Ofelia Grace Hyatt. 23. Model. Former Mystery Inc. member. Relocated from Coolsville, Ohio to Los Angeles, California. A full time Beauty Queen, now with a paycheck. ♡
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sharkboysullivan:
Caleb picked up the margarita, taking a deep sip of it and letting Ofelia vent. After all these years, he knew better than to interfere when Ofelia got started - it was much better to just let her get things off of her chest than to try and stop her when she had things that she needed to say. Still, he nearly snorted lime juice and tequila out of his nose when she ranted at the selfie and how stupid it was to print it out; he definitely didn’t disagree with that sentiment. “Do I really need to see Cam up that close? He was kinda creepy looking even from afar,” Caleb laughed, swatting the photo away from him and wrinkling his nose. Cam West was definitely not his favorite person, not now, not ever, but his eyes still widened when she handed him the pieces of the picture to light on fire. “O, is that really necessary?” he asked, expecting his hands to start feeling a burning sensation - the thought never really occurred to him to drop the pieces, but he finally did when Ofelia dropped the lighter, breathing a sigh of relief.
He was about to make some sort of joke about how he hoped she didn’t really need to light him on fire as part of whatever cleansing ceremony she was throwing for herself right now, but he stopped short as her rant took a darker turn. Caleb put his drink back down on the table, having nearly chugged the whole thing already, and reached out to take Ofelia’s hands instead, trying to calm her down before she could light the couch on fire or something, too. “Hey, hey, that’s not true, that’s not true at all,” Caleb insisted, turning his body so that he was facing her square on, his eyes never leaving hers. “You’re just going through a rough patch right now, it happens to all of us. I mean, remember when I was a college drop out taking pictures of Coolsville weddings? Totally not the dream job, but I just had to keep trying until I got my big break.” Caleb squeezed Ofelia’s hands, waiting for her to inevitably try to wriggle away and destroy something else in their line of sight, but praying that she wouldn’t. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met, O. If you really wanna like, be a nomad living on people’s floors, then that’s up to you, but you haven’t peaked. You just haven’t found your thing yet, but that’s okay, I know you’ll get there. You’re Ofelia Hyatt, you can do anything.”
Ofelia sighed the hardest sigh she thought she’d ever sighed in her whole entire life. It didn’t matter how many times Caleb told her she was the best person he knew or that she could do anything she wanted to. It didn’t change the fact that she was sitting there jobless, drunk, and would be on the verge of crying if not for the fact that she wasn’t wearing waterproof mascara. She looked down at her hands as Caleb held them. “Yeah, but you knew what you wanted to do. I’m not even sure if modeling was something I actually wanted to do or if I just did it because everyone thought I was pretty,” She huffed. As conceited as it sounded, it was true. She had been the beauty queen of Mystery Inc. afterall, but it looked like her biggest suspicion was coming true; you couldn’t get by on just being pretty. You had to be smart, or talented, or possess some weird special skill that people would find a commodity. Well, she did have one skill.
She dropped Caleb’s hands only to climb on top of him so that she was straddling him on the couch. “I mean, this-” She gestured to the position she was currently in with Caleb under her, “-this used to be enough. Now you’re telling me I actually need more on my resume than Coolsville Pageant Queen from 1998-2010?” She leaned back, almost losing her balance and falling backwards before regaining what little composure she had left. “Or Homecoming and Prom Queen for like, three years?” She put her hands on Caleb’s shoulders, staring him directly in the eyes as if prolonged eye contact would get her point across clearer somehow. “I should’ve existed during Marilyn Monroe’s time. She slept with JFK! You don’t get much sexier than that!”
tipsy || f2f
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sharkboysullivan:
Caleb stumbled through Ofelia’s doorway, his arms full of tacos that he’d bought on the way back, and his camera bag slung over his shoulder. He’d spent all day out photographing the city, and had completely lost track of time - after months out in the wilderness, with nothing but water and whales around, it was almost nice to have such a bustling metropolis to use as his subjects instead. “Hey, Ofelia, I brought – ” Caleb called, his eyes locking on Ofelia sorting through a box on the table first, then the alcohol on the table. “…tacos.”
His voice trailed off, his eyes raised both in curiosity and excitement when he noticed the margarita sitting there waiting, he could only assume, for him. He grabbed it off the counter and was careful to put it on a coaster – he knew better than to ever mess with her stuff, especially when she’d been so great about letting him crash here – before plopping down next to Ofelia. “Uh, what’s in the box?” he asked, smelling the scent of tequila and whatever else she’d had on her. Then, leaning forward so he could cock his head to the side and keep an eye on Ofelia’s reaction, he pressed gently, “Rough day?”
Ofelia was still sifting through the old pieces of paper, ribbons, buttons and whatever else she’d collected along the way when Caleb came in. She barely noticed him through her pattern of picking an item up, mumbling whether she loved or hated it, then tossing it in a pile accordingly. She still wasn’t fully aware of his presence until she felt the couch dip beside her and turned to find that his eyes were already on her. “Of course, why would I expect them to be anywhere else,” She muttered, turning back to her work. It seemed like Caleb’s eyes were always on her. Either making sure she wasn’t losing her mind, or just trying to figure out what she was thinking she wasn’t sure. She got to a photo of a selfie she’d taken with the entire group’s sworn nemesis, Cam West, and nearly vomited in her mouth. She held it up for Caleb to see, probably pushing it a little too close to his eyes. “Who the FUCK prints a selfie? Selfies are for Instagram and sending to your fuck buddy not for PRINTING!”
She took one more look at the photo before tearing it in half and dipping the halves in her still full glass full of tequila. Once she thought they were sufficiently wet she shoved them into Caleb’s hand. “Hold these up, will you?” She searched around the coffee table for a minute before she came up with a lighter. Flicking the ball on the lighter a few times unsuccessfully, she eventually gave up and tossed the lighter back on the coffee table. She grabbed her glass and pulled a torn piece of paper out of it before taking another sip. She turned back to Caleb and gestured to the mess now living on the table, “I peaked. I peaked at 20 years old when I was the front woman for a stupid group of kids trying to solve mysteries. I peaked! I peaked, I peaked, I peaked!” She wasn’t entirely sure how badly she was slurring at the moment, which called for a need to repeat the most important part of her statement. “I’m thinking I should just give up and sell this apartment and just live on an air mattress on someone’s floor and become the weird troll lady that never leaves her air mattress bed.”
tipsy || f2f
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tipsy || f2f
Ofelia had been receiving rejection after rejection all day. She’d gone to a couple of casting calls her agent had suggested to her, and had been turned away at every single one of them. She knew that this career would be touch-and-go with how many jobs she’d actually get, but it seemed like over the last few months her opportunity was few and far between. She wasn’t seven feet tall like the models that walked on the runway, and while she was clearly in the upper percentiles of the attractive population of America, they were normally looking for super pale white girls for print ads and she didn’t fit that bill. It was exhausting her, and she knew she might need to start looking at other options to make money since her LA apartment didn’t run cheap regardless of how many nights she actually slept in it.
She wasn’t quite ready to throw in the towel though. What she was ready to do was forget that she was failing in the only career path she’d ever picked and get super drunk on whatever was still living in her liquor cabinet. She didn’t know what time Caleb would be home, but she figured she better make some margaritas for him anyways; what she was drinking might still be a little too strong for his tastebuds. She found a half empty bottle of margarita mix in her pantry, and a mostly full bottle of tequila in her liquor cabinet and set to work on making some frozen drinks for Caleb, while taking shot after shot herself.
After she was sufficiently drunk, she decided she needed to find her old box of high school stuff that she and Cobie would obsess over. Even though Cobie was a senior and Ofelia was a junior when they met, they would spend hours in her room deciphering what certain notes from boys meant, or writing all over yearbooks. She brought it back out into the living room from where it was hiding in the back of her closet and started dumping it out on the coffee table, sifting through it all.
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↳INSTAGRAM @ofeliahyatt uploaded a new photo.
Birthday, birthday, birthday! #24
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It’s a medium sized list, I wouldn’t call it long. It adds charm, I guess. Chicken scratch can be kind of cute. She’s come once, but it’s a lot to tote a toddler around, especially across the country. Kids take precedence over friends. He’s just trying to be nice, I guess. Keep the friendship fire alive. Whatever seems weird and beauty related to him he sends my way. None of us were any good at it. That’s why we never solved any damn mysteries. We were too wrapped up in our stupid problems. Surprisingly I have less problems now that I’m kind of a real adult. No, I don’t take any more medicine than necessary. Sometimes my other meds get me calm enough to put me to sleep, but I don’t mind waking up every so often.
You can add that to the long list of stuff you’re kind of a genius at. They should really fix that someday, it’s super inconvenient when people have to sign permission forms and sign-in sheets and stuff. Can’t they at least learn to write their own names good? Has Cobie ever come out here, or is it too hard with a kid? But you’re already beautiful, why do you need more stuff when you’ve totally already nailed it? Oh well; Kory sent me a picture of a shark camera lens cover once, so I guess he is pretty good at that stuff. I don’t know if I miss it or not, I guess. I miss the people but not actually like what we were doing, maybe ‘cause I never felt like I was very good at it. Really? Have you tried medicine or anything, or do you just like it better this way?
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You’re always doing that, you know? The top ten best things anyone’s ever done for me have all been done by you.
Kayleen, Gruesome Playground Injuries
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I’m a resume genius, apparently. I think that’s pretty much a broad statement that a girl’s handwriting is better than a boy’s. Somehow in your genetic code it programs boys to write like chicken scratch. That’s one way of looking at it, I guess. I miss it sometimes. Like when I go visit Cobie, or Kory randomly Facebook messages me a link to some weird Korean beauty product he thinks I’d like. But I like my life now too, so it’s a give and take. Necessary, uh huh. Sure. I still have the incurable curse of being a light sleeper.
Hmm… a pirate photographer, I don’t know how many of those they’ve ever had on staff, you might be onto something here, O. Can you make me the sign? Your handwriting’s still prettier than mine is. Well, yeah, but we were all a team, it feels weird to not give you guys at least some credit. If you hadn’t gotten hurt Cobie and I wouldn’t have been as likely to go all rogue investigators on her ass. They stole Richie’s toy! It wasn’t creepy, it was necessary. I kinda sleep through everything these days; my roommate on the boat was real noisy so I had to learn. I used to always wake up, though; I guess that kinda happens when you’re in danger all the time.
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Or maybe they’ll think you’re being very creative? And that your artsy side extends beyond the lens. You should walk around with a sign that says that on it. We didn’t catch Candice, you and Cobie caught Candice. I can’t take credit for that. You mean you were being a creep and watching the kids at the playground a little too closely? I told you, I don’t hate the ocean. I hate the things in it. I still might come check on you just out of habit.
I guess pirate dinner theater doesn’t really look great on a resume if I’m applying to National Geographic or Time to be a photographer – but it would totally give me character! I mostly use my right eye when I look through a lens anyway so if people wanna screw one up, STAB MY LEFT PLEASE! We caught Candice that one time, that was pretty good. And one time I totally solved this side mystery about which kid at the playground stole my brother’s toy. We’ll say it counts, for sure. And even if we had solved zero mysteries ever, you were still epic at being the face of the gang. If you ever hear me crying myself to sleep at night, it’s because you still hate the ocean. Just so you don’t have to come check on me. You already know.
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You could, but then you’d have to work at one of those pirate dinner theaters. Your perspective would be very different with only one eye. Sounds very 90′s punk. I’m sure it’s a look at least one person has tried. I guess so, but I would always be in a very tall shadow. We solved minor mysteries and I think that should count. Otherwise I’d be completely depressed my waste of time. I’m sure it’s all beautiful, but it won’t make me hate the ocean any less.
But then I could get a pirate eye patch! It might make photography a little hard but hopefully they’d stab my left eye and leave my right one, I think it works better. Larynx you managed to gross even me out, though; I’m gonna wake up screaming in your living room about the mental image of a dude with chopsticks as a collar. Okay, maybe Tyra’s the queen but you could at least end up her princess. Coolsville was just kinda… small. I can’t imagine going back to a life where the best job I could hope to get was running a blog about a group that never solved mysteries, and taking pictures of people’s weddings. You should see some of the stuff I got out on the ocean, O. Whales are super cool.
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Yeah, but it’d be pretty gnarly to get a chopstick stuck in your eye if someone decided that’s where they’d want to stab you with one. Or in your larynx. Or up your nose. Ugh, I’ve grossed myself out. Doubtful, but I guess anything is possible. I have a portfolio. I have to take it with me to casting calls sometimes. No one can pass Tyra. She’s the queen. I understand that. I don’t want to go back just because it took me forever to get out of that damn city, I’m not about to get pulled back in.
They didn’t have any and I didn’t think to bring my own! Everywhere should just supply chopsticks, they’re way less dangerous to stab people with than knives. True, but hey, people change; maybe eventually she’ll put her older, wiser big sis on speed dial. Still, that’s awesome! Do you have like a scrapbook or a portfolio of it all I could look at? Tyra’s gonna be scared of you passing her soon enough. Nah, it wasn’t that. Without Mystery Inc. and without you there and without being in a relationship with Bailey anymore, what was the point in going back? I already photographed everything in the city like seven times, and it’s nowhere near the ocean. I don’t think I could go back to being landlocked again.
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You were, that’s true. I guess because we never thought we were that bad. Were you not allowed? I feel like chopsticks would be the least of your problems out there. You know Dulce wants to be exactly like me, but wants none of my advice. It’s just been a few national campaigns, nothing too huge. And some stuff for some Mexican magazines, but that’s it. I’m definitely nowhere near Tyra Banks status. Because cows are bred for eating? Humans aren’t? Is that why you didn’t go home? Coolsville not big enough for the two of you?
Me and Danny were some pretty brave souls, how come y’all never gave us medals? Nope, although you’d think that with all the salmon they have in Alaska they’d have let me eat with chopsticks every once in a while. I’ve seriously missed my favorite utensil. Good thing she’s got a big sister she can call for advice, then. I mean… unless you don’t answer the phone when she calls since you’re too busy being America’s next top model. It’s not! How come we get to eat cows all the time and it’s dinner but when a shark’s hungry and eats somebody they’re rude? It’s okay, I don’t feel that sad about it. I guess she just wasn’t the one.
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That, and the fact that the girls scared off all the boys because we were “notoriously terrifying”. I don’t know! Maybe the Alaskan wildlife culture is way different and now you eat with your hands!I told you, I’m just kidding. I’m glad you’re back. She is going to get in a lot of trouble, I can already tell you. My parents said she was basically the same way I was my senior year, so she’s got a lot coming for her. If a shark eats someone, it is an attack. That’s rough. She was always like that, though. Abandonment issues around every corner.
Hey, no denying it here. In case you don’t remember the Mystery Inc. days, I always kinda got along better with girls anyway. Rude! Do you really think I went away and got more awful? Because I remember you kind of liking having me around before. Dulce’s all grown up, that’s crazy. I hope her college days are better than all like 83 of mine before I gave up and left. Don’t worry, if anything’s going to ever eat me it’s going to be a shark, and they always put shark ‘attacks’ on the news. Yeah… I don’t really see us being friends again. I guess ‘pursuing your dream job’ ends up seeming like abandonment in some people’s eyes, even if that’s never how I meant to make her feel.
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You’re right about that. No offense, but your general species is mostly the worst. Now that you’re back your awfulness level is to be determined. I’m kidding...mostly. Yeah, there have been a few incidents where people knowing where I live hasn’t been ideal. She’s starting college soon, how insane is that? I hope she didn’t give you too much trouble. My parents say she’s a handful now that she’s about to be out of the house. It’s okay. I was mainly just worried you’d fallen off the face of the planet for good, or that some weird animal had eaten you. And I got a constant influx of texts from Bailey J asking if I’d heard from you too. She sounded pretty fed up towards the end. Basically.
Yeah, dudes. We suck so much – I mean, except me. I’m kind of okay, especially when Gaston’s the baseline I’m competing against. I had to call Dulce to figure out your address to surprise you; apparently you’re such a good model that they’re worried about people stalking you so they don’t make it easy to find. Nah, especially not when we were on the actual boat. And I never knew what country’s ocean we were in so I was afraid of roaming charges. I tried to send postcards using pictures I’d taken, though, but post-offices weren’t good at making those. Alaska’s basically Canada, they’re just letting us borrow it.
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I can’t stand men like that. The ones that think they’re superior just because they have a dick, and that they can make your life decisions for you. Surprised would be an understatement. I can’t say I was the most happy about the lack of communication, but I understood. I wouldn’t think the cell service up there would be the most reliable thing. I thought moose were more of a Canadian thing?
He’d probably think you even letting him through your front door meant he was married to you already – and he’d use up all your hair gel. I’m not sure if it would go on his hair or if he would just rub it all over his chest hair instead, though. Hey, no, that’s okay, I kind of surprised you. And a free floor or couch with a friend is way better than some expensive hotel all by myself. I’m just glad you wanted to see me at all, not everybody was so cool about me sort of disappearing for six months without staying in touch. It was pretty awesome, although I’ve NEVER SEEN A FREAKING MOOSE! So many whales, but never a moose, I thought those were like an Alaska trademark.
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That’s very true. I’m pretty sure I’d have more problems with Gaston than just his size, though. He’s a condescending jerk, and I have no patience for those. I’m not complaining, I like having people over. Although, I’m sorry I don’t have anything better for you to sleep on. I didn’t expect you to show up still covered in snow fresh from Alaska. How was that, by the way? I haven’t gotten a chance to grill you on all the hot Alaskan wildlife gossip.
Hey, at least your roommate’s me and not Gaston. Can you imagine a dude that eats four dozen eggs a day? That’s crazy, he’s got to be the size of – wait, shit, he says it in the song, he’s the size of a barge. I promise I’m a good grocery helper, though; I’ve gotten really good at carrying everything from the car in one trip, since I spent like six months lugging all my camera equipment around Alaska all day everyday.
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Grocery lists get surprisingly longer once you’ve added a second person to your home. Suddenly one half gallon of milk and a container of six eggs isn’t enough. I will say it’s kind of nice being able to actually fill up your pantry without the fear of it all going bad because you won’t have the time to actually eat any of it, though. It actually looks like someone lives in my apartment now, since I’ve been gone pretty steadily for the past couple of months.
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