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BASICS;

Name: Roosevelt Nott Nickname(s): Rose Preferred pronouns: He/Him. Age: 47 Occupation: Unemployed Faceclaim: Norman Reedus

HISTORY;

         THIS TOWN’S no place for a bleeding heart but neither was the Nott household. That sure as shit didn’t stop them from bringing the worst of them into the world. For a while, his soft spots (weak spots) were plain for the world to see. That stopped soon after. When he be called a ‘pussy’ every time he’d shed a tear and every time the older boys kicked him into the dirt ‘cause his hair’s long or because he was helping a sick bird rather than hitting it.  No matter how many times he’d be called names or kicked into the dirt he’d still bleed out: Roosevelt just got better at hiding it. He’d only hear people calling him mean – with his narrow eyes and hair hiding his eyes and mouth shut tight unless it’s to tell someone where to shove it. Still, deep down, a man’s core is unchangeable. At least that’s what Roosevelt stands by. Everything in his life has shown that to be true. He had accepted he’d weep easier than the other boys, but at least smokes and liquor helped. He had accepted he will always look mean, but it was a good disguise.  Most of all he’d accepted his heart would keep being soft beneath the callouses. For that, there were no upsides. He had never accepted he’d find someone he could be soft around till he met Aileen. They started dating and the first time she’d called him her ‘Rose’ and they both beamed at the new nickname. They were still stuck in a shitty trailer and he still smoke and drank like the worst of them – but home was finally a softer world. Roosevelt dreamed of this gentle home for his child and when he got a hold of his baby girl he knew he was royally screwed. She was the prettiest, wide-eyed beauty who giggled till she was red in the face whenever he tickled her sides. ‘Fortune’ was without a doubt the only name that came to mind.

Unfortunately part of being Roosevelt Nott was also having piss poor luck. That proved unchangeable too. Aileen fell sick, first slowly, then all at once. Her pallid skin and wasting away ruined the softer world he wanted for Fortune. So he did what he did best: covered it up. Grew callouses over his soft spots and took the brunt of it. Aileen would weep with pain and then loneliness when Roosevelt had to leave for work. The only way he could take it was a stiff drink before getting home… Then another. And another.

When things took a turn for the worse they discovered how serious Aileen’s cancer was. Fortune was ten and he never saw her completely sober. It was easier that way for him, he thought. Better to see her Daddy tired rather than weeping. What sort of father would weep in front of his child? Ends up a better father would weep, The last few months of his complete family’s life are a blur. He’d gotten behind the wheel drunk more times than he’d admit to and in the end the only time that mattered was the time he dragged Fortune into the back seat because those doctors told him to plan for the ‘worst’.

Roosevelt thinks often about that day. His car got totalled. He lost his job soon after. His right hand shakes sometimes. His wife died. His daughter lost her hearing. Roosevelt lost everything. The only upside to Fortune’s deafness is she can’t hear when Roosevelt sobs himself to sleep. The liquor stopped working. The smokes are simply required now. There’s long road ahead  of him to getting anywhere near ‘ok’. Not that he thinks he’ll make it.