uh huh.” I nodded. I learned that already, from wikipedia.

“I was born in Ireland, but came over the pond a long time ago, I don’t remember it much.” He continued.

I wrote that down quickly. I should’ve figured he was Irish based on his hair, and eyes, and the spray of freckles across his nose.

“Alright.” I said, when I noticed that he was waiting for confirmation.

He cleared his throat and continued on. “I came over alone, though. No parents.”

I glanced up, surprised.

“If you don’t mind me asking, wha-”

He interrupted me with a shrug. “No idea, I never saw them again.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

He shrugged again. “I don’t remember them, either. It was forever ago.”

From that point on he had my pen writing constantly as he painted his story.

After he came to America, he wandered the streets of New York, where he saw his first Broadway play by sneaking in after a young well-to-do couple, the Morrison-Blakes, who offered to take him in when they discovered him trying to follow them out afterwards. 

The wife, Margaret Morrison-Blake, was infertile, and they raised the then eight-year-old Ossory Black as their own son, in their family home in Vermont. 

He was next in line to receive the Morrison-Blake fortune when his adoptive parents suddenly disappeared and he was accused of the murder, but nothing came of the accusations. At 15 years old Black was once again an orphan, but this time he ran away when the authorities tried to put him in foster care, and ended up living in an abandoned house in the ‘bad part’ of town. He didn’t go to school past freshman year.

I was enthralled. As he spoke, a far-away look came into his eyes like an old man reminiscing about old memories. 

We completely lost track of time, actually. The food was delivered and eaten, several cups of coffee were drunk, the bill was delivered and paid (Black insisted on footing the bill) and I got to see just a little bit deeper into the soul of the man who was Ossory Black than anyone else ever had… or at least, that's what I thought.

When I looked up from my notepad, I noticed the light had changed. 

He did, too, “I think we’d best continue that when we meet next.” He grinned.

“Yeah,” I said, gathering my things.

“Oh, wait- before I forget…” He rifled through his bag, searching for something. I stood back and waited, and he pulled out a wad of cash. “This is the… uh… whatever it’s called… down payment?” 

On autopilot, I reached out and took it. “Yeah, thanks.” I said, pocketing it. It looked to be a good thousand’s worth in hundred-dollar bills. I grinned.

“Also,” He looked me up and down, “You’ve never been to a single production, have you?”

I ran my hand across the back of my neck. “Well, uh… not in person?”

He snapped his fingers. “I knew it!” He exclaimed, “I kept dropping the easiest references ever and they went right over your head.” 

“Heh. Yeah, I wasn’t a theater kid or anything.” I shrugged.

“Yeah, you look like the Onceler pre-capitalism trying to pass himself off as a highschool theater queer when he’s nothing but a hipster without the mustache.” 

I had to take a few seconds to process all the words in that sentence, and by the time I was ready to defend myself he was already distracted looking for something in his bag.

He passed me a rather large red ticket, resembling a movie ticket but oversized, and what looked like a backstage pass but had “Crew” printed on it. “This is for my next show.” He said, pointing at the ticket. “It opens for the first time tomorrow, actually, which is why I have to be leaving, heh.” 

“Oh, thanks.” 

“Yeah, of course.” He thought for a moment. “I mean, after all, you can’t write about theater if you’ve never felt theater.”

“Okay, And what’s this for?” I held up the pass.

“Ah,” He grinned mischievously. “That will let you into the crew only after-party.”

I imagined what Crystal would think if I told her I’d be going to a cast party with Ossory Black and stifled a wicked grin.

“Actually, could I get an autograph? My friend is a big fan of yours.” I ripped a blank sheet from my notebook and held it out to him.

He smiled and pulled a pen from his back pocket. “Sure. Who should I make it out to?”

I thought for a moment before answering; “That chick with the mustache finger tattoo.”

He snorted and slapped the paper down on the table so he could write it down before signing the page with his name in elegant script.

 “Here you go.” He said, passing it back to me with a tip of an imaginary hat. “Good luck with that chick.”

“Thanks.” I chuckled. “Good luck with your rehearsal.”

“Much obliged.” He said, turning on his heel and walking out of the doors with extremely enviable confidence.

I shook my head and pocketed the autograph before going out the door myself. I glanced around on my way to the car, but he was nowhere to be seen.

On my way back to my apartment I stopped to deposit all of the money in the bank except for one hundred dollar bill, which I took with me to Walmart and used to buy dog food and printer ink, then I drove through the Starbucks drive thru and ordered a venti Caramel Macchiato with almond milk, no whipped cream, and three and a half extra shots of espresso in it using the change.

“Fucking hell, they made it wrong.” I sighed, taking a sip as I turned out into the rolling tide of traffic, only to be nearly rear-ended by a minivan.

“Mother fucker!” I snarled as I unrolled the window and stuck my hand out so they could see when I flipped them off. Judging by the way they laid on the horn, they definitely saw it. I quickly rotated the hand crank to roll the window back up and snickered.

When traffic started moving again, the minivan passed me and I made eye contact with the bloated, red faced, and absolutely livid middle aged man who was driving. I winked at him and he started ranting like a lunatic at his wife, who was sitting next to him with an expression of abject misery. I shuddered at the thought that I may be like them someday. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was getting older, despite the fact that I didn’t seem to have changed much since I was twenty, other than one or two concerning gray hairs that were only visible if I looked for them. Even still, time marched on. Hope would’ve been twelve if she hadn’t- 

I turned the knob on the radio all the way up to dispel the thought and nearly shattered my fucking eardrums. I sat there, watching the sea of cars trickle slowly forward, and tried to stop my shoulders from shaking while Somebody That I Used to Know blared out of my car’s speakers with so much force that I could practically feel it.

It occurred to me then that I never would be like that middle aged couple, they-

(insert deep philosophical speech where this mf over analyzes boomers)

***

I pulled into the apartment block two hours later, what optimism I had left sucked away like jello through a metal tube by New Jersey traffic. As neat of a noise as that would make, I was sad, and desperate for the cigarettes I had forgotten to buy. I lugged the groceries upstairs with great difficulty, put them away, and immediately threw off my clothes so I could change into something more comfortable. I found my favorite pair of sweatpants, an old pair with worn knees and holes in random places from Colin getting too excited as a puppy. I was pulling a hoodie over my head when a knock came at the door.

“H-hello?” I called.

“Jack, it’s me, Crystal!”

I adjusted my sweater and walked over to the door. 

“What do you want, though?” I said, without opening it.

I could hear her exasperated sigh through the door before she told me she just wanted to talk.

I opened the door and crossed my arms, waiting for her to say what she wanted to.

“So,” She grinned. “Ossory Black?”

I shrugged. “He’s pretty chill, I guess.”

“You interviewed him, though.” She said, eagerly. “You learned shit he hasn’t told anyone else before.”

“Yeah, I mean…”

“Have you started writing?”

“Chris, I just got home…” 

“Oh, right,” She thought for a second, “Didya get an autograph for me?”

I had completely forgotten about it. “Actually, yeah. Give me a minute to find it.”

Before she could answer, I closed my door and searched around a minute before finding the sheet of paper folded up in one of the front pockets of the slacks I had been wearing, where it made the most logical sense for them to be in the first place.

I opened the door again warily to find her still standing there.

“Here.” I said, handing her the paper and immediately shutting the door again.

I could vaguely hear her saying something through the door, but I pretended not to and went to find the dog.  

I found him sleeping on the sofa again and gave him a gentle pat, before sitting down at my desk to set up a more cohesive outline.

The first step was to check Black’s story, to see if any of the people he mentioned, even the ones with a vague connection, could be found and hopefully interviewed. The first people I googled were his adoptive parents, the Morrison-Blakes. Although they were dead, hopefully I’d be able to find living relatives, or more descriptive accounts of their deaths that Black himself wouldn't have been able to know or remember. Possibly even information on his immigration that would even reveal the identities of his biological parents. No matter how thoroughly I checked, though, I couldn’t find anything. I couldn’t even find evidence that the Morisson-Blakes were real people. The nearest record of people with those specific names were a couple from the 1800s, who had obviously been dead too long to have anything to do with Black.  I chewed my lip thoughtfully. It’s possible that he misremembered their names, I thought. He was pretty young when they died, and he didn’t know them for all that long, did he?

I made a note to ask Black about it tomorrow, and went to bed.

Chapter IV

I managed to sleep that night, for a few hours. I woke up at nine and made myself some cereal that I made myself eat a couple bites of before pouring the rest into the sink. I cleaned out my fridge, excavating leftovers that looked old enough to host sentient life. With no remorse, I tossed them in the trash and lugged the full bag down the stairs and out the door so I could throw them into the apartment block’s dumpster. Noticing the difference already upon reentering my apartment, I decided to do a little more cleaning. ‘A little more cleaning’ started off as just me wiping down counters and mopping the bathroom floor, and ended up with me vacuuming the curtains and throwing away decade-old tax invoices. 

I stood in my living room, hands on my hips, surveying my handiwork. 

Yeah, the furniture was mismatched, and the ceiling leaked, and the carpet was stained, but it suited me. I was mismatched and poorly put together myself. And the work I had just put in was worth it. 

“Probably about time to get ready for the show.” I told Colin, who was sitting on the couch, already dusting the blue fabric with dark hairs.

He let out a quiet woof and I forgot about the couch.

“Good boy.” I said, giving him a pat as I walked past. 

In my closet, I had a surprising amount of formal clothing.

Most didn’t fit quite right. Too big, too loose. The tuxedo I wore to my wedding, the ones I wore to friends’ funerals, the suits I used to wear to meet clients. I grabbed two undershirts and held one and then the other against my chest to figure out which would fit better. Eventually I decided on one and found an overcoat that matched. 

“Here goes nothing.” I sighed.

***

The traffic was unusually quiet and the sun painted the clouds vivid orange as it went down over the tallest buildings. I couldn’t help but smile a bit as I checked the time. If all went well, I would arrive on time- early, even. Immediately after thinking this I came up on a blockage several cars long.

“Shit, just my luck.” I muttered, settling back in my seat and sighing. The music that was playing on the radio just then was getting on my nerves, so I opened the glovebox and pulled out a stack of CDs large enough to bludgeon a man to death if put into something swingable, like a leather bag. 

Not that I had thought about using them as a weapon or anything- that was just roughly how many they were.

Unfortunately, my music tastes had changed a lot since I bought most of them. I felt a vague nostalgic sadness as I flipped through the cases and saw titles I hadn’t read in years;

The Young And The Hopeless by Good Charlotte, Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge by MCR…

I smiled a little at that last one. I remembered going to a My Chemical Romance several years ago, back before the divorce. I carried her on my shoulders so she could see over the crowd, both of us high as the ceiling and having the time of our lives. I could remember that night vividly, down to the way her fishnets felt against my skin and the name of the guy we’d bought the ketamine from. I still knew the lyrics of damn near all of their songs. That was one of the last times I ever went to anything remotely like that. I found a Foo Fighters CD in the pile and popped it into the CD player. 

As traffic started moving again, I couldn’t help but smile at the situation.

Here I was, a man in a Honda Civic wearing a formal suit, listening to alt rock on my way to a musical. I was nothing but a mess of contradictions. I pulled into the theater’s parking lot only twenty minutes later and was surprised to see that it was completely full of cars. I drove in circles for a while, looking for just one empty spot with no luck before giving up and heading back out to park by the side of the street somewhere. Finding somewhere free about fifty yards away in between two cars, I swung myself into it in a parallel park maneuver that would’ve made my dad proud, if I had had one. 

I grabbed my bag and locked the door behind me. The length of sidewalk between me and the theater was obscene, but eventually I arrived at the stairs, and upon checking the time realized I was still ten minutes early.

I was pushed along by the crowd into the line for bag checks. After checking my bag, the woman behind the desk asked me if I was a journalist.

Despite being a little overwhelmed, I managed to smile back and answer, “Yeah, something like that.” As I took my things.

When I turned around, I was offered a playbill, which I took, and then I followed the crowd into the main theater.

With some difficulty, I located my seats, which were in the middle of the theater. 

I was surprised by the variety of dress in the patrons. I had expected entirely formal clothing, but many people came in dressed in casual street clothes. Fortunately there were enough fancily dressed people milling around that I didn’t feel overdressed. Honestly, I felt out of place for other reasons… I was a punk rock meth head in a place of fine art, no matter what clothes I wore. It occurred to me that this just might be what making it in life felt like. 

As I waited for the play to start, I took notes on the surroundings. The beautiful high ceilings and ornate columns that almost seemed to come from another era. I could understand why somebody would want to devote their life to this craft.

I was brought out of my thoughts by the lights dimming.

The audience drew silent as the curtains drew back…

And the stage lights illuminated him. Ossory Black.

He gave a little wave to the audience and several people waved back.

“Hello, and welcome to opening night.” He said with a grin, “I hope you enjoy it, because I know I sure will.”

Laughter.

He paced across the stage and continued- “Y’know, no matter how many years I do this for, it never gets old. Maybe this sounds funny coming from me; the newest redheaded star to appear from thin air-”

The audience seemed to be in on the joke, judging by the uproarious laughter that made Ossory crack a wicked grin in response, but I was confused as hell and made a note to ask him about it at the party. 

After they quieted down again, he continued, “- but I couldn’t imagine ever doing anything else. Do something great for humanity, they tell you when you’re young.” He shrugged.

“What they meant was for me to be a doctor or something, a politician, I don’t know…”

“But anyway, I chose to become an actor, because of course you could do your best to fight the world’s problems directly… go down tooth in nail trying to kill world hunger, or racism, or whatever your battle is, and ultimately kill yourself in the process…,” He glanced around the crowd, which was completely silent, waiting for his next words;

“Or, you can reach people, change their minds, offer them catharsis in a world constantly throwing real tragedies their way.”, he said, making eye contact with me, “And live forever.”

I looked down, chewing over his words as he wrapped up his speech.

“The production you are about to witness is one of those tales. Fine art intended to inspire, courtesy of the mind of the great Hugh Jass, who sends you his warmest thoughts from the hospital, where he is watching this live.” He looked sternly down at a group of people who had brought children and said, “That being said, remember to silence your phones, and if your children really must be obnoxious, it would be great if you could remove yourselves in order to  not ruin the immersion of everyone around you.

“That being said, sit back and enjoy the show, everyone.”

I settled back in my seat and watched as the light changed again, and the show started.

***

After the show, I followed the crowd back into the atrium, chewing over my thoughts about the musical itself. I had filled several pages with my notes on it, even though I had stopped writing about thirty minutes in. 

I noticed a crowd around a door marked Crew and realized that was probably where I needed to go. I tentatively made my way through the crowd. I had almost gotten to the door when a reporter who had been waiting for actual crew members noticed the tag of my lanyard sticking out of my bag and blocked my path.

“K18 News, who did you play?” She asked.

“Ah, nobody… I’m uh… backstage?” I said, moving past her.

She continued to block my path “Any information on the whereabouts of Black, Gladstone and Zhaoqing?” 

“Uh, no.” I lied. Actually, I was pretty sure they were still behind that door. “If you’d excuse me-”

Finally I escaped her and scanned the card for entry.

Entering the room, I found myself face to face with a couple of the most murderous looking background dancers I had ever seen.

      "We already told ya! No backstage access tonight!"

I pulled the pass out of my bag and held it out to them.

     "I'm uh… with Black?"

They rolled their eyes and shot knowing glances at each other.

      "God. Fine. Everybody's back there."

      "Uh, okay..?" 

I stepped through a pair of wooden double doors into a large lounge filled with people.

The room itself was elegant and formal. Red velvet and mahogany furniture, brass trim everywhere. I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had told me that it was Victorian. Directly contrasting the decor were the people. They were still dressed in their costumes for the most part, clustered in groups of four or five, laughing at a volume that could only mean they were shitfaced already. Either that or they were lounging on and around the chaise lounges with blunts in their mouths. I glanced around the room, but I didn’t see Black anywhere. I did, however, notice a bar against one wall. I crossed the room and took a seat at the counter. A handsome bartender asked me what I wanted and I asked for something strong.

It had been a while since I’d drank, and when I finished that one, I had another.

Glass in hand, I surveyed the lounge again. A song by Tame Impala was playing as people sat around doing various drugs. Most I recognized, some I didn’t. 

When I was told to come to the cast party, this was honestly not what I expected.

I mean, it's a little shocking to watch a play where a person is a beacon of virtue and light or whatever, a tragic martyr, and then immediately afterwards watch the actress do cocaine off the sleeve of her dress while still in costume. I took a drink and sighed. The doors swung open and Black himself walked through wearing street clothes.

Everyone who wasn’t too incapacitated already cheered. He pretended to be flustered by the applause and covered his face with his hands.

“Aw shucks.” He said. This was met by laughter and he joined a group of the main cast members where he was offered champagne.

I couldn’t help but feel out of place when faced with the tight-knit camaraderie of these people that I didn’t know. I was almost a fly on the wall in a place I wasn’t supposed to be, except I had been invited personally. I found myself wondering why I had been invited in the first place, I mean, surely he didn’t want me writing about beautiful young actresses snorting lines of coke off their sleeves so why..? I shrugged the thought away and took another drink. Realizing it was empty, I called for another. Several drinks later, I’d damn near forgotten my name, but that was fine by me. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to face the person and saw that it was Black.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” He asked with a grin.

“Gawd. Tha-thas horrid.” I said, tripping over my words a bit.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. couldn’t get any more c-clish…”

“Cliche?”

“Yeah. That.” 

“Ok,” He grinned, “Then it’s your turn. Say something cliche.”

“I’m naht wearin’ any underwear.” I confidently blurted out.

He choked on his drink and stood there coughing for a minute.

"Huh??" He stood there with a drink in his hand, puzzled.

I tried to string some words together in a comprehensible way and failed, so I just gave up. Somebody called Ossory's name and he turned towards the sound.

"Well, nice seein' ya, man." He said, slapping my back in a genial sort of way, "But I'm needed elsewhere."

I think I grunted in response, and he disappeared back into the crowd, as I disappeared back into my Screwdriver.

Bliss, probably. I couldn't tell if what I was feeling was positive or negative anymore. And at that point, I didn't care.

***

Ossory surveyed the aftermath, proud host of a party well run.

“You can tell how good a party was by the amount of vomit on the walls.” He said to nobody in particular.

The only people who were still there were the usual layabouts and druggies. Passed out in positions of varying degrees of comfort and practicality. They knew how to get home, and honestly they deserved to get stranded if they didn’t. Sitting slumped over at the bar was a figure he didn’t immediately recognize. Apon nearing the bar he realized that it was the writer. John or James or whatever. Ossory cleared his throat. No response, other than a soft intake of breath that at least let him know that the guy hadn’t died from alcohol poisoning.

“Hey man, do you have a ride home?” he asked him. 

When he got no answer again, Ossory nudged him and he grunted and opened his eyes.

“An’ his name is Jahn ceeeeeeeeenaaaa….”  He mumbled.

“Hey man, sorry to bother you, but the place is about to be closed up for cleanin’ and-”

“Hrgnnn… fuck.”

“Indeed.” Ossory thought for a second. “Yeah, you’re in no condition to drive.”

John only shrugged in response.

“Have you got someone who can come get ya?”

He shook his head slowly.

Ossory noticed James’s wallet sticking out of his back pocket and grabbed it.

Opening it, he found a driver’s license with his actual name on it, which meant that Ossory wouldn’t have to embarrass himself by asking him what his name was again, and also a family portrait, which he pulled out so he could look at it more closely. It showed a younger Jack with his arm around a young woman and a small child in his arms. Reaching its head up to look at them was a black-furred older puppy, all of them standing under an umbrella on a rainy day. Ossory was transfixed. He’d never really had a family. It just hadn���t really seemed possible for him, all things considered. 

“You have a beautiful family, Mr. Shmidt,” He said, and when Jack didn’t answer, he continued with, “Oh, I could probably call your wife to come get you, would that work?” 

He turned to look at Jack and was shocked to see that he was crying. Tears ran down his face and dripped onto the counter and he stifled a sob with his hand.

Ossory stood there for a minute, unsure of what to say, before taking a seat on the bar stool next to Jack’s.

“Hey, uh-” He tentatively reached out a hand and patted his back in a feeble attempt to comfort him.

This is weird, this is weird, this is really fucking weird. Ossory thought, as he continued to try to comfort the writer, “I’m sorry… I didn’t know, uh…”

Jack made a vaguely speech-like noise then, and he stopped patting to listen.

“Huh?” Ossory said.

“Rain… Bus… f-fog.. I…” Jack said between body shaking sobs.

He probably hasn’t cried in a really long time… Ossory realized. Something horrible happened, and it took getting blackout drunk for him to finally be able to let it out- or… some of it at least.

“Would you like to, uh, talk about it?”

“Cup.” He cried, before passing out again. There was no way Ossory was getting anything else out of him.

Ossory chewed his lip speculatively. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and dialed a number. 

“Hey, Lilly. Can you call a cab for this guy?” He waited for her answer before continuing, “And also, make sure you schedule our next meeting at a bar or somethin’. I need to get him drunk again.” 

Before she had a chance to say anything in response, he hung up and pocketed his phone

Ordinarily, he wouldn’t really care, but something prompted him to learn more about this sad loser’s backstory.

***

I woke up with my face in a puddle of vodka and my employer standing next to me with a mix of pity and impatience on his face.

“You alright?” He asked.

I sat up. There was alcohol in my hair, and on my clothes. If someone struck a match anywhere near me I would probably catch fire. It would be better for me that way, honestly, A fitting end. Burned to death in a hidden theater lounge.

Ossory cleared his throat.

“Ah, yeah,” I answered with a fake ass smile, “I’m great.”

“I called a cab for you a while ago. Should be here pretty soon, but you know how traffic can be.”

“Oh, I appreciate it, but I drove here. I can get home fine.”

He laughed. “Drunk or not, you can’t drive home smelling like you used an entire bottle of vodka as shampoo.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“I learned that the hard way.”

“Ah.”

Our conversation drifted off into awkward silence and it suddenly occurred to me exactly what had just happened. I had gotten blackout drunk at Ossory Black’s cast party and now he pitied my sorry ass enough to pay for my transport home.

“I’m not an alcoholic.” I said.

He looked confused. “I never said you were.”

My head was spinning still and I was dreading standing up because I was sure I would vomit. I didn’t answer.

“Everybody gets shitfaced every now and then,” he continued, “Honestly, if you don’t you’re a stuck up prude and I want nothing to do with you.”

“Ah.”

He paused for a moment, thinking. “So, uh.”

I turned to look at him and was surprised to see that he was struggling to come up with something to say. He looked genuinely concerned and I started to worry about what had happened the night before. I couldn’t remember shit.

“Jack, I…” He paused. “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?” 

I shrugged.

“Alright. I just wanted to ask about….” He trailed off.

I waited for him to say something but he didn’t.

“What?” I asked, curious now.

“Nevermind. It’s not my place.”

That made me incredibly anxious, but before I had a chance to ask him what the fuck he meant by that, one of the doors opened and a security guard entered the lounge.

“Cabbie’s here.” He said and turned on his heel. The door shut behind him and Ossory turned to face me. 

“That’d be your ride. I’ll have one of my staff bring your vehicle to your home address, if you’d like.”

I bit my lip. “Yeah, thanks.”

I got off the barstool too quickly and my head began to spin. I gripped the beveled edge of the counter to steady myself.

“You good, man?”

I shook my head and gagged.

“You have like no liquor tolerance, huh?”

I didn’t answer because I was too busy trying to keep my insides from becoming outsides.

“I mean, half the people here drank more than you did last night.”

Before he could say anything else, I threw up what little I had in my stomach. I had to stand there for a second until my vision cleared. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and cursed.

“I haven’t eaten anything in a while.” I said by way of explanation.

“Oh.” Ossory said. He looked like he wanted to say more but I had already started walking to the door. He didn’t follow me.

Security came through the door again before I was halfway there and informed us that the taxi was about to leave without me.

I started to follow him out, but before I closed the door, I glanced back over my shoulder at the short redheaded actor who seemed almost stranded in the middle of the chaos. He had turned towards the bar and was pouring himself a drink.

“Hey, Ossory?” I called, and he turned around to meet my gaze, “Sorry for party rocking.”

He laughed and I couldn’t help but smile despite my aching head. I closed the door behind me and entered the desolate empty lobby of the theater. With all of the patrons gone, I could clearly see the beautiful architectural details of the interior. I felt almost like a time traveler surrounded by the opulent velvet and mahogany of another time. With reluctance I left the theater. 

The taxi was there as promised, idling by the curb. I took a seat in the back and gave the driver my address. As he pulled out into the street I sighed and propped my chin on my hand.

 That was a fiasco. I could smell vomit still, and honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure if all of it was mine. I looked out the window and saw myself reflected in the glass. The early morning sky was dark enough that I could see my features clearly.

 I looked awful. My tie was loose, my hair was tangled and sticky with drying alcohol, and there were dark circles around my eyes. All pretty normal for me, but definitely not a side of myself I wanted clients to see. Ossory had seen too much of me for my liking. I didn’t even remember much of tonight. I remember sitting down for just one drink and then getting woken up from a drunken stupor by my vaguely irritated client. I groaned. 

I couldn't believe I had been so reckless. I got blackout drunk at a cast party for a play I hadn’t even acted in. Despite what he had said, I couldn’t shake the thought that he had been put off by my behavior. It wasn’t very hard to get on the bad side of an employer, and I’d lost deals over less in the past. My thought process continued down this trajectory the whole ride back, and by the time I arrived I was certain I was going to find a strongly-worded email in my inbox. I climbed the stairs, walked down the hallway, and unlocked my door with apprehension. I gave the dog a pat and went to check my email, but there was nothing there. I breathed a sigh of relief and shut the computer off.

I peeled my liquor soaked clothes off, placing them in a bag so I could get them dry cleaned, assuming they weren’t already ruined, and took a long shower using the last of my shampoo to get the alcohol residue completely out of my hair. When I was done the bathroom smelled like a confusing mix of cheap shampoo and expensive alcohol. I left the door open in the hopes of it airing out eventually and found a pair of sweatpants and an old band tee in my room. I put them on and slumped on the couch, exhausted. The shower had settled my stomach somewhat, but I didn’t really trust myself to not vomit if left unsupervised, so I flicked on the T.V and made some coffee. The news were the strange variety that really only showed up at the witching hours of the night. I came back to the living room with my coffee and sat on the couch. Colin struggled up onto the couch and curled up next to me with his head on my thigh as I watched a barely comprehensible debate between two old men about politics. I stroked the dog’s head and sighed. Maybe it hadn’t been as bad as I thought. I mean, other people were worse. The program on TV ended and a different one came on, and, too comfortable now to get up, I sat through that one too.

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