bᵢₜₜₑᵣₛᵤᵢₜₑ

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒.

name: vivian elizabeth bloom nicknames/alias: viv ( by most ), vivi ( by close friends only )

faceclaim: phoebe tonkin

age: thirty-one gender: cisfemale sexuality: homosexual date/place of birth: september 3rd / helltown, ohio currently: helltown, ohio

positive traits: resourceful, adventurious, resilient, persistent, thick-skinned negative traits: aggressive, short-tempered, destructive, impulsive astrological sign: virgo archetype: the fallen angel

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘.

you never blamed your mother for the way you grew up, as much as the few friends you've hung onto insisted that you should. your mother, janelle, brought you into the world believing she wouldn't be alone in your upbringing -- but she couldn't have been more wrong. did she hate you for it, the loneliness that engulfed her as she watched your father peel off in the direction of his new life? perhaps she did for a time, but she was sensible enough to know better. setting her grievances aside, she packed you up and the few belongings you had and left georgia in your dust. just you and her.

you would drive for what feels like a lifetime, not that you would ever be able to remember it. it was before you could ever register the concept of forming memories. you weren't even in the world yet when your mother stepped foot in this town, and when you finally got to know it -- it didn't take very long to know you were a goner.

it wasn’t your mother’s fault that she was raised steeped in southern tradition like a tea bag submerged in piping hot water — but it was her fault that she made no effort to understand the world outside of her own. thus, you inherited these ideals in your early years. mother knows best, right? hell seemed like such a scary place. you were too good to be damned there. and so, you followed the path. straight-laced as can be, your hairbows imprisoning the locks of hair meant to be free.

trailer park life was never something you protested against -- it was a home, and it was yours. that is, until the intruder arrived. you had gotten used to the sea of boys that came through your home ( notice how you never called them men ), but you never quite understood why this one stuck. even by the age of ten, you were repulsed by the cigarettes he went through like candy, and the bottle of alcohol that normally decorated the house like one might adorn the mantle. perhaps your mother was desperate for love, but there was better out there. perhaps, just maybe, she didn't believe she deserved it.

you did well in school despite, not like your mother cared. she had once, that is -- until she got the chance to play house with a man who had no control over his anger. you bore witness to it aimed against your mother before it was turned to you. you were fourteen when he got violent with you for the very first time, but he had been uttering malicious manipulation under his breath from the moment you met him. it was perhaps the greatest gift you could have been given when he was arrested shortly before you turned sixteen. running from charges, those were the words you overheard. you were too busy picking up what was left of your mother to truly understand.

you don't remember much of your early twenties, besides the fact that you never went to college. maybe you could have, made something of yourself. you certainly weren't without the intelligence, contrary to what some might believe: that girl, trailer trash by blood, the valedictorian? believe it, assholes. where you went without, however, was the finances. and so, you stayed bound to the land that had all but tightened its grip around your throat: it owns you now. from waiting tables at the local diner to bartending -- you engage in odd jobs that are just enough to help pay both your bills and assist with your mother's, but leaving little room for anything else.

that is, until the universe decided that you hadn't already been through enough.

your mother's cancer diagnosis is discovered later than it should have been -- it's stage four, to be exact. since you had left the trailer for the outside world, you had come to learn more about all she had shielded you from, all you had been ignorant to. you had become distant from her so you could find yourself, including making some attempt to come to terms with your own queerness. however, her diagnosis caused you to find yourself hurtling back into her life. maybe is a sense of guilt, obligation -- there was a time, after all, when she actually made some amount of effort to take care of you.

her eventual passing leaves you with more questions than answers and mounds of unpaid medical bills -- as well as a deeper fear of leaving the confines of helltown. you begin working at the motel at the front desk -- finally able to find a sense of stability. it only took thirty years.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

vivian initially identified as bisexual, hoping that maybe, just maybe -- she could find herself falling in love with a man to make her mother happy. after her mother's passing, however, vivian has begun to come to terms with the fact that she is indeed gay. even before her death, janelle never knew that her daughter liked girls.

has a rather simple outfit uniform of a solid t-shirt, worn in jeans, converse and a leather jacket ( weather permitting ). however, where she differentiates each outfits is in her jewelry. vivian wears a ring on nearly every finger as well as armfuls of bangles and at least two necklaces at a time.

appears rather gruff and antagonistic to most people -- but this is a defense mechanism. she deeply fears letting people too close like her mother did, allowing herself to get hurt again.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒.

name: maia olivia greene nicknames/alias: none, but not against them

faceclaim: hayley law

age: twenty-eight gender: cisfemale sexuality: she/her date/place of birth: february 13th / brooklyn, nyc currently: helltown, ohio

positive traits: independent, selfless, compassionate, hard-working, genuine negative traits: guarded, secretive, nervous, jaded, overprotective astrological sign: aquarius archetype: the pheonix

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘.

you grew up rather modestly, but there was always food on the table for you, your brother and your sister. luxuries were rare and you learned very quickly that there was never a need to ask for them. there were other ways you kept yourself happy. you consider yourself lucky to grow up amongst the hustle and bustle of new york -- there was inspiration all around you. picking up a guitar for the very first time felt like finding a new limb, and it didn't take long for you to begin to put pen to paper. it's here where your songbook becomes your safe place, where you process all that has happened to you and where you find your guide into adolescence.

even still, you were raised to be a realist. all the while, you couldn't help but develop a human, childlike sense of hopeless romanticism. there was some goodness to this thing called living, wasn't there? call it harboring the soul of a creative, an artist's heart. the romantic in you began to crack, however, when it was uncovered that your mother had been having an affair with a woman at her workplace. she tried to explain it to you, they were in love, that she stayed for you -- but you would never get over this betrayal and the hurt she caused your dad. you choose not to have a relationship with her moving forward and decide to stay with your dad on the days your siblings go to visit her, cementing themselves in her new life.

in high school, the romantic in you finds a soul to nurture it again in the body of tristan price. your feelings for him come completely out of left field, far from a love at first sight story, but what unfolds is an epic one. you stay together all throughout high school -- even going as far to live by your wits in a shoebox apartment by the time you turn nineteen. your father has made it clear that the door of his home is always open to you, but you're excited to start your life. that, that he can understand; he was young once too.

an expensive music degree from new york university eventually finds its way into your hands, and you begin teaching music to kids in the area to get by. the ring came shortly after you turn twenty-one, the union becoming binding days before your twenty-second birthday. just as you were raised, you never wanted very much -- a destination wedding was never in your sights. you were in love, damn it. you didn't have the patience to wait, to plan. you just wanted to be his wife. you didn't expect to be staring at two little lines, but the world felt brighter the moment you were. a baby. your family was growing -- your family was secure.

isabel renee price was born nine months later ( two weeks premature, but healthy as can be ) to two devoted parents. you never promised her everything, but you were damn sure the two of you would fight to give it to her.

perhaps the realist in you should have been prepared for what came next, but you were never supposed to see this coming. tragedy picks and chooses, it seems. tristan was walking home from work when he was hit by a drunk driver, killing him on impact. you were alone in this world -- at least that was what you believed. you were a widow before the age of twenty-five, the shell of the romantic tristan had made you. moving home with your father is certainly the best option for a time and he loves having you and isabel home, but even he can see the restlessness in your eyes.

helltown. you had someone out there -- you wouldn't have relocated out west if you didn't. tristan's sibling had made a life for themselves out there. it was far enough away to give the pair a fresh start, but at least you wouldn't be alone. your daughter quickly makes friends in the local school system, of course she does. she is now five and thriving, and you can't help but ask yourself where the time went. and, of course, why the universe didn't want tristan to stand beside your side to watch it all pass.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

since moving to helltown, maia has done little to put herself out there again in terms of dating. not that she hasn't questioned it -- knowing deep down that tristan would want her to be happy again, she's been terrified of leaving herself venerable to losing someone again.

the hellcat has become her family, in a way. while maia may seem quiet when not directly involved with a customer, she cares about her coworkers and is extremely grateful to them for giving her the room to get out of her shell.

clothing influences definitely come from 90's grunge icons, giving off a vibe that she is much more rough around the edges than she actually is. she's tough and has been through a lot, but maia is certainly a sensitive soul.

MORE TO COME.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.