sydnesy - Tumblr blog

sydnesy · 3 years

Photo

CHARACTER INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Sydney Noelle Dalton

DATE OF BIRTH: September 28, 1989

AGE: 31

BIRTHPLACE: Seattle, Washington

GENDER: Cis female

PRONOUNS: She/her

OCCUPATION: Owner at Sixth Mile Bar

PLACE OF RESIDENCE: Old Port

FACE CLAIM: Elizabeth Olsen

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGER WARNINGS: teenage pregnancy, single parenting, cancer, death

The Jacobs sisters couldn’t have been more different — Alison and her polished reticence and Michaela and her brazen mischief. Despite the four year age difference between them, they were inseparable. Blonde hair threaded into braids down their back, ribbons unfurling, pinkies wound tightly together in the moments where fists weren’t drawn. They saw beyond each other’s crowned reputations; Alison and her desire to be swept away in a love so epic it wouldn’t have been able to be confined by page, Michaela and her fears of never finding stability. Everyone in town’s whispers involved Michaela being the Jacobs child who would go and fuck up their lives somehow. Michaela’s confidence and inability to conceal in the shadows hid Alison’s sophomore year romance with the senior boy, the sneaking out of windows and spending summers in a cabin in the woods while lying to Elisabeth about being with friends. It was a shock when Alison found herself pregnant only at 16, the boy who had promised her forever leaving at the mention of something as permanent as a child. Elisabeth voiced her disapproval, avowing disownment. Michaela was her sister’s shield in every moment, allowing her to move into her apartment and holding her hand every step of the way. Sydney Noelle Dalton was born on a crisp September evening, sun swollen low in the sky and autumn leaves falling to the ground. In her daughter, Alison found the love she’d sought but had never been able to find, her heart now residing outside of her body.

Sydney’s childhood was modest and humble, growing up in her aunt’s small apartment in a suburb outside of Seattle. Alison found a balance in raising Sydney and obtaining an associates degree to become a radiologist. Michaela spent the first few years of Sydney’s life helping where she could, but it wasn’t long before the world called Michaela and she couldn’t resist answering. She found herself swept away in a one-night stand with a man from a tiny fishing town in Canada who’d offered her the keys to a local bar as he sought an out to go explore the world. Michaela gave Alison the apartment and Alison began carving her and her daughter’s way into the world. Sydney was curious about the world but cautious about the unknown, creative and kind but also rather shy when it came to kids her age. She fell right into an average box of an average life and didn’t demand anything more or less than what she had.

Summers were different. Summers were synonymous with visits to Aunt Michaela, making them the highlight of every year comprising her childhood and adolescence. Around the age of six, she would spend the same two weeks in Fordbay that her mother would be able to accompany her while they visited. Her aunt lived in one of the rooms over the very bar she owned, and while Alison wasn’t fond of having a young Sydney staying in the bar, there was a certain charm that enthralled Sydney. Her aunt’s charisma was what made locals pick the Sixth Mile for their drinks, a dynamic personality that Sydney was magnetized by. There was a sophistication to her aunt that Sydney craved to recapture, eager to find a similar well-roundedness in experience and travel and connection with others that her aunt had exorbitant amounts of. Sydney found herself monikered ‘Mini Mick’ as she came out of her shell, a shadow in her aunt’s footsteps and always looking to her for how to act, how to respond, how to be. Some of Michaela’s particular favorite regulars thought it was hilarious, a tiny eight year old girl picking Patsy Cline songs on the jukebox to fill the space of the bar. Sydney ate up every moment of her time in Fordbay and spent the rest of the days counting down the minutes until the next trip; by the time she was thirteen, she was catching flights on her own and spending entire summers with her aunt. As she got older, she would make the most of her time there, working small jobs out in Faraday Heights to make a little extra spending money. Sydney was her mother’s daughter and her aunt’s best friend, the best of them and the worst. She was independent and vibrant, guarded and impulsive, learning who she was and who she didn’t want to be.

The childhood, rose-blushed dream of moving to Fordbay after graduation faded into the background as newer, bigger, brighter dreams rose in the distance and created a glimmering architecture for Sydney’s future. She was accepted at the University of Washington, where she earned her degree in Journalism and Public Interest Communications. Her internship her senior year at a company creating digital content spawned an assistant level position offered to her right out of college. She spent a year growing, clamoring for a writer’s position, and eventually was given the green light on starting an online column that garnered a faithful readership within a few months of its first publication. While she wasn’t knee-deep in journalism that allowed her to travel, interact with people and share things with the world she wouldn’t have known about otherwise, she still had an open line of communication to people and was able to have a hand in telling otherwise unheard stories. She enjoyed the novelty in it and made the most of the opportunity, soaking up every moment that furthered her growth both as a writer and woman seeking her way in the world.

With popularity grew increasing demands, stress that Sydney had difficulty managing. It dwindled away at her life beyond the four walls of work — relationships were far and few in between, both platonic and romantic, a sleep schedule that barely hovered around the threshold of ‘functioning human being’ and an unbreakable dependence on caffeine —but professionally opened doors for her that she was unable to kick down otherwise. She was offered an entry-level reporter position with the Seattle Times, an offer that felt nearly impossible to pass up on. Sydney’s world opened ten-fold, putting her in the thick of the journalism world she’d been gazing out at from her position at the windows she’d been behind. It took its toll on her physically and mentally, carving her to the brink of hollowness and beginning to steal the spark she’d hung carefully in her own eyes as a teenager, but there was a certain rush of fulfillment coupled with climbing the ladder of success, triumphing in the end.

And then Michaela called.

Most calls admittedly had found their way to the voicemail box or limited to brief conversations in the moments where Sydney wasn’t exhausted or on assignment, but there was an undeniable soft spot held for Aunt Michaela Sydney couldn’t have splintered if she tried. Michaela was inquiring about a visit, looking to steal away time from Sydney’s job to see her — holidays had passed with very few hellos, those special summers melted away into chunks of months where assignments held the majority of her concept of time. Something in her aunt’s voice compelled her to take a small lump of vacation time she’d built up to stroll back down the golden memory lane of her childhood. In many ways, Fordbay had remained the same, but it had also changed, things not quite as they’d been when she memorialized the place in her mind. Aunt Michaela had changed too, her cheekbones more defined and the warmth she’d exuded in Sydney’s childhood not as grand and all-encompassing. She was not the epicenter of entertainment that Sydney had grown up idolizing, yearning to capture the same essence of. At a quiet dinner one night, Michaela softly admitted she had cancer. The diagnosis had been recent, only a few days prior to her calling Sydney, and her latest trip to the hospital had revealed the metastatic and incurable nature of the cancer. Michaela wasn’t sure how much longer she’d had — and to add to Sydney’s complete and utter shock, her mom was already in Fordbay, helping take care of Michaela. There was a sense of betrayal in the secrecy of her aunt’s wellbeing, knowing how close they were, but Alison stuck to her reasoning and her decisions. They hadn’t wanted to interrupt Sydney’s dreams with something as grim as this and steal her away, but Sydney didn’t take well with other people drawing up her decisions for her.

Life for Sydney upended rather quickly. She quit her job at the Times with very little hesitation or thought in order to be in Fordbay and help her aunt out wherever she could. She took over shifts at the Sixth Mile when she wasn’t accompanying Michaela to doctor’s appointments or helping fulfill last wishes, trying to help fill the large shoes her aunt’s absence had left. It seemed like only days had passed, but three weeks into Sydney’s stay, Michaela passed peacefully in her sleep. The news rocked Sydney despite seeing it coming from a mile away. After the funeral, Alison began to try and make arrangements for divvying up Michaela’s belongings. Alison had a life, a new boyfriend in Seattle and a comfortable home and a job, one she couldn’t — and wouldn’t — leave to nurse the Sixth Mile Bar that had been posthumously left in their hands. The singular conversation of selling the bar ended with Sydney’s blatant refusal, promising to take over where her aunt had left off. Sydney could see the glimmers of disappointment in her mother’s eyes at her choice, but they both knew there was no stopping Sydney after her mind had been made up. Alison went back to Seattle and Sydney had the rest of her belongings shipped out from Seattle, found a more permanent place in Old Port to call her own and began the journey through uncharted waters. It’s been two months since her aunt’s passing; while she’s still trying to find her footing in the new life she unexpectedly walked right into, she’s grateful for the breath she’s been able to take following the leave of her old life and finding joy in the unearthed childhood dreams (albeit far from the reality she’d birthed them in) now coming to fruition.

WRITTEN BY: Grace, 23, She/Her, EST

#❛ people like you are not meant to stand still — insight.#❛ — biography.

2 notes · View notes

sydnesy · 3 years

Text

malitiosa:

YOUR STEREOTYPICAL MASCULINE SIDE

you love hoodies. you love shorts. dogs are better than cats. it’s hilarious when people get hurt. shopping is torture. sad movies suck. you own a car racing game. you played with hot wheels cars as a kid. at some point in time you wanted to be a fire fighter. you owned a ds, ps2, n64, or sega. you used to be obsessed with power rangers. you have watched sports on tv. gory movies are cool. you go to your dad for advice. you own like a trillion baseball caps. you used to collect hockey or baseball cards. baggy sweats are cool to wear. it’s kinda weird to have sleepovers with a bunch of people. green, black, red, blue, or silver are one of your favourite colours. you love to go crazy and not care what people think. sports are fun. you talk with food in your mouth. you sleep with your socks on at night. you have fished at least once.

YOUR STEREOTYPICAL FEMININE SIDE

you love to shop. you wear eyeliner. you wear the color pink. you go to your mom to talk. you consider cheerleading a sport. you hate wearing the color black. you like going to the mall. you like getting manicures and/or pedicures. you like wearing jewelry. you cried watching the notebook. dresses are a big part of your wardrobe. shopping is one of your favorite hobbies. you don’t like the movie star wars. you are/were in gymnastics. it takes you around one hour to shower, get dressed, and make-up. you smile a lot more than you should. you have more than 10 pairs of shoes. you care about what you look like. you like wearing dresses when you can. you like wearing high heel shoes. you used to play with dolls as little kid. you like putting make-up on others. you like being the star of everything.

APPEARANCE

i am shorter than 5’5”. i have scars. i tan easily. i wish my hair was a different color. i have friends who have never seen my natural hair color. i have a tattoo. i am self-conscious about my appearance. i’ve had/have braces. i’ve been told i’m attractive by a complete stranger. i have more than two piercings. i have/had piercings in places besides my ears.

EXPERIENCES

i’ve gotten lost in my city. i’ve seen a shooting star. i’ve wished on a shooting star. i’ve seen a meteor shower. i’ve gone out in public in my pajamas. i’ve pushed all the buttons on an elevator. i’ve kicked a guy where it hurts. i’ve been to a casino. i’ve been skydiving. i’ve gone skinny-dipping. i’ve drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour. i’ve crashed a car. i’ve been skiing. i’ve been in a musical. i’ve caught a snowflake or snow on my tongue. i’ve seen the northern lights. i’ve sat on a rooftop at night. i’ve played a prank on someone. i’ve ridden in a taxi. i’ve seen the rocky horror picture show. i’ve eaten sushi. i’ve been snowboarding.

HONESTY/CRIME

i’ve done something i promised someone else i wouldn’t. i’ve done something i promised myself i wouldn’t. i’ve snuck out. i’ve lied to my parents about where i am. i’ve cheated while playing a game. i’ve ran a red light. i’ve witnessed a crime. i’ve been in a fist fight. i’ve been arrested.

DEATH AND SUICIDE

i’m afraid of dying. i hate funerals. i’ve seen someone/something dying. someone close to me has attempted/committed suicide. i’ve written a eulogy for myself.

RANDOM

i can sing well. stolen a tray from a fast food restaurant. i open up to others easily. i watch the news. i don’t kill bugs. i sing in the shower. i am a morning person. i paid for a cell phone ring tone. i am a sports fanatic. i twirl my hair. i care about grammar. i have “?”’s in my screen name. i’ve copied more than 30 cds in a day. i bake well. my favorite color is either white, yellow, pink, red, blue, black, purple, or orange. i would wear pajamas to school. i like martha stewart. i know how to shoot a gun. i laugh at my own jokes. i eat fast food weekly. i’ve not turned anything in and still got an a in a certain class. i can’t sleep if there is a spider/cockroach in the room. i am ticklish. i love white chocolate. i bite my nails. i’m good at remembering faces. i’m good at remembering names. i’m good at remembering dates. i honestly have no idea what i want to do for the rest of my life.

#❛ people like you are not meant to stand still — insight.

82K notes · View notes