#Massachusetts funeral home | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mostlysignssomeportents · 11 days

Text

Greedflation, but for prisoners

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (Apr 21) in TORINO, then Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Today in "Capitalists Hate Capitalism" news: The Appeal has published the first-ever survey of national prison commissary prices, revealing just how badly the prison profiteer system gouges American's all-time, world-record-beating prison population:

https://theappeal.org/locked-in-priced-out-how-much-prison-commissary-prices/

Like every aspect of the prison contracting system, prison commissaries – the stores where prisoners are able to buy food, sundries, toiletries and other items – are dominated by private equity funds that have bought out all the smaller players. Private equity deals always involve gigantic amounts of debt (typically, the first thing PE companies do after acquiring a company is to borrow heavily against it and then pay themselves a hefty dividend).

The need to service this debt drives PE companies to cut quality, squeeze suppliers, and raise prices. That's why PE loves to buy up the kinds of businesses you must spend your money at: dialysis clinics, long-term care facilities, funeral homes, and prison services.

Prisoners, after all, are a literal captive market. Unlike capitalist ventures, which involve the risk that a customer will take their business elsewhere, prison commissary providers have the most airtight of monopolies over prisoners' shopping.

Not that prisoners have a lot of money to spend. The 13th Amendment specifically allows for the enslavement of convicted criminals, and so even though many prisoners are subject to forced labor, they aren't necessarily paid for it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/02/captive-customers/#guillotine-watch

Six states ban paying prisoners anything. North Carolina caps prisoners' pay at one dollar per day. Nationally, prisoners earn $0.52/hour, while producing $11b/year in goods and services:

https://www.dollarsandsense.org/archives/2024/0324bowman.html

So there's a double cruelty to prison commissary price-gouging. Prisoners earn far less than any other kind of worker, and they pay vastly inflated prices for the necessities of life. There's also a triple cruelty: prisoners' families – deprived of an incarcerated breadwinner's earnings – are called upon to make up the difference for jacked up commissary prices out of their own strained finances.

So what does prison profiteering look like, in dollars and sense? Here's the first-of-its-kind database tracking the costs of food, hygiene items and religious items in 46 states:

https://theappeal.org/commissary-database/

Prisoners rely heavily on commissaries for food. Prisons serve spoiled, inedible food, and often there isn't enough to go around – prisoners who rely on the food provided by their institutions literally starve. This is worst in prisons where private equity funds have taken over the cafeteria, which is inevitable accompanied by swingeing cuts to food quality and portions:

https://theappeal.org/prison-food-virginia-fluvanna-correctional-center/

So you have one private equity fund starving prisoners, and another that's gouging them on food. Or sometimes it's the same company. Keefe Group, owned by HIG Capital, provides commissaries to prisons whose cafeterias are managed by other HIG Capital portfolio companies like Trinity Services Group. HIG also owns the prison health-care company Wellpath – so if they give you food poisoning, they get paid twice.

Wellpath delivers "grossly inadequate healthcare":

https://theappeal.org/massachusetts-prisons-wellpath-dentures-teeth/

And Trinity serves "meager portions of inedible food":

https://theappeal.org/clayton-county-jail-sheriff-election/

When prison commissaries gouge on food, no part of the inventory is spared, even the cheapest items. In Florida, a packet of ramen costs $1.06, 300% more inside the prison than it does at the Target down the street:

https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/24444312-fl_doc_combined_commissary_lists#document/p6/a2444049

America's prisoners aren't just hungry, they're also hot. The climate emergency is sending temperatures in America's largely un-air-conditioned prisons soaring to dangerous levels. Commissaries capitalize on this, too: an 8" fan costs $40 in Delaware's Sussex Correctional Institution. In Georgia, that fan goes for $32 (but prisoners are not paid for their labor in Georgia pens). And in scorching Texas, the commissary raised the price of water by 50% last summer:

https://www.tpr.org/criminal-justice/2023-07-20/texas-charges-prisoners-50-more-for-water-for-as-heat-wave-continues

Toiletries are also sold at prices that would make an airport gift-shop blush. Need denture adhesive? That's $12.28 in an Idaho pen, triple the retail price. 15% of America's prisoners are over 55. The Keefe Group – sister company to the "grossly inadequate" healthcare company Wellpath – operates that commissary. In Oregon, the commissary charges a 200% markup on hearing-aid batteries. Vermont charges a 500% markup on reading glasses. Imagine spending decades in prison: toothless, blind, and deaf.

Then there's the religious items. Bibles and Christmas cards are surprisingly reasonable, but a Qaran will run you $26 in Vermont, where a Bible is a mere $4.55. Kufi caps – which cost $3 or less in the free world – go for $12 in Indiana prisons. A Virginia prisoner needs to work for 8 hours to earn enough to buy a commissary Ramadan card (you can buy a Christmas card after three hours' labor).

Prison price-gougers are finally facing a comeuppance. California's new BASIC Act caps prison commissary markups at 35% (California commissaries used to charge 63-200% markups):

https://theappeal.org/price-gouging-in-california-prisons-newsom-signature/

Last year, Nevada banned any markup on hygiene items:

https://www.leg.state.nv.us/App/NELIS/REL/82nd2023/Bill/10425/Overview

And prison tech monopolist Securus has been driven to the brink of bankruptcy, thanks to the activism of Worth Rises and its coalition partners:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/08/money-talks/

When someone tells you who they are, believe them the first time. Prisons show us how businesses would treat us if they could get away with it.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/20/captive-market/#locked-in

168 notes · View notes

outta-my-tree · 3 months

Text

On July 4, 1914 - An explosion demolished the upper stories of an apartment building in East Harlem, killing anarchist Arthur Caron and several colleagues. Caron had been among those who protested the involvement of the Rockefeller family in April's "Ludlow Massacre." It appeared that Caron and his associates were building the bomb meant to kill John D. Rockefeller Jr., when it exploded.

(The Ludlow Massacre occurred April 20, 1914, when Colorado state troops and a private force hired by a Rockefeller-owned coal mining company attacked and destroyed a tent camp of striking miners and their families.)

An official report stated that at least twenty-five people - including fourteen children and two women - perished in the massacre. Earlier reporting put the death toll at a minimum of forty-five people, with women and children accounting for thirty of those deaths.

Left: Photograph shows French Canadian anarchist Arthur Caron, a member of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), who was killed in the Lexington Avenue bombing of July 4, 1914 in New York City.

Right: Photograph shows members of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), who were involved in the Lexington Avenue bombing of July 4, 1914, New York City. Group includes Arthur Caron and Charles Plunkett.

Photograph shows the destruction caused by a bomb at 1626 Lexington Avenue, New York City, which killed four people and injured many others. Anarchist conspirators were making the bomb which they intended to put at John D. Rockefeller's home in Tarrytown, New York.

Above: Baptism record of Joseph Arthur Caron, Beauport, Quebec, Canada, 1883. His father is recorded as a day laborer.

Below: Fall River, Massachusetts marriage record for Arthur Caron and Elmina Reeves, 3July, 1905.

Indexed New York death record information.

Funeral procession for French Canadian anarchist Arthur Caron, a member of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), who was killed in the Lexington Avenue bombing of July 4, 1914 in New York City.

More information:

20 notes · View notes

fanfin-glutton · 11 months

Text

‼️//HL SPOILERS IF YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED THE GAME//‼️

These drawings are based off of my character Florence Inkwood’s backstory

Eleazar Fig & Florence Inkwood first interaction:

Their last:

If you’d like to see and read more about my character, here’s a OC Sheet

When I finished the game I didn’t like how we didn’t get to see our character grief over Professor Fig, like I was tearing up when we saw him the one late time. It felt a little ingenue, like our character kinda brushed it off and the only time it’s talked about after the quest is with Professor Weasley and then immediately like “ok let’s see your grades”, which I understand there’s more to do but idk I felt like a funeral of sorts would’ve been a great addition to the great hall scene. Possibility a grave too for him, like why does Solomon get one and not Fig?!

So why not add a little more sadness to the tragedy of losing this precious man? (Also please excuse the baby I don’t draw them often enough to make them look cute… and hopefully I did a good job of making a younger Eleazar Fig, did my homework on what would be fashionable during his early years)

Before Eleazar became a teacher at Hogwarts, he was traveling the world helping his Wife Miriam to explore traces of Acient Magic and while on a trip in Massachusetts they happen to have met Florence’s father, Ottis Inkwood, who was a local in the town they were staying in. They become good enough acquaintances that Ottis offers the couple a place to stay in his home while they conducted their research there, thats where he meets the rest of Mr. Inkwoods family as well as Florence Inkwood, who was a baby at the time. She was known to be a huge crybaby, never wanting to leave her mother, Elva Inkwood, side at all. But for some reason when Eleazar was offered to hold her, she was immediately entranced by both him and his wife.

So from then on as they were still in town, Eleazar and Miriam had spent a lot of time babysitting her as a way to help out Elva, sometimes Eleazar would do it alone while Miriam was out exploring for traces of ancient magic. He’d tell her all sorts of stories from his travels, even if she couldn’t understand a word she enjoyed just hearing him talk. Ottis wouldn’t be very present for his children’s live as he was constantly working at his plant shop, so unconsciously Eleazar becomes a father figure and Miriam being a second mother to Florence.

I had couple of theories on why him and Miriam didn’t have kids yet, one idea was that she’s unable to have them no matter how hard they tried… another one could be that they decided not too since they’re traveling and it would cause a lot of unnecessary stress. But those were just some shower thoughts.

If y’all would like to hear more on this storyline I’d be happy to provide! I’m still working out certain kinks of this story but I have a whooooole note pad on my phone dedicated to this and many other ideas lol

Edited: I just made a short story for this story line if you are interested! (X)

#hogwarts legacy #professor fig #eleazar fig #fanart #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts oc #miriam fig

37 notes · View notes

fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 1 year

Text

Code Blue Ch.5 "2:22"

Summary: Lee and Jo share a sweet texting conversation. He later hangs out with Dr. Bloom and soon after finds himself in another mess. Jo worries when her texts go unanswered. She pays Lee a visit and gets more than one surprise.

*Warning* Angst, language, alcohol/drug use, graphic descriptions, mentions of death, child loss, domestic dispute

Stories Masterlist

Salem, Massachusetts

February 3, 2023

After you left, Lee went upstairs to crash and sleep the day away after eating pizza he had delivered. Lord knows he needed the rest after what he had just put his body through last night. He found himself tossing and turning into the night hours...with relentless thoughts of you. Thoughts of the loss you had suffered. He still worried that if you knew he was the doctor that tended to your brother, would you still look at him the same because he couldn't save him? He eventually just laid there talking to himself....and eventually to God, whom he believed in whole heartedly, although he had went through the first few years of being angry with him after Jacob's death.

Lee then picked up his phone to find a text message from you. When he had used your phone to call his so he would have your number, he actually texted it instead, knowing you would see the message he sent from your phone. It was a simple "Cherries are my favorite fruit btw."

Your reply conjured the biggest smile upon his face.

"So I gathered from the fact of u saying u liked the taste of my cherry chapstick and then dashed off singing about it. How r u doing? R u alright?"

Lee rubbed his eyes and sat up, staring at his phone in the darkened room, contemplating his reply. It was 11 pm, twelve hours after you had been there and he had only slept merely three of it at the most.

He swung his bare feet across the bed and placed them on the wood floor as he yawned and turned on his bed stand light, then put on his reading glasses.

"I am fine. A bit sore and bruised but ok. I just woke up actually. Gonna get up and continue cleaning this money pit lol. What about u? R u alright? How did things go with your mom?"

You had tried so hard to fall asleep but Lee's cologne was all over you, teasing your nose and other parts of you that ached for him. As you placed your hands on your face to inhale his remnants, you were startled by the sound of your phone chiming. You instantly hoped that it was Lee. Fumbling to look at the screen, his name appeared and awoke your butterflies from their dormant state.

"Hey u. Yes, I am fine and I am so glad to hear from u. My mom is drugged up on sleeping meds right now. We have to go to the funeral home tomorrow which I am dreading. I just woke up too, right before u texted me. Weird lol."

Lee softly chuckled. "Clairvoyant maybe? Ur not a witch are u?🤔"

If you had told him about your dream of him being hurt just eight hours before you found him passed out cold on the floor, he might actually think that you were. Hell, you even wondered sometimes, as this wasn't the first time you've ever had premonition like dreams.

"Well, I do live in Salem in one of the witch houses my father bought. I'll let u ponder on that. 😉"

"Oh dear lord. Well that is just perfect. I love witchy stuff."

"Really? Me 2. I actually write about things like that, fantasies and fairytales etc...it's just a hobby but it keeps me grounded, a coping mechanism per se. I kinda like escaping life for awhile."

"Well no shit? I don't write but I love to read. Your genre is right up my alley. I no what u mean about wanting to escape, even if only for a little while. I guess we now have another thing in common."

"It looks that way. So cool. So....do u believe in wishes?"

"Witches, maybe. Wishes....not so much. Why do u ask?"

"Because it is 11:11 right now."

"Ahhhh. Let's just say I have wished upon it before, but I never was granted my desires."

"Well...hurry. Make a wish right now before it turns and I will too. Maybe if we wish at the same time, it will come true lol."

Lee chuckled, then decided to humor you and closed his eyes. The wish he would have liked to make, he knew would not come true...ever, for it was for Jacob to be alive. He had wished it so many times, he lost track. The wish that invaded his mind in that moment stunned him. He wished for you. He had actually wished for you in the past. Not you literally per se as he never knew you, but someone just like you he longed for. It seemed to him that wish may already have been answered but he wanted to do it again, to maybe seal the deal...He then laughed at himself for being so ridiculous. He knew these things weren't real.

In that same moment, you made the same wish. You wanted him. You wanted him so bad it hurt. If only you both had realized that you wanted the same things, a wish would not even be needed, for destiny would take it's course regardless.

"Soooo...what did u wish for?" Lee asked.

"If I tell u, it won't come true. Ha ha."

"Alright. So if it does come true, u will tell me right?"

"Most definitely. Hey, I'm gonna let u go for now so u can go do ur cleaning n stuff. I gotta get up early for all the funeral stuff and what not. Talk later? I hope."

"Oh fo sho girl. Get some sleep...and...thank u so much for everything. Goodnight witchy woman. 😂"

"Omg lol....ur so welcome. Ok. Goodnight Lee. ttyl."

"Sweet dreams lady luck."

Lee began his cleaning while he was wide awake and in the mood. He knew this was going to take him longer than the two weeks he had off because he still had other priorities. He needed to visit his father and still check in on patients by consulting with the covering physician. Plus he had farm animals to tend to along with a cat and a dog, which he would go do each day at some point, and if he absolutely could not do it, he had well paid trustworthy people to take care of it.

He laid his phone on the table with pandora app set on the 80's pop rock station. A song came on that got him in a spunky mood as he started singing while collecting trash from the back porch.

"Josie I've got your number. IIII'm gonna make you mine. Josie don't change your number 867530 ni eee yiiiine." He laughed to himself in amazement at how well that fit with everything.

The doorbell rang in a frenzy. Lee opened it to find Orlando with booze in hand. Wine and whiskey, and of course, munchies.

"Banando!! Come on in man and give me some of that."

Lee grabbed the bottle of whiskey from Orlando's hand and trotted into the kitchen.

"Man, you weren't kidding bro. They really did a number on this place." Dr. Bloom said as his eyes scoured the living room.

"Tell me something I don't know...and if you tell me you open mouth kissed a horse once, I am going to kick your ass."

"Ha ha ha. No...I didn't do that...not recently anyways." Orlando grinned and poured himself a large glass of wine as Lee sat down with the Jim Beam, drinking it straight from the bottle.

"Why does it smell like women's perfume in here dude? You got some chic here somewhere??"

Lee was taken aback that your floral scent still lingered after an entire 12 hours had passed. He figured he must of become nose blind to it, but then he did slightly notice it after Orlando brought it up. The reason he could now smell it was because it was all over his tee shirt from when you had your body against his to help him off the floor...and when you had hugged him, which then explained why Orlando smelled it. Now Lee knew why he could not sleep, besides the fact that you had clouded his mind with your golden eyes and his ears with your angelic voice....and his nose with your succulent sweet scent. He seriously needed a shower, he told himself...a cold one.

"I wish." Lee chuckled. "I think it's your cologne."

"Oh, that's hilarious Bee Gee Lee....Seriously man, I smell it. Who did you have here? What's the big deal?"

"Exactly. What's the big deal?" Lee snarked and took a swig of his whiskey and swiped his finger over his phone., then glared at Orlando as the song by the bee Gee's played called Massachusetts.

Orlando set down his glass and stared at his best friend. "Ok...like...did I just strike some invisible nerve here? What are you not telling me? It's me man. Why do you act like you have some classified secret or something?"

Lee swigged another drink. "Because it is...technically. Doctor patient confidentiality." he smirked.

"Oh hellls naw. Are you shitting me? You're fucking a patient?"

"Whoa, hey. I never said that."

"Uh...you didn't have to. I see it now. It's written all over your sexually deprived face. Who is it? You know you gotta tell me."

"No, I don't."

"Don't or won't?"

"Can't. You know that. If it's a patient...well technically, she's not but.."

"There's that word again, technically. And what?? So there is a...she? Damn it man, spill it."

"Stop getting your also sexually deprived self in a twist. It's just....a girl...that I met at the hospital."

"A girl...a.... girl? Lee mother fucking Pace has met...a girl?" Orlando raved. "Ok, this is news worthy stuff here."

"Ok. This topic is closed. I gotta get this shit hole cleaned up. You helping or not?"

"Yep...I will help....when you tell me who this girl is that has you so damn secretive. Since when have you kept these things like this from me?"

Lee gazed down at his bottle. You weren't just a thing to him, that was why. He respected you, how could he not?

"Since now. I just don't want to talk about it alright? I got too much shit on my mind as it is."

"I'm sorry man. I know how hard this time is for you. I haven't forgotten what yesterday was."

Lee immediately deflected. "So, judging by your attire, I see you just came from the hospital. How are things going there?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Nurse Theresa always up my ass about my handwriting. You know she rudely came into a room when I was tending to a patient and scolded me right in front of her. Such bullshit man. It's how I write. If I try to change it, it will literally take me forever to get things done. Even the patient was pissed off by it. Called her a bitch after she had left the room." Orlando chortled as he pictured that moment.

The good doctor knew that patient was you and he still didn't tell Lee that you had requested to see him, even after he told you he would when he saw Lee again. Orlando wanted his own chance with you and he knew he wouldn't have a prayer against his best friend, since he could tell you were into the ridiculously gorgeous Dr. Pace. Even Nurse Theresa didn't give Lee a hard time and his handwriting was far worse than his. Dr. Bloom had always secretly walked in Lee's shadow.

"You know what I always say to that." Lee coaxed.

"Yep. Fuck em."

Both men bellowed in laughter and continued chatting and drinking for about another hour before attempting to get some work done. It was 1 am and Lee was heavily feeling his tippling inebriated state affecting him. He had never been much of a drinker until the accident and he could usually do it in moderation until the anniversary dates came around, and it certainly didn't help with him by being in that house with all of Jacob's memories and belongings.

Lee just wanted to sell it. Out of sight, out of mind kinda thing. Stupidly he went upstairs to drunk dial Elizabeth and tell her he decided to do it. She had no claim on the property so why he wanted to inform her was even beyond him as he avoided her like the plague. But as usual, his intoxication would always make him do stupid things. Such as drunk texting you as well.

"P.S. I don't want u to let me go." His thumb hesitated over the send button...and then he pushed it. What did he have to lose at this point, he thought. It's relevance was to the end of your prior texting session when you told him you were going to let him go so you could get some sleep.

Then, he called Elizabeth.

"Lizzy...it's me."

"Jesus Lee, it's after 1 in the morning. What the fuck do you want?"

"Do you always have to be such a bitch? I need to tell you something."

"And it couldn't wait till morning? We haven't even spoken in over a year. What could you possibly have to tell me that I could even care about?"

"Ahhh morning. Yes..I am in mourning...still. How about you mommy dearest? Sleeping like a baby at a time like this..."

"Are you drunk?"

"Maybe. So? What's it to you? It's how I cope...unlike you who don't give a shit about what happened to your own son. New man less than a month after, new house and a new baby. You've got it all, moved on without a care in the world. Speaking of, that's why I called. To tell you I am going to sell this place. Then all of it will be non existent to you. Oh wait...it already is. My bad."

"And this involves me how exactly? I don't give a shit is right, about what you do with that dump and I am certainly not going to sit here and listen to your drunken rants. You need help Lee. I suggest you get some."

"After what you did to me? To our son, oh sorry, I mean your son. So is your child even the new guy's kid? or are you going to make him believe it is like you did to me? Then drop the bomb on him at the most inopportune time? And if anyone needs help Lizzy, it's you, to learn how to buckle a fucking seatbelt!"

Lee slammed his thumb on the end call button and hurled his phone against the wall as he roared in rage.

Orlando came running up the stairs to find Lee in a panic induced state.

"Lee, man what just happened? I heard you yelling."

Lee slowly turned to him seemingly disoriented.

"Lee! Are you alright man?" Orlando proceeded in concern as Lee wouldn't speak and began to breath heavily.

"Lee, snap out of it man! You're scaring me. I hate it when you get these attacks. You need to breathe..."

Lee knew in that moment how you must have felt just before you passed out. Orlando's words echoed and faded as Lee raced down the stairs and then all went black as he crashed to the floor.

February 4, 2023- 5 am.

Your hand blindlessly fumbled to disable the screeching alarm clock and then you laid back with a sigh after turning the light on. Up you finally went to go get a shower and begin the dreaded day.

Another hobby and talent of yours was ice skating and you were damn good at it too. So good that you could have went down that path professionally, but that wasn't what you wanted as a career. To you, it was just a sport that you began as a child and it became a huge stress and anxiety reliever as you got older. It was all for fun as well and twice a month, you even taught lessons at the ice rink downtown, and one of those days was today. You always went early so you could skate alone with the music blasting and you certainly needed it before you had to go with your mother to make funeral arrangements.

You quickly checked your phone, solely to see if Lee had texted again for any reason and there it was. The one he sent at 1 in the morning telling you he did not want you to let him go. You had to sit back down on the bed for a moment as it had taken you aback. Staring at his words, you pondered on how to even reply to that. What did he mean? A smile formed on your face as you felt a bit flirtatious and sent a simple reply.

"I wasn't planning on it 😉"

Finally, off to the shower you went but not before placing your shirt up over your nose and breathing in his lingering fragrance one last time. You swore you would never wash that shirt.

When you came out, immediately you checked your phone but there was no reply. Of course, though, it was 5:30 am and surely he must be sleeping, you thought. Out of curiosity, you checked the status of the text. Sent but not received. So now you figured his phone must be off and decided to text him later.

It was 7 am when you got to the rink as first you made breakfast for you and your mom, making sure there wasn't enough for Megan when she got up, which probably wouldn't be until late afternoon anyways as she was absolutely unproductive in every aspect of her miserable life.

You unlocked the door and turned on the lights, kicked on the music then sat down and put your skates on.

An oldies genre you picked today, 60's to 70's. You were just in the mood for something different than your usual rock genre. A song came on you hadn't heard in quite awhile. Massachusetts by the Bee Gees.

youtube

"Perfect." you said and went gliding out onto the ice. The cold breeze felt so good on your face as you did twizzles around the arena. Your thoughts instantly drifted to Lee and how much you already missed him. As the song concluded, you did a few axle jumps and then whirled around in a camel spin and merging into a sit spin.

You skated until 8:30, then sat down for a break as the class wouldn't begin until 9, which consisted of a dozen girls ranging between the ages of 11 and 13 and would last roughly two hours.

Checking your phone again in hopes to see a text from your dashing doctor, a frown devoured your face to see nothing. Probably still sleeping, you thought. You spent the remaining of your break thinking of him and the way his firm body felt against yours. God, you wanted to see him again so bad.

The class was finally over at 11 am and you then went home to change into something more appropriate for the funeral home appointment.

Noon

Lee awoke on the floor to a raging headache and a broken phone laying beside him....and Orlando asleep on the couch. He grimaced at the sunlight shining on his face and laid his arm over his eyes as he moaned and groaned in agony.

Memories of the prior night were vague but one thing he clearly remembered was stupidly texting you.

He painfully propped himself onto his elbow and saw the shattered screen on his phone. He then recalled throwing it against the wall upstairs after his heated conversation with Elizabeth. Orlando must have brought it down and laid it beside him.

He tried to power it on in desperation to see if you replied but it was dead and most likely trashed.

"Shit..." he muttered through his foul whiskey breath and let it drop from his hand.

Orlando heard the clunk and sprung up with a gasp. He had barely slept as he kept checking Lee throughout the night and early morning to make sure he was breathing. Lee's loud obnoxious snores had assisted in leaving Orlando sleepless so he knew he was going to be alright, but he still had to make sure and monitored his vitals. Dr. Bloom had witnessed these episodes on more than one occasion, even without liquor being a factor, and knew a trip to the ER was not warranted. Lee would have kicked his ass if he had called 911, but Orlando would have done it regardless if he felt it necessary.

"Well look who's up!" he shouted intentionally with a grin.

"Fuck you." Lee snarked and grunted as he placed his hands on his head.

"Oh I am sorry. Am I too loud?" Orlando snickered.

"Yes and I would prefer it if you did not speak at all."

"Well I am going to, to tell you what you already know. That you're a dumb ass. Why the hell do you keep doing this to yourself?? I am always saving you, from high school up to now."

"I was taller than you then, and I still am. I think I can muster the strength to come over there and kick your scrawny ass if you don't shut the hell up."

"Duly noted."

Lee staggered his way up to a standing position and quickly leaned on the wall. He still felt drunk.

"I think I am going to be sick."

He ran off to the bathroom just around the corner and upchucked yesterday's pizza and last night's booze. The taste made him continue his vomiting until he was doing nothing but heaving bile. He laid with his arms draped over the toilet seat and his head hanging almost inside of it.

"God...somebody kill me please." he exclaimed in a growl as he dropped to his butt and leaned up against the bathtub. Orlando peeked around the corner with a now serious and concerned face.

"You're doing a good job of that all on your own. Take some Tylenol with a shit ton of water and go try to sleep. I'll stay. I don't have a shift today. I can make lunch later if you're hungry then."

Lee moaned and laid his head on his knees. "God...no...no food. Man, my phone. It's history. I need it. I have to explain to her..so she understands...."

He abruptly stopped as he remembered exactly what he had said to you.

"Explain what and to whom? Lizzy? I assume that's who you were screaming at since I couldn't help but hear what you said."

"Fuck no...just forget I said anything. Can you go get me my other phone??"

"Just use mine man, if it's that important. It's that girl isn't it? The one you won't tell me about. Damn....you got it bad. I've never seen you act this way over any woman."

"No..." Lee blurted out and raised his blood shot eyes to Orlando. "I...I need one anyways...like now... so could you just do that? Go to the farm and bring me back some soup and crackers or toast. I think I can handle that and keep it down....and feed the animals please? I think my phone is in the kitchen....on the table."

"Alright. I saw Tylenol in the cupboard. Go take some and lay down. I won't be long."

Orlando left and Lee made his way to the kitchen to chug down ice water and take some pills. He stood over the kitchen sink with his hands on the ledge holding himself up and let his head hang as the humiliating events of last night scrambled through his pounding brain.

Off to the couch he went to lay down and try to sleep. All he could think of was you and what you must be thinking due to his blatant text. And he thought of Orlando's words. Yes, he was so right. He had it bad and he didn't know what to do about it.

You ravaged through your wardrobe in disgust. It wasn't that you hated dressier clothing, but the fact of what it was for. What you did hate was heels. You were a boots kinda girl and saved the murderous spikes and unstable wedges for when you had to work on the Haunted Star, as it was a fancy party venue. It absolutely amazed you that you could balance perfectly and gracefully as well as be on spot with coordination on a thin sheer blade over the slickest surface but could twist your ankle or fall at the drop of a hat in a pair of high heels. It wasn't even just the footwear that was a problem, as you were just uncoordinated as hell off the ice. Accident prone was your middle name and you had the scars and bruises to prove it.

You finally chose a long sleeved burgundy button down shirt to pair with your cream colored skirt, completely annoyed with the flimsy material as you fought with trying to find the sleeve.

Then you kicked off your boots and slid your feet into a pair of boring black heels, then pinned up your hair in a messy bun. Mismatched as hell you felt but were running late so it would have to do.

"Jo! Come on...it's time to go. What on earth are you doing up there??" your mom hollered up the stairs.

"Coming!!"

You sat in a chair at the funeral home waiting on the director to come out. Your mom sat beside you with a kleenex clenched tightly in her hands and said nothing until she saw your nose stuck in your phone. You were texting Lee to check on him since it was now 12:22 pm and you had heard nothing. All the usual assumptions ran through your mind as the status still showed sent only. His phone was clearly off. Was it dead? Was he ignoring you? Did he change his mind about wanting to be friends? Did you do or say something wrong? But then your mind wandered to worry. Was he alright? The anxiety was sneaking up. What if he was hurt again? You decided that if you did not hear from him by the time you left, you were going to go check on him.

"Josephine LeeAnn March! Is that all you can do is play on your phone right now?" your mother snapped. She only called you by your full name when she was fed up and meant business.

"Mom...calm down. It's not like we're doing anything at the moment."

"Calm down? Your brother's body is somewhere in this building where we sit and you are more concerned with texting whomever in the hell it is that you are texting. It's that damn doctor isn't it? Why can't you just be happy with Dave? The man adores you and you won't even give him a chance."

You ignored that last part of her ramblings as you were not going to discuss your love life with her.

"Mom...can you not say it like that? His...body."

"How would you have me say it then? That's what it is. You know, I had to see it don't you? To identify him. I couldn't even do it! His face was unrecognizable. All I had to go on was his clothing and his ring. The rest of him was badly burned. Do you know what a sight that was for me??"

"Thanks Mom, I didn't know but now I do after that detailed description. You do remember that I was there when it happened? You so did not need to tell me all this. I have enough anxiety as it is."

"Well maybe you should try taking your medicine and then you wouldn't have that problem." She turned her head and said no more.

God you couldn't take this. No one understood how the medicine made you feel. No one but Lee. You put your phone away to please her and sat with your head turned away as tears burnt your eyes.

It was finally over and you all went back home with a funeral date only days away. You didn't even bother going inside and quickly got in your car, taking off like a bat out of hell with a destination of Lee's place. One more time, you attempted to contact him by calling this time. It went straight to voicemail. You contemplated on leaving a message as his beautiful voice flowed into your ear.

"You've reached Dr. Pace. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. If this is an emergency, call 911 or go to the nearest hospital."

It was an emergency. You needed him but how ridiculous was it that you felt that way over someone you barely knew. Maybe you should just call Dave instead, you thought. No, you couldn't. You didn't want to. Something felt off and you were extremely worried about Lee after how you had found him...and even more so after his strange text in the early morning hours. Had he been drinking again?

Trying to compose your voice, you left a brief message.

"Hey Lee, it's me...I mean Jo...just wanted to check on you. I'm actually on my way to your place right now. I hope that is alright. Please all me back...or text. Ok...bye."

Your voice started to break up as you had told him to call you back. You hurried and ended the call so if by chance he got the message, he wouldn't hear you being a big baby. You honestly thought you should just turn around but something wouldn't let you.

You cried all the way there after a song played that struck every chord in your soul. You had noticed the clock when it had started. 2:22 pm. Strangely, it was the time you were born. You had this thing with seeing numbers in various ways and at certain moments, wether it was the time, catching the microwave's countdown or even the total on a purchase just to name a few. It was always double or triple digits of the same number. 11, 22, 33, and 44 were the big ones for you, and the 3's came in other ways too, such as the eerie pattern of celebrity deaths. The clairvoyance probability really wasn't that far fetched.

youtube

The first time you ever kissed his mouth, you absolutely did feel the earth move in your hand like the trembling heart of a captive bird....just like the lyrics said. You were in way over your head with this man. He had awoken something in you and made you feel alive again. He made you breathe....and without him, you would suffocate.

You pulled into the driveway behind his car and noticed the clock at 2:44. You released a stunned giggling sigh, wiped your eyes and got out, quietly closing the door.

As you came to the front door, you could see Lee through the three small windows it held, sitting on the floor playing catch with a ball against the wall.

You could hear soft muffled music and him singing from inside as you knocked but he didn't hear you, so you walked in.

"Lee?"

He then heard your voice and turned his head.

When he saw that it was you, he eagerly staggered his way up and almost ran into the wall, in which he then leaned on as a crutch. You could tell he had been drinking or maybe even on something else.

"Miss Massachusetts. What are you doing here?"

You sucked in a breath and began rambling.

"I'm sorry, the door...it was open and you didn't hear me. I..I wanted to check on you...your phone...is off or something. I....I hope it's ok that I came."

His body moved unsteadily as he tried to balance and seemingly didn't want to look you in the eyes.

"Yeah...that. Sorry.. I kinda broke my phone. Seems it can't handle the impact of a wall. But my other one should be here soon. Of course it's alright that you came. I am glad you did Jo March. Sucks being here all alone."

'Ohhh...yeah. That can happen." you lightly laughed. "Lee...are you alright?"

"Never better...now that you're here anyways....So...you came all the way here to check on me? Why?"

"I...I was worried about you when you didn't respond to my texts and call."

"You...texted and called? Shit...I am sorry. My phone...I broke it."

"So you already told me. Lee, what's going on?" You sat your purse down and walked over to him as you were worried he was going to fall.

His eyes looked you up and down and then he just gazed at you. His eyes were so glassy and his pupils dilated. He was definitely highly intoxicated, or just high....maybe both.

"My god, you...you are so beautiful it hurts."

Your lips slightly parted as a small gasp escaped them. How were you going to respond to that?

As you went to offer a simple thank you, the door opened and in walked Dr. Bloom.

@redeemer46

#lee pace #lee pace fanfiction #love stories #jolee #code blue #doctors #orlando bloom #slow burn #slow build #dark stories

38 notes · View notes

homomenhommes · 5 months

Text

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 10

1830 – On this date the American poet Emily Dickinson was born in Amherst, Massachusetts (d.1886). In her twenties, Emily led a busy social life, but she became more reclusive with each passing year. By her thirties, she stayed to her home and withdrew when visitors arrived. She developed a reputation as a myth, because almost never seen and, when people did catch sight of her, she was always wearing white. But while she withdrew from physical contact with people, she did not withdraw from them mentally. Emily was an avid letter-writer who corresponded with a great number of friends and relatives. A thousand of these letters (a portion of what she wrote) survived her death, and they show her letter writing to be very similar to her poetic style--enigmatic and abstract, sometimes fragmented, and often forcefully sudden in emotion. Emily often included poetry with her letters to friends. Her friends encouraged her to publish, but after an attempt to do so in 1860 (when the publisher suggested she hold off) Emily did not appear to try again. The eight poems that were published in her lifetime were primarily poems submitted by her friends without her permission. Her death revealed 1768 more poems.

The idea of finding out who inspired Emily to write so prolifically has intrigued literary researchers for decades. For a while, the popular assumption was that she had a male mentor encouraging her, and that this is perhaps the person she addressed in three letters written to "Master." Some have speculated she was in love with Samuel Bowles (editor of a prominent local newspaper) for a time, and others speculate that she had a relationship with Judge Otis Lorde, and either of these men could have been the mysterious "Master." She may have been in love with both or either of these men; it's hard to confirm or deny the nature of her involvements with them. But the evidence that is available seems to show that the person who most affected her life and her work was Susan Gilbert- friend, eventual sister-in-law, and Emily's passionate love. This is the woman about whom Emily wrote hundreds of poems, and the person who received three times more poems of any of Emily's other friends.

Susan and Emily probably met at Amherst. They were close friends from the beginning, sharing similar interests and desires. Emily trusted Susan completely, and was very affectionate toward Susan in all their correspondence. While Susan seems to have responded initially, Emily's attention turned cloying when Susan became engaged to Austin Dickinson, Emily's brother. For two years, their correspondence stopped completely. When Susan and Austin moved next door, their correspondence resumed again, and Emily continued her expressions of worshipful love.

Feminist scholars who have examined Emily's letters from a Lesbian viewpoint note that her letters move beyond romantic friendship to the blatantly passionate. It isn't possible to know how Susan responded to Emily's proclamations of love, her desires to hold and kiss Susan, or her sorrow at being without Susan. When Emily died, all of Susan's letters were destroyed.

Dickinson was buried, laid in a white coffin with vanilla-scented heliotrope, a Lady's Slipper orchid and a "knot of blue field violets" placed about it. The funeral service, held in the Homestead's library, was simple and short; Higginson, who had only met her twice, read "No Coward Soul Is Mine", a poem by Emily Brontë that had been a favorite of Dickinson's. At Dickinson's request, her "coffin [was] not driven but carried through fields of buttercups" for burial in the family plot at West Cemetery on Triangle Street.

1870 – Pierre Louÿs, French author born (d.1925); a poet and Romantic writer, most renowned for lesbian and classical themes in some of his writings. He is known as a writer who "expressed pagan sensuality with stylistic perfection."

In 1891, Louÿs helped found a literary review, La Conque, where he proceeded to publish Astarte - an early collection of erotic verse already marked by his distinctive elegance and refinement of style. He followed up in 1894 with another erotic collection in 143 prose poems - Songs of Bilitis (Les Chansons de Bilitis), this time with strong lesbian themes.

What made The Songs sensational is Louÿs' claim that the poems were the work of an ancient Greek courtesan, Blitis, a contemporary of Sappho. Louÿs claimed the modest role of Bilitis' translator. The pretense did not last very long, and "translator" Louÿs was soon unmasked as Bilitis herself. This did little to tarnish The Songs of Bilitis, however, as it was praised as a fount of elegant sensuality and refined style, even more extraordinary for the author's compassionate portrayal of lesbian sexuality.

Some of the poems were tailored as songs for voice and piano, and, in 1897, Louÿs' close friend Claude Debussy composed a musical adaptation. In 1955, one of the first lesbian organizations in America called itself Daughters of Bilitis, and to this day Louÿs' Songs continues to be an important work for lesbians.

He aslo wrote Manuel de civilité pour les petites filles à l'usage des maisons d'éducation - Handbook of behaviour for little girls to be used in educational establishments - (written in 1917, published posthumously and anonymously in 1927), a parody whose obscenity is almost unparalleled even in the long history of French clandestine publishing. By the way of illustration, the "Glossary" which opens the work comprises this warning:

We have considered it useless to explain the words: cunt, slit, fanny, mound, cock, tail, bollock, testicle, cum (verb), cum (noun), erection, masturbate, suck, lick, pump, kiss, fellate, thread, fuck, ass-fuck, ejaculate, dildo, lesbian, pod, sixty-nine, cunnilingus, cute, whore, brothel. These words are familiar to all little girls.

Even while on his deathbed, Pierre Louÿs continued to write delicately obscene verses.

1903 – William Plomer (d.1973), South African / British. author, known as a novelist, poet and literary editor. He became famous in South Africa with his first novel, Turbott Wolfe (1925), which had inter-racial love and marriage as a theme.

Although he never spoke openly about his sexuality, his biographers record that during a period when he lived in Japan, he was in a sexual relationship with a Japanese man. He was never openly gay during his lifetime; at most he alluded to the subject.

Although overt homosexuality is absent from William Plomer's novels and poems, the relevance of his sexuality to his work is evident. After settling in England in 1929, he associated with a circle of homosexual literary people, through his friendship with his publisher Virginia Woolf. He became an important literary editor, for Faber and Faber, and was a reader and literary adviser to Jonathan Cape, where he edited a number of Ian Fleming's James Bond series. Fleming dedicated Goldfinger to Plomer.

He was also active as a librettist, with Gloriana, Curlew River, The Burning Fiery Furnace and The Prodigal Son for Benjamin Britten.

For the last thirty years of his life, his devoted companion was Charles Erdmann.

1941 – Tommy Kirk (d.2021) was a former American actor, and later a businessman, best known for his years on The Mickey Mouse Club.

Hired by Walt Disney Productions, he was cast as a clean-cut teenager in The Hardy Boys serial feature which was aired in the Mickey Mouse Club television series in 1956 and 1957. Kirk played Joe Hardy opposite Tim Considine as older brother Frank Hardy in two serials: The Mystery of the Applegate Treasure (September 21, 1956 - February 1, 1957), based on the book The Tower Treasure, and the original story The Mystery of Ghost Farm (September 13 - December 20, 1957).

Kirk went on to starring roles in a succession of successful Disney feature films, in both dramatic and comedic settings. He played Travis Coates in Old Yeller (1957), an adventure story about a boy and his heroic dog. He then played a dog himself in The Shaggy Dog (1959), a comedy about a boy inventor, Wilby Daniels, who is repeatedly transformed into an Old English Sheepdog under the influence of a magic ring. He had a more straightforward role as middle son Ernst Robinson in another adventure film, Swiss Family Robinson (1960). Kirk then played the "scrambled egghead" student inventor Merlin Jones in two comedies, The Misadventures of Merlin Jones (1964) and The Monkey's Uncle (1965). Other major Disney roles for Tommy Kirk included that of college student Biff Hawk in The Absent-Minded Professor (1961) and its sequel, Son of Flubber (1963), and as Grumio in the fairy tale fantasy Babes in Toyland.

Kirk knew his sexuality would create problems with his career as well as his strict Baptist parents. Kirk: "I consider my teenage years as being desperately unhappy. I knew I was gay, but I had no outlet for my feelings. It was very hard to meet people &, at that time, there was no place to go to socialize. It wasn't until the early 1960s that I began to hear of places where gays congregated."

In 1963, Disney chose not to renew Kirk's contract upon discovering Kirk had been having a sexual relationship with a 15-year-old boy he had picked up from a public pool. Walt Disney himself fired Kirk after receiving a complaint from the boy's mother. Yet in a bow to audience wishes, the studio re-hired him for the Merlin Jones sequel, The Monkey's Uncle.

Kirk describes the situation himself: "Even more than MGM, Disney was the most conservative studio in town.... The studio executives were beginning to suspect my homosexuality. Certain people were growing less and less friendly. In 1963, Disney let me go. But Walt asked me to return for the final Merlin Jones movie, 'The Monkey's Uncle,' because the Jones films had been moneymakers for the studio."

Kirk publicly came out as gay in a 1973 interview with Marvin Jones. At the time he was studying acting at the Lee Strasberg Theatre and Film Institute, while working as a busboy in a Los Angeles restaurant. He was in "Deadline", a 1973 episode of The Streets of San Francisco (1973) and a feature, the low-budget western My Name Is Legend (1975).

Kirk's acting career tapered off during the 1960s, hampered by the transition to adulthood, drug use, and "personal problems." Eventually he left show business, gave up drugs, and succeeded in starting his own carpet-cleaning business in the San Fernando Valley north of Los Angeles. He continued to act occasionally, however, including in the R-rated spoof, Attack of the 60 Foot Centerfold. As of 2006, Kirk had more than thirty feature film roles to his credit.Kirk was found dead in his Las Vegas home in September of 2021. No cause of death was released. Former child actor Paul Peterson (The Donna Reed Show) and founder of "A Minor Consideration," an organization that lobbies to provide guidance and support to child actors, said, "Tommy was gay and estranged from what remains of his blood-family. We in A Minor Consideration are Tommy’s family. Without apology."

1950 – Desmond Hogan is an Irish writer. Awarded the 1977 Rooney Prize for Irish Literature and 1980 John Llewellyn Rhys Prize, his oeuvre comprises novels, plays, short stories and travel writing.In 1971 he won the Hennessy Award. In 1976, The Irish Writers' Co-operative were to publish Hogan's first novel, The Ikon-Maker, which was also the Co-op's first publication. The Ikon-Maker, written in 1974, deals with a mother's unwilling recognition of her son's homosexuality. While in Dublin, he worked as a street actor and had a number of plays - A Short Walk to the Sea, Sanctified Distances, and The Squat - produced in the Abbey Theatre and the Project Arts Centre. RTÉ and BBC Radio broadcast some of his plays, including Jimmy. He also published stories in small magazines like Adam and the Transatlantic Review.

Later he moved to London, living as a lodger in the Hampstead home of Anthony Farrell, a young Irish publisher.

In 1977, he was the recipient of the Rooney Prize for Irish Literature, though this event remained undiscovered in America for several years until the Pittsburgh Press reported the revelation to its readers in 1981. In 1980, he won the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize for his Diamonds at the Bottom of the Sea collection of short stories.

In 1989, Hogan left London and was a Hudson Strode Fellow at the University of Alabama. In 1991, Hogan was awarded a place on the DAAD (German Academic Exchange) Berlin Artists' Programme fellowship which enabled him to live in that city. The Wall had just come down and, for a rootless storyteller, which was how he saw himself, liberated central Europe was an exciting place to be. Also, he had fallen in love with a young man called Sammy, who liked to hang out on Berlin's K-Dam.

The fruit of his travels with Sammy was a now very rare book The Edge of the City: A scrapbook 1976-1991.

He was in Berlin for several months. By now, he had stopped writing novels and had recently published two collections of stories, The Mourning Thief and Lebanon Lodge When Sammy died, Hogan movied on to Prague, griefstricken, where he wrote his book Farewell to Prague.

Hogan returned to Ireland in 1995, living in Clifden, County Galway. For a period, he lived in an old caravan in County Limerick along North Kerry/West Limerick border

In July 2008, Hogan admitted a charge of aggravated sexual assault against a 15 year-old boy in Hogan's home in Ballybunion. In October 2009, Hogan was given a two year suspended jail sentence, placed on the sex offenders register and ordered not to have unsupervised contact with children under 18. Though he was defended by publisher Anthony Farrell and writer Colm Tóibín, at least one shop in the Kerry area removed his books from its shelves.

He has since vanished off the literary scene.

1972 – Brian Molko is a British musician and songwriter who is lead vocalist and guitarist of the band Placebo. He is known in particular for his distinctive nasal, high-pitched vocals, feminine appearance, and unique guitar style and tuning.

Molko was born in Brussels, Belgium to an American father of Italian heritage and a British mother of Scottish Catholic descent. Molko's family moved frequently during his childhood; the family lived in Dundee, Liberia, Lebanon and Belgium, where they eventually settled in the village of Longeau near the border with Luxembourg, where Molko attended the American International School of Luxembourg (AISL).

Although Molko was brought up in a strict household that disapproved of artistic expression (his father wanted him to become a banker), he rebelled by assuming an androgynous image, wearing nail polish, lipstick, and eyeliner, and listening to punk music. He initially attended the European School of Luxembourg (ESL), but left due to excessive bullying. He attended the American International School of Luxembourg (AISL) before studying drama at Goldsmiths College in London.

Although Molko and Placebo co-founder Stefan Olsdal had both attended the American International School of Luxembourg (AISL), they had not been friends. When Molko was living in London, he ran into Olsdal at South Kensington tube station and invited him to one of his gigs he played with Steve Hewitt in a group called Ashtray Heart.

Along with Hewitt and Olsdal, Molko had a role in the 1998 film Velvet Goldmine, for which Placebo performed the T. Rex song "20th Century Boy". He played Malcolm, a singer of the fictional glam rock band, "The Flaming Creatures", who resembled the early Alice Cooper band.

During Placebo's live performances Molko has played a number of instruments, including guitar, bass guitar, keyboards, harmonica and saxophone.

Molko is openly bisexual. He has a son, who was born in 2005.

1973 – The Nobel Prize for Literature was awarded to gay Australian novelist Patrick White.

1996 - South African constitution signed at Sharpeville by President Nelson Mandela, the first anywhere to include in its bill of rights protection from discrimination on grounds of sexual orientation.

This clause was the basis of a series of landmark decisions on LGBT rights by the Constitutional Court, culminating in South Africa approving legislation for full marriage and family equality.

6 notes · View notes

be-funny · 1 month

Text

- the new york city resident , oliver carroll, was seen sporting a soft ralph lauren sweater on park avenue today . the twenty-four year old is a comedian turned actor in the city & has been here for ten years. since being here , they have been told to be - erratic , but also + confident , who really knows ! according to nycslam , he is not the son of balthazar carroll . anyways , guess we'll find out for ourselves !

stats.

full name: oliver nicholas carroll

nickname: olly

birth place: los angeles , ca

birth date: 19 february , 2000

age: twenty-four

zodiac: sagittarius

occupation: comedian turned actor ( pete davidson career claim )

gender & pronouns: cismale & he/him

sexuality : bisexual ( pending final say )

family: nicholas and sophia carroll ( grandparents ) , balthazar carrol ( father) , eve astor (mother, deceased) name , name , name and luca carroll ( siblings)

about.

oliver came into this this world bringing laughter, cracked up the nurses at the funny faces he would make. son of the then upcoming actor, now household name, balthazar caroll and eve astor, former child sitcom star turned model. his parents split did not mean much to him as an infant nor later in life. it meant he got two birthdays and two christmases! cha ching!

while he spent most of his infancy in los angeles, his mother moved the two of them out to boston, massachusetts after she decided to leave fame and her modeling career behind and pursue another career path. she chose to become a nurse. he found the airport to be a second home as he traveled back and forth a lot.

for most of his childhood up until , oliver grew up out of the public eye. his mother saw firsthand the damage it can have so oliver lived out a normal life with the occasional paparazzi when he was with his dad. he has some childhood photos floating around of him posing for cameras, sticking his tongue out, and flipping them off, which he was punished for.

trigger warning (parental death & boston marathon bombing) his life changed dramatically when his mother tragically passed. it was april 15, 2013. his mother was one of the nurses who volunteered to work the event for runners in need of medical attention. sadly, she died trying to save civilians who had been hurt by the first bombing. oliver was with his father at the time and vividly recalls the moment he saw it on the tv and trying to call her, only to receive her voicemail. he sobbed for days and was hounded by the press for comment on what had happened. even the private funeral was surrounded by photographers who want photos of the grieving boy.

after his mother's passing, oliver moved in with his father full-time. around then was when his father decided to move them all out to new york. he believes it may have been an attempt to help him heal as he had been having trouble adjusting to los angeles. oliver stayed out of the spotlight for most of youth, growing disdain for fame after how he was treated.

he wasn't spotted again until oliver was found doing a standup comedy set for an open mike night at Gotham Comedy Club. people were loving his self-deprication humor and comical insights on life. he blew up and eventually got hired onto saturday night live as a cast member, with a bit of writing every now and then.

his life was did not change much once he went into comedy. sure, people knew his family ties and he was an up-and-comer in comedy, but it was no different than what he was doing previously. it did change when he became romantically involved with famous singer dallas franco. soon, everyone wanted to know who this guy was and how he ended up with someone like dallas. it was a whirlwind romance which eventually lead to the two of them getting married. it ended up crashing down when the two of them got divorced. while it may have damaged dallas's career, it bolstered oliver's. soon, he was getting a comedy specials and offers in movies, and oliver was happy to capitalize on it, even though he was pissed how the media treated his ex-wife.

currently, oliver is still on saturday night live, but is branching into movie roles. but it is having some trouble branching into non comedic genres. he fears he is getting type casted.

it doesn't help that rumors are circulating questioning his parentage. oliver is aware that his mother was close with her best friend/washed up rock star, Cole Matthews, but he never believed any of it. their friendship ended soon after oliver and his mom left los angeles so he chalked it up to a falling out, nothing more. but it keeps being brought up more as he grows more successful.

personality.

the safest way to describe oliver is a mess. one moment he can be a happy, fun loving individual only to turn into a moody, conspiracy theorist who thinks the world would be better off crumbling to ash. people never know what to expect from him, but his ability to paint even the most dire situations as something comical almost makes up for it. he is honest with himself that he can be inconsistent, but he does his best to make up for it. however, he makes not attempts to change either.

despite this moodiness, most people would say he's a great guy. he has this boy next door charm that can win anyone over and genuinely tries to be a good person. despite coming from a rich and famous family, oliver is very down to earth. his mother tried to keep out of the public eye as much as she could, and even after, oliver still didn't want to be in the spotlight. he doesn’t have that cutthroat personality that some famous people seem to have, and tries to help people succeed if he can.

his romantic life is all over the place. oliver considers himself a romantic and enjoys flirting and the chase, but he stays loyal once he's found someone. unfortunately, he keeps finding the wrong one. after his recent divorce, he found people were more interested in him, which lead to more dating, but never amounted to anything serious. he blames his inconsistency and tendencies to get wrapped up in a fun side of things and put off the more difficult, emotional side of it. explaining his feelings has never been something he's good at, ask his therapist.

headcannon.

oliver has a lingering boston accent since he spent most of his childhood there.

despite having a trust fund and coming from a wealthy family, oliver is the cheapest man you will ever meet. he blames his mother for giving him values. he won't refuse to buy something, but he will try to haggle or find a cheaper alternative. generous tipper though.

oliver started off doing standup at eighteen after a friend of his anonymously signed him up for an open mic night. he likes to say he was forced into it.

he is one of the youngest cast members in saturday night live history, joining shortly before turning twenty.

oliver has five dogs: a french bulldog (sawyer), a beagle (copper), a bullmastiff (muffin), cavalier king charles (phineas), and labrador retriever (ferb). all of them are adopted. oliver is a firm supporter of 'adopt don't shop.'

wanted.

exes/flings/hookups: he's based on pete davidson so oliver has definitely had his fair share of romantic relationships. give me people who are out of his league.

i owe you everything: someone he's known for a long time and the person who got him into comedy. this person would be someone he's known for a while, so at least eight years.

friends: he's a charming, likable guy with a hint of deprecation. it could be someone he just knows from the party scene, costars, childhood friends, or maybe they've been a guest on saturday night life?

a roommate: oliver has a spacious townhouse for him and his dogs, but he prefers living with another person. gender doesn't matter.

industry rivals: someone in the acting world that doesn't like how quickly he's become popular.

for the publicity: someone he's been dating for publicity. it could be real or facade to bolster the other.

really open to anything. just a few thoughts. too tired to get my connections page up yet.

#richfm:intro #‎‧₊˚✧o.c.introduction✧˚₊‧

4 notes · View notes

dylangrimm · 10 months

Text

(alyssa sutherland) [THE GAMBLER]. Please welcome [DYLAN GRIMM (she/her)] to Huntsville, WV. They are an [40]-year-old [RESIDENT] who lives in [THE COMMUNE]. You may see them around working as a [O'CONNOR’S OUTDOORS CASHIER]. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.

FULL NAME: Dylan Mallory Grimm

PRONOUNS AND GENDER: Cis woman, she/her

AGE: 40

SEXUALITY: Queer

OCCUPATION: Cashier at O'Connor's Outdoors

HOMETOWN: Hunstville, West Virginia

RESIDENCE: The Commune

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Death mention, divorce, gambling addiction

TL;DR:

Huntsville local, but her parents split up when she was seventeen. Her mother moved to Massachusetts, and when Dylan was given the choice to stay or go, she left.

Her mother died just after Dylan graduated college. She had never been close with her father – especially not after she chose to live with her mother over him. After her funeral, they all but completely fell out of touch.

By that time, Dylan had started her own life. She worked as a dealer at a casino to pay her way through college, and by the time she graduated with a business degree, she'd been promoted to managing the place.

She initially refused to gamble, especially in her workplace – she watched over the years as her regulars got more reckless, and almost always left with less than they'd come in with. What she felt for them was pity.

Then one day she got roped into a game of poker, and walked out with ten grand in her pocket. That money paid for her wedding with her longtime girlfriend, and got them a decent honeymoon. It was like a switch had flipped – she understood. She kept it out of her own casino, only registering that she was developing a problem when she was driving two towns over and pretending she was going to work, only to spend the day in a rival casino. It went well at first – she was winning more than she lost, and she played small. Then things started to shift, and she was desperate to level out. They didn't. She dug deeper, and she got more frantic.

All leading up to her recent release from MCI-Framingham prison. She served two years after embezzling a little under eight grand from the casino she managed.

should be noted that she ruined her wife's (now ex-wife) life with her gambling. she drained both their bank accounts to try to dig herself out of her debt. (she is the one who proposed the divorce so none of her legal fees fell onto her ex)

got released from prison and was surprised to find she would still be divorced and her now ex had no interest in reconciling

with her life in massachusetts in shambles, dylan decided to visit her first home to figure out her next steps – had no intention of staying (mostly because her parole wouldn't allow it), and was shocked to find she couldn't leave.

she's trying to figure out how to adapt in the sudden place of her nightmares, but she's predictably handling poorly. she's resourceful, but she isn't exactly ethical most of the time.

FUN DUMB STATS:

Birthday: December 1

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius ☉ | Sagittarius ☽ | Libra➶

MBTI: ENTP

Enneagram: Type 6w9

Temperament: Sanguine

Moral Alignment: True neutral

Element: Earth

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

childhood friends

ex-wife

prison penpal

ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS:

tbd

VIBES:

pinterest | playlist

#huntsvilleintro #gambling tw #addiction tw #divorce tw #death tw

10 notes · View notes

honourablejester · 3 months

Text

Call of Cthulhu Character Concept: 1920s Funeral Home Dreamer

Because I just really wanted to try making a CoC investigator. I’m not sure what I intended to make initially, but browsing the occupations list gave me ‘undertaker’, and then I decided to roll for characteristics initially (I later added points on so the total would equal 460, as if for point buy), and that gave me a starting Appearance of 20, which is just above ‘ugly, possibly disfigured due to injury or at birth’, which gave me a bit of a starting seed. Then I was browsing the period names suggestion list, and saw ‘Asenath’, which I’d never heard before, and looked that up. And it’s a biblical name, but an Egyptian figure, so the name means ‘dedicated to the goddess Neith’. Which, in a Cthulhu setting, was … interesting.

So. Asenath Webber, a 34 year old assistant at her family’s funeral home in Arkham, Massachusetts, who has a troubled relationship with her brother since he permanently scarred her with embalming chemicals in an ‘accident’ as kids, and whose beloved uncle helped foster her education and interest in literature, history, and just a bit of the occult. Heh.

Call of Cthulhu Character Concept: Asenath Webber

Name: Asenath Webber

Occupation: Embalmer’s Assistant/Hearse Driver (Undertaker)

Age: 34

Gender: Female

Birthplace/Place of Residence: Arkham, Massachusetts.

Characteristics:

Strength 50, Constitution 80, Dexterity 60, Intelligence 50, Size 50, Power 70, Appearance 20, Education 80

(I initially rolled, then brought them up to total 460 as if for point buy (my original rolled total was 435), but the initial rolls are why her appearance is in the toilet. I could have brought that up, but I figured let’s roll with it)

Hit Points: 13

Magic Points: 14

Luck: 55

Sanity: 65

Move: 8

Skills Above Base:

Brawl 35%, Drive Auto 60%, Dodge 30%, First Aid 35%, History 65%, Intimidate 50%, Language (Own, English) 80%, Language (Other, Ancient Egyptian) 11%, Library Use 50%, Occult 65%, Psychology 40%, Science (Biology) 45%, Science (Chemistry) 51%, Spot Hidden 50%

Credit Rating: 20

Wealth: Average, Spending Level $10, Cash $40 ($10 on her, $30 glove box of the hearse), Assets $1000 (rented apartment ($10/wk rent), used car ($300), refrigerator ($49))

I did look up 1920s hearses to see if there was any option for the hearse to be the part of the family business she owned, but hearses are very expensive, so not a chance. She probably does have access to it, if she wants to alienate her family altogether, but I decided she’d have her own, used but in good condition, 1920 Chevvy Coupe that she keeps at Jo’s so the family don’t know about it. She keeps it mostly for the promise that when things with her brother finally degrade past saving, she can just bug out in her own car, and then the world will be her oyster.

Personal Description: A short, compact woman with bland features once you get past the shiny, twisted burn scar on her face. She smells faintly of chemicals, and tends to be faintly off-putting at the best of times. She’s usually found in driver’s coveralls or men’s clothing, which her family tolerate because she’s generally just not seen, at least not attached to the business.

Ideology & Beliefs: There are forces at work in the world, both evil and spiritual. When you work with the dead, you realise quickly that the body is a frail, useless, damaged thing. There must be more, a breath of some vaster thing, that makes us what we are.

Significant People: Eldridge Webber, her brother, with whom she has a tense relationship, to put it mildly. Edridge is the ‘& Son’ of the Webber & Son funeral home, and will inherit it once their father dies, and has made no bones about the fact that he’ll cut her loose to survive on her own once that happens. He’s also the cause of the scarring on her face, an ‘accident’ when he was 12 and she was 8, and he’d dared her to venture into the embalming room with him. She firmly believes that if her father wasn’t as traditional and had even once considered allowing a female to inherit the business, her brother would have arranged for a much more permanent ‘accident’ for her. Eldridge focuses on the business and glad-handing clients side of the funeral home, while their father still does most of the embalming, so she’s mostly given odd jobs such as driving the hearse and assisting their father in the embalming rooms. She’s almost fine with the knowledge that as soon as the business belongs to her brother, she’ll be out on her ear.

Barnabas Webber, her uncle, who taught her and sponsored her interests despite the ire from the rest of her family. He’s the one who taught her to drive, and the one who sponsored her education so she could get her English and History degree. Now that he’s dead, relations between her and the rest of her family have cooled significantly, not that they were good to start with. He used to be the second Webber in ‘Webber, Webber & Son’, but when he died, Josiah Webber, her father, simply removed that part of the name.

Josephine Razner, a friend from college and fellow spiritualist who shares Asenath’s fascination with history and the occult. Despite Asenath’s generally off-putting demeanour, Jo was delighted by her unusual name, and Asenath’s knowledge of its origins, and they hit it off. Jo is constantly encouraging her to leave the family business altogether and strike out on her own before Eldridge forces the issue for her, but Asenath still feels that would be disloyal to the family as a whole.

Roland Bleeker, a shady sort who has dealings with her brother, and who Asenath is 90% certain is a criminal of some stripe. Both he and Eldridge have attempted several times to get Asenath to do ‘deliveries’ in the hearse that are outside of business hours, and she’s refused them, which has done her relationship with Eldridge no favours either.

Meaningful Locations: Webber & Sons Funeral Home, Arkham. The center around which her world has revolved for almost her entire life, the cause of her worst scars, and the link to her most beloved person, her deceased Uncle Barnabas.

Secondarily, Miskatonic University, the site of some of the happiest times of her life, and the place she met Jo.

Treasured Possessions: A small illustrated copy of Lord Dunsany’s ‘Gods of Pegana’, with a handwritten note on the inside cover from Uncle Barnabas: ‘Dream all the things, dear one. Never stop. Uncle B.’ *(Key Backstory Connection)

Traits: Loyal. Not a lot of people are kind to Asenath, so she will move heaven and earth for the ones that are. She loved Uncle Barnabas with her entire body and soul, and she probably would kill people (or at least find some way to make bodies vanish) for Jo. She’s also stubborn and inclined to stick to her guns in general.

Injuries & Scars: Old chemical burn scars on her right cheek and jaw, deforming her mouth slightly, from an ‘accident’ as a child with the embalming chemicals.

History: From nearly the moment she was born, Asenath Webber’s life has been tied up in the family business, the prosperous Webber & Son funeral home. A dreamy, bookish, stubborn child, she wasn’t popular with most of her family, save only her mother (until her untimely death when Asenath was four) and her Uncle Barnabas, who she utterly adored and has missed terribly these last seven years since his death. After a childhood incident involving her brother left her with permanent scars from chemical burns on her face, she was shunted into the background of family life, away from the public. As a teenager, she had started training as an embalmer, at her father’s side, but her uncle managed to secure a college education for her at Miskatonic University, arguing that it would only enhance the family’s reputation to be able to send her. After her brother, of course, who studied accounting and finance, as befit the heir to the business. Asenath had other interests, however, and a fanciful streak, so her studies were in literature and history. Her own name, and lifelong experience with death, bodies, and the spirituality around them, had also inclined her to more … esoteric studies, and through these she met her dear friend Josephine Razner.

Once she had her degree, however, duty demanded that she return to the funeral home and put her back into the family business. She couldn’t be publicly seen, of course, she was off-putting and inclined to scare off clients, but she found roles as assistant embalmer and, through her talent with automobiles, driver of the funeral home’s hearse. After the death of her uncle, however, and her increasingly strained relationship with her brother as their father gets frailer and the time of his inheritance gets palpably closer, Asenath is looking more and more for a way out before she’s thrown out.

#call of cthulhu #CoC #character concepts #1920s #investigators #undertakers

2 notes · View notes