ipsoㅤfacto

...ㅤ𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔ㅤ𝑢𝑝ㅤ𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟ㅤ𝒐𝒙𝒚𝒈𝒆𝒏, 𝑦𝑜𝑢ㅤ𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤ㅤ𝑖'𝑚ㅤ𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤.

[baztians]

         CLIVE  SEBASTIAN.  53.  CIS  MAN.  HE/HIM  is  here!  They’ve  lived  in  Cascade  for  32  YEARS  and  currently  reside  in  SHASTA  HEIGHTS.  BAZ  is  an  OWNER  &  HEAD  CHEF  at  SEBASTIAN'S  and  frequently  hears  that  they  look  a  lot  like  JUDE  LAW.  Funny,  huh?  If  ever  caught  by  Letterboxd,  they’d  say  THE  GREAT  GATSBY (2013)  is  in  their  Top  4  and  the  theme  song  to  their  life’s  soundtrack  would  be  SUNDAY  MORNING  by  THE  VELVET  UNDERGROUND.

basics.

full  name:  clive  elmer  sebastian 

nicknames:  baz,  picked  up  in  high  school  and  dragged  all  the  way  into  adulthood.  depending  on  who  says  it,  it  can  be  fond,  insulting  or  both  at  once.  clive  is  mostly  reserved  for  family,  childhood  friends  and  anyone  who  knew  him  before  his  big  move  to  cascade,  definitely  more  personal

date  of  birth:  may  22nd,  1972 

birthplace:  portland,  oregon 

pronouns:  he/him 

orientation:  unlabelled  (probably  pan  or  poly) 

religion:  somewhere  between  polytheist  and  pantheist  (recognizing  a  pattern…)

languages: english,  spanish,  italian

personality.

positive  traits:  ambitious,  audacious,  gregarious,  munificent,  resilient

negative  traits:  hedonistic,  manipulative,  sanctimonious,  self-centered,  tactless

star  signs:  gemini  ☼,  libra  ↑,  gemini  ☾  #whatdatmean

mbti:  estj,  the  executive

enneagram:  3w4,  the  expert

love  languages:  words of affirmation,  gifts

desires:  to  feel  valuable,  admirable  and  successful.  equates  his  entire  self-worth  with  his  professional  success

fears:  regression,  irrelevance,  losing  the  room,  not  being  admired  once  he's  no  longer  impressive  enough  to  distract  from  how  awful  he  can  be.  also,  embarrassingly,  scary  things.  the  bigfoot  situation  gives  him  the  creeps  in  a  way  he  finds  deeply  undignified,  so  naturally  he's  decided  it  doesn't  exist

interests:  travelling  !!  whenever  time  allows,  experimenting  with  ingredients  and  films.  #cinephile  in  the  most  insufferable  way  where  three  stars  is  a  generous  rating.  he  also  has  a  thing  for  houses,  meaning  he  owns  a  few  properties  in  different  places,  rents  them  out  when  he  is  away  and  uses  them  whenever  he’s  passing  through  because  of  course  he  does

inspo: adam  jones  (burnt),  jay  gatsby  (the  great  gatsby),  tom  ripley  +  dickie  greenleaf  (the  talented  mr.  ripley)  and  maybe  a  little  don  draper

backstory.

triggers:  classism,  alcoholism,  infidelity,  parental  neglect,  s*icide  attempt,  hospitalization,  dysfunctional  family  dynamics.  (#damn…)

clive  sebastian  was  born  in  portland,  oregon,  the  middle  of  three  in  a  family  that  worked  hard  and  still  never  seemed  to  have  much  left  over.  he  wouldn't  call  his  childhood  tragic  because  it  wasn’t,  and  because  he  would  rather  die  than  sound  like  he  was  asking  for  pity.  his  father  worked  warehouse  shifts,  while  his  mother  picked  up  diner  work  whenever  she  could.  food  was  always  around  him  and  his  siblings,  only  it  came  more  through  staff  meals,  bruised  fruit,  diner  scraps  and  whatever  could  be  brought  home.  very  glamorous  origin  story  for  a  man  who  would  later  become  unbearable  about  tasting  notes.  he  was  not  starving,  but  he  knew  what  it  felt  like  to  be  the  kid  without  the  nicer  clothes  or  the  family  trips  other  people  talked  about.  getting  made  fun  of  for  it  did  not  make  him  humble,  obviously,  and  he  was  always  trying  to  get  ahead  of  the  joke  before  anyone  could  make  him  the  punchline.

being  the  middle  child  mostly  made  baz  allergic  to  being  overlooked.  no  one  ignored  him  but  he  hated  feeling  ordinary  in  a  house  where  everyone  already  had  their  role,  so  he  started  turning  himself  into  the  one  people  noticed.  charming  when  it  worked,  impossible  when  it  didn’t. by  high  school,  he  had  made  a  whole  personality  out  of  it.  charming,  competitive,  mouthy,  and  annoying  in  a  way  people  eventually  decided  was  entertaining.  he  started  working  at  a  small  restaurant  while  still  juggling  school which  started  as  a  money  thing  but,  the  kitchen  got  under  his  skin  quickly.  he  was  not  some  legendary  athlete,  but  he  was  good  enough  to  be  noticed. he  got  into  college  partly  through  baseball.  the  plan  was  something  sensible  like  business  or  hospitality,  while  cooking  stayed  the  job  that  paid  for  everything,  except  baz  is  baz  and  once  he  cared  about  something  too  much,  it  was  over  for  everyone  involved.  sorry  to  the  practical  degree,  you  were  never  making  it  out  alive.

he  met  his  wife  while  he  was  still  trying  to  become  someone.  she  knew  him  before  the  money,  before  sebastian’s.  she  saw  the  hungry,  messy  version  of  him  underneath  all  the  charm,  which  he  loved  at  first,  right  up  until  being  seen  started  feeling  a  little  too  close  to  being  held  accountable.  micah  came  along  in  his  final  year,  and  baz  had  no  idea  what  to  do  with  being  someone’s  father  at  first.  he  was  young,  broke,  scared  and  pretended  that  none  of  those  things  were  true,  then  she  was  there  and  suddenly  he  loved  her  in  a  way  that  caught  him  completely  off  guard.  his  first  real  achievement,  probably,  but  you  didn't  hear  that  from  me. he  really  did  try  to  be  a  good  father,  with  try  doing  a  lot  of  work  there.  he  showed  up  through  providing,  buying  things,  fixing  problems  and  making  sure  the  child  had  more  than  he  ever  did.  the  emotional  part  was  harder,  but  he  convinced  himself  that  giving  his  family  a  better  life  counted  for  most  of  it.  eventually,  he  and  his  wife  moved  to  cascade,  where  he  started  over  through  better  connections  and  bigger  plans.  sebastian’s  began  as  a  restaurant  and  slowly  became  proof  that  he  had  made  something  of  himself,  which  sounds  inspiring  until  you  remember  this  is  clive  sebastian.

his  wife  was  there  through  the  ugly  years  and  every  promise  that  it  would  all  pay  off  one  day.  then  it  actually  did  pay  off,  and  somehow  that  made  him  worse.  the  parties,  drinking  and  flirting  aka  networking,  were  easy  enough  for  him  to  excuse  as  part  of  the  job.  while  his  wife  was  home  with  his  daughter,  holding  the  actual  household  together,  he  was  out  convincing  himself  that  everything  he  did  was  for  them.  not  fully  a  lie,  but  not  fully  enough  either.  when  he  was  home,  he  could  be  affectionate,  but  he  was  also  distracted,  hungover  or  already  thinking  about  the  restaurant  again.  fights  became  flowers,  apologies  became  gifts  and  real  conversations  became  something  he  could  delay  as  long  as  money  kept  showing  up  #BIGPROVIDER  …  i  guess. she  tried  with  him  for  years,  first  with  patience,  then  honesty,  then  despair. 

things  between  them  had  been  getting  worse  for  a  while,  though  he  dealt  with  it  the  way  he  dealt  with  anything  he  could  not  charm,  control  or  pay  his  way  out  of.  after  her  attempt,  the  family  cracked  in  a  way  even  he  could  no  longer  dress  up  as  manageable.  it  scared  him  badly,  even  if  he  still  handled  it  in  the  baz  way,  by  trying  to  be  useful  after  already  being  too  late.  after  that,  his  relationship  with  his  wife  and  daughter  only  worsened,  especially  when  he  slipped  back  into  work  and  routine  instead  of  actually  dealing  with  it.  it  all  ended  eventually  and  she  left  cascade  to  stay  with  her  sister.  baz  let  himself  believe  the  distance  was  better  for  everyone  because  the  alternative  was  admitting  he  had  failed  at  the  one  thing  he  kept  claiming  all  of  this  was  for.

a  few  years  ago,  his  body  started  making  its  complaints  impossible  to  ignore.  a  night  of  too  much  drinking  turned  into  hospital  lights,  a  doctor  looking  entirely  too  unimpressed  with  him  and  a  very  pointed  conversation  about  habits,  stress  and  the  fact  that  he  was  not  thirty  anymore.  deeply  offensive,  honestly.  after  that,  he  started  trying  to  tone  it  down,  more  out  of  vanity  and  self-preservation  than  any  sudden  moral  awakening.  he  still  loves  pleasure,  attention,  control  and  being  admired  more  than  any  grown  man  should,  but  now  there's  at  least  some  awareness  that  he  cannot  keep  living  like  that.  still,  baz  has  the  career,  the  money,  the  name,  the  restaurant  and  all  the  proof  he  used  to  think  would  make  him  feel  secure.  naturally,  none  of  it  is  enough,  so  he  has  decided  another  michelin  star  will  fix  him.  surely.  definitely.

connections.

micah  sebastian.  his  daughter,  his  biggest  guilt  trip  and  one  of  the  few  people  who  can  still  make  him  feel  (and  look)  stupid.  he  loves  her,  but  he has  never  been  great  at  showing  it  without  making  things  awkward or unintentionally superficial.  their  relationship  is  still  strained  after  the  separation  and  everything  with  her  mother,  but  he  does  try. more tba. my dms are always open for plotting <33

[kylejdobbs]

open to: anyone where: Redwood Roots

The morning finds Kyle at Redwood Roots, never quite at home in a supermarket, always subconsciously longing for the exit. He gazes dissociatively at the options in the cereal aisle: every other box offering more protein, more fiber, less sugar, less gluten, grain free, microplastics free and nuclear radiation free. Maybe if he checks the fine print it'll promise him more than 4 hours of sleep and a healed relationship with his parents. He sets his basket down (contents: a tin of dark roast coffee and a single croissant, not in paper bag) and gazes into the abyss de céréales.

He spots one single, non-pretentious, radioactively colorful box of cereal in the corner. As he moves to grab it, he realizes someone else is doing the very same. "Oh. You go ahead," he offers. He's in checkered pyjama pants, long ones tucked into his worn Doc Marten boots. The tshirt peeking out of his zip up hoodie reads, white print on black: Don't bully me I'll cum. And he most likely has forgotten that fact. He looks down at his shirt and then back up at the person, connecting dots. "My grandma knitted it."

[baztians]

the  shirt  was,  regrettably,  the  first  thing  that  had  his  full  attention.  baz  looked  at  it,  looked  at  the  pajama  pants  tucked  into  the  boots,  then  looked  at  the  young man’s  face.  there  were  several  things  he  could  have  said.  most  of  them  would  get  him  asked  to  leave  redwood  roots,  or  worse,  make  him  seem  invested.  “  no,  she  didn’t,  ”  he  answered,  because  there  were  very  few  certainties  left  in  the  world,  but  that  was  apparently  one  of  them.  “  or if she did, i hope she’s receiving the support she deserves.  ”  only  then  did  he  release  the  box,  stepping  back  with  a  small,  unwilling  courtesy.  “  take  it.  please.  clearly  one  of  us  is  already  having  a  difficult  morning.  ”  then,  because  apparently  the  morning  had  more  to  offer,  he  noticed  the  basket.  “  is  that  croissant  loose?  ”  the  question  came  out  with  more  horror  than  he  had  meant  to  allow.

[micah-sebastian]

Who: @baztians Where: Sebastian's When: Evening, directly after the dinner rush.

For a town full of superstitions, Micah wasn't all that interested in the things that haunted. There were enough questions left unanswered, and a slew of different kinds of ghosts that left nothing but burning rage or indifference entirely. Her father, Clive, Baz, in her mind and soul was living in a constant state of in between the two.

It was nights like these where the seismic chart inside her scaled to eleven (er, high- whatever that would be) and a sort of fix was needed. She didn't think about it too much, not when it was happening at least, she was there to give Scoot his Eight. It'd be a waste of a trip if she didn't sit, try the latest cocktail on the menu. So she did. After her third Rose Julep, she entertained the couple next to her with recommendations from a local's perspective: where to dance, tourist traps that were worth it, where to get a good cocktail — "Sebastian's is overrated. You're much better off spending more at Pas Normal. The chef here's kind of - in a corporate slump. Not quite what he used to be." The words were too easy, as it wasn't true, and as the numbing of the bourbon set in, that when they finally, actually met eyes the superstitions that shrouded this city she blanched with a shake of the salt over her shoulder (just in case). "Ah, speak of the devil. I'm sure he'd sign an autograph—" she told the couple, gathering their coats, "Right?" Micah looked to Baz, head on.

[baztians]

one  of  the  servers  found  him  at  the  pass  with  that  careful  expression  people  wore  when  they  had  decided  a  problem  was  above  their  pay grade,  and  baz  came  out  from  the  kitchen  a  minute  later  with  his  sleeves  rolled  to  the  forearm,  carrying  the  heat  of  the  line  on  him  and  none  of  it  showing  on  his  face.  he  arrived  in  time  for  the  tail  end,  not  enough  to  be  certain  of  the  damage  but  more  than  enough  to  recognize  his  daughter  making  sport  of  him  in  front  of  strangers,  and  the  smile  he  gave  the  couple  was  apologetic,  almost  grateful.  “  i  promise  the  autograph  isn’t  worth  the  trouble,  ”  baz  said,  his attention kept neatly on the guests.  “  but  thank  you  for  coming  in tonight.  i  hope  everything was  taken care  of.  ”  he  stayed  cordial  until  they  had  their  coats  and  their  exit,  offering  them  the  sort  of  farewell  that  made  escape  feel  voluntary  rather  than  merciful. only  when  they  were  no  longer  part  of  the  room  did  he  allow  his  attention  to  return  to  her,  the  pleasantness  still  there  but  thinned  out,  not  gone  so  much  as  placed  where  it  could  do  the  least  damage. 

“  well,  ”  he  drawled, glancing at the scatter of salt near her hand. a ridiculous little precaution he might have found funny if it had not been aimed, however theatrically, in his direction. “ one of my servers said you were at the bar. from the look on their face, i gathered this wasn’t going to improve my evening. ”  it  was  not  loud  enough  to  become  a  scene,  but  it  had  the  dry  little  precision  of  a  knife  being  set  carefully  beside  a  plate.  he  rested  one  hand  on  the  bar  and  left  a  decent  space  between  them.  “ i was going to ask if you wanted anything from the kitchen, but given the salesmanship, i’m beginning to think you came in for something else. ” his gaze dropped to the glass, only long enough to make it clear he had noticed. “ at least the bar met your standards. ”

[happyheidi]

[guy60660]

Jude Law | Greg Williams