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in the predominantly christian midwest, the jacobson family is one of very few in the braedon area who are both ethnically and spiritually jewish. while there’s no way to verify if her father ( or even colette’s ) was jewish as well, their maternal grandparents made sure the girls knew enough of their religion to celebrate the important holidays like rosh hashanah, yom kippur, hanukkah and passover.  at her bat mitzvah in eighth grade, yale was given her grandmothers star of david necklace, which had come from her own mother before they fled russia in the early 1900s. the necklace is one of yale’s few prized possessions, and while she doesn’t wear it often, she chooses to keep it in a box inside a safe, wearing it for the holidays she does still observe.  in chicago, yale attempted to go to a variety of temples, meeting with several rabbis in an attempt to feel closer to her grandmother and become more knowledgeable in her own religion. her efforts fell short before too long, and nowadays yale acknowledges judaism in her ethnicity alone.  the only holiday she does still observe annually is hanukkah; every year since she left for the city, she’s come home to braedon to celebrate the festival of lights with her mother and her sister. while she never ended up staying all eight nights, often disappearing by day four or five, it’s still an integral part of her life.  with grant, the two celebrated ‘chrismakuh’ - combining the commercial aspect of christmas with yale’s slight ties to hanukkah, giving both faiths a space in their home.  her relationship to faith and God himself has almost always been close to nonexistent, but with her sisters attempt to observe their religious history, yale tries, for her. in her mind, however, she sees most religions as a man made construct, something to keep people at war or at peace, whichever they prefer. after all, if there was truly a God - just one, over everything - why would everyone have such different versions of Him? 

                                                   be careful with me                                                      i’m fragile, i’m scared                                                      why won’t someone love me

even as a child, yale was a restless sleeper. she rarely made it through the entire night peacefully, unless there was someone there beside her. while she shows off a tough, need no one exterior, the truth is, she’s most comfortable with someone to hold her together. when she’s by herself, she keeps the lights on, surrounding herself by pillows with music of some sort lulling her to sleep. she doesn’t know when the nightmares started, but it wasn’t until after high school, when she was off in the city on her own for the first time. even with extra blankets and a sound machine, they’d wake her up time and time again - brutal visions, most often of her mother and her sister, dead in their kitchen.  yale rarely lets a partner spend the night, unless they’re in a relationship of some kind. then, yale sleeps only a few hours at a time, waking up in the middle of the night with an excuse of ‘i was inspired’ and tapping away at her laptop, but the truth is, she just doesn’t know how to sleep normally with other people around.  her ex-fiancee, grant, was one of very few who eventually made her feel comfortable to sleep through most of the night. with the lights off, the window open so she could hear the city below them, and his arms around her - always the little spoon - she’d managed to achieve the impossible: 8 hours of uninterrupted, no nightmare nights.  he joins the ranks of only four others that ever achieved this for yale: colt, dexter, fiona and of course, colette.  back home now, yale spends most of her nights curled into a small ball in the center of her bed, hidden under blankets as she tries to sleep. she manages a good 4 or 5 hours most nights, which is enough to keep her going. her preferred caffeine jolt of black coffee gets her moving when the nightmares come, and with the sudden passing of her mother and the reminder of her childhood home, the nightmares have only gotten worse every night since she’s arrived. 

                 feel free to get as in depth as you’d like. remember that while we all have faceclaims, they only need to be a bouncing board for how you envision the character. for example, while your faceclaim may never wear glasses, maybe your muse does, or vice versa.                  paras, journal entries, moodboards, aesthetics, etc. are all welcome! remember to tag them all with blacknightrpg so we can see your new content!

                                            ♪ ♫  [aka a chaotically painfully 90s mix of teenage angst]  ♫ ♪

Eva Byers’ tunes for late night work. It’s 2am and you’re still working. It’s 2am and you’re pumping chemicals into the arteries of someone you once saw drop a carton of eggs outside the grocery store. You wouldn’t know their name without the documents in-front of you, but you know the face. Ordinarily you don’t listen to music while you embalm. More often than not you fill the silence just by talking to them. You tell them the gossip of the day- repeating it helps you remember it, after-all, but you don’t like to gossip too much with the living- and chatter away about this and that. But it’s 2am and you’ve run out of things to say. You’re tired. They must be preserved before you can rest. You hope they don’t mind your taste in music.

                       ‟        & you’ll be better & you’ll be smarter, & more grown up & a better daughter // you got the cure underneath your shirt, don’t you wanna save this dirty little damsel // she gets what she wants & she breaks what she gets, get out while you can or she’ll tear you to pieces // so i’ve done ugly things & i have made mistakes, & i am not as pretty as those girls in magazines, i am rotten to my core if they’re to be believed // ‘cause it’s my problem if i want to pack up & run away, it’s my business if i feel the need to smoke & drink & swear // so with a wink & a smile & a vial of meth, i took his hand & then we walked through the shadow of death // & i’m here to remind you of the mess you left when you went away // i don't want to hold hands & talk about our little plans, alright! // come & take a walk on the wild side, let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain, you like your girls insane // i still want you by my side, just to help me dry the tears that i’ve cried // i’m so ashamed, i’ve been so mean, i don’t know how it got to this point, i was always the one with all the love // i don’t want no one to squeeze me, they might take away my life, i just want someone to hold me & rock me through the night // bonus ; if i tell her that i love him she’d be silently resigned, he’d be mine she would say ‘i’m fine’, she’d be lying    „