fishguy

Fractured [ Action | Adventure | Airships ]

I'd like to chuck myself on this bandwagon. Is there, like, a char sheet?

@Torn

Abracadabra! [Theater-Based Slice of Life]

“Or putting on a musical could be complete shit.” Ziggy scoffed, crossing her arms and tapping a discorded rhythm against her elbow. “There’s risk and there’s suicide. I think we should stick with a lesser known play rather than an original take on a bullshit play people have seen a thousand times. Plus, not everyone has the talent to sing.”

Ziggy snatched the note from Lucas, the corner crinkling with the force of her thumb. Hearing and seeing were two different things – seeing is believing and all that shebang – and the smallest spark of hope glimmered in a single chamber of her heart. If this play went right, absolutely perfect, then Ziggy might reject the job offer, may be able to afford to – afford to, a concept almost foreign in the past year. Ziggy passed the note on before it completely crumbled under her grip.

But with hope comes fear, too. The fear of disappointment was a strong one. The pessimist in Ziggy is telling her to fuck that and make plans to pack up her shit, take the next train to Charlotte Hills, Illinois. Then the stubborn, hopeful part of her wanted her to try her damned hardest. What really overrode the fear of disappointment, though, was her fear of having to act. A play as important as this one? Ziggy will be spending her days and nights in the theatre in order to at least break her phobia of public speaking.

Goddamnit.

“Besides, all the popular plays have multiple sets and I don’t have time for that and I’m assuming none of you guys do either.” Ziggy lifted her eyes and raised an eyebrow, pausing for a disagreement. It was a short pause though, hardly one short enough for an actual disagreement to be voiced – just long enough for her point to be made, especially since she did not actually care if other people disagreed. “We need to focus on a small play with a small set. I am not the best with pulling plays out of a hat, but I suggest An Inspector Calls.”

Hollywood University | The Rich vs. The Poor

im definitely game for this but im going to be a bit slow on my character since my mom got home from the hospital today, hope that's okay

Abracadabra! [Theater-Based Slice of Life]

Okay I got a post up. the end is a little bit rushed, sorry T>T it turned out a bit long too

Abracadabra! [Theater-Based Slice of Life]

It was early in the morning – so dreadfully and devastatingly early in the morning – and the annoying sound of her alarm’s unforgiving siren startled Ziggy from her dreams. Waking up in the middle of a dream is the worst, and Ziggy started her day off bad. It was a Saturday, too, which meant that there was a theater meeting.

The early hours of the morning were spent in the presence of emails about potential jobs – mostly sending her resume and a sense of failure written in it; Ziggy loves Abracadabra! but it doesn’t pay well. Plus, Ziggy was becoming increasingly mortified over being a nearly-thirty year old living in her parents’ basement. Unfortunately, there wasn’t many jobs around St. James that were in demand of Ziggy’s skillset.

Her email was underwhelmingly bare, only a small unread blue circle from an interior design company in Charlotte Hills, Illinois. She had applied to it a while ago, before she joined Abracadabra!, in the week after she was fired and her parents pressured her into sending in her resume. The subject field ominously said “New Position Opened”. Ziggy lightly tapped her finger on her mouse, not hard enough to click anything – she could feel her toes flexing with the harsh burden of indecision.

“I’ll open it later.” She murmured to herself, closing out of her email and stretching. The clock on her computer told her that she should leave for the meeting soon, and it was a couple minutes slow.

Ziggy grabbed her jacket and propped her foot on the first step out of her pathetic temporary room, but the blue glow of the computer gave her a sense of guilt. Ziggy wanted that job – it’d be good for her, to get back on her feet. But that meant leaving a whole lot behind. Ziggy’s toes flexed again when she pulled out her phone and began tapping a message.

To: My Main Squeeze
buy me lunch later
don’t have food need to go shopping

Shit, that sounded bossy. But it was too late to unsend it. It would really suck if Noa said no – Ziggy couldn’t even think about eating lunch with her mom. It probably would have been much simpler if Ziggy just said she wanted to see him, just so she could lie to herself and say that staying in St. James was the better option – because of the potential of Abracadabra! and they’re small but slowly growing relationship. But it felt clingy, and Ziggy would hate herself if she was the clingy type – how awkward. No, it was much better to pretend to be a starving actress.

“Zdzisława, are you about to leave?” Ziggy’s mom bumbled through the door, a plate of waffles drowning in syrup in her hand. “I was hoping we could have some breakfast together.”

Ziggy cursed her luck and her mother and those god damn delicious-looking waffles. Ziggy could never say no to her mother, anyways, not with her puppy dog eyes that looked so hopeful. It was disgusting. “I’m running a bit late, so I might as well be really late for breakfast.” As an after-thought, Ziggy added, “I’ll probably be out with Noa later, so I probably won’t be home for lunch.”

Her mother practically escorted Ziggy to the dining table, a watchful eye on her – probably to make sure she didn’t pull a Houdini and disappear. “Noa? Why?”

“Lunch date.” The waffles cut easily under her butter knife and Ziggy dragged a slice of it through the thick syrup. She pretended to be absolutely fascinated with her waffles, instead of glancing up to see her mother’s undoubtedly confused eyes.

Her mother gave her a moment of peace before she asked, letting Ziggy chew her food before she could further investigate. Ziggy took her time; the waffle became soggy mush too soon. “Lunch date? Is he paying? When your mama and tata were dating, he was such a gentleman. He used to take me to all the restaurants and would always pay for my bill like it was nothing! I wouldn’t be surprised if he laid down in a puddle just so I wouldn’t get my shoes wet. You are like your mama, Zdzisława, you like gentlemen – only a gentlemen could take care of someone as particular as you. I hope this Noa is a gentleman.”

Ziggy flushed – only her mother could make her face this red so fast. Ziggy couldn’t wait to get out of this house. Even her mother thought she was high-maintenance, and her mom was the most high-maintenance woman she’d ever met. It was time to go-go-go before the topic spiraled even further downwards.

“I should go now, I don’t want to be too late.” Ziggy made an exaggerated glance at her wrist. She wasn’t wearing a watch, but her mother couldn’t tell that since she was wearing long sleeves.
“All right, I’ll clean the dining table, you hurry on and go.”

Ziggy rushed out the door and didn’t bother to look back; she might have even broken something when she slammed her car door too hard. Ziggy gripped the steering wheel and let muscle memory take her to the theater.

The theater is a sad looking, especially in the morning. It’s easy to ignore it falling apart at night, when they’re working like busy bees; but with the light shining on it, all the cracks and crumbs are visible. Ziggy belatedly realizes that she wasn’t late at all – her clock must be fast instead of slow – since there’s only two cars in the parking lot. Hers and, most certainly, the Director’s.

The hidden wooden floor creaks under Ziggy’s feet and after a small cracking sound, she’s a little bit scared one of the planks will collapse. When she walks into the theater, she can see the wild brown mop of Art’s hair.

“How long do you think it will take the others?” The question comes out more exasperated and snippy than Ziggy meant it to, but she wasn’t going to correct herself any time soon.

Hollywood University | The Rich vs. The Poor

I'm working on a character and I hope it will be up soon :)

Abracadabra! [Theater-Based Slice of Life]

<Snipped quote by Jacobite>


Have a like, my buddy, my pal.

@murdoc

anybody who uses a sunny in philly reaction gif is the love of my life.

Marry me.

Abracadabra! [Theater-Based Slice of Life]

Ziggy

^{Female | Twenty-nine | Demiromantic-Bisexual
Let's get Ziggy with it.}

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

There’s always that person who looks exactly like how their personality is – and Ziggy is that person. With her triangular face, slanted eyebrows, and almond eyes, she almost looks a bit like a fox, if you turn your head the right way. Her lips are small and her cupid’s bow strong; and when she smiles, it’s charmingly twisted, like she knows something you don’t. Ziggy is of mid-height (being 5’6”) and isn’t particularly muscular or weak. However, her hips flare out slightly and her thighs are strong and thick – Ziggy is really proud of her thighs.

Ziggy puts in a lot of effort to make it look like she didn’t put any effort in, as confusing as it sounds. Every two days, she shaves the left side of her head clean and smooth, making sure to not to have jagged edges or a missed patch. Her short hair, which is normally a frizzy and curly nightmare, has been straightened and mussed with hair gel – no matter how much she straightens it, though, it will always be the slightest bit wavy. Before bed, Ziggy cleans her face carefully to keep her skin smooth – except her hands are a lost cause, the palms calloused from messing around on set all day. The only heavy makeup she likes to wear is around her eyes, preferring her eyeliner in the typical cat-eye style and smoky eyeshadow – though she tends to smudge her makeup the slightest so it doesn’t look immaculate. She also makes sure to always smell nice – she likes the heavy, non-flowery bottled eucalyptus scent.

Ziggy stands tall and straight, but still relaxed. She never slouches, but her posture can’t be described as rigid because she seems to be perfectly confident and at home. Ziggy tends to cross her arms a lot when standing still, or tucking her hands in her pockets – back and front. She doesn’t like the feeling of her arms just hanging around. Ziggy has an intimidating walk, as silly as it sounds, because she tends to walk like she’s on a mission – fast, but not hurried, and determined.

Ziggy could be considered as someone stony as she typically doesn’t give anything away through her body or her voice. Her body tends to always be straight and never quiver under attention or show discomfort, and her raspy voice is deadpan. Any emotion that could be conveyed through her voice is killed by the fact that everything she says sounds like an insult or sarcasm – it’s really hard giving compliments for her.

Ziggy has “Przemyslaw” tattooed on the side of her right rib cage and “Ciekawość to pierwszy stopień do piekła” tattooed on her left hip. Ziggy has her ears pierced three times and a belly ring, and she hates the idea of piercing her face – to each their own, though. She has a burn scar on her left shoulder blade that travels down to a few inches about her elbow and is the reason why she only wears long sleeves or jackets. While Ziggy enjoys to appear punk rock, she also likes to be vaguely professional. Ziggy tends to wear tight dark jeans, heeled boots, and a Henley or v-neck under a leather jacket.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Ziggy has always been the rebellious type – she didn’t exactly like being told what to do. She had a natural hate for authority, which led her to do quite the opposite as a teenager and got her into a whole lot of trouble. Mischievous, Ziggy is always concocting pranks and plans to pull something over someone – it’s something she’s been doing since she was a little girl. But it wasn’t just pranks that Ziggy would plan; sometimes Ziggy just liked to get into trouble, do things she shouldn’t be doing, and she had to lie to cover it up most of the time. Covering her tracks quickly built up her lying abilities, giving Ziggy a sly quality in her that leaves her glib and sharp-witted. Most of the time, Ziggy just uses her slyness to excuse her slight laziness.

Acerbic sarcasm and gruff threats of violence are Ziggy’s primary form of communication. That isn’t to say she’s a woman of little words, Ziggy likes to think she talks the average amount as other people. Rather, Ziggy has a problem with communicating how she really feels to others and would rather cover up her vulnerabilities and awkwardness towards the genuine with harsh rebukes. Ziggy is quite the confident person, and is satisfied with her personality and looks; however, she has a deep and crippling fear. When in front of a group of people, she ends up speechless and has even fainted once or twice.

The idea of a rebel brings to mind a grungy girl, hair mussed and completely disorganized. And, maybe, in appearance, Ziggy fits that. But that’s where it ends. Because, you see, Ziggy is a micromanager. Everything in her life has to be absolutely perfect – everything in her house is organized; she color codes her closet, organizes her books by author’s name, etcetera etcetera. She can be quite the control freak and tends to come off as bossy when she tells people what to do all the time when it comes to work. A born perfectionist, people often get exasperated by her need to have everything flawless. If something isn’t perfect, Ziggy becomes neurotic about it and will chew her nails to the quick. It’s safe to say, that when it comes to working in a team, Ziggy would much rather take charge and have others follow.

𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦 & 𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

✓ Mid-afternoon naps
✓ Cake
✓ Hot chocolate
✓ Big dogs

✗ Wet socks
✗ Funerals
✗ Long hair
✗ Sports

𝗛𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔

Zdzisława Gniewek was five when her family immigrated to Pennsylvania, USA. Zdzisława had found the whole move exhausting, even at five years old she remembers that – it was a hard move, her parents had no money to buy a good house, only a shitty apartment with leaks and gross neighbors, and her little three-year-old brother, Przemyslaw, was whining and crying most of the time.

Zdzisława was enrolled in kindergarten and, predictably, hated it – especially since she couldn’t speak a lick of English and understood jack shit. And when she wasn’t at school, she was in their rundown apartment watching Przemyslaw while both her parents worked – they didn’t have enough money to afford a babysitter and knew no one who would watch their children. So, Zdzisława did the babysitting – and, because she was so young, the door was locked and bolted out of their reach so Zdzisława and Przemyslaw could neither get kidnapped or leave. Mostly, all they did was play puzzles and eat cereal.

Zdzisława was a curious child and often tricked her little brother, Przemyslaw, into joining her in her little schemes. One day, after school when Zdzisława was seven and Przemyslaw was five, Zdziława had talked her brother into playing a game with her. She dubbed the game “Supervillian.” In the game, Zdzisława would play the supervillain and would put her stuffed animals in precarious situations and Przemyslaw had to stop her in creative ways before time ran out. Mostly it was simple things, like stopping her from flushing the stuffed bear, or from ripping it apart. However, this particular afternoon, Zdzisława wanted to up the game. At the time, she was learning about the dangers in fire in school (through the two years she has been in America, she has grasped the basics of English, though she was far behind her peers). So, she wanted to see what it would be like if her stuffed elephant was set on fire. Her parents were working and it was just the two of them – it was really easy for Zdzisława to find the lighter that her mom used for smoking. Her brother didn’t save the elephant on time.

The elephant went up in flames and Zdzisława dropped it in a panic when it burnt her fingers. She left the room and went to the bathroom to grab some water and put it out, but by the time she got back her entire mattress was on fire and it was spreading to her curtains and she tried to throw water on it but it didn’t do a damn thing. Zdzisława grabbed Przemyslaw and pushed him to the ground, made him crawl in front of her to the door. Except, it was bolted – like it usually is, so they didn’t go out. Zdzisława banged on the door for help, and started yelling to get attention. Her neighbors stirred at the smell of smoke and she could hear them panicking and leaving outside. The fire was starting to creep towards the door and so she dragged Przemyslaw, who was coughing and had rattled breath, into the bathtub and ran water – hoping it would keep the fire away. She then left him there and went to the windows. Most of them were latched except for one, and that had fire burning away the wallpaper and carpet. She reached a hand through anyways and tried to wriggle the window open to get her and her brother out. Her sleeve caught fire though and she stumbled away, smacking at her shoulder and arm, trying to get the fire off. Eventually the pain became too much and she blacked out.

Later, she woke up in the hospital with 3rd degree burns on her shoulder and arm and to the news that her brother was in a coma from carbon monoxide poisoning. Two weeks later, he died.

When Zdzisława healed, they moved from Pennsylvania to St. James, Indiana. Zdzisława went to a new school and became withdrawn and uncommunicative to her peers. Though, her classmates never stopped trying to befriend her – they started to call her “Ziggy” since no one could actually pronounce her name. Most of the time, Ziggy struggled in school till the second grade due to her limited knowledge in English, until her teacher started to keep her in at recess and after school to teach her English. Of course, she didn’t learn English in a year, but continued to receive lessons from her second-grade teacher even after she had graduated elementary school and in the first year of middle school. By her freshman year in high school, Ziggy had lost her accent and was on par with her peers in English.

In her sophomore year of high school, Ziggy’s English class took a field trip to the local theater. They saw Antigone and in that moment, Ziggy fell in love with theater. However, she had developed a fear of public speaking when she was a child due to her limited English at the time, and so she never chased that pipedream. Instead, she went on to become an interior designer for a company and wasted behind a desk in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, designing the insides of malls and stores for her company.

Ziggy never did anything notable in that time period – never married, never had a serious boyfriend or girlfriend, just stood still in her small apartment and at her ugly ass office desk. Until the anniversary of Przemyslaw’s death in 2007, when she proceeded to get drunk off her ass after visiting her old home and destroying her bastard of a boss’s office in the middle of the night. She was obviously fired the next day, and her work reputation completely destroyed – no other companies would hire her.

Ziggy left to go visit her parents in Indiana, where they remained in St. James. For an entire week, she laid in her pajamas, ate cereal, and watched mindless TV. To cheer her up, her aging mother dragged her to a small production of Antigone by the small theater company in the town. The next day, Ziggy impulsively turned in her resume to them and officially joined the company.

𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔

● Set Designing
● Organizing
● Scheming
● Lying

𝗪𝗘𝗔𝗞𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

● Fear of public speaking
● Lack of acting experience
● Bad teamwork skills

𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗘𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Set Designer - Ziggy works on the creation of the theatre set; she works on the painting and the building of the fake buildings and the general visual aesthetics.

Supporting actress - Ziggy works mostly as a background character with very, very, very little lines due to her fear of public speaking. However, Ziggy dreams of overcoming her public speaking problem and breaking out as one of the lead actresses.

𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗖.
▔▔▔▔

Chicago - She would like to play Velma Kelly, really, really badly.

Abracadabra! [Theater-Based Slice of Life]

@Jacobite

Ziggy

^{Female | Twenty-nine | Demiromantic-Bisexual
Let's get Ziggy with it.}

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

There’s always that person who looks exactly like how their personality is – and Ziggy is that person. With her triangular face, slanted eyebrows, and almond eyes, she almost looks a bit like a fox, if you turn your head the right way. Her lips are small and her cupid’s bow strong; and when she smiles, it’s charmingly twisted, like she knows something you don’t. Ziggy is of mid-height (being 5’6”) and isn’t particularly muscular or weak. However, her hips flare out slightly and her thighs are strong and thick – Ziggy is really proud of her thighs.

Ziggy puts in a lot of effort to make it look like she didn’t put any effort in, as confusing as it sounds. Every two days, she shaves the left side of her head clean and smooth, making sure to not to have jagged edges or a missed patch. Her short hair, which is normally a frizzy and curly nightmare, has been straightened and mussed with hair gel – no matter how much she straightens it, though, it will always be the slightest bit wavy. Before bed, Ziggy cleans her face carefully to keep her skin smooth – except her hands are a lost cause, the palms calloused from messing around on set all day. The only heavy makeup she likes to wear is around her eyes, preferring her eyeliner in the typical cat-eye style and smoky eyeshadow – though she tends to smudge her makeup the slightest so it doesn’t look immaculate. She also makes sure to always smell nice – she likes the heavy, non-flowery bottled eucalyptus scent.

Ziggy stands tall and straight, but still relaxed. She never slouches, but her posture can’t be described as rigid because she seems to be perfectly confident and at home. Ziggy tends to cross her arms a lot when standing still, or tucking her hands in her pockets – back and front. She doesn’t like the feeling of her arms just hanging around. Ziggy has an intimidating walk, as silly as it sounds, because she tends to walk like she’s on a mission – fast, but not hurried, and determined.

Ziggy could be considered as someone stony as she typically doesn’t give anything away through her body or her voice. Her body tends to always be straight and never quiver under attention or show discomfort, and her raspy voice is deadpan. Any emotion that could be conveyed through her voice is killed by the fact that everything she says sounds like an insult or sarcasm – it’s really hard giving compliments for her.

Ziggy has “Przemyslaw” tattooed on the side of her right rib cage and “Ciekawość to pierwszy stopień do piekła” tattooed on her left hip. Ziggy has her ears pierced three times and a belly ring, and she hates the idea of piercing her face – to each their own, though. She has a burn scar on her left shoulder blade that travels down to a few inches about her elbow and is the reason why she only wears long sleeves or jackets. While Ziggy enjoys to appear punk rock, she also likes to be vaguely professional. Ziggy tends to wear tight dark jeans, heeled boots, and a Henley or v-neck under a leather jacket.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Ziggy has always been the rebellious type – she didn’t exactly like being told what to do. She had a natural hate for authority, which led her to do quite the opposite as a teenager and got her into a whole lot of trouble. Mischievous, Ziggy is always concocting pranks and plans to pull something over someone – it’s something she’s been doing since she was a little girl. But it wasn’t just pranks that Ziggy would plan; sometimes Ziggy just liked to get into trouble, do things she shouldn’t be doing, and she had to lie to cover it up most of the time. Covering her tracks quickly built up her lying abilities, giving Ziggy a sly quality in her that leaves her glib and sharp-witted. Most of the time, Ziggy just uses her slyness to excuse her slight laziness.

Acerbic sarcasm and gruff threats of violence are Ziggy’s primary form of communication. That isn’t to say she’s a woman of little words, Ziggy likes to think she talks the average amount as other people. Rather, Ziggy has a problem with communicating how she really feels to others and would rather cover up her vulnerabilities and awkwardness towards the genuine with harsh rebukes. Ziggy is quite the confident person, and is satisfied with her personality and looks; however, she has a deep and crippling fear. When in front of a group of people, she ends up speechless and has even fainted once or twice.

The idea of a rebel brings to mind a grungy girl, hair mussed and completely disorganized. And, maybe, in appearance, Ziggy fits that. But that’s where it ends. Because, you see, Ziggy is a micromanager. Everything in her life has to be absolutely perfect – everything in her house is organized; she color codes her closet, organizes her books by author’s name, etcetera etcetera. She can be quite the control freak and tends to come off as bossy when she tells people what to do all the time when it comes to work. A born perfectionist, people often get exasperated by her need to have everything flawless. If something isn’t perfect, Ziggy becomes neurotic about it and will chew her nails to the quick. It’s safe to say, that when it comes to working in a team, Ziggy would much rather take charge and have others follow.

𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦 & 𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

✓ Mid-afternoon naps
✓ Cake
✓ Hot chocolate
✓ Big dogs

✗ Wet socks
✗ Funerals
✗ Long hair
✗ Sports

𝗛𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔

Zdzisława Gniewek was five when her family immigrated to Pennsylvania, USA. Zdzisława had found the whole move exhausting, even at five years old she remembers that – it was a hard move, her parents had no money to buy a good house, only a shitty apartment with leaks and gross neighbors, and her little three-year-old brother, Przemyslaw, was whining and crying most of the time.

Zdzisława was enrolled in kindergarten and, predictably, hated it – especially since she couldn’t speak a lick of English and understood jack shit. And when she wasn’t at school, she was in their rundown apartment watching Przemyslaw while both her parents worked – they didn’t have enough money to afford a babysitter and knew no one who would watch their children. So, Zdzisława did the babysitting – and, because she was so young, the door was locked and bolted out of their reach so Zdzisława and Przemyslaw could neither get kidnapped or leave. Mostly, all they did was play puzzles and eat cereal.

Zdzisława was a curious child and often tricked her little brother, Przemyslaw, into joining her in her little schemes. One day, after school when Zdzisława was seven and Przemyslaw was five, Zdziława had talked her brother into playing a game with her. She dubbed the game “Supervillian.” In the game, Zdzisława would play the supervillain and would put her stuffed animals in precarious situations and Przemyslaw had to stop her in creative ways before time ran out. Mostly it was simple things, like stopping her from flushing the stuffed bear, or from ripping it apart. However, this particular afternoon, Zdzisława wanted to up the game. At the time, she was learning about the dangers in fire in school (through the two years she has been in America, she has grasped the basics of English, though she was far behind her peers). So, she wanted to see what it would be like if her stuffed elephant was set on fire. Her parents were working and it was just the two of them – it was really easy for Zdzisława to find the lighter that her mom used for smoking. Her brother didn’t save the elephant on time.

The elephant went up in flames and Zdzisława dropped it in a panic when it burnt her fingers. She left the room and went to the bathroom to grab some water and put it out, but by the time she got back her entire mattress was on fire and it was spreading to her curtains and she tried to throw water on it but it didn’t do a damn thing. Zdzisława grabbed Przemyslaw and pushed him to the ground, made him crawl in front of her to the door. Except, it was bolted – like it usually is, so they didn’t go out. Zdzisława banged on the door for help, and started yelling to get attention. Her neighbors stirred at the smell of smoke and she could hear them panicking and leaving outside. The fire was starting to creep towards the door and so she dragged Przemyslaw, who was coughing and had rattled breath, into the bathtub and ran water – hoping it would keep the fire away. She then left him there and went to the windows. Most of them were latched except for one, and that had fire burning away the wallpaper and carpet. She reached a hand through anyways and tried to wriggle the window open to get her and her brother out. Her sleeve caught fire though and she stumbled away, smacking at her shoulder and arm, trying to get the fire off. Eventually the pain became too much and she blacked out.

Later, she woke up in the hospital with 3rd degree burns on her shoulder and arm and to the news that her brother was in a coma from carbon monoxide poisoning. Two weeks later, he died.

When Zdzisława healed, they moved from Pennsylvania to St. James, Indiana. Zdzisława went to a new school and became withdrawn and uncommunicative to her peers. Though, her classmates never stopped trying to befriend her – they started to call her “Ziggy” since no one could actually pronounce her name. Most of the time, Ziggy struggled in school till the second grade due to her limited knowledge in English, until her teacher started to keep her in at recess and after school to teach her English. Of course, she didn’t learn English in a year, but continued to receive lessons from her second-grade teacher even after she had graduated elementary school and in the first year of middle school. By her freshman year in high school, Ziggy had lost her accent and was on par with her peers in English.

In her sophomore year of high school, Ziggy’s English class took a field trip to the local theater. They saw Antigone and in that moment, Ziggy fell in love with theater. However, she had developed a fear of public speaking when she was a child due to her limited English at the time, and so she never chased that pipedream. Instead, she went on to become an interior designer for a company and wasted behind a desk in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, designing the insides of malls and stores for her company.

Ziggy never did anything notable in that time period – never married, never had a serious boyfriend or girlfriend, just stood still in her small apartment and at her ugly ass office desk. Until the anniversary of Przemyslaw’s death in 2007, when she proceeded to get drunk off her ass after visiting her old home and destroying her bastard of a boss’s office in the middle of the night. She was obviously fired the next day, and her work reputation completely destroyed – no other companies would hire her.

Ziggy left to go visit her parents in Indiana, where they remained in St. James. For an entire week, she laid in her pajamas, ate cereal, and watched mindless TV. To cheer her up, her aging mother dragged her to a small production of Antigone by the small theater company in the town. The next day, Ziggy impulsively turned in her resume to them and officially joined the company.

𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔

● Set Designing
● Organizing
● Scheming
● Lying

𝗪𝗘𝗔𝗞𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

● Fear of public speaking
● Lack of acting experience
● Bad teamwork skills

𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗘𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Set Designer - Ziggy works on the creation of the theatre set; she works on the painting and the building of the fake buildings and the general visual aesthetics.

Supporting actress - Ziggy works mostly as a background character with very, very, very little lines due to her fear of public speaking. However, Ziggy dreams of overcoming her public speaking problem and breaking out as one of the lead actresses.

𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗖.
▔▔▔▔

Chicago - She would like to play Velma Kelly, really, really badly.

Chasing the Dragon ♔ Fishguy & Jacobite

Bo didn’t know if time was moving slow or fast.

She had seen him in her rearview mirror, that car she noticed earlier was zooming and zigzagging around the other cars. She hadn’t thought anything of it, just wrote him off as an overly ambitious driver wanting to get his name in the game. Maybe that was her arrogance talking.

The distant blast of a horn came just a tad too late. Bo could hear the sound of her tires tearing – and, well, the first thought to her mind was: fuck, those were $40,000 tires. The tires run flat and road jostles her around, her seatbelt digging into her collarbone like a knife. In her mirror, Bo can see the son of a bitch take aim again and she attempts to swerve out of the way, but she isn’t exactly mobile at the moment.

This is when time slows down, the moment where his finger presses the trigger and the bullet wedges itself into her gas tank. Everything else is like snapshots, single moments that her brain barely registers as her car flips and skids across the road, into the direct line of the moving cars. Heat makes her neck prickle with sweat, but it’s not scorching. Her precious, and very fucking expensive car, slides to a stop.

Bo is disoriented at first, and she presses her hands above her onto the roof. It is only when she can feel the hot blood rush to her head that she realizes that she’s upside down, barely held up by the pressing, cutting strap of her seatbelt. She unbuckles herself, slamming down onto her knees hard, glass slicing through her leather pants. Bo is scrambling for purchase, for a gun, a weapon, anything, but her feet have no traction it seems and she keeps slipping on her roof and her legs are shaking from adrenaline. Bo is vaguely aware of something wet and sticky on her face, but she pushes it from her mind – she can’t think about that, not right now.

Through the shattered window – she paid good money to make those windows durable, what a fucking ripoff – she can see boots crunching on debris and asphalt and tiny pieces of her prized car. There’s a vague idea of death, niggling in the back of her brain, causing her brow to sweat, but she can’t quite process the thought. She can’t die, she just can’t.

“Where the fuck is my gun. Where the fuck is my gun. My gun, my gun, my gun.” Bo chants desperately, her hands trembling as they attempt to open the latch of her glovebox. The glovebox is slightly squished, and tented in the middle from slamming against the road again and again. It’s stuck, it won’t open and Bo begins to panic even more then.

Because, death seems a lot more plausible now.