Dec 24, 2023
WEWE late birthday gift for my LOVELY girlfriend @lektricfergus ILYSM
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WEWE late birthday gift for my LOVELY girlfriend @lektricfergus ILYSM
GUYS JO IS HIGHKEY GAY SHE’S NOT GONNA END UP WITH LANCE Y’ALL NEED TO LEAVE MY LESBIAN QUEEN ALONE HAHAHAHAHA 💀🤣
TESS BECKETT - ex-Seattle police officer, daughter of Thomas Beckett, Deputy of Hope County
tess’ arc in far cry 5 isn’t about her realizing that she’d prefer living in hope county to seattle, it’s about realizing that she’s been trying to run from things. she’s never dealt with her childhood trauma, her complicated feelings about both of her parents, etc.
she’s always isolated herself even from the people who love her because staying with them means facing her past every day and her settling down in seattle was an escape from that. she got to start a whole new life and be a new person but she also didn’t have any support or community that back home had.
2, 3, 12, 14 for your new dep
Does your OC have a temper?Yes, but it takes a lot to bring it out. Tess is a pretty level-headed person so you gotta poke her quite a bit to get her angry. But when she does it’s an explosion.
Religious beliefs?Tess’ family were members of a cult in Utah up until she was thirteen. Her mother chose to stay with the cult and actively tried to prevent Tess’ father and her from leaving. Needless to say, she’s not a big fan of religion in general. Spiritually, she’s not sure what’s out there but that’s not really what she’s concerned with most of the time.
Are they a morning person or a night owl?Morning person! She likes how peaceful it is in the morning. Tess loves to just sit out on the porch and watch the fog roll over the fields in the sunshine with a cup of tea.
If you could compare your OC to an animal what would that be?Definitely a mountain lion! It goes with the Montana vibe and also describes her really well as a person.
info dump! info dump!
ahhHH ok
her full name is johanna mary partridge. she’s named after her paternal grandmother.
born and raised in hope county by her father on their farm just outside of fall’s end. her mother was a drug addict and left with jo was 2.
eventually moved to seattle to study criminology (and get away from hope county). came back before graduation to take care of her sick father who eventually passed away a couple months after she arrived.
found that her father had been in very bad debt up until his death. she signed up and took all of the necessary requirements to become deputy in hope county, staying to settle her father’s debts and loose ends.
incredibly bitter about being back in hope county but throughout the game realizes how incredibly beautiful her hometown + county are and how much she missed some of the people there. she kind of falls in love with hope county again.
terrified of heights.
loves to fish + is a great hunter.
consumes 20 redbulls a day.
does she love hudson or sharky more? answer: nick and cheeseburger. platonically.
favorite song is unironically before he cheats by carrie underwood. will start singing it at the top of her lungs because it’s a straight banger.
has the shortest temper but tries to act like she doesn’t.
was a quiet, goody two-shoes kid in school. always got good grades, helped around the farm.
weapons are: shot gun, sniper rifle, compound bow and the ‘we the people’ pistol.
two gays in a library
Her combat boots are far too old for her. Joleisa knows this because before they belonged to her, they belonged to her older sister Amelia, and before they belonged to Amelia they belonged to a stranger--an artist, perhaps, or a steel-knuckled punk rocker with spikes in their hair and gold teeth. Nevertheless, that stranger gave their combat boots to a charity shop and they ended up being hers. Joleisa also knows they are too old because they have holes in the soles and she stepped in a puddle on her way there. Her feet are drenched.
It’s a rare sight to see Joleisa Bones enter a library willingly. Out of her seventeen years in the school she had made about five consecutive trips, none of which had been pleasant. One was with Amelia, who insisted on dragging her younger sister along a week before finals because, as she put it, “I am not spending my well-earned summer break listening to Mum chew your ear off about Applying Yourself and Getting Your Act Together. No offence, babe. But it’s just not happening.” Jo stuck it out for an hour before wandering off under the guise of searching for a book. Amelia found her hours later curled up in a chair in the non fiction section, snoring softly.
If it wasn’t for this girl Jo could be back in her common room, boots kicked off and warming her cold toes near the fire. She grumbles under her breath, pushes a fire engine red curl of hair behind her ear. She makes her way to the poetry section, folds her arms in front of her chest, and waits.
“Never knew you were so into the classics.” The soft drawl breaks her stream of thought. Jo jumps, curses herself for it.
Gwen Ridley stands five inches taller than her with a smirk on her face; blonde hair tumbles out from her cap down to her waist, and the denim jacket thrown over her shoulders is laden with colorful badges and patches.
“Never knew you were,” Jo fires back, raising her eyebrows. “Why’d you suggest for us to meet in the library, anyway? Didn’t think they were the kind of places skater chicks hang out in.” Her stature is upright and firm, almost like she’s ready for a fight. (The only thing she’s fighting is the blush that is creeping up on her freckled cheeks, but she certainly won’t let Gwen know that.) In comparison, the taller girl is more relaxed--she leans against the bookshelf, casually picks up a copy of Plath’s Assorted Poems. Her gaze flits lazily between the book and the girl in front of her.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Jo Bones. I’m a very multifaceted person.” Her smile reaches her forest-green eyes, which gleam. Jo melts. “You met me at a metal concert, for God’s sake. I have many interests.”
She’s lying. The last time she read a poem was when she was thirteen and attempting to recite Wordsworth’s Daffodils off by heart, and the only reason she had attended the concert was because her best friend forced her to.
Jo laughs, surprisingly high-pitched and innocent sounding for such a tiny, ferocious thing. “Because you were so at home at that concert? Did you happen to forget when I had to help you up off the floor?”
She sounds bitchier than she means to--she tries to make up for it by offering the girl a grin back. She has a nasty habit of overcompensating for her nerves, trying to mask them with confidence and sharp comebacks.
Gwen rolls her eyes. “No, I didn’t.” A pause. “I didn’t forget when you kissed me either.”
Jo lifts her chin up indignantly; she recognizes those words, has had the same conversation with girls before. She knows how it goes. It’s all fun and games when they’re in a drunken stupor, singing and dancing and getting injured in mosh pits. The next day is a different story. They get cold and standoffish or laugh it off because it’s was just a bit of fun and they have a boyfriend, anyway.
“You kissed me back.” She narrows her eyes at the blonde’s undoubtedly very pretty face, wondering why you would arrange to meet someone to have a go at them for making out with you at a loud, sweaty, chaotic concert.
Gwen lets out an exasperated sigh, reaches out to clasp Jo’s skinny forearm. “Calm down. Jesus, are you always this defensive?” She loosens her grip, locking eyes with the little lion girl standing in front of her. She is momentarily distracted by her face, stops to study it. Jo sort of resembles a children’s book character; paper-white skin, big wide eyes, button nose, a smattering of freckles like somebody attacked her with a paintbrush, Pollock-style. “I’m not having a go at you.”
It feels like her fingertips are burning holes into Jo’s skin. She hates herself for being so goddamn jumpy. She wishes she could be cool and calm and collected like Gwen, but when she likes someone--really likes them, not just wants to sleep with them--all hopes of that goes out the window. All she can think of is how gentle the girl’s voice sounded when she said that last sentence and how devastatingly cute she is when she looks at her like that. She tries to say something, manages to get out a hesitant “so...”
“So.” Gwen straightens up, hands on hips. “When are you going to take me out?”
Joleisa doesn’t try to fight the surprised smile that spreads across her face; she looks bashful, almost an entirely different person than the neon girl at the concert who had pulled the blonde in by her waist, kissing her so intently that the pulsing music became mere background noise. Although she seems to try, in her beaten up leather jacket and battered boots and mini skirt, she can’t hide how small and delicate she really looks.
She takes a deep breath and extends out her hand, palm side up. A sign of surrender. “How about right now?”
aesthetics
jo: little lion kids and big combat boots and sharp teeth and leather jackets and bruised knees and forgotten homework and secret desperate kisses and hands curled in messy hair and fucking and fucking up and realising just how small you really are
elliot: shadowy eyes and faded photographs and messy watercolor paintings and old jumpers and skeleton hands clasping each other so tightly they might break and the colour blue and runningrunningrunning and please don’t leave me and i promise i won’t
rita: bubblegum pink and lacy underwear and perfect curls and claw marks and broken mirrors and beauty queen tears and pulling heads off flowers and makeup stained sheets and knee socks and eating men like air
charlie: summertime girls and round glasses and gap toothed grins and sunflowers blooming and plath and atwood and dickinson and messy beds and dim lights and soft fairy kisses and big belly laughs and downhill bike rides and constellation freckles and love flooding out of you like a broken tap
gwen: brightly coloured skateboards and dirty white sneakers and tangled hair and your heart permanently stuck in your throat and dinosaur shaped sweets and open roads and outer space and adventure and learning to be alone but not quite lonely