Theodore Finch Atlas

Male lead

He's known primarily to those who work for him as Mr Atlas. His father always called him Theo.

Male

26

Strong, but not overly muscular. He's a naturally stronger fellow, but he doesn't make the effort to work it down to pure muscle.

White, English and European descent

Quite pale.

Grey-blue, or ocean blue. Depending on what he wears, they'll look more grey or more blue.

He has no facial hair. He keeps himself cleanshaven.

Combed back against his head, slightly coifed in the front.

Dark brown, almost black.

6'2"

75 kg (165 lbs)

He wears ful vue glasses.

Excerpt from an article containing an interview with Theodore:

"Twenty-four-year-old Theodore Atlas stands at six feet, two inches, his authoritative presence commanding respect. His dark hair is combed back in a sleek, professional style, though a few strands fall over his pale forehead, as though they’ve come loose after a long day at work. Ocean-blue eyes gaze cold behind his ful vue glasses, and his mouth is set in a hard line. His skin is smooth, the lack of wrinkles owed perhaps to his perpetual impassiveness, though his quasi-vacant expression usually leaves an unsettling impression on others. He walks with purpose—head erect, shoulders back, eyes set forward. Every move seems calculated and coordinated. His speech is blunt and clipped, and he has no patience for obsequiousness. His suit is crisp and tailored—a classic black number with an embroidered tie of lurid crimson. Surprisingly, the watch on his wrist is a little worse for wear. He sits across from me, leaned back against the armchair, yet somehow he doesn't quite look relaxed. His attitude has been one of cool indifference and I begin by asking him about his..."

Incredibly hardworking, excellent at prioritising, knows how to lead, delegate, and complete tasks at a high level of competence. Excels at discovering and nurturing talent and potential in ideas and people.

He doesn't entirely trust women. He fears they are mostly catty, duplicitous, and self-serving creatures—acting as damsels in distress in one moment, and vengeful beasts in the next. Intellectually, he understands not all women are like this, but his experiences (especially with his mother) have led him to fear opening up to women.

He avoids confronting his issues head on, developing unhealthy coping mechanisms. Instead of facing the grief of his father's death or the anxiety and confusion caused by his narcissistic mother, he threw himself into schoolwork and didn't stop plowing through projects, refusing to give himself a moment to breathe and process his emotions. He continued this pattern of behaviour when he started working more seriously at the Daily Tribune. As soon as work became a source of pain, he turned to alcohol.

He tends to repress his emotions, especially his negative ones—a natural trait that was exacerbated by his mother and schoolmates. He believes those stronger, darker feelings are "wrong" and make him defective in some way, so he hides them. That way no one can use his imperfections against him. That way he can escape judgement.

He's also overly critical, particularly on himself. He has an "inner voice" that constantly points out everything wrong with the world and himself. His need to do things well is what helped him to reach the top in such a short time, as well as his dedication and effort, but he doesn't know how to turn it off when it starts being counterproductive, which often results in him unecessarily stalling on a project until it meets his standards. It also makes him rather unpopular with people who are more sensitive and don't take nitpicking well.

Theodore grew up as a heavy reader. He'd read two or three books a week on average, and he kept that up for as long as he could. It became harder to find time in secondary school, since he was also working a job. He enjoyed bird watching, and when he could he would take walks in the park and take notes, categorizing all the different types of birds and learning their names and characteristics. He was unable to maintain either of these hobbies as he got older.

MBTI - ISTJ
Enneagram - One

Theodore is introverted, driven, and conscientious. He spends more time thinking than speaking, and is very careful and deliberate with his words. His speech is honest and direct, which can oftentimes come off as blunt and insensitive. He prefers not to sugar-coat things. In fact sugar-coating or flattery quickly turn him off—he has no tolerance for manipulative people.

Critical, perfectionistic, and extremely hardworking, he commits full-throttle to whatever he has set his mind to. He holds himself and others to high standards, and his work ethic is what propelled his company to the forefront of English media.

His high moral and practical standards often lead to him unfairly blaming himself for mistakes and dwelling on things he should have done differently. He holds a lot of resentment—some directed towards those in his life who have hurt him, but much of it is self-directed.

He seems confident, and to a large degree, he is. His apparent objectivity, his desire for things to be done well, and his sharp judgement give him great certainty and confidence in specific areas. But while he seems to make well-thought out decisions quickly, he mentally double-checks himself.

He's built up a lot of anger over the years, but instead of acting on his anger or ignoring it, he suppresses any "bad" feelings because he doesn't want to be "bad." Theodore has so much anger, hurt, and resentment stewing inside him, but he doesn't allow it to show. He's extremely reserved, and tends to keep his emotions and desires to himself which leaves the impression that he's cold, judgemental, and detached. Underneath the impassive facade, however, is a churning pot of emotions, which he is constantly regulating and supressing. He feels that if he acts on his negative emotions, he'll be giving into the "defective" part of himself.

He has an extremely critical "inner voice" pointing out everything he does that's wrong. Theodore's narcissistic mother certainly didn't help with this voice. He assumed the reason his mother must hate him so much is because he was such a bad child. There must have been something wrong with him—defective. This was only reinforced by the kids in school, kids who called him a "freak," told him there was something screwed up in his head because he wasn't responding emotionally.

His response to all this information was to repress. His emotions, feelings, desires—there was something wrong with them. He had to hide them. So he withdrew, and maintained a mask of impassivity. He won't speak about his emotions or desires, or allow them to show on his face. That way no one can use his flaws against him.

Theodore is motivated by many things—stubbornness, anger, grief, and many misguided self-perceptions. Theodore came from a lower class family. He'd always had ambition, a drive to make an impact on the world, but growing up his mother drilled into him that he was never going to amount to anything, often comparing him to his father (an aspiring writer who didn't make very much money). Theodore came away with the impression that if he could only prove that he could be successful, his mother would love him. So he worked hard in everything that he did, but she always found fault. He was praised and encouraged in school by a few treasured teachers he had, but at home he second-guessed his achievements, wondering why they weren't good enough for his mother. Instead of giving up, he held onto this hope that his mother would accept him if he worked hard and gained results, in spite of her constantly telling him he was never going to get anywhere. He had decided when he was young that he was not going to live in the lower class world that he was born into. He was going to make something of himself. These aspirations stuck with him even into his adult years, although after his father died when Theodore was only fifteen, the motivation behind his success was no longer his mother's approval, but to spite her and prove her wrong. It also became a way for him to cope with his father's death. It's hard to properly grieve when you're swamped with work and responsibilities. If Theodore had felt like he had a choice, he would have spent more time surrounding himself with beauty, reimmersing himself in books and music again, as these were a few things he had found solace in when he was younger. But they also reminded him of his father, and the memories were still too painful. So he set them aside, burying himself in his corporate duties, hoping that life would take a turn for the better, or end.

He's quite still and calm most of the time. He doesn't fidget or tap his feet. He's more likely to zone out and just sit in his chair with a vacant expression. He paces when he's thinking, and presses his fingers to his lips when he is deeply concentrating, or intensely immersed in something.

He has a genetic predisposition to heart disease (the cause of his father's death) but he has shown no symptoms.

The Joke - Brandi Carlile
Afterglow - Taylor Swift
Feel Something - Jaymes Young
Souvenir - Selena Gomez
everything i wanted - Billie Eilish
Gorgeous - Taylor Swift
People Watching - Conan Gray
Lonely - Justin Bieber

A watch his father gifted him for his fifteenth birthday. It's the only watch he wears.

Making major corporate decisions for Atlas Newspapers, managing overall operations, and setting the company's strategic direction.

Theodore does not actively practise any religion, as he has struggled with spiritual and religious questions in the later parts of his life, specifically with the problem of evil. His father believed in God, and he has fond memories of attending church with his father, but he found so much hypocrisy and false humility amongst the people there that he stopped attending after his father died. He also struggled with the idea of an afterlife, but he couldn't bear the thought that his father's spirit was extinguished after he passed, so he holds out hope that there is an afterlife, though he's not sure that anything can be known about it. In his darkest moments, he has called out to God, but never had a clear experience or encounter with anything divine.

CEO and owner of Atlas Newspapers, a prominent news company in England.

He mainly wears bold, classic colours like red and black, but he loves the colour blue.

As reluctant as he'd be to admit it, he loves beans on toast. It's a bit cliche, but it makes him nostalgic for the breakfasts he and his dad used to share. It's simple, but delicious.

He finished secondary school at eighteen and did not pursure higher education, but worked his way up the corporate ladder through diligent effort and experience.

January 25th

Theodore was born to Vivienne and Richard Atlas in a hospital in London, England. He grew up with his parents in a lower class neighbourhood where they lived barely more than paycheck to paycheck. His father worked a blue collar job and stayed up late working on book projects, hoping to get them published.

Vivienne resented Richard for his "lack of ambition" and not providing her with the lifestyle she thought she deserved. She saw his dream of being a writer as naive and childish, and told him as much. Richard did what was necessary to provide for his family, but he still longed to write. He worked long hours and wrote during the night, but still managed to find time to spend with Theodore. He grew up with his father reading him stories—original stories he had written, along with the classics and other favourites of Richard. Theodore cherished this time with his father, who rarely raised his voice against his son.

His mother, on the other hand, was violently verbally abusive to Theodore, finding ways to tear his confidence down wherever she could. She told him he was never going to amount to anything, he was just like his father... no ambition, no real skill, no willingness to apply himself. It was all his fault that they lived in this stupid house that was always falling apart. It was his fault they couldn't go out to eat or buy nice clothes and food. And Theodore—well he just made things worse, didn't he? He was just another pesky mouth to feed, an ungrateful brat who could do no right (except when it served her).

Theodore attempted to win his mother's favour by excelling in school and proving that he could succeed. He could do well. But more often than not, she would find some flaw with him or his work and use that against him, making him doubt his achievements. When he was younger, he used to try and show that he was right, that he could do well. But she would gaslight him into thinking that he was arrogant and blind and that his achievements meant nothing. His confidence was destroyed, and he learned quickly that it was not safe to share his emotions or be vulnerable with his mother. She would make everything about herself, how she was a victim for having to take care of him and put up with him. Did he even know how insufferable he was? So by the time he was around nine, he had given up arguing with her for the most part. It always ended with him being more confused and hurt than before, and her being more self-righteous.

The occasional moments of affection and approval from her filled him with false hope that if he just worked hard enough, she would love him. It really was his fault that she didn't love him—he just wasn't good enough. He needed to be good. The encouragement from his teachers (who were always impressed with Theodore's dedication and ability to learn) fed Theodore's starving soul with much needed praise.

But while his teachers had nothing but good things to say about him, Theodore was mocked and picked on by his classmates. He was thin, pale, bespectacled, studious, and most of all, a teacher's pet. He was the optimal target. At first it was just insults and pushing him around—shoving him roughly into his locker, knocking his books out of his arms. But he wouldn't react—no tears, no words. He would just stare at the ground, wait for them to be done, and then pick himself and his books up. The offending students were put off by his non-reaction, calling him a freak. He didn't respond to these words either. They began to wonder if he would react to anything, and so they started pushing the boundaries, escalating to physical harm. It took multiple occassions of after-school abuse before a teacher noticed and the students involved were suspended. A teacher walked with Theodore to the pick-up spot at the end of the school day after that, and although that led to more verbal bullying, they mostly laid off from targeting him for a couple years. When he was 13, they started up again, this time worse than before, a couple new students joining in on the abuse.

Things didn't exactly get better once he came home to his mother, though. He had to endure criticism from his mother about how he deserved it and he needed to get his head out of the clouds if he wanted to be anything except a pathetic weakling, except wait no, that was impossible, she forgot, he was his father's son and he'd never amount to anything. They'd get home, he would eat dinner (doing his best to tune out his mother), do his chores, wash up, and crawl into bed and stay awake just long enough for his dad to get home and kiss him goodnight. He basically lived for the weekends when he could spend time with his father. They'd leave the house and take walks together in the nearby park or go to the library.

When he was ten years old, his mother walked out of their lives, leaving Richard to raise Theodore on his own. While this was somewhat of a relief, it put a strain on their situation, since Richard now had to cut down on work hours so he could pick up Theodore from school and make him dinner and so forth. Somehow they managed a way to make things work, and after the inital adjustment, they were happier than they'd ever been. While Richard somehow still loved Vivienne, he knew she had not treated Theodore well. I don't know that he ever knew the full extent of the psychological abuse he inflicted on Theodore, but he was treated poorly by her as well, and so understood that it had had a negative effect on his son. He was relieved that Theodore would no longer have to put up with his wife, and together they made the house a home.

When Theodore was fourteen, his father's heart started declining at an alarming rate. It was increasingly difficult for him perform his usual responsibilities, but he could not afford to stop working. Theodore did odd jobs on the side—cutting the neighbour's grass, helping with odd manual labour jobs around the neighbourhood, but the profits from these didn't even cover what it cost to feed him. Desperate to alleviate his father from having to work such long hours with a weak heart, Theodore went around asking for jobs. He lied about his age, claiming he was sixteen. He was finally offered a job as a paperboy at the Daily Tribune and started earning enough to actually help pay for some of the bills. His father was able to take an extra day off, but that put things in a tight spot. There were some health scares, and Theodore had to come see his father in the hospital a few times. They were doing as much as they could, but his heart required surgery—the operation was too expensive, and he didn't have insurance.

Theodore's grades were starting to slip as he was waking up two hours earlier than usual to do his paperboy duties, spending all day at school, and then doing any odd jobs he could, even branching out into other neighbourhoods. He stayed up late completing homework. He put all his savings towards money for treatment, but even after months of work, it wouldn't be enough. He continued this routine for a year, taking on extra jobs in the summer, and managed to set aside a little over £10,000. For a while it seemed as though his father's health had improved, and he started to work more again, even tho Theodore warned him not to.

Theodore was fifteen. Some of his classmates were targeting him after he was told of by a teacher for sleeping in class, mocking him. Finally allowing some of the anger, resentment, and stress bubble up to the surface, he retaliated and ended up in a physical altercation with a few of the boys. He was sent to after-school detention. Theodore came home much later than usual to an eerily silent house and found his dad on the floor. His heart had stopped. Theodore called 911 in a panic, did chest compressions, everything he could. But it was too late. He had already passed.

He kept thinking if he had just kept his mouth shut at school, he wouldn't have gone to detention. He would have gotten home sooner, he could have called the ambulance on time. This wouldn't have happened. His dad would still be alive.

The funeral was small, and Theodore's hard earned money went into paying for everything. His mom showed up and made a big fuss, crying dramatically, drinking in the sympathy. Meanwhile Theo stood there, completely numb, barely processing the hugs and words of condolence, just staring at the photo on the coffin and praying he would wake up.

He had to go back to living with his mom again. When he asked her the next day if he could stay home from school because he didn’t feel up to it she told him to "get over it." After all, what does he have to be upset about? HE'S not the one who has to take in an overgrown brat into his house. HE'S not the one being FORCED to provide for said brat. HE'S not the one who's gonna have to pay extra money for his food, clothes, shelter, etc.

Theodore felt like he'd been slammed in the gut with a concrete block. He started screaming at her, hurling everything she's done to hurt him and his father in her face. She was livid and kicked him out of the house, threw his backpack at him and locked the doors.

He did go to school. He went to his English teacher, who pulled him aside into his office and Theodore broke down—told him everything.

His teacher did his best to hear Theodore out and comfort him, but in the end he said he didn't have the power to help out much. He offered to send him to the school counselor and talk to the headmaster about Theodore being exempt from school for a few days given the situation, but he couldn't do much else. Theodore initially asked if he could stay with his teacher, but the request was immediately declined.

His mother wasn't physically harming him or depriving him of his basic needs, so he had no grounds to take drastic action like that. On top of that, his teacher tried saying something like "You've both suffered a serious loss... it's not unusual for families to fall out after a death… give it time, she's probably hurting just as much as you are."

Theodore went so cold and silent that it gave his teacher chills. He stood up without looking him in the eye. "Okay. Thanks anyway, Mr Lawford."

Mr Lawford tried to say something else, but Theodore was already gone. Lawford did contact the counselor and the headmaster, and Theodore was given leave for a few days. When he came back, he threw himself into school harder than he ever had, to the point that Mr Lawford tried to talk to him about it, but Theodore wouldn't open up to him like he used to. He had resigned himself to the fact that no one was ever going to believe him. He just had to keep his head down and do the work until he could leave that wretched house. And he did. He worked hard for three straight years. He continued working as a paperboy while he was in school, and took on two jobs over summer break. Saved every penny.

He decided to figure out how to make more money working at the Daily Tribune. At fifteen, he was just a paperboy. By the time he was eighteen, he was working in a higher level position than most twenty-two year olds there. And at twenty-one he had risen to nearly the highest position. The owner of the company died, and Theodore took over, rebranding it as Atlas Newspapers.

And then he just kept going. Doing, doing, doing whatever the next thing was to keep his mind off of everything, hoping it would fill that growing void. Until everything became gray and lifeless, and he would try to drown out the dreariness with a buzz. But the high came and went, and after it was gone, he felt emptier than before. Lonelier.

He had everything and nothing. He was on autopilot, hoping the plane would crash. So when the bright flowing script of that original story showed up on his desk–and for a moment, he fell into another world like he had when he was young, when his father was still alive, and they'd trade books and talk about them–he held onto it as though it was a lifeline.

Richard Atlas was tall, with sandy hair and a moustache. Ocean-blue eyes. Had a low, rumbling voice, perfect for reading books aloud. He was both humble and ambitious in spirit, never fully abandoning his dream to publish his novels. He loved Theodore dearly. He died at the age of 40.

Vivienne Atlas. A buxom woman with sleek, dark hair, black almond eyes, and a pouting mouth. Undiagnosed NPD. Could not form or maintain healthy relationships, and gained pleasure and importance from tearing others down. She is still alive, but Theodore cut her off when he was 22. She lives with her second husband, who is fairly well-off, and is just as much of a spineless suck-up as Richard was.

Vivienne refused to have any more children after Theodore. But he would have loved a sibling. He would have been much less lonely.

Theodore never actually owned a pet, but there was this mangy neighbourhood calico cat he called Fawn because she had lots of little white spots on her coat. He first met her when he was seven—she was only a kitten then. Sometimes he would take a walk through the neighbourhood when things were too stifling in the house, and she would follow him and he would let her crawl into his lap and pet her. She died when he was seventeen, and he buried her himself.

On the surface, Theodore is a 24 year old millionaire who's got his life together, but on the inside he's a broken 15 year old boy who lost his father. He wants him back so bad. Just to hug him one last time, to hear him say his name, give an encouraging word, something. But he's gone.

Theodore likes the Beatles, because his dad did, and he likes romantic era piano because his dad played romantic era pieces sometimes. His dad always said if he couldn't tell stories with words, he would tell them with songs. He was not an incredible piano player—he could play well, but it wasn't like he could perform at a professional level. That never mattered to Theodore, though, and he cherished the memories of his father playing.

Their favourite song to sing together was "Paperback Writer" by the Beatles. They would listen to it on car rides together, or while cleaning the kitchen after dinner. They were so very happy together. But his dad's heart was in bad shape, and he was slowly declining.

One time they were sitting together at the hospital pretty late and Theodore said, "I wish I could just... give you my heart." And his father gave him such a stern look, but his eyes were glistening. "Don't you dare say that, Theo. You've got to have a long, healthy life ahead of you. You understand?"

The only person to ever call him "Teddy" was his mother, and it was only in front of guests. He hated it.