[ olivia holt, cisfemale, she/her, subplot 23. ] welcome back to montclair university, ryan grace harris ! according to your student file you're a TWENTY-TWO year old FRESHMAN, studying PSYCHOLOGY, and funny enough you were voted most ambitious your senior year of high school back home in BROOKLYN, NYC. i can totally see it with your ebullient, independent and reckless personality! but enough about that - i heard you were lizzie harrington's FRENEMY, makes sense when you take into consideration your status as a legacy student ... and the fact that [redacted], you're often seen at melody lounge, and you kind of embody the smell of strawberry shampoo, soft scrunchies stacked on wrists, red lipstick stains on coffee cups, the first chill of winter ... not to mention people always seem to hum busy woman by sabrina carpenter when you're around, but you'll always be known on campus as THE ICE QUEEN who enjoys baking and has 12k instagram followers... good luck this semester !
gender & pronouns : cisfemale + she / her
birthplace : new york city, new york
current major : psychology
you came into the world kicking and screaming, but no one was listening. you were born in the middle of spring, a city wrapped in yellow and new beginnings, and by the time you were placed in the arms of your mother, her life had already been written for her. expectation and duties placed on a head that was entirely too small to understand the ramifications of being born into a family as prominent as your own. swaddled in a cream cashmere blanket, with a whispered promise of greatness against a tiny forehead. mothers lips pressed gently against the same spot to accentuate that very promise.
you wanted for nothing, always dressed in the finest clothes that money could buy. entertained by the newest toys. when you were old enough, the concrete jungle of new york became your playground. school was something that came easy to you, like water off of a ducks back. as your younger siblings would remind you, you were one of the annoying people who never had to study to get the best grades. something that you'd carry with you all the way through to university.
your senior year of high school is when your life started crashing down slowly. the appeal of feeling good had you chasing highs that you never knew existed before. the chaos that often filled your mind : that of due dates, how you were being perceived and the ever mounting pressure from your family all became quiet when the euphoria hit. the feeling of being out of your own head, even for a few minutes quickly became something that you were addicted to. the thrill of not being able to think, of being truly free. there was nothing else quite like it.
the summer between your senior year of high school and freshman year of university was one that you were eager to forget. your very own shakesperean tragedy that haunts you even now. especially in the quiet, even more so when you're alone with your own thoughts. the weight of it makes it hard to breathe sometimes, but it's a weight you'll carry in order to protect the family name. the one thing that's always been of upmost importance.
ryan loves to bake. especially when she's stressed. if there's an assignment deadline looming, you'll often find her in the kitchen at three am covered in flour. fresh batch of cupcakes in the oven as she wrestles with the icing bag to get the frosting into it without too much mess.
she lives for organization. you'll often find her with a pink highlighter in hand checking off her to-do list. she'll often feel disheartened if she doesn't get to everything on the list, every day.
fresh flowers are always scattered around her apartment.
karaoke is her guilty pleasure, though she'll only participate if she's had enough to drink. she's tone deaf, and is extremely aware of it. she's not about to embarrass herself sober.
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