#or if they went to college in hometown and THEN relocated

[frankmillerturnonyourlocation]

Em Farrow (tentative last name for dhsab si…..) makes a point of attending a book club at a college they don’t attend, for at least the first part of the storyline. It’s how they established and maintain a small civ friendgroup while living in the city and working under the ELE.

It’s just generally assumed by the other members that Em is a student, but when asked directly (hey, what year are you, anyway? you’re not graduating, are you?) they’ll admit to being a dropout. (nah, I failed out, haha. But Samantha said it would be alright if I kept showing up to our meetings, everybody say thank you Sam) (pan, over a chorus of thaaank you Saaaams, to the quiet club treasurer everybody loves who is a little embarrassed by being singled out and certainly isn’t going to make a fuss and REVOKE an invitation even if she’s pretty sure she never offered one because that would be RUDE and make everything worse)

[scatteredwreckage]

my name is [ PERSEUS “PERCY/PJ” DAWSON ] … and i am from [ SEATLLE, WA ] and i’m a [ FREELANCE ARTIST ]. i lived in helltown for [ 4 YEARS ] because [ MY MOM KICKED ME OUT ]. i am [ 26 ] my pronouns are [ HE/HIM ] and i am [ PASSIONATE, ALLURING, ADAPTABLE ] though some may say i’m [ RECKLESS, ARROGANT , BLUNT ]. i also hear i look a lot like [ RUDY PANKOW ] but, i don’t know if i see it. i’m here because [ MY DAD IS LETTING ME STAY IN THE FAMILY VACATION HOME OUT OF GUILT ] but, maybe there’s more to it than that. you never know with helltown.

ABOUT PERCY : I’m finding me out, I’m having my doubts, I’m losing the best of me.

CHARACTER BASICS

FULL NAME: Perseus James Dawson

NICKNAME(S): Percy, PJ

AGE: Twenty-Six

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Man, He/Him

FACE CLAIM: Rudy Pankow

EYE COLOR: Blue

HAIR COLOR: Blonde

HEIGHT: 5′8″

DATE OF BIRTH: November 24th

ZODIAC SIGN: Sagittarius

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: Bachelor of Art

SCHOOLING: Seattle University, Art Major

LANGUAGES SPOKEN: English

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin

OCCUPATION: Freelance Artist

HOBBIES: Surfing, Attending Drive-In Movies, Poker, Motorcycling, Smoking, Darts

HOMETOWN: Seattle, Washington

HOUSING: Dawson Family Lake House

FAMILY

MOTHER: Abigail Dawson ( née Clark )

FATHER:  Pope Dawson

TWIN SISTER: Andromeda “Andy” Dawson †

CHARACTER HISTORY [TW: DRUG ABUSE, OVERDOSE, DEATH]

Percy hadn’t always been a good kid, but he was surely one of the better ones. Pushed away with a scowl and enough lectures to curve his interest in the usual rebellion most of his peers had, he found other ways to explore the world and its limits. He was born and raised in Seattle and crossed the threshold of a white picket fence the day he left the hospital. For a long time, he thought of that fence as the gates to his kingdom but little did he know that it was his father’s way of keeping the struggles that plagued their family far away.

The Dawson’s weren’t a picture perfect family, but they had some shine to their grime. Percy and his sister, Andromeda, were inseparable and he was always the one pulling her away from the things their father advised them against. The two were different, but they had a loyalty like no other and so when Andy passed away their junior year of college, everything he ever knew seemed to have finally spoiled. He believed every chance he saved up, every karma point reserved for him to share with his sister, had not just rotted but never existed at all. More importantly, his father had never prepared them for the world he had belonged to. He hadn’t protected them.

After his sister’s death, his family seemed to shrivel up under their grief and his parents divorced. His father relocated to his sister’s happy place in Helltown, and PJ stayed far away from it. He couldn’t understand trying to chase a memory in those places forgotten from their youth and more importantly, ruined by the person his sister had eventually become after she began taking drugs. He had done his best to be a bridge between her and their parents, but it wasn’t enough. That guilt ate away at him and one night he gave in to the poison that took his sister’s life, and he’s yet to stop.

PRESENT DAY

He lived with his mother after the divorce but after his use became too heavy, and sleeping on porches in the middle of winter after she refused to let him come in high, he decided maybe he needed some change but not without raising a little hell first. He’s come to Helltown not to turn a new leaf, but find another reason of spite to carry on. He hopes that he can use whatever sympathy his father has left until it’s run dry, and until he’s on to his next move.

HEADCANONS

He wasn’t the best child but compared to Andy he was the family’s golden boy.

Due to the closeness of him and his twin it was no surprise that they wanted to attend the same college together. At college Andy got involved with a man who introduced her to the party scene and the drugs that went along with it and Percy watched her fall deeper and deeper into the hole. He tried his best to pull her out of it, flushing her slash whenever he could, etc. But eventually Andy pulled away to push herself deeper into her toxic relationship where her addition ended up overwhelming her.

He was concerned when he hadn't heard from her and was the one who ended up finding her. It was a lot for him to process and from that point leading up to her funeral Percy was there to move her belongings from college back home and ended up finding her drugs and he felt inclined to try them to feel closer to her and he hasn't really stopped. He's not at the point of addiction but the fact that he's taken this troubling path is alarming especially to his mother. This resulted in her locking him out of the house and him spending nights on the porch because she wouldn't let him in high. He's still got his care free spirit but over the years has gotten more rebellious and reckless to go along with his adventurous side. He waited for his mother to go to work one morning, after she caved and let him back into the house and packed his belongings to go to his sister's favorite place and ended up at his father's/their vacation house's door step. So Dawson isn't aware of Percy's drug usage at this point and yeah he's still going through it.

[callofthxvoid]

Please welcome JULIANNE "JULIE" DAVENPORT (SHE/HER) to Huntsville, WV. They are a 21-year-old VISITOR who lives in TOWN. You may see them around working as a PHARMACY ASSISTANT AT HUNTSVILLE CLINIC & PRIVATE TUTOR. They are looking for JASMINE DAVENPORT MINNIE GARCIA, their AUNT. Poor unfortunate soul. We'll see if they survive.

quick facts

Title: The Broken Bird

Name: Julianne Bryony Davenport

Nickname: Julie

Date of Birth: August 8, 2002

Age: 22

Place of Birth: New Haven, Connecticut

Hometown: Hartford, Connecticut

Languages: English, Spanish, French, Italian

Faceclaim: Natalie Alyn Lind

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Relationship Status: In a relationship with Zel Dutton

personality

Myers-Briggs: ISFJ - The Defender

Enneagram: Type One - The Perfectionist (1w2)

Moral Alignment: Lawful Good

Occupation: Pharmacy Assistant at Huntsville Clinic & Private Tutor

Role: Gatherer

[+] polite, kind-hearted, dutiful, selfless [-] obedient, passive, repressed, fearful

Character Inspirations: Machi Kuragi (Fruits Basket), Cassandra de Rolo (Critical Role), Lucy Maud Montgomery (Bungo Stray Dogs)

background

TW: Parental Control, Institutionalisation, Medical Abuse

Julie's parents were still in college when she was conceived. While it had not been planned, both families deemed the pair a good match and arranged for them to get married, with her mom dropping out of college to become a full-time wife and mother. In their early years as a family, they often visited Huntsville to see her grandparents and her aunt Jasmine, who was much closer to her in age than to Julie's father and ended becoming more like an older cousin or even a sister to her than anything.

Their trips to Huntsville stopped when she was nine years old and her grandparents suddenly relocated to Hartford. She was told that her aunt had passed away and that they had decided to move for a fresh start, to be closer to family, and to help them cope with the loss. For years, her own home had been cold, turbulent and devoid of love, and while she mourned Minnie, she was grateful to have her grandparents close. After a while, she ended up spending more time at their place than she did at home, with them raising her and caring for her in away neither of her parents did.

When she was in high school, she went to live with them permanently after her father was charged with embezzlement and fled the country to avoid a certain conviction, while her mom left to avoid being associated with the whole thing. His indictment and subsequent escape turned into a massive media circus, and while Julie tried to carry on with her life as normal, the public attention she received led to her eventually having a complete mental breakdown and being forced to spend some time in a psychiatric facility. When she got out, her grandparents set her up with a private doctor, a whole host of refillable prescriptions, and arranged for her to be homeschooled so that she could graduate away from prying eyes. She was grateful for their help at the time, especially since they insisted on paying for everything and refused to let her get a job to pay them back, even after she started college. She had no reason to believe that they had ulterior motives for leaving her completely financially dependent on them.

She was already halfway through her degree in chemistry at Yale when she realised that her grandparents' involvement in her life was not normal. A big fight ensued, after which Julie dropped out of college, moved out of their house, and started working a series of minimum wage jobs. For about a year, she was totally broke, living with more roommates than they had bedrooms, and going through withdrawal from no longer taking her various medications, but at least she was free. It was honestly the happiest that she had felt since she was a child visiting Huntsville, but the thought of having to see her grandparents again to get the last of her things was still terrifying to her.

Eventually, she managed to arrange with their housekeeper for her to drop by when they weren't home, and it was when she was grabbing her own legal papers from the family safe that she found evidence that her aunt was in fact very much alive, including her emancipation papers. Feeling a surge of hope that she might still have real family in the world, she packed a bag and started hitchhiking her way down the coast to West Virginia, excited for the prospect of getting to see her aunt again after so many years.

misc

She arrived with Zel Dutton and his emotional support duck(s).

[reinaazarolla]

Is that REINA AZAROLLA? A JUNIOR originally from SEVILLE, SPAIN, they decided to come to Ogden College to study SOCIOLOGY. They’re THE EXCHANGE STUDENT on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance.

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME → reina maribel azarolla NICKNAMES → rey AGE → 22 BIRTHDAY → april 14, 2001 ZODIAC → aries MAJOR → sociology HOMETOWN → seville, spain GENDER → cis female PRONOUNS → she/her SEXUALITY → lesbian SOCIAL STATUS → elite class LANGUAGES (FLUENT) → english, spanish, portuguese LANGUAGES (LIMITED) → italian, french

APPEARANCE

FACELAIM → melissa collazo HEIGHT → 5'1" EYE COLOR → dark green HAIR COLOR → dark brown TATTOOS → small paper airplane outline on the inside of her right ring finger SCARS → none PIERCINGS → just the ears, two in each lobe and one helix (left ear) STYLE (MAKEUP) → natural, light mainly just a lip color, mascara, and a bit of eye shadow for everyday but loves to do a big bold eye look every now and then and for special occasions STYLE (HAIR) → messy buns at home but usually down and in loose curls when out and about, length is a little past the shoulders SYTLE (CLOTHES) → depends on the season and where she is in the world, generally speaking she sticks to pastels during spring, bright bold colors in the summer, deeper tones in the fall, and muted colors in the winter - she loves sundresses in warm weather and comfy sweaters with jeans or skirts with fleece lined tights in cold weather.

PERSONALITY

+ TRAITS → optimistic, adaptable, curious - TRAITS → impulsive, cunning, aggressive LIKES → traveling, meeting new people, midnight swims, all things related to food, trying new things, late night talks, picnics on the beach, postcards DISLIKES → being told no, being told she can't do something, feeling trapped, delays, velvet, small mindedness HOBBIES → photography, cooking, people watching HABITS → hums when it's too quiet, fidgets with rings she's wearing, arrives at least 10 minutes early to any appointment SMOKES → occasionally DRINKS → yes DRUGS → occasionally

FAMILY INFORMATION

FATHER → donato azarolla, ambassador MOTHER → esmeralda azarolla née rivera, photographer (pretty famous in europe) SIBLINGS → none PETS → none but wants a dog

RELATIONSHIP WITH GREER

Growing up Reina didn’t have many friends, at least not long term ones. She had the gift of making friends and making them fast, but maintaining said friendship was a different story. Until one summer, in her early teens, her family happened to vacation at the Hamptons just a few houses away from the Morrisons. The rest is kind of history, the Azarollas and Morrisons hit it off and they always made it a point to spend time together whether it’s planning a get together if they happen to be close enough for a quick trip or planning something extravagant. There was always an adventure new experiences to be had.

Speaking of new experiences, Reina and Greer share a particularly special one. Reina had known early on that she was attracted to other females and wasn’t exactly shy about it. Did she go around announcing she was a lesbian to everyone she met, no of course not, but she didn’t hide it. If someone asked, she would tell them, it was as simple as that. There was one moment where they were talking about relationships and Reina had mentioned she had never really had one, that it was already hard to find someone to be in a relationship with considering how often her family relocated but to add that it was a girlfriend she would be looking for, forget it. Since that conversation Reina could tell Greer was curious and one night after getting some liquid courage they went further than just discussing what it was like to be with another girl. Reina showed her and in those moments she realized that maybe, just maybe, she had real feelings for Greer.

[j-stcrm]

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʙɪᴏ ; johnny storm

❝ The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire. ❞

→ pinterest | playlist ( + pietro )

↳ BASIC INFO

Character’s full name: Jonathan Spencer Maximoff-Storm Meaning of name: God’s gift Other Titles: Human Torch Birth date: June 8th Zodiac: Gemini Nationality / Ethnicity / Species: American, Jewish, human Languages Spoken: English, Russian Pronouns: he/him  Orientation: Demisexual Superpower: he can engulf his entire body in flames, fly, absorb fire harmlessly into his own body, and control any nearby fire by sheer force of will. Occupation: astrophysicist, former astronaut, Avenger Relationship Status: married to Pietro Maximoff 

↳ APPEARANCE

Age: 30 Height: 5′7  Body build: very muscular, athletic Eye color: pale blue Predominant features: his eyes Hair color and type: light blonde, naturally curly but he keeps it styled because he hates it

↳ PERSONALITY

Good traits: athletic, charming, compassionate, confident, loyal, kind-hearted, intelligent, quick-witted. Bad traits: brash, cocky, hard-headed, hot tempered, overly flirtatious, rebellious, reckless, vain. Hogwarts House: Gryffindor Character Theme Song: Play with Fire - Sam Tinnesz Personality Type: ESFP / ‘the entertainer,’ care-free, very extroverted, social.

↳ PAST

Hometown: Los Angeles, California | moved to New York City as a teen Type of childhood: Johnny grew up in LA with his sister, Sue. their father was killed in a car accident before their freshman year of high school. their mother struggled emotionally and lacked mental stability following her death, so they relocated to New York to live with their aunt, their mom’s sister, Margaret. Education: he received an athletic scholarship to play football at Stanford, but an injury his senior year prevented him from pursuing that. so he pursued another dream and studied astrophysics at Caltech.

↳ PRESENT

Current location: New York City, but he visits Asgard regularly now Currently living with:  Pets: Luna; maltese puppy

↳ FAMILY

Mother: Mary Storm

Relationship: he’s close to his mom and struggled watching her mental difficulties following their father’s death, taking on a lot of that emotionally himself. as a result, he struggles with containing his emotions now, which, with his abilities being emotion driven occasionally, isn’t a good thing.

Father: Franklin Storm

Relationship: he had a strained relationship with his dad and often felt a lot of pressure academically/in regards to his athletic career.

Sister: Sue Storm

Relationship: He’s close to his big sister.

Other important family members:  Children:

↳ RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHERS

Husband Pietro Maximoff Best friend: Klara Arnesdòttir, Peter Parker Ex: 

↳ BIO 

A star athlete in high school, Johnny had his sights on playing football on his college scholarship and moving to pro after graduation. But an injury his senior year put a halt to those plans. Always having had an interest in space, and excelling in all of his class, Johnny changed direction and went to school to study astrophysics. A few years into his career, the ship Johnny was traveling on had a crash landing after traveling through cosmic rays. He survived, but was exposed to radiation that altered his genetic makeup. He gained the ability to envelop his body in fire, which proves to be bad more times than not, seeing as the ability is triggered by anger and emotions - and he doesn’t have good control over those.

[colleenmurphy]

@aristobun

I've had a verse just kind of plop itself into my mind and Col's lighting a fire for me to 'at least tell you about it.' because evidently I've been lacking on actually posting what she's throwing at me. She very well may be drunk ( she's Irished her coffee ) and I'm stoned so here goes.

The ladies are raised in a tiny town on the coast. We're talking map dot tiny / Everybody knows everybody else's business type thing.

Jimmy and Harvey are the Sheriff and Deputy of aforementioned map dot town.

Eileen and her sister Minnie have a small tea room where the ladies are not so gainfully employed and trying to save for an apartment for college.

In addition to the tearoom they also work as deckhands for their fathers. They've taken to calling vessel formerly known as "The Painted Lady' 'Doom Schooner'.

Colleen's semi involved with Dave Sullivan, a deckhand and shipyard worker who's a little older. He's looking to buy out the Grey Gull Tavern and with Col's help turn it into the spot in town.

Bobby Shatford is *really* crushing hard on our girl Helene.

Four young kids that all have working knowledge of aquatic vessels and stick shifts may occasionally cause a little bit of a stir in their hometown.

Minnie Sheehan is a bit of a Free Spirit. She's also Dave's go to for weed. Once she put two and two together she gave him a small discount on the conditioner that he never let Col or Helene know. *plot twist: They occasionally do some Unknown Quality Control for her.

Minnie is actually Colleen's mother. Eileen & Jimmy adopted her after Minnie came back from one of her adventures with a small traveler in tow.

Jimmy passed the day after Colleen's 19th birthday. Passed in his sleep, just like that. She pushed her grief down and forged ahead. 'Life doesn't stop.' had always been Jimmy's motto. Col took it and twisted so that she never cried. She couldn't. Grief was love with no place to go and if she let it go she would drown.

Dave went missing on a fishing run trying to help his brother out of a debt. Both he and his brother were found four days later ( oddly enough the day after Col's 25th birthday ) Colleen was somehow able to let her wall down when she finally saw Sully sitting there, a little worse for wear in that hospital bed.

20 was always on Sully's lotto ticket after that and was always a sure bet. Later it became bittersweet when it was the reason he had a place in Newport Richey. He sent an anonymous check to the Grey Gull Tavern care of Colleen Murphy.

Helene went out one night with Joel Benson and ended up thankfully running into Bobby at the Lamplighter over on King's Point. Joel went missing that night but there's a story for later.

The autumn that Colleen turns 28 she honestly thought Sully was going to ask her to marry him but he hasn't. The moment's set but he chokes in front of everyone. He says that he can't ask her to live a life with a man that can't return her love and devotion.' They break up shortly after and he sets sail for foreign shores in the Bahamas. Colleen is left to run the Grey Gull by herself ( and thankfully with her family's help. )

Bobby is thinking of asking Helene to marry him he's just afraid of Harvey turning him down because Bobby's just a fisherman no matter that he owns three boats and is eyeing a spot on a Florida run in the winter season. If he could only see that Harvey approves of him.

Eileen remarried to a man named Buell Hastings-Rutherford, a very interesting lawyer who came from Boston. He has an older son named Wendell, or Win for short. He's a struggling author type. Colleen remembered him from her time at Pendleton University. They relocate to Toronto for Buell's new position at Kerwin College. The tearoom is left to Colleen who now has two businesses to run.

Minnie ends up relocating to 'somewhere greener and warmer', the Haight Ashbury district that Colleen was conceived in. She opens a rather successful tye-dye shop and meets Charles T. Wildbury. Charlie for short.

Harvey gifts Helene, Colleen and Bobby DNA ancestry kits for Christmas and an Irish chaos fest ensues as Colleen is matched with her father.

She somehow also stumbles into love on that trip to Galway.

[esmexjoseph]

Sometimes I wonder how people find their happy endings so quickly

FULL NAME: Esme Irena Joseph NICKNAME(S): Es. Essie PREFERRED NAME(S): Esme in general but if someone has come up with a nickname for her it’s always welcome BIRTH DATE: 30th June,1990 AGE: 32 ZODIAC:  Cancer ☀,  Libra ☽ , Pisces ↑ OCCUPATION: florist & owner of Flowers & Company

GENDER: Cis Woman PRONOUNS: She/Her NATIONALITY: British   ETHNICITY: Nigerian & White NEIGHBORHOOD: Rittenhouse

BIRTH PLACE: Edinburgh, UK HOMETOWN: San Francisco  SOCIAL CLASS: upper class EDUCATION LEVEL: Bachelors degree in Art History from UPenn FATHER: Ikena Joseph MOTHER: Larisa Joseph née Milova SIBLING(S): an older sister, Katrina BIRTH ORDER: Katrina, Esme CHILDREN: n/a OTHER: Lois Campbell (mentor & business partner), step siblings PET: a rehomed cockerpoo called Calla

Biography:

tw parental abandonment 

After her mother left her family when Esme was just two weeks old, leaving her father to raise his two daughters on his own. They were never really alone though when the whole community rallied around them and formed a family.

When she was seven her father’s tech ideas took off and the family of three relocated to San Francisco, leaving behind the friends and new family they’d found in Edinburgh. Esme found the adjustment overwhelming, even more so when her mother returned on the scene and claimed to want to try again.

Esme was desperate to connect with her mother and desperate for her to stay this time. So she went along with Larisa’s plans for her, attended various dance classes before getting involved in pageants. She became isolated from her peers and it only left her all the more devastated when her mother inevitably left again.

Things improved for her in college and she finally found herself a new network of people that she found she could count on. But as she was beginning to find herself her father got remarried and determined to find someone of her own, she began throwing herself into countless relationships hoping that one would work out.

They never did and after a particularly bad break up years later she decided to focus on herself and indulge in a little self love. This took the form of her starting to buy herself flowers and built up a relationship with the owner of Flowers & Co. Eventually this resulted in her working there and a while later she was able to become a part owner when the previous owner retired.

This was the tl;dr version, her full bio can be found here

Personality:

Esme is someone who feels things very deeply but tends to hide her feelings out of a fear that it might push others away. A sense of family is important to her and so she’s always focused on caring for and being there for those that she’s close to. Kind, sensitive and nurturing she’s sometimes a little too desperate to please others and will act the way that she thinks they want her to instead of following her emotions. Generally has a balanced view of the world but she can be very indecisive and will usually just given in to whatever the popular opinion is. She has an eye for beauty but also manages to find something beautiful or redeemable in almost everyone.

Wanted Connections:

Close friends: she has been in Philadelphia since she moved from college so I’d love some people she could be close to! She’ll honestly do anything for her friends (maybe even a little too much) and it’d be nice to have people who’d do the same for her.

College friends: anyone she met during her time at UPenn, whether they’ve stayed close or not can be plotted but Esme would have at least tried to keep up with them over the years. 

Found family: she’s constantly searching for people that she can call hers, in any kind of way, and having had such a patchy relationship with her own family she definitely looks for it in others. She’s the type to hold a ‘family’ dinner every other week and try to keep people together. 

Fellow aesthetes: she likes pretty things and going to see pretty things. Museums, art exhibitions, photography trips - she’d be up for it all. Someone who appreciates it just as much as she does or is just happy to share it with her.

Hobby connections: over the years she’s started countless hobbies, mostly while trying to be whatever her exes wanted from her. There’s been a range of them so anything goes here really!

Exes: her relationships have varied from weeks to months to years and the scenarios for them are pretty endless other than them not working out. Whether they just fizzled or there was something worse or it was just a string of dates that ended up coming to nothing, again there’s a range to be plotted.

Bonus:

Pinterest (x)

Tag (x)

Please feel free to dm me here for any and all plots but discord is probably the easiest place to reach me - andromache#9873

[dodgedhalo]

✦ TOM HOLLAND, CIS MAN, HE/HIM✦ PERSEUS “PERCY, PJ” DAWSON the TWENTY-SIX year old has been in Hidehill for ONE WEEK and was a STRANGER to Miyeon Kang, the murder victim. Whispers on the streets are that the CERAMIC ARTIST AT LA LOUVRE who lives in HOVE LAKE. He is said to be RESILIENT and IMPULSIVE but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves.

ABOUT PERCY : I’m finding me out, I’m having my doubts, I’m losing the best of me.

CHARACTER BASICS

FULL NAME: Perseus James Dawson

NICKNAME(S): Percy, PJ

AGE: Twenty-Six

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Man, He/Him

FACE CLAIM: Tom Holland

EYE COLOR: Brown

HAIR COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 5′8″

DATE OF BIRTH: November 24th, 1996

ZODIAC SIGN: Sagittarius

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: Bachelor of Art

SCHOOLING: Seattle University, Art Major

LANGUAGES SPOKEN: English

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin

OCCUPATION: Ceramic Artist // Artist at La Louvre

HOBBIES: Surfing, Attending Drive-In Movies, Poker, Motorcycling, Smoking, Darts

HOMETOWN: Seattle, Washington

RESIDENCE: Hove Lake

HOUSING: Dawson Family Lake House

TIME IN TOWN: One Week, used to vacation in Hidehill throughout his childhood

FAMILY

MOTHER: Abigail Dawson ( née Clark )

FATHER:  Pope Dawson

TWIN SISTER: Andromeda “Andy” Dawson †

CHARACTER HISTORY [TW: DRUG ABUSE, OVERDOSE, DEATH]

Percy hadn’t always been a good kid, but he was surely one of the better ones. Pushed away with a scowl and enough lectures to curve his interest in the usual rebellion most of his peers had, he found other ways to explore the world and its limits. He was born and raised in Seattle and crossed the threshold of a white picket fence the day he left the hospital. For a long time, he thought of that fence as the gates to his kingdom but little did he know that it was his father’s way of keeping the struggles that plagued their family far away.

The Dawson’s weren’t a picture perfect family, but they had some shine to their grime. Percy and his sister, Andromeda, were inseparable and he was always the one pulling her away from the things their father advised them against. The two were different, but they had a loyalty like no other and so when Andy passed away their junior year of college, everything he ever knew seemed to have finally spoiled. He believed every chance he saved up, every karma point reserved for him to share with his sister, had not just rotted but never existed at all. More importantly, his father had never prepared them for the world he had belonged to. He hadn’t protected them.

After his sister’s death, his family seemed to shrivel up under their grief and his parents divorced. His father relocated to his sister’s happy place in Hidehill, and PJ stayed far away from it. He couldn’t understand trying to chase a memory in those places forgotten from their youth and more importantly, ruined by the person his sister had eventually become after she began taking drugs. He had done his best to be a bridge between her and their parents, but it wasn’t enough. That guilt ate away at him and one night he gave in to the poison that took his sister’s life, and he’s yet to stop.

PRESENT DAY

He lived with his mother after the divorce but after his use became too heavy, and sleeping on porches in the middle of winter after she refused to let him come in high, he decided maybe he needed some change but not without raising a little hell first. He’s come to Hidehill not to turn a new leaf, but find another reason of spite to carry on. He hopes that he can use whatever sympathy his father has left until it’s run dry, and until he’s on to his next move.

HEADCANONS

He wasn’t the best child but compared to Andy he was the family’s golden boy.

Due to the closeness of him and his twin it was no surprise that they wanted to attend the same college together. At college Andy got involved with a man who introduced her to the party scene and the drugs that went along with it and Percy watched her fall deeper and deeper into the hole. He tried his best to pull her out of it, flushing her slash whenever he could, etc. But eventually Andy pulled away to push herself deeper into her toxic relationship where her addition ended up overwhelming her.

He was concerned when he hadn't heard from her and was the one who ended up finding her. It was a lot for him to process and from that point leading up to her funeral Percy was there to move her belongings from college back home and ended up finding her drugs and he felt inclined to try them to feel closer to her and he hasn't really stopped. He's not at the point of addiction but the fact that he's taken this troubling path is alarming especially to his mother. This resulted in her locking him out of the house and him spending nights on the porch because she wouldn't let him in high. He's still got his care free spirit but over the years has gotten more rebellious and reckless to go along with his adventurous side. He waited for his mother to go to work one morning, after she caved and let him back into the house and packed his belongings to go to his sister's favorite place and ended up at his father's/their vacation house's door step. So Dawson isn't aware of Percy's drug usage at this point and yeah he's still going through it.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Partner in Crime

Hookups

Good Influence

Party Friends

Drug Dealer

Someone he owes money to

Friends he met while vacationing

[ledenews]

Alicia Manning: Excited for the Valley's Future

Get out.  That’s what was on her mind while doing her time at Bellaire High. Get out this town. Get out of this valley. Get out and go find the real world where dreams are possible. That was Alicia Manning’s plan. Plain and simple … see ya! And initially, that’s exactly what she did. She put the Wheeling area in the rear-view mirror, went off to college, and believed she’d never look back. Sure, she’d return for holidays to see her hardworking mother and father, scoff at what she abandoned, and return quickly back to where she had spread her wings and planted roots. But then, well, Alicia opened her adult eyes and took a look, and that’s when one epiphany after another brightened every bulb in the bunch so she could clearly see where the grass was greener. Her and her husband, Mike, moved home in 2011, and Alicia joined her parents with the operation of Centre Market’s ultra-popular Market Vines. The Mannings are now raising their three sons in the same valley Alicia once believed was done and dead, and that’s because they came home to help it grow. Market Vines offers a different take on fajitas, but the dish has proven very popular with the eatery's customers. When people ask, how do you describe the fajitas served at Market Vines?  Delicious! Our Fajitas are prepared on a flat-top grill and are available in chicken, steak, or shrimp. They are presented on a sizzling cast iron skillet, accompanied by a blend of red peppers, grilled onions, and broccoli. Each order comes with three warm tortilla shells and is served with Mexican rice, fresh lettuce, a homemade salad, and sour cream on the side.  And then I tell people to join us for Fajita Night at Market Vines every Thursday starting at 4 p.m. How do you feel about there being night games at Nelson Field now?  The lights symbolize not just change, but a bright future ahead.  While traditions hold value, adapting is essential for growth. Change can bring new opportunities, and it’s important to embrace it. What will always remain constant is our town's spirit and pride—elements that are irreplaceable and will continue to unite us, no matter what evolves around us. The Centre Market eatery now offers its salsa for sale. Why the food business?  My professional journey began at the age of 15 when I worked concessions at the Bellaire pool for two summers. After graduating high school, I attended college and I waited tables to support myself financially. I found great joy in this role, particularly in meeting new people. Following graduation, I moved away and pursued a career in mental health. However, I soon realized I missed the immediate financial rewards of service work, so I took on a bartending position.  Eventually, my husband and I relocated back to our hometown when my parents opened a restaurant, and I have been working there for the past 13 years. While I initially attempted to focus solely on management, I discovered that I truly miss the personal connections with my regulars and interactions that come with serving. What are the best and worst parts about doing business at Centre Market?  I have nothing but positive things to say about having a business in Centre Market.  As Wheeling evolves, it continues to attract more visitors and opportunities to our area. Centre Market is often the first destination for those visiting Wheeling; many customers have shared with me that they specifically came to check out the Market.  Over the past 13 years, I have witnessed significant growth in Centre Market since we began our business. I am excited to see what the future holds for all of us here. The Mannings decided to return home more than 10 years ago and they've found the valley to be a great place to raise their three sons. We hear people say the Upper Ohio Valley is a great place to raise kids. Do you believe that to be true? In high school, I was convinced I would never return to the valley.  However, when my husband and I decided to come back to support my family's business and raise our son closer to relatives, I realized the valley has a promising future for families. The area is experiencing economic growth, a variety of cultural events, and ample opportunities for both outdoor and indoor recreation.  I’m truly excited to see what the future holds for our children here. Read the full article

[raycalhoun]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒

Full Name: Raymond Dean Calhoun

Nickname(s): Ray

Age: 54

Birthday: July 16, 1970

Hometown: Rivershore, WV

Length of Time in town: Born here, left for college and some years later

Gender: Male

Pronouns: he/him

Orientation: Heterosexual

Relationship Status: Divorced and weird

Occupation: Apiarist and Advice Columnist

Accent: Very southern accent

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘

tw divorce

Raymond, affectionately known as Ray, grew up in a two bedroom dirt shack off the grid of Rivershore. His family were a small, mining family. They never really had much, and Ray remembers when his father was injured and couldn’t work. He remembers being hungry.

Being poor meant you had to have a work ethic. So, Ray studied hard and developed his skills. He was accepted into college and then medical school to be a psychiatrist. His mother wanted him to be a doctor, but the on call hours didn’t really call to him, so a doctor of the mind was something that could interest him.

In all honesty, Ray considered school a chore. He loves to learn, he loved to research and study, but the act of classrooms and other students was a chore. He met his wife to be in undergraduate, their romance was a whirlwind and before a year was up they were married. Their family went from two to three before Ray graduated his undergraduate. 

Medical school was a whirlwind of long hours and a toddler and many sleepless nights. He was poor again, and god he hated it. There were a lot of nights that he claimed he wasn’t hungry so that his wife and child were full. A quiet desperation set in, only the light at the end of the tunnel was graduation and his own practice.

Finally, he made it. He was able to open his own practice. His clinical practice was mindnumbingly boring — however, the money was excellent. His claim to fame and money was notonly his clinical prowess but also the series of teen fiction that he wrote and became a popular novel series in the early 2000s. The series went on to become a famous multi-movie franchise that he helped produce. 

As their influence grew with their wealth, Ray could only see more and more loss of what he valued: privacy. His wife, however, loved the parties, loved the influence, loved the culture. And in Lexington, Kentucky, there was plenty of it. Soon they were invited to all the old money parties, and derby parties. Ray, however, couldn’t stand it. He stopped attending too much of the society parties much to the chagrin of his wife.

When the divorce was served, Ray was almost relieved. Granted, she got half of his wealth and his practice. However, that gave him license to sell the practice. He moved back to Rivershore where he bought in a very modest home in the Valley that he still lives in today.

The obsession with bees was always there. He something of jumped into the idea of being an apiarist with both feet. It was full of trial and error, but he loved having something new. From there, he built a small honey and bee business where he rescues bee colonies and relocates them to his hives and then sells the honey at local markets. It makes just enough to sustain him.

About five years ago, the franchise of books that he built into an empire has come under fire from critics. Around the same time, the internet did what they did best and dug up dirt on him. Since then, he’s moved to being something of a recluse outside Rivershore. He has no online presence, but given his love for the written word, he writes an advice column where the townies of Rivershore send him letters, and he selects one letter a week to respond to and give advice. This column is, of course, written under a pen name. 

He’s something of a menace to the people of Rivershore - Ray has gotten his license taken away three times, and doesn’t have one, but he still drives. On Friday nights you can find him either hustling a game of pool or betting on the local high school game.

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄

1970: Born

1988: Graduated High School

1992: Graduated College (likely met wife in college, they got married and had a kid in these 4 years)

1996: Graduated medical school

1998: Opened his own clinical practice / started writing book series

2001: First book went best seller

2009: Books into movies

2011: Divorce / moved back to Rivershore / started bees

2020: Started the advice column which is well known in the town

[chefhuff]

Name: Alice Huff Occupation: Chef Age: 25 Sexuality: Questioning, presumed straight Species: Vampire Clan/Pack/Coven?: Pretorius Hometown: Allagash, Maine Relationship Status: In a serious relationship Personality Traits: Clever / Insightful / Trustworthy / Perfectionist / Objective Uptight / Controlling / Compulsive / Irritable / Rigid

Biography 

Alice Huff has planned every moment of her life since she was old enough to write a schedule.

That wasn't something she learned from anyone, mind you. Her parents gave her plenty of freedom for her and her brother to engage in almost any activity they want — ironically, it was the freedom that found stressful.

Schedules were easy, safe. She had piano lessons on Wednesdays at 5. No mystery there. She would prepare herself for her lesson, practice how she would speak to her teacher, or any questions she might have, and rush upstairs to finish her homework once she was done. It was comfortable.

That rigidity extended to other aspects of her life; she'd study other kids at school to decide who was the best option to be her best friend that year; she'd plan out meals for the entire house a week in advance; she'd go over her teacher's lesson plans to organize study hours.

Unsurprisingly, that wasn't a very popular was to live her life. Alice grew up lonely — though she claimed it was by choice. Of the few friends she made, few could keep up with her demanding the personality and, unfortunately, Alice didn't react well to those who didn't.

Failure wasn't something she dealt with well.

Alice progressed with her life with relative success — her plan to find a boyfriend in her senior year went surprisingly well (David isn't ideal but he's traditionally attractive, and doesn't run when she's stressed), and her academic life was right on schedule (actually, she received her acceptance letter for her favorite out-of-state college 3 days before she figured she would, so she's actually ahead).

She had wanted to study culinary since she was 7 and took all the steps necessary to make sure she would be a great at it. It was natural, then, that she would exceed her professor's expectations from fairly early on. Socially, she still struggled, but at least now she had David with her keeping her company.

Life after graduation was scary at first, knowing she would no longer have the rigidity of a class schedule to keep her day-to-day organized, but she her initial success in her career was a good enough motivator. Alice worked as a chef de partie in a small but brilliant restaurant just outside of Boston to high praise of the guests.

Well, one guest in particular.

He was a regular who had taken a very particular interest in her work. To her surprise, when they finally met face to face, he not only complimented her abilities, but offered her a job.

She'd have to relocate to a city called Port Leiry, and she'd be second in command of an entire kitchen. She couldn't say no - although she did have a panic attack first... Things were simply moving much faster than she had planned.

She hadn't even made David propose to her yet.

Her new life in Port Leiry feels like a dream for the first two months; The restaurant is perfect, huge, beautiful, attracting the most important people in town... her staff respected and appreciated her, her guests seemed to love the food, and it barely felt like work. In fact, she couldn't remember most of what happened during work hours.

It was perfect... outside of the bugs who seemed to only attack her neck.

Alice thought she could live like that forever. Oh, the irony.

The dream snapped in an instant one night. The beautifully lit restaurant turned dark, the food had vanished, and the irony taste of blood in her mouth was overwhelming. She was awake just long enough to understand that she was dinner. And then... nothing.

She wakes up alone the following night with a note containing an address and a set of instructions (avoid sunlight, verbena, and find someone to invite you home). Garbage.

Obviously, she knew what it sounded like, but it couldn't be. More likely someone had drugged something at the restaurant, she couldn't be a ...v-word.

Except, sunlight did burn, and she couldn't walk into her own apartment without David welcoming her in.

Alice remained in denial for as long as she could until the evidence is overwhelming — she couldn't be undead but... she was. And she was terrified.

Still, there was only one thing she could do: she found the note she had woken up with to look for the address and the sender: Clan Pretorius.

Wanted Plots 

DAVID HUFF (TO BE) - Alice's high school boyfriend whom she dragged along for years. One of the few people who can actually stand her perfectionism. Midgame only.

THE SIRE - The man who first lured her in and turned her, whether because he saw something in her, or simply because he wanted to torture her.

THE BROTHER - Alice's much more relaxed brother. He needed a place to stay and Alice had just invited him over before she was turned. Presumably still human.

[bologoday]

Gurgaon’s new ISBT at Dwarka Expressway

Gurgaon’s Development Journey

Gurgaon’s remarkable journey of development is reflected at every corner of the city. It carries world-class infrastructure, excellent road connectivity, and the presence of Fortune 500 companies. However, amid this bustling urban landscape, a modern bus stand was a major miss out. This gap in the city’s transportation infrastructure has now been addressed with the announcement of the new ISBT.

The Old Bus Stand of Gurgaon

A Tale of Nostalgia and Transition Gurgaon’s old bus stand, located near Mahavir Chowk in the heart of the city, holds a special place in the memories of many residents. It’s a place where countless journeys began, friendships were formed, and stories were woven..

The Old ISBT: A Historic Landmark

The old bus stand is more than just a transportation hub; it’s a historic landmark. Built in 1958, it has witnessed decades of Gurgaon’s transformation. While its architecture may have aged, its significance in the city’s history remains timeless.

The old bus stand is an important landmark of the city and often a crowded place. Commuters from all parts of life, hailing from different parts of the city and nearby towns, converged here daily. Despite the congestion, it had a unique liveliness that was characteristic of a place where people came and went, forging a vibrant microcosm of the city.

Transportation Nostalgia

For the longtime local residents, the old bus stand is an attic of memories. It was the starting point for journeys back to hometowns, college adventures, and daily commutes. Its old-world charm, with its architecture dating back to the mid-20th century, held a sense of nostalgia that’s irreplaceable.

Challenges and Deterioration

Why a New ISBT Was Needed

The older bus stand, located near Mahavir Chowk in the old city, had become increasingly inadequate for the city’s needs. Built in 1958, the building had not aged gracefully. In 2015, a safety audit conducted by the Public Works Department (PWD) declared the building unsafe for use. To resolve this long-standing issue, the Haryana Roadways proposed a new location. The new ISBT’s location is strategically critical, as it is in close proximity to Delhi, the Indira Gandhi International Airport, and several business hubs in Delhi and the National Capital Region (NCR). The older bus stand, due to its dilapidated condition and lack of basic amenities, may be slated for demolition once the new facility is operational.

The New ISBT: A Fresh Start

The 15-acre plot of land was allocated to the Transport Department in 2023, following three years of requests. This land was carved out of the 100 acres under the State’s Industrial Development Corporation for Public Utility Functions. The planned ISBT is expected to be a state-of-the-art facility that not only enhances the city’s connectivity but also complements its aesthetics. The Importance of the New Bus Stand The new ISBT, strategically located on Dwarka Expressway, brings with it a host of benefits and is poised to become a catalyst for Gurgaon’s continued growth. Let’s explore why this development is of paramount importance for the city. Modern and Spacious Facilities: The new ISBT will provide modern amenities and spacious facilities to cater to the needs of today’s commuters. This includes state-of-the-art waiting areas, clean restrooms, well-maintained ticket counters, and ample parking space, offering travelers a comfortable and convenient experience that was lacking in the old bus stand.

Improved Connectivity

Situated on Dwarka Expressway, the new ISBT is well-connected to various parts of Gurgaon and neighboring areas. This central location makes it easily accessible for both residents and travelers passing through the city. It benefits daily commuters and becomes a prime transportation hub for those traveling to and from Gurgaon. Reduced Congestion: The relocation of the bus stand to Dwarka Expressway has already reduced traffic congestion in the older part of the city. The narrow lanes and overcrowded streets around the old bus stand often caused traffic snarls and inconvenience for residents. By moving the bus stand to a more spacious and accessible location, the new facility has mitigated these issues.

Safety and Security:

Safety and security are paramount when it comes to public transportation. The new ISBT incorporates modern security features, including surveillance cameras and a dedicated security staff. Passengers can now feel safer while waiting for their buses or commuting through the facility, which was not always the case at the old bus stand.

Space for Future Expansion:

The new ISBT’s ample space allows for the addition of more amenities and services in the future. As Gurgaon continues to grow, its transportation needs will evolve, and the new facility can adapt to these changing requirements, ensuring it remains a vital part of the city’s infrastructure.

A Catalyst for Development

The new ISBT on Dwarka Expressway is not just a transportation hub; it will also act as a catalyst for the development of the surrounding areas. As the facility attracts commuters, businesses, restaurants, and shops in the vicinity are likely to flourish. This, in turn, can create new economic opportunities and contribute to the city’s growth.

In conclusion, the new ISBT on Dwarka Expressway is a testament to Gurgaon’s commitment to progress. By recognizing the limitations of the old bus stand and taking proactive steps to modernize and relocate it, Gurgaon has addressed an infrastructure challenge while laying the foundation for a brighter, more accessible, and safer future. The new ISBT is more than just a transportation hub; it’s a symbol of Gurgaon’s dedication to improving the lives of its residents and visitors. As the city continues to evolve, the new ISBT serves as a beacon of change, offering a glimpse of what a modern, efficient, and well-connected Gurgaon can be.

Click Here….blogoday.com

[callofthxvoid]

Please welcome YVETTE ALSON (SHE/HER) to Huntsville, WV. She is a 43-year-old RESIDENT who lives in TOWN. You may see her around working as a PRINCIPAL AT HUNTSVILLE ELEMENTARY. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if she survives.

quick facts

Title: The Survivor

Name: Yvette Jocelyn Alson (née: Moore)

Nickname: Evie

Date of Birth: November 5, 1980

Age: 43

Place of Birth: Charleston, West Virginia

Hometown: Charleston, West Virginia

Languages: English

Faceclaim: Jamie Chung

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Relationship Status: In a relationship with Louis Ryan

personality

Myers-Briggs: ESFP - The Entertainer

Enneagram: Type 7 - The Enthusiast (7w8)

Moral Alignment: True Neutral

Occupation: Principal at Huntsville Elementary

Role: Gatherer

[+] vivacious, spontaneous, generous, creative [-] careless, capricious, undisciplined, headstrong

Character Inspirations: Lorelai Gilmore (Gilmore Girls), Daisy Jones (Daisy Jones & the Six)

background

TW: Death

Evie had a nice but largely uneventful childhood. She grew up in an average suburb with an average nuclear family and went to an average school where she got decent grades. Her parents liked to claim that her effervescent personality made her the wild child of the family, but in her mind, she was never a troublemaker on purpose—just someone who loved adventure and often found herself feeling stifled by routine.

She met her future husband, Reggie Alson, when she was in her first year in college, and they started dating a couple of years later. After that, things seemed to fall into place pretty naturally for them, and even if it was a lot faster than she had planned on settling down, it felt right. When they discovered that she was pregnant, they decided to relocate to Huntsville—a town they had visited when they first got together and had both fallen in love with because of the easy access to nature and the sense of community. He got a job at the Sheriff's Office, she got one at the local elementary school, and together they welcomed their daughter, Riley, into the world.

She was delighted to discover that Riley had inherited more than a little of her curious and adventurous nature, and Evie made a point not to discourage that in her, thinking back to how her own much stricter upbringing had made her feel caged in at times. However, she would come to regret that when a little over a year into the paradox, the relentless inquisitiveness that she loved so much in her daughter became the very reason that her daughter was permanently taken from her and her husband.

Neither of them took Riley's death well, but while Evie tried to be constructive in her grief, Reggie went in the opposite direction—disappearing into a bottle and leaving his wife to essentially mourn by herself. It put a strain on their marriage that resulted in Evie seeking solace elsewhere, and the two eventually separated under less than ideal circumstances. She still cares about him, and she regrets hurting him, but she knows in her heart that their marriage was over long before her infidelity.

Nowadays, Evie is simply trying to make the best out of a bad situation. She does not regret her marriage, and she certainly does not regret having Riley, but she has come to realise that getting married as young as she did meant that she never really got a chance to figure out who she was outside of being a wife and a mother. She misses her daughter every day, and she wishes that she could start over somewhere else, but she's trying her best to move on in a town that literally won't let her leave.

misc

She has kept a number of Riley's belongings, including a plushie of the Pokémon Eevee that was originally given to her as a gift by Reggie (being a homophone of her own nickname), and that she later passed on to their daughter.

Her college degree was in Theatre and Performance Studies.

[grant---p]

The Fact-Checker Who Just Couldn't Fiction: One Man's Struggle Between Truth and Lies

Jackson "Jack" Worthy was thrilled to land a job as a fact-checker for a major news organization. "Finally, a job where my obsessive attention to detail is an asset!" he thought to himself. However, his excitement quickly turned to panic when he learned he had to pass a true-or-false screening test first. Despite studying rigorously, Jack failed the test not once, not twice, but three times before barely scraping by on the fourth try. "I guess constantly questioning and second-guessing facts doesn't lend itself well to multiple choice exams," Jack realized a little too late. (Editor's Note: Five times, record can prove he passed on the 5th attempt! Jack should've taken the hint after the first failure. He claims it was a computer error.). Still, Jack managed to hang onto his new job by the skin of his teeth. At first, he felt right at home, eagerly verifying statistics, poring over sources, and pestering writers and editors about any potential inaccuracies. But over time, Jack started getting a little loose with the facts. He'd approve an article saying the mayor was 47 when she was really 48. He let a claim that it rained 3 inches yesterday stand, even though the weather station recorded 2.5. When asked if he was fired from a previous job, Jack replied "False! I voluntarily relocated to new opportunities." (Editor's Note: AKA he was totally fired). His casual relationship with the truth didn't sit well with his employers. When Jack claimed he still lived in his hometown of Scranton, PA, despite moving to Albany, NY years ago, the head fact-checker called him out, after double, triple and quadruple checking facts before confirming them as true.

"But Scranton just feels more emotionally true to me," Jack tried arguing. "Plus it rhymes with canton." But his excuses didn't fly. Now unemployed, Jack wonders if a lifelong dedication to nitpicking facts was really meant to be. "Oh well," he sighs. "I heard there's an opening for a creative fiction writer I'd be perfect for…"

After departing from the news organization, Jack decided to try his hand at writing fiction. No longer constrained by pesky "facts", he was free to let his imagination run wild. Or so he thought. He wrote a novel about an elite league of martial arts fighters who competed in an underground tournament called "Kumite". Reviewers praised its gritty action sequences, even if some of the MMA moves described didn't actually exist. . When Jack drafted a screenplay about a college a cappella group called the "Barden Bellas", his agent questioned whether competitive a cappella was really a thing. "Well it just became a thing because I say so," Jack replied confidently. (Editor's Note: Sounds fake but okay). But when Jack pitched a biography of the first dog to be elected US President, no publisher would bite. "You can't pass that off as non-fiction!" the editors scolded him. (Editor's Note: What were you thinking, Jack??) Frustrated, Jack realized even fiction writing required some grounding in reality. So he set his sights on a new career: political speechwriter. Here his fast-and-loose relationship with the truth would be an asset, not a liability! Or so he assumed. Jack landed a job on a presidential campaign. At first, he felt right at home putting positive "spins" on ambiguous facts. But soon he went too far, and wrote a speech claiming the candidate was born in a log cabin he built with his bare hands. The campaign fired Jack, and he was blacklisted from politics. (Editor's Note: Cabin birth story seems a bit far-fetched).

At this point, Jack had an epiphany: maybe a disregard for facts was not the most desirable career trait after all. So he decided to go back to what he knew best - nitpicking the truth. Jack found work with a fact-checking organization, rigorously verifying politicians' statements. He may have floundered before, but this time, he would let the facts be his guide. But Jack soon realized that his attempt to write fiction was doomed from the start. After years of obsessively checking facts, he found he was simply incapable of fabricating information, even for a made-up story. The novel he wrote about underground martial arts tournaments was based on an actual secret society of fighters he belonged to in college. And the a cappella group in his screenplay was modeled after his own embarrassing stint in an a cappella chorus after graduation. Try as he might, Jack couldn't conjure up a wholly fictitious world - the force of fact-checking habit was just too strong. Once, he spent 6 months attempting to write a novel about a swashbuckling pirate adventure, only to research real 18th century pirates so extensively that the book transformed into a dry historical account laden with citations and footnotes. So when Jack transitioned to political speech writing, he thought fiction was behind him. But old habits die hard. Even his exaggerated, misleading speeches contained nuggets of truth, as Jack compulsively included real statistics and verified data.

When he was fired for his exaggerated log cabin story, the campaign manager fumed, "Why couldn't you have fabricated something more reasonable, like being born in a hospital?"It was clear Jack simply lacked the creativity to construct alternate realities from whole cloth. Returning to fact-checking was the perfect solution, allowing him to channel his obsessive attention to accuracy into a job where such rigidity was an asset.

"Fiction and falsehoods just aren't for me," Jack realized contentedly, settling into his new fact-checking role with relief. "I'll leave fantasy to the writers whose minds aren't shackled to cold hard facts!"

After rediscovering his passion for fact-checking, Jack was careful not to veer off course career-wise again. But when his fact-checking job was eliminated due to company downsizing, Jack found himself at a crossroads once more. He needed a new job fast. With few options, Jack took an insurance sales job that promised high commissions. But he quickly found that having to stretch the truth about insurance products didn't come naturally to him. During sales calls, Jack spent more time painstakingly clarifying fine print and explaining exclusions than making a sales pitch.

"Well yes, our Deluxe Coverage would cover water damage, but only if it's from a burst pipe or appliance malfunction," Jack would carefully explain. "Standing water from a flood or storm would only be covered by our Premium Plus plan. And both plans require a $500 deductible payment per incident."

Unsurprisingly, few customers signed up. Some even accused Jack of trying to talk them out of buying insurance! Jack's meticulous full disclosures may have come from a good place of wanting to educate customers. But the lengthy disclaimers didn't make for good sales calls. After just 3 weeks, Jack was fired when it became clear he lacked the smooth talking art of persuasion well-suited to sales. Sighing with relief, Jack realized he was once again free from having to stretch the truth or embellish facts for the sake of a paycheck. He soon found a new fact-checking position where he could wield his obsession with accuracy for the forces of good - keeping businesses and media accountable by calling out misinformation. And this time, he knew better than to ever stray from the solid grounding of truth and facts again. Jack had learned the hard way that for a hardcore fact-checker like himself, fiction simply didn't pay.

After getting fired from the insurance sales gig, Jack decides he needs a break from traditional jobs to pursue a new passion - competitive jigsaw puzzling. Jack spends 10 hours a day practicing and honing his skills. He times himself assembling puzzles, analyzing where he loses seconds. Before long, Jack ranks among the top competitive puzzlers in the state, having set seemingly unbeatable records. Jack even builds a "puzzle station" in his home with a large table, storage for thousands of puzzles organized by piece count, and a timer to track his record times down to the millisecond. While Jack excels at his new hobby, he declines invitations from friends to maintain his rigid training schedule. Puzzling becomes all-consuming, leaving no time or energy for much else. When Jack's strained eyes need high-powered magnifying glasses to see the pieces, he decides to purchase them - his puzzling regime is punishing, but he's determined to be the best. He stores all his puzzle records in a Handwritten spreadsheet updated daily

However, Jack soon realizes he's reached the peak of the puzzling world, having set unbeatable state records. Without any competitions left, his zeal for puzzle perfection starts to waver. Coming up for air, Jack recognizes that while satisfying, competitive jigsaw doesn't pay the bills. With no income and neglected relationships, Jack sees it's time to direct his obsessive focus back to gainful employment. Jack is puzzled about what to do next, but eventually arrives at the truth - it's time to direct his obsessive focus back to gainful employment. As satisfying as puzzle perfection had been, he needs a career that can pay the bills. Nowadays, Jack dreams of starting his own independent fact checking company. He's noticed the proliferation of misinformation spreading unchecked on social media. This frustrates Jack, as he sees many dubious facts being shared without scrutiny. Armed with his uncompromising relationship with the truth, Jack aims to found a media watchdog company employing rigorous standards to verify claims and call out inaccuracies. He may have had career stumbles in the past, but Jack believes he's finally found his purpose - using his unique passion for facts to keep public figures and companies accountable. After all, there are always more pieces to the puzzle when searching for the truth. And Jack is determined to analyze how they fit together to separate fact from fiction, whatever it takes. The world needs diligent fact-checkers now more than ever.

Employment History: Fact Checker at The Daily Globe newspaper, Freelance Fiction Writer, Political Speechwriter, Fact Checker at Truth Matters Inc.,Insurance Salesman at Honest Insurance, Professional Competitive Puzzler

Editor's Summary

Jack's winding career journey demonstrates the importance of following one's true passion. This brave man tried his hand at jobs ranging from newspaper fact-checker to competitive puzzler before realizing where his heart truly lies - nitpicking the nitty gritty details of fact-based information. Some may see Jack's obsessive attention to accuracy as a fault, but we view it as a virtue in this era of rampant misinformation. His refusal to compromise on cold hard facts, even at the expense of humor or persuasion, is admirable. As they say, the truth hurts, but lying will kill you! Of course, Jack's path has not been without missteps. Who among us hasn't fabricated êtrent a log cabin origin story or two in our careers? But Jack learned from these transgressions and always corrected course back toward fastidious fact-checking. At the World Times, Jack's casual regard for employee ages was less an ethical lapse than an admirable commitment to emotional truth over tedious digits. And his imaginative fiction writing attempts were simply too brilliant for the world to understand at the time. Some suggest Jack would benefit from questioning truth itself instead of declaring facts so absolutely. But we believe obsessing over minor inaccuracies without broader context is the ultimate virtue! Now pursuing his dream of starting a meticulous new media watchdog company, we have no doubt Jack will thrive. With his puzzling perseverance and a magnifying glass at the ready, he is sure to elevate public discourse through relentlessly parsing every statistic and claim.

[alphabet-blues]

Here it is, chapter one of my baby, my magnum opus. This fic is going to be so long so I hope you guys are buckled up and ready. Each chapter also is accompanied by a literature/media excerpt and five song mini-mix as a YouTube playlist. - Venom

Read on Ao3

Title: drowning lessons

Pairing: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland), and MCU

Chapter: One

Rating: Explicit

Content Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Angst, Depression, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Graphic Drug usage, Addiction, Graphic Usage of Opioids, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, brief mentions of forced prostitution, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, drug overdose, Graphic Depiction of a Drug Overdose, Getting Together, Fluff, Banter, The Euphoria Fic, Blowjobs, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drug Addict Harley, Aged-Up Harley Keener, Aged-Up Peter Parker, Drowning Lessons, Falling In Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking, Partying, Purchasing of Drugs, Harley's Nirvana Hoodie is a character

Summary: It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.

In which Harley takes pills, listens to Nirvana, and doesn't want to be alive anymore.

Falling for Peter is easier than breathing, and also the least of his problems.

(Also known as the Parkner Euphoria Fic)

Mini-Mix 1 for Chapter 1

The Pool Players. Seven at the Golden Shovel.

We real cool. We Left school. We

Lurk late. We Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We Die soon.

- Gwendolyn Brooks

It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.

He was 14, and it was his first party. Well, not his first party, but his first party with actual high schoolers that involved booze that wasn’t snuck out from a parent’s meticulous liquor cabinet. Harley though, didn’t have much of a taste for alcohol.

The smell of beer on people’s clothes was tainted by memories of his Father. He’d had his first beer when he was 10, given to him by his Uncle with strict orders not to tell his Mother. It was bitter, rancid, and burned as it went down and Harley couldn’t understand how people loved this stuff. Or how his Father had chosen this over their family.

The party was a little ways out from the main road and tucked behind a line of trees that led to a few rolling fields of corn. It was October, and there was a slight chill in the air. The corn had been combined at the end of summer, leaving a desecrated patch of land in its wake. By the time next summer rolled around, there would be stalks nearly as tall as Harley. He was fascinated by the cycle of it all.

Technically, there wasn’t supposed to be any freshman at the party, but he had weaseled an invite from his friend Joey’s older brother, Mike, as long as he followed his strict orders to “be cool.” Harley could do that.

When Harley made his way into the house he watched the different crowds of upperclassmen interact. Some were dancing to the loud thumping of the music playing from the speakers by the TV in the living room, while others were huddled into tight groups, either drinking, or passing a joint around. An ache settled inside Harley’s chest.

Harley committed to his role of being a wallflower and held back from all of the groups as he made his way through the house. He had sat on the couch for close to a half-hour when someone passed him a joint and told him to take a hit. Harley did, and was careful not to choke so he didn’t look green at his first-ever real party.

The joint in question got passed around their circle a few more times until someone put it out. At that point, Harley had taken several puffs and was starting to feel light-headed and fuzzy, but in a good way.

The ache in his chest morphed - it spread warmth over Harley’s ribs and clavicle, but it still burned.

Harley floated through the house afterwards, giggling at nothing, and took whatever was offered. He drank something bitter and sour that made him want to hurl before he was passed something sickly sweet but felt like acid as it washed down. When he finally stumbled out of the house he felt a happy buzz wash over him. He could barely feel the cold nip of the air, and goosebumps raised all up along his arms.

He found his bike where he had discarded it on the grass lawn when he arrived. It was hard to see in the dark, especially with his head swimming, but he managed to pull his bike onto the road. The wind of the night air blew through his shaggy overgrown hair as it fell in his eyes. He biked down the eerily quiet streets of his hometown as the persistent aching in his chest eventually subsided, for the first time since it had arrived. No one was around, and his ears were filled with static due to the lack of sound - a sharp contrast from the thudding bass of the party.

He fell off his bike twice before he got home, and winced as his elbow got scratched up from the gravel. But instead of being frightened, he was elated, he couldn't really feel it. He snuck back into his room through the window he kept unlocked for that exact purpose, and made sure to be as quiet as possible, even though the motor functions in his hand were failing him and it took him multiple tries to get his window up.

He changed his clothes, noting how they smelled, and buried them deep into the bottom of his hamper so his Mom wouldn’t get suspicious. When he finally collapsed onto his bed he felt sated. He was warm, and the rocking of his bed from his head spinning as he closed his eyes lulled him to sleep.

It was probably the best sleep he’d gotten in years.

That was the start, but it wasn’t the beginning.

The beginning was not quite a year later, at the start of summer break. He was invited to a pool party by Mike’s friends. As soon as the sun went down they all changed out of their bathing suits and into t-shirts, and shorts. They relocated to Maddy’s basement - the girl who had been throwing the party. Harley was expecting the alcohol, and the weed. He’d gotten used to it by now, and even knew how to roll one of the best joints in town. He kept a stash in a sealed bag buried deep inside his nightstand that he would pull out and smoke in the backyard by the shed whenever things got overwhelming. Or, for when that well-known emptiness crept into his veins, that instead of making him angry, just made him sad, and desolate.

He was used to the weed, but the pills were something new. He was halfway through a joint that he had matched with a girl he vaguely recognized. She had introduced herself as “Tasha” when one of Mike’s friends stumbled over and sat down next to him. Harley passed the joint over to Tasha. His head was swimming pleasantly, and he grinned over at the guy who he was pretty sure was named Toby.

“Look what Jessica’s sister brought,” Toby said excitedly as he held up a baggy with a bunch of tiny perfectly round blue pills. “She’s like the fucking tooth fairy, I swear to God,” He crowed as he handed a pill to Harley and one to Tasha. Tasha glanced over at Harley nervously, and Harley didn’t say anything until Toby left, probably to go distribute the pills to the other partygoers.

Harley looked down at the pill he had clutched in his palm. It had a ‘5’ etched big in the center, with a smaller ‘325’ carved under it. Harley recognized the pills from health class. It was percocet.

Tasha finished the joint and then stubbed it out on a spare plate that everyone had been using as a makeshift ashtray. “I’m gonna go see what Josh is up to,” She told Harley in a small voice before handing him the pill she had been given. “I’m good with just weed.”

Harley nodded dumbly as he watched her scamper off. He took in the scene of the party going on around him as he stared at the now two pills in his hand. It felt like an old cartoon where there was an angel and devil sitting on his shoulder arguing over what he should do. He stared at it for entirely too long before he said, “Fuck it,” and swallowed one down dry. He tucked the other one into his weed grinder for safekeeping, figuring that even if he hated how it made him feel he could probably sell it to someone at school for a couple of dollars.

The next twenty minutes passed slowly as he waited anxiously for it to kick in, to see how it would feel. He didn’t feel anything for the first while and was gonna accuse Jessica’s sister of being an idiot and buying counterfeit pills when it started washing over him in waves. He went out to the back deck where the pool was, and where it was relatively empty. He sat down on the edge as his eyes went half-massed, and the ribbons of euphoria made their way through his bloodstream.

For a blissful while he didn’t feel anything. Nothing at all. He laid out flat, head facing the water, and started swirling circles in it with his pointer finger. He watched for what felt like hours as his finger caused ripples in the pool.

It wasn’t until later, much later, when Joey was helping him into his house quietly, because he was too fucked up to stand, that he pulled the grinder out of his pocket. He opened it once Joey had gone home and looked at the little pill inside of it. Harley didn’t understand alcohol, but he understood this. He would do anything to feel nothing again.

It wasn’t an all-or-nothing type beat, at least in the beginning. It was more gradual. As the low simmer of Harley’s misery built so did his coping mechanisms. It wasn’t until right after he turned 16 that he was sneaking out to parties every single weekend, coming back high, drunk, or sometimes something worse.

He bought from Jessica’s sister for a while until she left town. Then, he bounced around various dealers getting wildly different qualities. He tried a little bit of everything, and never turned down a pill if it was offered. He passed out in so many different basements he lost track. He could tell that his Mom was catching on to his worsening attitude and sunken eyes. Hell, even he had noticed the weight he had lost and how he was able to count most of his ribs without sucking in anymore. None of that mattered. All that mattered was how he could get rid of the emptiness inside of him, even if it was just for a night, or however long the drugs in his system lasted.

He got a job bagging groceries at the mini-mart downtown. Most of the people that he worked with were college burnouts who sold and did drugs whenever they weren’t showing up for a shift. He bought baggies of pills in the parking lot whenever he got off work with the money he made from his minimum wage. He knew that he couldn’t keep up the delicate balance forever, and eventually there would be a tipping of the scales.

It was a month before his 17th birthday when he ran out of money.

He needed a fix so bad that his hands were shaking and he could barely see straight. He had nearly crashed his bike 10 times on his way over to Tyler’s apartment. He wasn’t the best of dudes, but his shit was always pure, and Harley knew he could deliver.

Once Harley climbed up the steps he walked along the railing until he got to the door that led to Tyler’s apartment. He rang the doorbell as he fidgeted with his hoodie and dug his fingers into his palm so hard he nearly drew blood. When Tyler opened the door he followed him inside, chewing on his lip.

Tyler went back to his room as Harley waited anxiously in the foyer. He didn’t have any money, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. All he knew was that he needed another pill. He needed everything to stop. He bit his thumb as he waited for Tyler to come back out. After a few tense moments, Tyler came back out with a baggy full of familiar pills. He sat them down on the coffee table and glanced at Harley expectantly.

“I can pay you back next Friday. That’s when I get paid,” Harley told him, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

Tyler sucked on his teeth and grabbed the pills back up, before Harley had a chance to reach for them. “You still owe me for last time.”

Harley’s stomach dropped. “Right. I know that. Just- ... I can pay you back next week.”

Tyler shook his head. “And what’s in it for me?”

Harley’s eyes widened as he took in the setting of what was going on. “W-what do you mean?”

Tyler shrugged. “How bad do you want ‘em, kid?”

Harley bristled, and brought the sleeves of his hoodie down to hide his hands. He wanted to hide from the situation completely, but knew he’d be right back here tomorrow if he didn’t leave with the pills that he needed. “What do you want?”

“I heard you gave Colson head at the bonfire party a few months ago,” Tyler said, as Harley’s face burned. “You any good?”

Harley counted to 10 in his head. He thought about a lot of things in the time it took for him to count. He thought about his Mom, his Dad, and his sister. He thought about his one English teacher from the previous year who always had an absurd amount of faith in him and told him that he was capable of great things if he just put his mind to it. He thought briefly about Tony and his billions of dollars while here he was broke as shit and questioning his morals. He thought about Colson, who he’d had a crush on for a couple of months, who let him blow him at a party and then told him afterwards that he wasn’t gay, and that they probably shouldn’t do it again. Lastly, he thought about how shaky his hands were and how all of this would be over as soon as he got his hand on the pills. There were five in the baggy. If he paced himself he could last until next Friday when he got paid and he would never have to do this again.

With that resolve in mind, he closed his eyes and dropped to his knees.

| | |

When he left Tyler’s apartment he couldn’t stop wiping at his mouth, and how it felt dirty and raw. He got halfway down the street before he let his bike fall to the ground and bent over to wretch into the grass on the side of the road. He didn’t have much in his system so it was mostly just bile, but anything, literally anything, was better than the lingering taste of Tyler’s cum in his mouth that only served to remind him what he had let him do.

Once he gathered his wits back up, he was able to make it to the 7-Eleven that was only a few blocks away from his house. He parked his bike in the bike rack outside half in a daze, feeling like he was no longer inside his body. He went into the bathroom with his hood up, and made sure nobody else was inside. He wiped down the edge of the sink with soap, and dried it meticulously with the thin paper towels from the machine. He took one of the pills out of the baggie and smashed it until it was basically powder. He spread it with his finger into a line on the edge of the sink and snorted all of it in one go.

As soon as he did he felt the immediate head rush and stinging pain in his nasal cavity that made his eyes burn and well up with tears. He grabbed onto the sink for dear life as he took several deep breaths. He looked up and finally made eye contact with himself in the mirror. His hair was a messy tangle, and greasy, on top of his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was red, as well as his mouth, which looked rubbed raw. In a certain light, it could have been enticing, but Harley knew that he just really looked wrung out.

He glared at his reflection in the mirror until someone else walked into the bathroom. Harley froze in place and waited till the guy took his position at one of the far down urinals. “Whatever,” he whispered to his reflection as he turned around and left the bathroom, wiping at his nose with the bottom of his hoodie sleeve. The moment he reached his bike he felt it start to kick in and he breathed out a sigh of relief as the telltale rush he had gotten used to spread from his head down his shoulders, all the way to his toes as his chest flooded with warmth.

He just had to make it until next Friday, and then everything was going to be okay.

| | |

The thing was, Harley was a pretty angry person. He wasn’t angry all the time, but the slightest thing could set him off. He had a temper like his Dad, and it was always hard to stop himself from doing something rash, or impulsive. His Mom liked to say that he thought with his fists before his head. His anger was more like a low simmer, on a backburner constantly until something set him off and he snapped. It had only gotten worse since he started the pills, but so had everything in his life. He knew he had a problem, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stop.

Harley had been getting into fights at school for almost as long as he could remember. There was a day in elementary school where he had to wait outside the principal's office with a split lip and torn-up knuckles. He could hear his Mom crying through the door, he could hear her saying how tough it had been since Harley’s Dad had left and it made him feel awful. But, it also kind of just made him want to punch stuff more.

Kids at school were mean, but all kids who are growing are mean, and seem to have endless bouts of nasty shit to say. They picked on Harley because he was weird, and nerdy, and his Dad had left. There wasn’t even a divorce like some of the other kids in his class. He didn’t have elusive tales of two Christmases, or weekends at his Dad’s - all he eventually got was Tony Stark showing up in his garage when he was 9, before he fucked off just like everybody else. Sure, he had decked out his garage, but that didn’t mean much. Tony was a fucking billionaire, it was probably the equivalent of him giving a homeless kid on the street a 5 dollar bill.

Harley got better at learning how to deal with his anger. He also got better at not getting punched, and throwing his own. He learned how to hide bloody knuckles, or bloody noses, and only got pulled into the office a handful of times. They made him go to the school counselor and she said it was a coping mechanism; that the violence was a way for him to act out and ask for attention. Harley thought she was mostly a quack who didn’t actually give a shit about the kids she was supposed to be helping. The fighting had been self-defense, but the pills? He could admit that those were probably the coping mechanism.

Harley thought about his school counselor as he locked the door to his room and threw the baggy of pills that he had worked so hard for into his nightstand, under a pile of books he was supposed to be reading for class and knew he never would. He wondered what she would think of him now, or what he had done. He laughed mirthlessly at the picture of her horrified face as he told her that the school system had failed him, just like his Dad, and just like everybody fucking else.

Despite everything, his grades were good. Harley was smart. He knew he was smart, and that was half of his problem. He stopped having to try in school after the second week of 6th grade. He always showed up, and always finished his work though, even if he was working on his projects high out of his fucking mind. He usually wrote his best papers that way.

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he thought about his Dad. He thought about what his Dad would say to him and his pills. Maybe an outsider would draw parallels to him and his Father, from one addict to another. He wasn’t anything like his Father, though. Yeah, Harley had a problem, but he was still here, still doing the shit he was supposed to be doing. He was still a functioning member of society as far as he was concerned and hadn’t ran away as soon as things had gotten tough. His Father was a coward and that’s all he’d ever be.

Sometimes though, sometimes, in the dead of night when he was shaking and sweating from either a comedown, or withdrawal, he would try to discern if his Dad would be sad, if he even gave a shit at all. He wondered if he would be disappointed.

Whenever those thoughts took hold he would just text one of his friends to see if a party was going on, and there usually was. He’d smoke a joint, or take a pill that was offered and suddenly he’d forget all about the thoughts that had previously been consuming him.

But the thing about all of his anger is that he would gladly take it over the sadness. There was a hole inside of him. He wasn’t quite sure when it formed, but it was there. It threatened to consume him whole on nights he was alone and could only stare at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom. The only time when he didn’t feel empty was when he had some chemical pumping through his veins. So that became his thing.

He couldn’t ignore though, how it was hurting everyone he loved. Abbie and his Mom never said anything, but sometimes it was like they knew. They would give him a look with their sad eyes like they wanted to help him, like they somehow had the capability to heal him. When he came home on certain nights, pupils blown and speech slurred, his Mom would look at him like he was his Father.

Maybe he was slowly becoming his Father.

Either way, it hurt, and he couldn’t stop. The only thing that didn’t hurt anymore was the dizzying rush he got whenever he snorted the pills that he had come to love so much.

There was one night that Harley could remember. He had slammed his bike on the front porch a little hard, and had made a little too much noise coming in through the window of his bedroom. He was high as shit and the world was thick, but buzzing around him. He changed out of his jeans into an undershirt, his hands fumbling and not working right, like they were no longer connected to his brain. When he finally finished his task he stumbled out into the hallway to go to the bathroom before he could pass out for school in the morning.

As soon as he got to the door of the bathroom he could hear his Mom talking in the living room, and he froze. Her voice was muffled, but he could still make out what she was saying. It sounded like she was on the phone with someone, which wouldn’t be an unusual occurrence for her, especially at this time of the night. It always made Harley smile whenever he would come home and she would be gabbing excitedly with one of her girlfriends, or spilling town gossip. This time, however, Harley could tell she wasn’t chatting with her friends.

“He’s just been so withdrawn. I know he sneaks out of the house almost every night and I don’t know if I should let him have his freedom or be concerned.” Harley heard her say, her voice sapped, and weary. “He’s so bright. You know that. I’m worried that’s going to be what gets him.” She paused for a while, so someone else on the phone must have said something. Harley took that time to let his head fall against the door of the bathroom.

Harley had a feeling the conversation was about him and it made him sick. His fuzzy brain was taking in all the words she was saying and knew that he didn’t want her to feel that way. He didn’t want her to worry. But he also couldn’t stop. His brain was whirring all the time and the only thing that ever gave him peace; a fucking reprieve, stopped the voice in his head - the one that sounded like his Father, the one that told him he was a waste of space, that he was nothing - were the pills that he took, or snorted, whichever was easier, or quicker, really. At least when he was high he was a good nothing.

“No, I know. And he’s so good sometimes. He’ll be happy and chatty, and he’s always been so good with Abbie...it could just be a teenager thing. Sometimes I’m just at a loss. I know he needs something, but I don’t know what that is.”

The world to stop turning, Harley thought, with a sudden flash of vengeance. If there was one thing he could write on his Christmas list it would be for the world to stop turning, and for him to stop breathing. But that would definitely cause his Mom more concern and he didn’t want that.

He didn’t want to listen to the conversation anymore, so he made sure to open the bathroom door obviously, and took a few stomping steps inside, hitting his hand on the counter in the process, that way she would be alerted to his presence in the hallway.

He couldn’t make out her voice after that.

Harley stared at his face in the mirror. He took in his red eyes, pupils swallowing his irises, skin pale and sickly. At one point he might have been something to look at, with sweeping blonde hair, and a crooked grin that his Mom used to always pinch and say was her favorite.

He didn’t look like that anymore.

He didn’t even look like himself anymore. His outside finally matched his inside - a hollow shell of someone pretending to be a person.

When he got out of the bathroom his Mom was no longer on the phone, and he couldn’t pretend to be anything other than absolutely exhausted, so he shuffled into his room and fell back onto his bed. He played the words she had said on the phone call over and over again in his head until he fell asleep.

| | |

Harley was smart, brilliant, actually, that was the thing. School was a breeze, but he knew that even though he kept his grades up, every time he snuck back in through his bedroom window his Mom was disappointed in him. He knew that she had no idea what he was doing, but she also wasn’t stupid, and somehow knew he was close to doing something that would throw his life away.

If only she knew that this was the only way he could keep on living. If only she knew he probably would have slit his wrists in the bathroom if those tiny little blue pills hadn’t kept him company, and drove away all the malicious clawing thoughts that flickered through his brain constantly.

Harley had an affinity for building things. He also had an affinity for hacking, which would have been worrisome if he wasn’t good enough to hardly ever get caught. After he burned his bridges with Tyler he started exploring his other options. Hacking into the local hospital’s database was so easy it was almost laughable.

He quickly learned it was going to be a dead-end because they kept all their opioids in a Pill-O-Matix which was an automatic drug dispenser that used doctors’ credentials to unlock it. Even if Harley could somehow bypass it he would have to disable the security cams, and it wasn’t something he could do on a regular basis. It wasn’t worth it.

After that, he did some digging into his local pharmacy, but that was mostly a dead end as well. Their computer systems were out of date, but most of their pill tracking was manual, as it was a tiny small-town pharmacy. If any of their opioids went missing they would surely be noticed.

So Harley started bouncing around dealers again. He knew it was dangerous. But the hole inside of him was just as, if not more dangerous, so he knew what he had to do. He got shitty pills from freshmen with older siblings that dealt; who didn’t know the worth of what they were selling. On one occasion he got a set of pills of oxy that were cut with speed that made his heart race and he felt like he was having a low-grade heart attack for hours.

He didn’t want to be this way - a junkie. But he found something that worked when nothing else had. He could feel himself getting worse and worse and knew rock bottom was just around the corner. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know if it was a sick desire to actually hit rock bottom and to see what that felt like, or if his own self-control had finally waned to a point of no return.

It all came to a head a week before his high school graduation.

Graduation parties were popping up all over the place, and Harley wasn’t about to miss any of them. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to see his friends (friends that he could barely even call friends anymore because he didn’t really talk to anyone who wasn’t going to eventually sell him drugs).

It wasn’t even that he wanted to have a nostalgic cry fest with all the people who had tortured him his entire adolescence. He just wanted to get as smashed as possible so he could forget everything. Then he wouldn’t have to think about college, which he couldn’t afford, or all of the stress that came with being on the cusp of adulthood.

He could tell that something was off as soon as he took the first pill. He got high quicker than usual, and he also felt higher than what was normal. He relished the buzz, every second of it, and used his impairment as an excuse as to why he took another one, and another one once it was offered. He was never one to turn down free drugs. By the time the third one kicked in he could barely walk outside. He must have fallen on the grass lawn because one minute he was looking at the driveway that led to the house, and the next minute he was blinking up at the night sky.

He didn’t even realize that he was puking until someone was rolling him over with a bruising grip on his arms and back. The bile that had been clogging his throat rose and fell out of his mouth as he heaved and heaved. He puked into the grass for what felt like ages until he tried to focus his eyes and could only make out a vague blob of a person standing over him.

“Fuck, Harley,” he could hear the voice saying, but it was distant. It sounded like they were crying, but he couldn’t figure out why they would be crying. Harley opened his mouth to speak but when he did he only choked on bile once again until he was forced to spit it out in the grass.

A loud ringing was in his ears and all the talking he could hear was muffled and unintelligible. He started shivering violently and couldn’t stop. The hand that was holding him reached for something in the pocket of his jeans but Harley could barely feel it. He came back to himself enough to glance over with glassy eyes and recognized the person as Joey. Fuck. He shouldn’t be seeing him like this.

Joey had a phone pressed to his ear, and Harley tried to piece all the details together to figure out what was going on but it was hard to think. All he could feel was the sudden pounding in his head and how his whole body ached in a way that made him feel like he had just been run over by a semi.

It could’ve been hours later, or only a few minutes, time was passing weird for Harley. But suddenly he was seeing his Mom. She was pale as a ghost as her face floated in front of him, blocking his view of the night sky. “Mom?” Harley said, not quite believing what was in front of him. Just saying those words scratched against his raw throat and suddenly Harley was so, so tired. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up.

“Harley, baby.” His Mom said, her cool hands pressed against his face. He was burning up. When did that happen? “What did you take? We need to know what you took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Harley mumbled out, his words barely coming out as sounds or words. His Mom must have understood because her face turned thunderous.

“What did you take!” She yelled, her voice turning shrill as she screamed. Harley winced and his eyes fell shut until someone was shaking him, causing him to blearily open his eyes again. His Mom and Joey were like little pale-faced moons over his head as he could hardly make out the details of their faces, or why they were looking at him like that, or why they were so concerned. Couldn’t Harley just go to sleep?

“...hospital,” He heard his Mom say distantly. Then jerkily he was being pulled up by two pairs of hands until he was upright. The movement jostled him and his head fell back painfully like a rag doll. The sudden motion caused him to start puking again, and he bent over and heaved on an empty stomach which only made his throat feel like it had been hacked at with razor blades. Every inch of his body hurt.

He didn’t realize he had been put into a car until he was laying in the backseat while Joey held his head, probably to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit again. This was one of his worst nightmares. He could hardly think but suddenly he was stuck in a spiral of guilt so strong that it choked him even further. He could taste the bile he had been throwing up all over his mouth and tongue, and could hear his Mom crying from the front seat.

He was so sorry.

Nobody should be seeing him like this. All he wanted was to go home and pretend like none of this was even happening.

“I’m sorry,” Harley said, even though it was hard for him to talk. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to his Mom, Joey, or possibly both. “I’m sorry,” he kept saying in between the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

That was the last thing he remembered before he fell asleep.

| | |

When Harley woke up he was in a brightly lit hospital, and was lying in a bed. He had various wires hooked to his arms and he felt like death warmed over. Once he was able to blink through the blinding lights and focus on the room he noticed Abbie and Mom, both sound asleep in their own respective guest chairs. A lump formed in his throat as it settled in his bones what had happened.

| | |

After his Mom woke up they fought for what felt like hours. Eventually, it led to her crying as she said she didn’t know what to do. The pills Harley had taken at the party had been laced with fentanyl, and they had caused him to OD. The doctors had told her that he showed signs of having a long-term opioid addiction and would have to go through detox before he would be released. Harley had denied it vehemently until his Mom had told him to cut the bullshit.

In the time that it had taken him to recover he had missed graduation, and hadn’t been able to walk across the stage like the rest of his classmates. Harley pretended that it didn’t sting.

It was clear that his Mother didn’t know what to do with him, and Harley didn’t know what hurt worse, the fact that she looked at him differently now, or the fact that he had hurt her so deeply. It wasn’t until he went through the detox with gritted teeth and false promises that he would stay clean that he knew nobody really believed, that he was able to go home.

When Harley got to his room, he stopped short in the doorway and stared. All of his stuff had been packed up into bags that were sitting on his bed. He turned to look at his Mom, who was only a few feet behind him, with betrayal and fear. Was she kicking him out?

Instead of answering him right away, her eyes trained on a picture that was hung up in the hallway, just a little ways down from the entryway to Harley’s bedroom. It was a baby picture of him. His blonde hair was platinum then, but still tangled at the top of his head like a bird's nest, and he had a wide smile on his face that was completely toothless and all gums. He could see the tears welling in his Mom’s eyes as she turned back to face him.

“When you first mentioned that you wanted to take a gap year I got in touch with Tony. He gave me his number years ago and said to call if we ever needed him. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if the number was still going to work. I thought it might do you good to go and see him.” Her voice trembled then, “Lord knows he has more resources than I do.” A tear trickled down her cheek, but she continued. “I know you’re not happy here, baby. You haven’t been happy for a while, and I don’t...I don’t know what to do.”

Harley tried to let her words sink in, but they weren’t making any sense. “Since when does Tony give a shit about me?”

“Oh sweetie,” His Mom said, eyes sad. “He’s always been keeping tabs on you. He wants what’s best for you.” She seemed to gather herself together then, and her voice was less wobbly when she said, “I think a change of scenery will do you good. You have a flight to New York tomorrow morning, so you should probably get some rest.”

Harley balled his hands into fists at his sides and glared at the bags that had been packed for him. He was a problem who was being shipped off to New York because his Mom no longer knew how to handle him. He wasn’t sure what Tony fucking Stark was going to be able to do for him. The fact that he had been keeping up with Harley and how he was doing hit him as a shock because he genuinely thought that the man had forgotten about him, or at least, didn’t care for him anymore. He didn’t know how to handle the information that not only did Tony in fact care about him, but cared about him enough to open his home to him and want to help him.

“And what if I don’t want to go to New York?” Harley tested, because he always had to push.

His Mom only pursed her lips sadly. “It’s not negotiable.” She closed his door then, he guessed to give him a semblance of privacy. Not like it mattered, he was sure his room had been cleaned of all his stashes, and all his shit was packed up anyway.

Harley punched his pillow repeatedly, and screamed into it a few times before he ended up curled up in his bed and staring unblinkingly at the wall. If he was miserable in Tennessee he doubted New York was going to be much better.

Thanks for reading! This fic means so much to me and I can’t wait to hear the response to it, and post more :)

[mollyfms]

「 medalion rahimi / twenty-nine / she/they / non-binary 」did you see the sold sign in the front yard of ( 407 coral loop )? rumor in the cove is that ( molly ahmadi ) just moved in! from what i’ve heard they’re a ( comic book artist ) that’s moving to the cove because ( they’re hoping a change of scenery will help them get past their creative block ). when i think of the ( the night owl ) i think of ( sneaking back in before the sun rises, loud cheers coming from the bar, hugs that feel like everything that was never said, vintage comics with well-worn pages, fingers stained with ink, & sleepless nights with perfect views ). * / penned by lulu / 27 / mst / she/they

name: molly samira ahmadi

nicknames: molls, molly moo

gender: non-binary, demi woman

pronouns: she/they

age: twenty-nine

date of birth: march 3rd, 1992

astrological sign: pisces

place of birth: santa fe, new mexico

link to her full biography is here!

molly ahmadi’s family moved around more than most, as her father was a successful marketing executive and her mother, an acclaimed photojournalist. the language barriers and culture clashes never weighed too heavily on molly, who found solace in her artwork above all. she was always pencil to page, lost in her own dreamy world. more than anything, it was the other executive’s families whose traditional values took a toll on molly, especially as she explored her sexuality and eventually her gender, but she always had her sketches.

each time her family relocated, molly’s art changed just a little bit. after they moved to germany, molly’s sketchpad was filled with sketches of classic architecture. when their careers took their family to japan, which was molly’s favorite assignment, she was immediately drawn to the fashion and subcultures evident there. everywhere they went, molly took in every moment, every piece of culture, and tucked them away in every line of her art.

eventually, when molly was thirteen and her eldest sibling was old enough to be in high school, the ahmadi family settled down. they found themselves back in santa fe, new mexico, where molly and her siblings had been born. despite it technically being her hometown, santa fe didn’t feel like home for a long time. for months, her sketchbook was empty. it wasn’t until she found an ad from a comic book shop in town for an artists’ workshop that she started to find her place in the world again.

like nothing had ever changed, molly’s nose was buried in her sketchpad every day from that day on. she spent countless afternoons in the comic book shop, and worked there once she was old enough, but she spent more time developing her comic style than helping customers. soon, her old styles started to bleed into her new affinity for comics, and before she graduated high school, molly was already posting her comics online. what she didn’t expect was the reception her comics received; the love of hundreds of thousands of readers.

it was hard to leave santa fe, which molly had grown to love, but the california institute of the arts was calling her name and she never would’ve forgiven herself if she had stayed at home. but the moment she arrived on campus, she felt right at home with the weirdos, artists, and queer people. her roommates dragged her to every event they possibly could, which was how molly joined the local roller derby team and unleashed a newfound confidence.

after college, molly found herself leveraging her internship at an independent comic company into a real position, and in a hail mary, moving to los angeles. the money wasn’t always great, but she was making comics, working with a real art team, and it seemed like there was a new opportunity behind every door. los angeles was chaotic, but it had never taken long for molly to feel right at home somewhere.

molly spent five years as a colorist, line artist, and other various roles at the comic publisher, pitching her (now wildly successful online) comic every year or so before they realized the momentum they could harness and suddenly, her once little webcomic was being published as a graphic novel. the last two years were the craziest of molly’s life, by far. tour after tour, conventions, and endless meetings all compressed into an unbearable amount of pressure on molly about what she would do next.

before she knew it, the burnout started to set in. when she let it slip to her close friend, who was also her agent, an advertisement for the cove was in her inbox before the night was over. now that she’s arrived, all she can do is hope that the fresh, ocean air, the truly idyllic views, and the new stomping grounds clear out the mental fog that’s keeping her usual influx of ideas at bay. there’s no way she’s going home empty handed.