he’d loved her, once upon a time – something he could say about more people than he’d like to admit, feelings caught between his ribs, fluttering until paper wings burned up. he’d stare at her from across a table in the library, envisioning a future together, art galleries and interlocked pinkies. he’d write her letters, long ones, while she sat next to him trying to single handedly salvage his european renaissance grade, then crumple then up when the studying was done. all for the better, probably, when his passion simmered into admiration, head finally back square on his shoulders. it was comfortable now, to sit next to her and people watch, to fawn over others so openly that the old love didn’t find time to cross his mind. that’s just how riley was. tessa knew this by now. a romantic, of the hopeless variety. “maybe i would have been watching mr. kreuger, if he had been staring at me like this,” a finger wags between himself and the aforementioned francesca flatiron, but his interest in her wains as tessa speaks. “that means i’m, like, casper. some loser ghost that follows you around for all eternity. or until you help me with my unfinished earthly business, which, i believe, is landing that girl’s number.” his smile is toothy, a grin that warms his cheeks. ‘i’m so wet, riley, and it’s your fault.’ thick eyebrows skyrocket, words he’d once dreamed about hearing leaving tessa’s mouth, and he has to clutch his gut to keep from doubling over. he has to grab her shoulder to stabilize himself, laughter wracking his chest and he leans in, trying to look sultry. “i always knew i had that kind of effect on you,” he purrs, winking before he throws his head back. he’s reveling in her embarrassment, holding onto it longer than he should. “really bold of you, to announce it to the world like that. and in front of my new wife?” he hikes a thumb towards the other side of the room. “you’re shameless! i’m scandalized. if only the cameras had been rolling, so i could live in this moment forever.”
he looks at the world through a tinted sheen, the way tessa once did, the way she wishes she still did. maybe it’s a maternal instinct in her --- the instinct that gets sparked when she sees baby yoda or photos of cockerspaniels --- but something in riley’s eyes reminds her of youth, of naivety, and even if it’s innocence feigned she wants to nurture it ; to bundle him up in blankets and sing him to sleep. “being followed around by you for all eternity? gross. sounds more like a punishment for me than it would be for you,” tessa notes, her index finger booping against the tip of his nose and lingering in the dip between his nose and his mouth. “i feel like earthly purposes are somehow, i don’t know, more than that? like, scoring the number of a hot chick isn’t a big enough reason to bar you from passing on to the other side, or whatever, if you believe in that...” she doesn’t --- more aligned to buddhist philosophies of reincarnation than any western concept of an afterlife --- though she’ll humour his notions of undead spirits if it means he’ll give her that toothy smile.
"woah, woah, woah. safe word!” she gasps, as he grips hold of her shoulders, a tension rising in her chest. touch is foreign. it comes in waves or not at all, and she’s been starved of it too long to know the way her skin should feel when it’s held. “you can’t just--- say shit like all gravely and liam neeson and... and expect things to be fine! we need a safe word.” she has to tear her eyes away from his pseudo-sultry stare ; he’s eating it up --- the way she seems to squirm away from anything that borders on the suggestive --- though there was once a time she’d relish in the feeling of words twisting into something vulgar in her mouth, knees clenched on a piano stool and a man twice her age guiding her hand. “wow. i’m the one who’s shameless? you just--- you’re the one who started this! you said are you wet, i just answered the--” she falters, words spilling into each other in the heat of her flustered energy. “don’t you dare try to pin this on me,” tessa argues, shaking him off, though she misses the contact almost immediately and slips her thumb beneath his armpit, tickling him there. “no way. you’re not living this forever, i object. get your mind out the gutter, perv.”
“do you think it’s weird that i’ve been making eye contact with that girl over there for half of the night and she hasn’t approached me yet,” riley mused, fiddling with the tin mint can in his hands as his gaze remained firmly ahead. it was like a staring contest between the forlorn. “i could go up to her, but at this point? i’ve already invented a story in my head. she’s a ghost, or like a spirit or something, and i’m the only one who can see her.” he’s still making eye contact with the girl across the room as he says this, only breaking the iron hold when he realizes he’s spilt his beer all over the couch in an attempt to bring it to his lips. “fuck! fuck. i don’t even know the host of this thing. i’m going to get a perma-ban. are you wet?”
winter had fallen like a house of cards. one minute afternoons were spent studying on the quad, and seconds later the dark seemed to swallow the day up. december sunk it’s teeth into her with a bitter chomp, and tessa found herself reflecting it’s dreary atmosphere. “uh, i think it’s weird that freddy kreuger junior literally just motor-boated a yule log and you’re still entirely... i don’t know, absorbed by francesca flat iron? but go off...” tessa noted, watching with distaste as a sophomore licked chocolate from the butterfaced pudding smasher’s cheek. there was a hint of something that edged on envy in her voice, but the tone didn’t quite reach it. it wasn’t jealousy she felt but rather a general disappointment in the utter obliviousness of men. her ass looked great tonight. she had worn her sequin-studded emerald green flares for that exact reason, and somehow not a single person had commented on them? it felt like a waste of a good outfit on a subpar night, most of which she had spent cross-legged on the sofa with a joint in her hand like some knock-off cosplay for the hookah-smoking caterpillar in alice in wonderland. “uh... i see her? holy moley, does that make me a ghost, too? or-- you’re the ghost, and i can talk to dead people like in that movie sixth sense... woah, i’m not sure i’m ready for that kind of commit--- oh holy hell’s bells!” cut off by the sudden shock of beer against her leg, tessa let out an involuntary gasp and yanked her thigh away from his. “wha--- why am i soaking? was that--- jeez louise. you spilled your beer? christ on a bike, i’m so wet, riley, and it’s your fault.” it’s only after the words had escaped her lips that tessa noticed the double entendre, her cheeks hot and pinched pink as she attempted to backtrack. “i don’t mean--- not that, i mean... physically, like feel how wet i am! wait, fuck. like my leg, not like--- oh god.” she felt sick in her stomach, chest tight as she tried to see the humour, but all she could really see was the sheer horror of humiliation staring back from her reflection in riley’s pupils. “shut up. shut up.”
“I think i’m going to drop out,” Lottie muttered as she tossed her pen to the side, fingers running through her hair while she leaned back in her seat, “Like really who fucking needs to actually go to college unless you’re going to be like… a fucking doctor, this is stupid, I don’t need to write a fifteen-page essay on why rock & roll changed music, it just did, simple as that.”
Nestled between elderly women and Macbook-wielding business men, it’s a surprise they haven’t drunk the coffee shop dry. Mug rings litter her mindmaps where bright arrays of final semester commission ideas spring out in chaotic spirals. It’s not unlike Charlotte to fall into a lacklustre sense of boredom when it comes to work, and Tessa finds herself once again as her personal cheerleader. “Stop this right now,” is uttered through a mouthful of brownie, promptly swallowed as she takes the other’s hand. “You’re a smart, beautiful Christmas angel, and you’re gonna’ make a fucking wizard journalist.” Tucking a stray lock of Lottie’s hair behind her ear, Tessa takes another swig of her caramel latte, and sets down her highlighters on the table they share. “College is worth it. It might not feel like it now, but you’ve come this far! The finish line’s in sight! Just... take five, clear your head, and come back with a fresh outlook.”
“I’ve never had an encounter of that kind, actually — but I’ll try anything once. In this house, we stan trying out new experiences and making life-long friends.”
hello im (F, 24) an idiot and forgot to post tessa’s (F, 22, fictional) intro!
pls bare in mind most of this was written 5+ years ago n i haven’t written tessa since 2015...... but lets get this show (LOCKWOODRP) on the road (DASHBOARD).
tw school shooting, tw bipolar disorder
art hoe. always covered in paint. why?? she bad at painting
the mark rothko jackson pollock kind of bad tho wher people are like.... omg.... revolutionary..... its a badly drawn vagina
fuckin loves astrology, but cant take it that seriously bcos one of her bfs was a gemini so there’s some lenience there. but she WILL blame her hormones and mood swings on the positon of mars
embodies pure sunshine.
one of those really annoying people that can go through the most traumatic shit and still find a positive spin.
cares so much for others but does not really care for herself n it’s meant she just bottles up all this shit n when someone asks her how her day has gone she just falls on the ground like tht bit in midsommar when florence does that loud wheezy noise and sits down
has never really had much money at all. learns to make-do with what she has. loves upcycling!! her bookshelf is made from cardboard which she’s reinforced by pappering it over with pages ripped out of thrifted books. her sofa is an old car boot which she’s repainted, put on wheels and stuffed w cushions so that it’s actually bearable to sit on.
her knitted cardigan? its made out of wife material.
knits all the time. will crochet you a christmas scarf. if ur lucky you might get a knitted jumper with a penis in a santa hat
still sleeps with cuddly toys n then wonders why ppl dont think she’s mature enough for a serious relationship
very passionate about Sister Doing It For THemselves!! raised by a single mom who worked her ass off so that tessa could do fun activities after school, have lelli kelly shoes, and go to college (not necessarily in tht order of importance)
tessa was born out of wedlock as the result of an affair between her mom (a journalism intern in her early 20s) and a new york times editor.
the editor offered to pay tessa’s mom off to have an abortion, but she was like fuck u and told the papers he’d done that and used the money to cover the cost of her internship which they refused to pay her for
and because of the scandal, he ended up going through a pretty messy divorce with his wife, and losing custody of his kids. so as a child tessa was seen as the cause of a divorce and received mutliple letters from the editors wife (to tessa personally!) and his kids saying how she had ruined everything, but her mom moved them to another town so tessa didn’t have to deal with that crap.
her mom worked 3 jobs to put her through school, so in return tessa pushes herself incredibly hard to succeed. needs a break and a hug and to get laid to be honest.
an old soul. likes old films, old music, old people. only recently got an iphone 5s so not really with this century yet
very sweet and soft and kind but also a fucking mess and won’t listen to anyone else’s opinion. she’ll take comfort, but not advice.
feminist buddhist bisexual vegetarian for human rights and animal welfare. standing on a soapbox shouting about the climate in the quad, shoving flyers into your hands. flyers everwhere. she turns up at your grandmas funeral and shoves one into her mouth. she’s stolen the mic from the vicar to talk about pandas.
says “mother of pearl” and “heavens to betsy”.
had an affair with her married piano teacher and he’s now facing a custody battle and his wife is leaving him and tessa has completely internalised that guilt despite her being the victim in the scenario
aesthetics: paint splattered jeans, loose curls spilling from a scrunchie, thrifted blouses in bright yellow, guzzling coffee in the library at three am when a term paper’s due, shoddily illustrated campaign posters to save endangered species, polaroids plastered to your bedroom walls with scribbled dates on the frames, jumping into a stack of autumn leaves, jumping off piers in the summer months and stripping off your wet clothes on the beach, digging your thumbs into peaches to leave a bruise, smoking with the extractor fan on to hide the smell, bath bombs, letting the girls at lush rub samples all over your skin, cacti with knitted bobble hats, decorative pillows and sun and moon blanket throws, basic bitch fairy lights hanging from every single window, painting the name of the boys you’ve loved inside your wardrobe door.
studies fine art and philosophy, and wants to become either a lecturer or the first woman president. vibe wise, very similar to leslie knope, missy from big mouth, and basically the naive everygirl with a high opinion of themselves trope
gets drunk off like one double vodka lemonade because she’s small and she’s a pretty messy wild drunk. it’s when slutty tessa comes out, and the next day she’ll thoroughly regret every choice made and decide she’s never drinking again and cutting out all men and starting daily sudoko
on the cheerleading team and is a flyer, which she sees as a HUGE responsibility and she works really hard to make sure she’s on it for her team. one of those get up at 7am and go to the gym before school types its sickening
she had a really traumatic time at high school because there was a shooting in her school. she was in the next classroom when it happened, and she lost one of her friends in the shooting. she had to take two months off school, was diagnosed with depression and put on anti-depressants because of it. in her 2nd year of uni she was rediagnosed with bipolar disorder and anxiety, which she’s now on medication for. she can be really good for several months at a time and feel super creative and determined (she actually finds manic periods helpful for her creativity n art, n sadly sometimes doesn’t take her meds in these periods to push herself more which is obvs super bad.....). but when the bad periods come they can also last months n she had to take a semester out of school last year because of her mood, so she should be a senior by now but she’s retaking junior year
she attends weekly stress-management sessions prescribed by her doctor which she finds pointless.
very childish in the sense that she can only see her own point of view and kind of views herself as the “protagonist” and thinks her ideas are super important and life changing and she IS Destined for Greatness! despite being pretty much average af
distinguishing Marks: heart-shaped birthmark on the right of her chest, splattering of freckles across the cheeks during summer months, full lips, large eyes, porcelain features, long wavy hair, tattoo of a bird and a cage on her ankles and a basic bitch arrow tat on her wrist (srry to anyone with an arrow tat).
skills: jack-of-all-trades, talented pianist, perceptive, knows the correct way to throw a punch, good survival instinct, is able to remain calm in stressful situations, endures, artistic, excels in academic studies, hard-working and self-motivated, expert liar and talented actress.
likes: wolves, vintage thrift store fashion, old leather-bound books, left-wing democratic politics, cigarettes, poetry, John Hughes movies, cold coffee, hot tea, the sound of laughter, staying up til 4am having deep conversations, Tchaikovsky, having deep conversations about life, stationary, DC Comics, horoscopes, winged eyeliner, cats, knee-high socks, house music, abandoned buildings, studio ghibli, the smell of the earth after rain, Wes Anderson films, herbal tea, old people, solitude, esoteric things, the smell of freshly baked bread, Charles Bukowski, the moon.
fears: death, oblivion, global warming, losing those she loves, isolation, clowns, guns, enclosed spaces.
Her story begins with Cordelia Costello, a twenty-three year old college drop-out, turned beautician, turned columnist, turned intern at a local publishing company. She was a youthful, beautiful, siren of a women, always surrounded by an aura of enigma and an entourage of men. It was no surprise to the gossips in the office that within six months working at the company, Cordelia had added to her list another title – mistress to Franklin Hozier, the Editor of the New York Times. After two blissful months and three hundred and twenty seven orgasms, Cordelia decided she wanted a baby. Franklin laughed in her face. Feeling isolated and used, Cordelia continued her affair with her boss’ boss for another month, before deciding to take matters into her own hands.
It started with a turkey baster.
Soon the infant cries of a baby girl graced the world, her wrinkled skin puckered and pink as her mother held her in her arms, glancing upon the most beautiful thing in her life. Once Tessa, named after Cordelia’s favourite literary heroine, entered the world, Franklin left her life and things took a turn for the better. Despite living in a rented one-bedroom apartment in Staten Island, on what little money Cordelia had saved, Tessa’s childhood years were filled with nothing but the happiest of memories. Times were tough, but what they lacked in money, the Costello’s made up in love. While Tessa was at school, Cordelia did odd jobs cleaning, child-minding, working in local nurseries, in order to save up enough money to give her daughter the best start in life.
Despite what she had been led to believe by television shows and teen movies, the first few years of High School were some of the best years of her life. Tessa threw herself into a multitude of activities that High School offered her, including the drama club, the orchestra, choir, badminton and the school newspaper. While she certainly wasn’t considered ‘popular’ at school, Tess had a wide circle of friends and acquaintances. In fact, High School was a place where she made some of the greatest memories of her life, but come her final year, it was also a place where she was haunted by some of her worst.
On the January 17th of Tessa’s senior year of high school, a shooting took place in Westville High School. For two hours Tessa locked herself in a supply cupboard, her head between her knees as she tried to stay silent despite the screams of horror from the corridor. Eighteen students were caught in the crossfire, two of which were Tessa’s best friends. Bouquets of flowers, laminated photographs, Teddy Bears in cling-film bags attached to balloons littered the streets as families and friends came to pay tribute to the eighteen students withered before they had a chance to bloom.
It took two months of therapy before Tessa could return to school. Some of the survivors could never return due to the horrors that their eyes had laid witness to. Sometimes Tessa felt like a part of her had died with the friends that were stolen from her too soon, but one thought kept her going through: she had survived, she was alive and breathing, and she could not afford to loose a second of the precious time she had been granted on this earth. Despite the nightmares that continued to haunt her each night, Tessa found in the aftermath of the disaster a new sense of motivation. She began applying for scholarships for colleges without her mother’s knowledge, in the hope that her academic success would be enough to carry her through further education. Thankfully, it was, and after three torturous months of waiting Tess was offered an arts scholarship to her dream school, Lockwood University, where she hoped she could finally start to rebuild her life.
THE PRESENT:
Life at university was like a separate world. Students came and went like moths among the whisperings and the tequila and the stars. In this new world, Tessa was exposed for the first time in her life to alcohol, drugs, and the sexual appetites of other students her age – though she politely declined all three. Instead, Tessa threw herself into the vast array of activities in the hope that by distracting herself she could escape the terrible flashbacks that continued to haunt her. Tessa joined the lacrosse team, despite never having played before, and took up cheerleading discovering a new talent; she joined the musical theatre group, and the film club, and even set up her own acapella singing society. But despite how much she tried to throw herself into student life, her past hung around her like a bad smell, and with the added pressure of the Sinking Ships zine, Tess began to feel the weight of her secret tying her down like a pair of shackles around her wrists.
PERSONALITY:
If someone was to describe Tessa in a single word, it would most likely be ‘bubbly’, ‘open-minded’ or ‘sweet’. But they would be wrong – Tessa is not bubbly, or sweet, or stubborn, or hotheaded, or fiesty, or infectious, or any of the things the world see her as, but merely a numb and lonely echo of the gregarious, halcyon girl she once was. Tessa Costello was one of life’s enigmas. No one knew who she was, for to each person she met she wore a different mask – she dripped confidence, or was painfully shy; she was an exhibitionist, or a brooding wallflower; she took things too seriously, or not seriously at all. She was an actress and the world was her stage, each person she met a different member of the audience in the performance of her life.
In truth, Tessa no longer even recognised herself. Insecure, and self-destructive, she tried to hang on to the extroverted, mischievous pieces of herself that everyone had once loved, but day by day it got harder to know what lay in the vacant holes blown through her mind. While she was stubborn and hot-headed, Tessa always saw the best in people, which meant that she was easily led astray. While she had grown up learning to be street smart and astute, she was idealistic and allowed silly fantasies to cloud her mind. By nature, she was passionate, which lead her to misimagine and romanticise those she met. Despite the hell she had witnessed, and the anxiety that feasted upon her, she believed that people were innately good and that to have courage and be kind could cure anyone of their sadness – yet she was unable to cure herself.
TWITTER:
@500daysoftessa: i blame disney films and musicals for my high expectations of men
@500daysoftessa: i am in love with the boy who works at starbucks. today i asked for a double latte and he gave me a tripple, which i think is proof that my love is requited. our children will be smart and talented and beautiful.
@500daysoftessa: little known historical fact: pharaohs were burried with their hands crossed over their chests because it was a popular belief there would be countless water slides in the after life.
“The number of hours we have together is actually not so large. Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. Please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it.”
Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd except via the in-ceiling speakers of a truck-stop diner at 4am. The florescent lights buzz, the cracked vinyl seat creaks, the waitress pops her gum, and the highway traffic is just starting to pick up.
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