#boneyardintro

i. stats.

full name … antonia maribel hart

nicknames … ms. hart, toni ( to close friends / family )

species … human

age … thirty-seven

date of birth … september ninth, 1959

place of birth … las vegas, nevada

gender / pronouns … cis woman ; she / her

orientation … pansexual

residence … croix townhouses

occupation … city hall council member, political liason for the weiss family

affiliation ... the weiss' ( officially ), whatever gets her the most power ( unofficially )

ii. personality.

zodiac sign … virgo sun, capricorn moon, libra rising

negative traits … controlling, manipulative, abrasive, ruthless, meticulous

positive traits … poised, driven, shrewd, cunning, ambitious, pragmatic

temperament ... choleric-melancholic

mbti / enneagram ... entj-a ; 3w4

character inspirations ... bette porter ( the l word ), tashi duncan ( challengers ), yasmin kara-hanani ( industry ), marcia roy ( succession ), emma hernandez ( vida ), olivia pope ( scandal ), fiona gallagher ( shameless )

pinterest.

spotify.

iii. physical.

faceclaim … lex scott davis

build ... mesomorph

hair color … black

eye color … brown

notable facts … tailored and deliberate to the point of discipline, perception as leverage. always in clean lines and neutral palettes chosen to amplify rather than distract with a dark lip to match, suits adhering to a lithe frame with the clack of heels or boots to signal her arrival. appearance is intentional, but it is not crafted for likability - will not soften herself to make others comfortable. her beauty is not inviting, but declarative, would rather emphasize competence rather than warmth. carries an unyielding posture and measured movement, radiating authority whether she speaks or not. details are exact because disorder signals weakness, not because she seeks approval. expressions are bluntly honest; disapproval shows in a flat look, impatience in a held silence, approval in nothing more than a nod, she maintains eye contact without flinching and speaks in a voice that calls things as she sees them, regardless of reception. will not perform charm, does not chase admiration, and does not dilute the truth for comfort - she presents herself as she is, fully aware that competence outlasts likability.

iv. biography. tw; childbirth

Before ambition had a name, before politics or law or power ever entered your vocabulary, you learned that responsibility arrives whether you invite it or not. In your house, promises were made with good intentions and broken without malice. You may have been loved, but love did not translate into reliability. Failure came often enough that someone else had to fill the gaps. That someone was you.

You helped raise your siblings without ever being asked. You learned how to cook before it felt fair, how to lie to landlords, how to stretch groceries, how to distract your younger brother when your parents were fighting, how to calm your sister when she cried because there was no money for field trips or braces or anything extra. You learned how to be dependable long before anyone taught you how to be young.

Your siblings love you, but they don’t always understand you. To them, you are part caretaker, authority figure, myth. You paid for textbooks, co-signed loans, made phone calls they were too afraid to make. You moved out and never fully came back, and that distance hardened into resentment on both sides. They accuse you now, jokes hidden under contempt, of thinking you’re better than them. With your name printed in papers and spoken in rooms that matter, that you’ve forgotten them, but you won’t throw your mercies in their faces, won’t bring up how you wire money when rent falls behind and quietly settle debts. You have always taken care of them, even as your resentment builds. The truth was always more complicated: you had to leave in order to survive, and they were allowed to stay because you did.

When the system failed your family, it did so without fanfare. Layoffs came without apology, paperwork disappeared into bureaucratic voids. Promises were made and quietly broken and your relationship with your mother becomes the quiet wound you never quite examine. She loved you deeply and depended on you too much. You watched her give everything she had to children and a man who never grew into the role of father, watched her shrink, her patience turned into resignation, watched her dreams dissolve into obligation. She did her best, but her life terrified you. 

You worked because working meant escape and exhaustion was better than stagnation. You worked because every hour spent chasing something larger than your circumstances was an hour you didn’t have to think about what you were running from. Ambition became less about wanting more and more about refusing less; refusing to live at the mercy of institutions that treated your family as disposable. Refusing to beg or to shrink. You worked harder than everyone else because you had to, you earned scholarships, worked multiple jobs, put yourself through college – everything done with exhaustion and teeth-gritted endurance.

By the time you understood how power actually worked, you were already angry enough to want it. And one night was all it took to nearly undo all of it. 

You let yourself be reckless, be young, unguarded, human. A few drinks with friends leads to waking up in a bed you don’t recognize. Then comes sickness, then comes the test that taunts you with a plus sign.

You looked at your future and saw your mother’s face waiting for you: children you loved but a partner who would disappoint you, a life reduced. You saw the resentment you would swallow and the bitterness that would calcify around it. You knew, with chilling certainty, that you would not survive that life intact. So you refused it – worked through the pregnancy and carried the child alone, physically, emotionally, and administratively. You didn’t tell anyone who didn’t need to know, treated it like a condition to be managed, not a miracle to be celebrated. You arranged everything in advance: the adoption, the legal protections, the distance. You did not allow yourself sentimentality because you knew it would undo you.

When the child was born, you did not hold them. If you did, you would hesitate, and hesitation was something you couldn’t afford. You left the hospital alone and two weeks later, you are back in the office as though nothing was wrong, swallowing the guilt like a bitter pill.

There are nights when you wonder who the child became. Not out of longing, but curiosity. You hope they are happy. You do not reach out. You do not look back. You have learned that some doors must remain closed, even if you built them yourself. You hope they are nothing like you. 

Your ambition hardened into precision as you moved from law into politics. You recognized the patterns immediately: who spoke and who listened, who mattered and who was ornamental. City Hall was never noble. It was transactional and fearful, quietly owned. You aligned yourself with the Weiss family because you understood the reality that most people already were. You didn’t pretend otherwise and there was nothing noble about romanticizing resistance. You could not bypass power and expect to win. Money accelerated ambition and a powerful name opened doors years ahead of schedule. The role of political advisor comes to you and you accept, not out of loyalty but calculation. You helped them and remained useful without letting it own you. One day, you will no longer need the Weiss family. One day, you will no longer need anyone’s name but your own, and Las Vegas will belong to you. When that day comes, you will leave clean and exact, without scandal or spectacle, no bridges burned. Your sights are set on mayor of the city for now, and then – something else. Something more.

v. headcanons.

legally carries a concealed firearm at all times. Properly trained and renews her permit without fail, and never discusses it unless necessary. Las Vegas is not a safe city, and she refuses to rely on anyone else for her protection.

Hates surprises, even well-intentioned ones. Unpredictability feels like disrespect.

Rarely drinks, if she does it’s a glass of vintage wine she keeps for special occasions. But she burns through cigarettes and cigars with a frequency that borders on ritual, calms her nerves.

Does not care to be liked if she knows she is right. Because of this, she’s earned quite the reputation in the press – she’s good and she fucking knows it, it’s why the Weiss family picked her out, ruthless in her pursuit of winning, and pretends not to thrill at the clench of her presence.

Remembers names and details frighteningly well. If you told her about your grandmother’s bad hip three years ago, she’ll ask how she’s doing the next time she sees you. She’s a little scary.

Useless meme time < 3

vi. wanted connections.

familiar … the family of her child seeking her out, whether for money or for blackmail ( good luck w that one ), estranged siblings ( 0/2 ), the person who introduced her to the weiss family, other city council members

romantic … former lovers pre-politician era, the father of her child who does not know she gave them up, secret dalliances she will indulge in every now and then, keeps them on a leash like a dog fr.

platonic … rivals, her assistant/mentee/protege, people she’s fucked over in the past with no remorse. 

APPEARANCE DETAILS

HAIR... short to medium length, dark brown, always well styled with a musky pomade

EYES... deep brown, almost black

BUILD... lean and muscular, purposely fit

HEIGHT... 6'1"

NOTABLE MARKS... relatively heavily tattooed from the neck down, including his family name across his chest; arms and hands peppered with small scars. heavier scarring on his back and torso in long slashes, bullet hole in his right shoulder. foul play.

USUAL COUNTENANCE... well dressed, usually slacks and button downs, sometimes with a suit jacket. his favorite shoes are ox blood red monk strap loafers. always has an air of importance, doesn't wander or dawdle, a mouth with white, straight teeth that rarely pulls in a smile unless he wants something. charming, attractive, arrogant.

BIOGRAPHY

born in rome, italy to a street rat mother and a father that never showed his face, francisco was raised as a pickpocket, but never a beggar. a wicked smile and a sweet, young face, charming to a fault, he found his way around and into the purses of tourists and locals alike. dirty hands, tattered clothes, sleeping in the streets or in shelters, the first ten years of his life were not made of stability nor simplicity. he was uneducated, but with a spark of intelligence yet to be fed.

he was allowed to wander, to run off, dirty soles of his feet from running barefoot in the streets, long, curly hair, and his pants rolled up to his knees. he was akin to a wild animal, a street dog barking and growling, monstrous and free. on a warm june evening is when he met augustu vitelli, his hand in their pocket, a firm hold on his wrist as he looked into the eyes of success and riches, dark pupil's bore into dark pupils' and augustu's face cracked into a wide grin. “ ah, canis. “ they said, inviting franco to sit, and sit he did, and they spoke for hours.

eventually augustu left, with a promise to meet again the next day, and the day after, until finally they asked if franco would like to return home with them to the americas, to las vegas, as their son. they met franco's mother, her eyes wide pools of pain and loss, as, after extensive conversation, she willed her son into a better life, but not without the feeling of despair. franco would remain in touch with her when he grew older, in small bursts between long silences, part of him having a distain for the consequences of his birth, but that silent longing for the love of his mother howling louder in his ribcage. he took care of her, quietly. she would no longer live on the streets, but he would not claim her name ever again.

augustu pulled some strings to get the boy back into the states, and once his eyes landed on the vitelli estate something inside him changed, clicked. this was where he was meant to be, this was what he was born for. he was washed, his hair cut, new clothes tailored, and he was educated. he learned english as well as his native italian, peppered with french and german, excelled in mathematics, took an interested in linguistics. he was on track to become the golden boy, his competition being the flock of siblings, adopted or assimilated, some showed promise while others were merely fodder. either way, it was of no consequence to him.

it wasn't until his teenage years he learned the true nature of the vitelli's, had always had an idea, a premonition that something sinister lurked under the surface, but he could have never anticipated the scale. at age seventeen he begged augustu for an in, any position to prove his worth to the family name, and it was not earned easily. he began as a cleaner, the first few jobs stomach churning, hands and knees with bleach and a bucket, but a determination building in his chest and throat, scrubbing the floors was the closest he had ever felt to his childhood. to who he swore he would never be again.

after a year he was allowed to take the role of a solider, and he worked ardently, as if he were not of the vitelli name but instead the same boy ripped off of the streets, working for everything he wanted. it garnered attention from his father and he was soon promoted to capo. this job was where he reached the vampires, the underground contract killers and vile beasts. it was love at first sight, a power human hands could not touch, and he knew through these connections and with this world, he would someday touch the throne.

in the midst of the criminal underground, he entered the political scene of vegas like a demon crawling from hell, one day he was nowhere to be seen in this scope and the next he was a front runner for libertarians in the city. he used his status and name, as well as his quickly growing political fame, to garner himself a position on the city council, and despite the weiss family's attempts, no seat of power out of reach or past his fingertips. at the age of twenty-eight he was ripping his teeth through the city at an alarming, controversial pace. his name meant control, meant respect, of this he made sure. now his eyes are solidly set on his next goal; the vitelli underboss position, the next step to total power; and his siblings are no threat, and if they are, they should remain keen to keep eyes on the backs of their heads.

PERSONALITY

CHEEKY. He is always pushing his luck. He has one of those smiles that pulls the sun out of hiding and fills the hole he’d been metaphorically digging himself back up with dirt. You can count on him to turn a sentimental moment into a joke because it’ll kill him if he doesn’t make light of something serious. FLAKEY. Do not trust him with time-sensitive tasks. Don’t even trust him to show up to work on time. He’ll show, because he doesn’t make empty promises, but you can bet he’ll be late. IMPULSIVE. No, he didn’t think through the consequences of that run-and-gun decision. Everything seems like a good idea when you’re incapable of thinking more than a few seconds ahead on any given day and are prone to making decisions with your heart, rather than your head. LOYAL. He’s not great at expressing meaningful feelings, but he can certainly show you. If you’ve earned his trust, his loyalty is undying and trumps all of his flakey traits — if you need him, he will drop everything to be there for you. Any time, any place, by any means. RECKLESS. He’s a fire guy. He’s a booze guy. He’s a five-finger-discount guy. He doesn’t have any intention to hurt anyone or anything in the process, but damn is he charming when he apologises. TALKATIVE. Good luck. WITTY. Loves a punchline and a little attention as a result. Also loves poking fun at those he loves. Gentle bullying is one of his love languages at this point (as is biting, but that’s a conversation for a different trait).

BIOGRAPHY

Wyatt is the youngest of two Finley boys and grew up in a single-parent household. His father is a mystery that he doesn’t care to solve. He’s hellishly protective of his biological and chosen families and has a tendency to devote his blind loyalty to those he loves.

Has his father's unforgiving aggression and his mother's irrevocable compassion.

Something of an athlete and a scrappy wrestler, Wyatt made a living out of it during his adolescent and young-adult life. Mostly because he’d been talked into it by mates as a means of redirecting restless energy. It’s been long-suspected that he has some sort of attention disorder, but has never had a formal diagnosis.

He travelled away from home often — for matches and championships that eventually spurred on an endless cycle of temporary friendships. Ones that blossomed into situationships, and eventually fizzled into early-morning fantasies when he needed to travel again.

He tried to keep contact with his loved ones as best he could, but Wyatt had always been more of a physical than digital communicator. Sprinkled with a little self-sabotage and self-loathing, he was used to being alone by the time he struck his mid-twenties, despite being surrounded by a network of friends that were always vying for his attention.

Life brought him to vegas after a second tear to his MCL in three years and a ‘right place, right time’ phone call from a friend. He spent most of his recovery on their couch, forced to find the simple pleasures of doing absolutely nothing.

He will talk someone's ear off about the comedic genius that is Scooby Doo: Where Are You?

BASIC INFORMATION

full name: milo whitlock birthdate: october 31st, 1966 place of birth: reno, nevada residence: solstice apartments zodiac sign: scorpio gender identity: cisgender man sexual orientation: gay species: human occupation: researcher for the boo crew, intern at 107.5 killer radio, & snack vendor at grind house drive in

VISUALS

faceclaim: joseph quinn hair color: dark brown eye color: brown distinguishable marks: tattoos & piercings tbd height: 5'10/180cm

PERSONALITY

positive traits: charismatic, quick-witted, creative, passionate, adaptable negative traits: overtalkative, sarcastic, scatterbrained, stubborn mbti: enfp (the campaigner) character parallels: shaggy rogers (scooby doo), peter venkman (ghostbusters), peter b. parker (spider-man: across the spider-verse)

HEADCANONS

BASICS.

name — Alessandro Vitelli 

nick names — Sandro, Alesso 

titles & alias’ — Don of the Vitelli Family, Membre of the Vitelli Charity Board, Underboss (Former), Capo (Former), Bartender (Former)

gender — Cis Man

pronouns — He/Him/His 

romantic & sexual orientation — Homoromantic & Homosexual 

birthday — March 27th, 1966

age — 31

place of birth — 

current residence — Las Vegas, Nevada, USA

PERSONALITY.

positive traits — charismatic, brave, bold, athletic, & loyal

negative traits —  impulsive, hot headed, vain, arrogant, & indulgent

likes  —  money, cars, suits, compliments, power, authority, & showing off his status

dislikes  — manual labor, objectification, being ignored, being forgotten, & being disrespected

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

eye color — Hazel

hair color — Brunette (Naturally) Currently Blonde (Dyed)

hair style — wore in multiple different styles but usually, in a classic men’s style 

complexion — Pale

build — Muscular

height — 6’0

clothing — suits. 

accessories & jewelry — owns multiple watches, and rings. has one ear pierced. 

faceclaim — Nicholas Galitzine

BACKSTORY: tw: Mentions of drug use, alcohol, murder, & prostitution

Alessandro was adopted when he was about 6 months old. The Vitellis are the only family he has ever known. He has made no efforts and has no interests in finding out about his birth family. 

Growing up practically no one told him the words no, ever. He became accustomed to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it. Something that would later come to cause Alessandro to be a pain to the rest of the family. 

He was a charismatic child; he was very good at smiling, even better at charming people. It was easy for him to wrap people around his fingers and get them to do what he wanted. 

As he got older, Augustu gave Alessandro more and more responsibility within the family. When he was promoted to Underboss when he was 27, it was arranged that he would become a Vampire. A gift, so that he could contribute more to the family, he saw it as a way to stay younger, longer. 

He was the clear heir, until people began to ask whether he was really fit for leadership. 

Others began to realize Alessandro’s many flaws behind the dazzling smile. He was impulsive, quick to anger, his work could be sloppy, and worst of all, he was egotistical and vain and thought far too highly of himself. 

Augustu was willing to overlook the clubbing, the drinking, and the indulging in drugs; he gave Alessandro chance after chance, until the things Alessandro was doing became too big to overlook. 

First was him losing a considerable amount of product that cost a lot of profit, next was when he killed the wrong target, and the mess was almost too bad for the cleaners, then he made headlines streaking down the Vegas Strip with Vitelli Prince written on his chest, and finally, came one of the biggest fuck ups. 

While on one of his drunken and high binges on the Vegas Strip, driving one of the Vitelli cars far too fast and far too recklessly, he t-boned another car. Alessandro was fine, but the other car was filled with a family of 6, and none of them made it. It took a lot of favors and a lot of pull, but Augustu managed to get Alessandro out of it. 

It was the final gift. The final favor. The final thing Alessandro would get from him. He was stripped of his title of Underboss and made a Capo in name only. He’d have no pull, no say, and almost no place in business decisions. His allowance was cut by more than half.

Since being cut out of the Family affairs, Alessandro has found work as a Bartender at Cupid’s Arrow Drag Queen Club. He thinks the manual labor is demeaning, he hates having to serve others, and he hates how he has to work shirtless, finding being objectified as he has done to so many others humiliating. Still, it pays well enough, and he makes decent tips. Maybe if he can prove to his father that he can work such a menial, hands-on job, he’ll be invited back into his good graces.

Efforts of getting into Augustu's good graces failed, and after a chaotic night during a very potent full moon at a farm, his adopted father had had enough. He fully cut Alessandro off from the family. Alessandro ended up losing his penthouse, and the luxury cars in his collection ended up being reposesed on Augustu's orders.

Moving into the trailer park, money became tight, and Alessandro through someone he met at the bar turned to selling his body for cash. He hated it, he was a Prince reduced to a prostitute. By the end of the month, he desperately went crawling back to his father, begging for forgiveness.

While he would not be welcomed back with open arms right away, Augustu told him, that if he agreed to go to an out of state rehabilitation and wellness center, and he made serious efforts to not be in Augustu's words, "such a fuck up" then he would be willing to look into a place fro Alessandro with the family again.

For around the [ast 2 months, Alessandro has gone through a highly intensive program, where the only person he has been allowed to speak with is Augustu. His father has deemed him ready to come back into the fold.

Appointing Alessandro to the Vitelli Family Charity Board to help with his image, Alessandro is not allowed to touch alcohol, cigarettes, or drugs. He is expected to remain celibate, and fully clothed in public. To ensure this Augustu is only allowing Alessandro to live in the family estate where his room and be monitored and searched, and is having him shadowed whenever he leaves the family estate.

In an effort to display some control over his life, Alessandro is currently dying his hair blonde. However, the image consultant they hired to advise for him said it makes him seem more approachable.

STATS:

guile. ●●●●○ 4/5

intellect. ●●●○○ 3/5

hand-to-hand combat. ●●●●○ 4/5

precision and accuracy. ●●●○○ 3/5

BASIC INFORMATION

full name: milo whitlock birthdate: october 31st, 1969 place of birth: reno, nevada residence: solstice apartments zodiac sign: scorpio gender identity: cisgender man sexual orientation: gay species: human occupation: researcher for the boo crew & radio personality for 107.5 killer frequency

VISUALS

faceclaim: joseph quinn hair color: dark brown eye color: brown distinguishable marks: ear piecings + tattoos tbd height: 5'10/180 cm

PERSONALITY

positive traits: quick-witted, intelligent, charismatic, organized, optimistic negative traits: scatterbrained, overtalkative, obsessive, sarcastic, overthinking mbti: enfp (the campaigner) character parallels: shaggy rogers (scooby-doo), egon spengler (ghostbusters), dipper pines (gravity falls), peter b. parker (spider-man: into the spider verse)

HEADCANONS

milo has a habit of referring to other members of the crew as “harpo” or “groucho” when he’s nagged or given a deadline, a habit that followed him from family life into professional work. the nicknames aren’t designated to any one member in particular, it just depends on whoever’s pestering him at any given moment. he means it in a light-hearted way and the his crewmates are aware of this, he keeps his tone light when he delivers a “got it, groucho” or “on it, harpo”. he does the same with his family members, instinctively assigning a nickname to anyone familiar enough to give him orders. in his mind, anyone who sees him regularly is fair game for a marx brothers nickname.

milo has a bit of a sixth sense, though he’s not really aware of it. he’s good at picking up on the general energy of a person or place, and it’s happened more than once that he’s jotted something down in his journal that was more felt than said. when someone asks about it, he usually just shrugs and gives a casual “i dunno.” when the team arrives at a new location, he’s usually the first to say if something feels off—sometimes even beating the paranormal medium to it by a second or two. there’s been a couple times where they disagreed on a spirit’s energy, which causes a little friction now and then, but milo knows when to back off. it’s not his specialty, after all. 

he has been diagnosed with adhd and he’s on medication for it. milo was diagnosed with adhd as early as middle school. before having this information, he had a decent amount of difficulty with staying still and focusing. over time, he has developed coping mechanisms to help him with certain aspects of the disorder, but he chooses to remain on medication to maintain a high level of focus, especially for the sake of his job. his role on the team requires intense focus and organization, and the meds help him maintain the clarity he needs to do it right. he doesn’t hide it, but he doesn’t make a big deal out of it either—it’s just part of how he gets things done.

TW: pregnancy, child abandonment.

JANUARY 3RD, 1971: mckayla gertrude holcomb is born as the youngest of five siblings, in old saybrook, connecticut. they’re born only eleven months after one of their siblings. unlike the others, mac was an afterthought.

SEPTEMBER, 1977: mac meets a boy in kindergarten. he’s got hair that seemingly goes every which way, and a mind that’s razor sharp. mac doesn’t know it yet, but jones dworkin is going to change their life forever. they’re inseparable, you never saw one without the other. 

MAY, 1979: mckayla’s gifted a yellow notebook by their godmother, old lucy.  old lucy believed in writing down everything, because people were worth remembering. they spend the summers of first & second grade writing down any and everything they can see. they even begin writing tall tales, of dragons, fairies, princesses in high towers. they never stop writing. 

MAY, 1982: mckayla’s made lab partners with olive eastman in the 7th grade. olive’s a transfer from hartford, and mac is instantly pulled into her orbit. so were a few others. a friend group is formed, but mac never forgets about their first friend.  they take olive to see annie with them, thinking that jones wouldn’t exactly enjoy a movie about a scrappy orphan. 

JULY, 1986:  mac’s begun to get letters. countless letters. all from one boy, someone they thought they would rarely ever see again. they start writing, and eventually, jones is back in her life. there are nights spent under the stars in mac’s yard, ice cream dates at the pier. that summer is the best thing to happen to them. 

FEBURARY, 1987: high school is interesting without jones by their side. olive and their friend group helps a bit, but mac misses her partner in crime. during one english period, they’re approached by their english teacher, who tells them that they should consider being a journalist, or a writer. 

APRIL, 1987: mac holds her teacher’s words close to their chest. their parents always talk about wanting the best for their children, saying that they’ll all study medicine or law. one night, mac brings up wanting to be a writer to their parents. their father laughs in their face. their mother tells them that writing isn’t a real career.  they send several angry letters to jones after this. 

NOVEMBER, 1987: mac’s gone off to nyu on a partial scholarship. they managed to convince their parents that they’d be doing the world some good by being a journalist, so they help them pay for school. they’re handling it well, classes are interesting, they’ve made a few acquaintances here and there, and surprisingly, olive is their roommate. 

AUGUST, 1988: it happens so fast. they're all hanging out at the pier they've frequented every other week for the past year and a half. olive’s drunk, she could never hold her liquor well, and ends up getting into a fight with one of their friends. it’s quick, and with an accidental shove, olive’s in the water, trying to stay afloat.  mac doesn’t notice at first, but once they hear yelling coming from the water below, their head whips around in an instant. they feel jones’s hand in theirs, pulling them away, and they go without hesitation. 

MARCH, 1991: they’re at their favorite coffee shop when he finds them again. it’s their brother’s birthday, of course they had to come home. they like to people watch, seated at a table in a corner. they’re on yellow notebook number 5 at this point, having filled them all up with observations and passages; anything and everything in their mind.  they barely recognize him at first, but after looking at him, they know: it’s their jones. they talk, and by the time the night ends, they’re in mac’s old room, and she knows that the future they wants has him in it. and when they see two lines on a pregnancy test, mac’s filled with excitement and worry, but at least he’s by their side.

DECEMBER, 1991: shelby jane holcomb dworkin is born in their hometown. mac’s transferred to uconn at this point, wanting to be close to her parents in case anything goes wrong. they’re in the middle of a class when their water breaks. they’re rushed to the hospital, and jones is right by their side for every minute of it. when their daughter arrives, mac’s the happiest they’ve ever been, or will ever be.

APRIL, 1992: mac’s overcome with anxiety and depression. shelby jane seemingly cries every time mac holds her. she’s colicky, and only jones seems to be able to calm her down. mckayla remembers her own mother, how she wasn’t the greatest parent, and worries that it’s best for shelby jane if they leave. so they pack a suitcase one night, scribble a note that isn’t all that eloquent, and leave their house keys on the kitchen table. 

JULY, 1992: they get a job at the las vegas sun. they’re an assistant, doing grunt work and getting coffee, but at least their foot’s in the door. they become a reporter later that year, having proven themselves by researching and following up on a story someone else claimed. they’re not afraid to use unorthodox methods to go after what they want, including becoming friends with their targets. they crash on the occam’s razor’s couch while they get their bearings in the city. they get a bumblebee tattoo to remind them of shelby jane.

JUNE, 1995: they’ve found out that jones is in vegas too. instantly, mac tries their hardest to ignore him. they learn his schedule so they never meet, but mac knows he’s there. jones and shelby jane haunt their mind, and mac doesn’t know how they’d fare if they came back into her life. they want to try to be a parent again, but wouldn’t know where to start. but something is pulling them back into jones’ orbit.

SPIRNG, 1997: mac’s a full time reporter with the sun. they’ve been taken under the wing of the trailblazer, but they want to make a name for themselves. they have big ambitions, editor in chief being the biggest one. they’re on the brink of figuring out what’s going on in this city, and they will uncover the secrets of vegas, even if it means spilling the secrets of its residents.

🖊️ tidbits!!

main color is bright yellow.

is a total nerd, watches star trek religiously, and loves movies. can often be found at the movies, just to catch a showing.

misses their daughter like crazy, and regrets leaving. they were just in a bad place. wears a little bumblebee pin on their lucky jacket to remind them of shelby jane. 

lover of nightlife. they still people watch, and carries a small yellow notebook where they write down everything they see. 

they're working on a fantasy novel, but don’t expect them to talk about it. they will only discuss it with people they're extremely close to. 

they WILL ask invasive questions unprovoked, especially if they find you interesting.

𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰; 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔞𝔪 𝔦 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔞𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔢?

full name: Roxanne Zuzen nickname(s): Roxy label: The High Priestess gender & pronouns: cis female; she/her sexuality: pansexual birthdate: June 29th zodiac: Cancer occupation: actress affiliation: Vitelli Family faceclaim: Taylor Russell

𝔦 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔰𝔢𝔞𝔰; 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔟𝔬𝔡𝔶’𝔰 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤

Roxanne Zuzen has only been known by this name for a few years now but it wasn’t the name she was born with…or the last name she used or the last - at this point it’s hard even for her to remember all the names she’s used. That tends to happen when you’ve been alive for as long as she has

Born in New Orleans, Roxy always had a thing for the spotlight and no matter which iteration of who she was, the woman made a name for herself, keeping it to a local level for a long time but always aching for the world to know her name, or at least grovel at her feet, either one would work

There aren’t a lot of things about Roxy that are genuine and that extends to most of her relationships. At the end of the day, the only person she tends to care about is herself. Whatever got Roxy to the top was worth whatever damage was caused

Perhaps she learned this behavior from her mother, seeing the way she treated other people while raising Roxanne on her own. Caroline knew how talented and pretty her daughter was and used it to their advantage when it came to getting extensions on rent payments or bills

Roxy’s talent for singing and dancing was used nearly every day on street corners and bars, wherever her mother was allowed to send her and she could come home with a couple of coins or bills. And if she didn’t? Bruises would blossom on her skin in places no one would see

She grew up keeping her temper, being the perfect doll for her mother to play with even though a fire raged under her skin. Desperation was inked into every single one of her veins to get out but she couldn’t, not when the fear of what her mother would do to her was so strong

It was on a warm, humid night with fireflies all around her when her life changed forever and Roxy doesn’t regret it one bit. Was it excruciatingly painful? Yes. For all intents and purposes, she should have died from her injuries and, in a way, she did, but to Roxy it felt like she had been given a gift - an escape from her old life and a chance to become the star she was destined to be

Of course, it took some time for her to gain control over her instincts, a few accidents happened here and there, but the carnage was kept to a shocking minimum in comparison to how badly it could have gone. And once she had control over her urges, she could act on them on purpose, and she certainly did

Whenever she didn’t feel powerful or some idiotic man had talked down to her, Roxy craved feeling like she was in control and showing the world that they should be afraid of her. Those were the nights when she went out on the prowl and let her cravings take over.

She didn’t mean for it to become such an addiction. But, more than once, things went further and there was either a trail of dead bodies in her wake or a few young vampires if they were lucky enough to survive the encounter. There was a part of her that knew she should have felt remorse for what she was doing to these people, but it never came. She barely remembered any of their names once she was done with them

Roxy came up with a way to avoid the consequences of her actions, a solution as old as time itself - run. Every few years, she would pack up her life and leave her old name behind, sometimes setting up extensive fake deaths so no one would question it, and in every new town or city, she would find her favorite name among tombstones and create a whole new life. Because of her, the could live on. In her mind, they should be thanking her

𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲; 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲