foxygen

jake's gallery

MAXIMILLIAN ❝MOON❞ REED

_{LOCATION }} ...
INTERACTING WITH }} ...}

CLOSED.

ARCHIE WILHELM

_{Archie’s outfit}

---

The thing that's real for us is fortune and fame...

Wow, that lyric really didn't sound great when met with loud-ass alarm beeps. Archie lifted himself slightly on his elbows, staring at the wall but not quite seeing it. Cleverly, he'd shut out all the light sources in his room, and now the entire space was black and spotty with TV static that he was sure had to be just his waking vision. Then again, maybe he was finally off in some alternate universe. Prayers answered, then.

Eyes adjusting to the small amount of light in the room, he finally took in his surroundings. His lengthwise room was pristine except for the area he inhabited most: his bed. Sheets were strewn everywhere from a restless sleep, clear and green bottles were discarded randomly on the mattress, his nightstand had a small speaker playing straight off his library and the stupid broken alarm that didn't seem to be listening to his demands to just shut up already. Archie grabbed the clock altogether and hurled it at the wall, smashing the device but ultimately earning some peace from the beeping.

He slammed the knuckle of his thumb against his eye, willing at least one of them to stay open, and started floundering around on the sheets for his phone. Gotta be somewhere in there, because he never places it conveniently on his nightstand like a sensible person, and goddamn he should really start doing that because - ah. Archie found his phone beneath his pillow and ignored the fact that it was nearly eight and he was likely going to be late; none of that really mattered. He went straight to checking his notifications. Nothing. Archie pursed his lips, eyes flitting away from the screen just to stare at the wall again, before he got up finally.

No one was home. Place had been empty for weeks, actually, leave for the occasional housekeeper who he was pretty sure didn't clean, but was sent on a mission by his parents just to make sure Archie's not dead, would you? The kid's a real maniac. It's true, he could be kind of manic, it's true, but that didn't mean the cleaners had to step around him like a ticking time bomb. And they could be nice and make him breakfast once in a while, fuck, did anyone have sense around here? No. The kitchen was empty. Granted, it was stocked full of food, but Archie wasn't interested. It's the thought that counts, and no one had the thought to leave spoiled rich kid his morning meal.

With eating out of the question, Archie trekked upstairs again, the music coming softly to his ears again. Never again will I repeat myself, enough is never enough... Yeah, me too, he replied, even if the words didn't come out. He dragged on clothes, not bothering to shower (but of course masking all of his secrets with some old Versace cologne), and washed his face until it looked even slightly appealing. His hair was a mess, though. Archie just streaked it with water and hoped it'd sort itself out throughout the day. Although everyone else was surely trying to look their best for the first day, he shot a final glance at the mirror and shrugged a good enough before digging around the house and finding a discarded backpack. Really, a Hefty trash bag would've sufficed, but he was all about staying classy these days.

Bus was a no-no. Bike? He'd probably fall off and skin himself in the street. Car, he couldn't drive, at least not safely. Because everyone liked to complain about how Archie's not totally stable, he shouldn't have that much control over other people's lives, he definitely shouldn't be driving a 2-ton death machine around the city; whatever. It's true, he could be kind of manic, it's true, but that didn't mean he should be missing out on average teenager experiences. Like getting into a car wreck by your own hand at least once. Archie stared at the old vehicle his mother had left behind in the garage, contemplating sticking it to the man and probably running straight through the school, but that seemed like a task that'd be followed up by a bunch of questioning. Why'd you run down twenty students while driving through the school, Wilhelm? Well, y'know, just proving everyone right. That's all.

Intrusive thoughts were never nice. He tore his gaze away and sprinted down the street, deciding he could just run to school, because three miles wasn't too bad. However, Archie did not take into account the fact that he was completely out of shape, and arrived there within just under 20 minutes. He practically collapsed in the Beverly Hills High School athletics field, crossing it to reach the auditorium, only to find that people were spilling out every which way. So, he was a little late. No problem, not like they took attendance at assemblies, right? Archie took a moment to double over, standing in the grass with his hands on his knees and sweat dripping from his hairline. Thank god he was too dehydrated to actually soak through his clothes.

Just then, he thought he detected a very familiar smell. Like an addict searching for his fix, Archie left the spot he'd tried to rest in, legs very nearly buckling beneath him as he approached the source of what smelled distinctly like cigarette smoke. It wasn't exactly far, just behind the school's auditorium, and it seemed pretty well-hidden. That's the good thing - he wouldn't want anyone seeing him like this, all clammy and pale from running a mere three miles, then earn himself rumours of having withdrawals. That'd be... "Oh, sweet, it's you." Plus some other dude in the middle of talking to her, but it's cool. Archie didn't mind company. He moved closer to listen to the conversation, evidently inviting himself into the conversation.

Sierra was the best person to run into right now (or, in his case, actively seek out in search of a free cigarette). Speaking of free cigarette... Archie reached over and daintily pulled it from between her fingers, practically straight from her mouth, and took a long drag of his own. His already unsteady breathing went off even more, and the cigarette didn't seem to help slow his heartrate down any (wow, crazy world), but he looked pretty blissed out by it. "You don't mind, do ya?" he asked quietly to refrain from interrupting, although it was too late for her to fit in any opinion about the matter, and finally repositioned the cigarette back between her fingers.

"Coffee guy? Who's that? Think he's got a coffee for me?" Archie was craning his neck all around now to look for whoever Rhett was talking about, before eventually having the sense to follow their gazes directly and land on coffee guy in question. He couldn't get a name to mind until Rhett was straight-up shouting it, and Archie laughed along, joining him in beckoning the kid over. Nicotine highs did nothing these days, but apparently, running highs got him all lively like this. When he caught sight of Rhett's arm around Sierra's waist, Archie strangely didn't mind. You'd expect exes to care, but really... things ended on mutual terms, and 'hot bod' kid didn't seem terrible. Still. The gesture couldn't read as well to other people, especially not 'coffee guy.' "Whoa, careful, don't make him more nervous."

Instead of taking it straight from Sierra's hands this time, Archie went for another drag by placing his mouth behind her cigarette-holding hand, calculatedly seizing the opportunity whilst she held what was apparently now claimed as half-his.

CLOSED.

TYLER JAMES

_{(@Dirty Pretty Lies @Wade Wilson)}

Tyler had barely a moment to register oh God, umber's not good, before Josh was falling unconscious. Ever high-functioning under pressure, Tyler moved closer quickly, wrapping an arm around Josh's waist and cushioning his head with his free hand whilst he fell (he wasn't nearly strong enough to hold the other boy, unfortunately). At least now there'd be no concussion to deal with afterwards, but holy hell, what was he meant to do in this situation? He was familiar with Josh getting overstimulated and all, but this episode was worse than any others he could remember before. For a moment, he could only thank his luck that he was the one not plagued by synaesthesia; that he was the one whose anxiety was only moderate, not this severe. Just as quickly, he brushed away his pity. That really didn't help right now.

What especially didn't help was the call of Josh's name, high-pitched and jolting Tyler from his daze. He looked up frantically to find the source and calmed down immediately upon seeing Josie, a blessing in no disguise. Tyler leaned back as she approached, holding Josh closer to his body as if it would help at all, and made a sort of yikes face, peeling back the very corner of his bottom lip. Needless to say, he was a little uncomfortable. Josh was usually the one that spoke to Josie directly, and Tyler was slightly intimidated by her outgoing personality; he wouldn't be able to deal with her getting emotional here. Not that he blamed her. He just didn't show his upset outwardly very well... even if he risked looking like a heartless bastard because of it. It's not like he'd shoo her away or anything, though - she obviously liked Josh (although Tyler would never share such information), so she deserved to worry.

"What? Oh, I mean... he's fine... uh," he trailed off nervously, his voice barely audible under Josie's repeated oh my Gods. Trying to tone down the situation and not doing so hot, Tyler's hand went from holding Josh's head to cradling the side of his face. "He's - y'know. Just give him a second." Really not comforting at all. Overstimulation was a complicated thing to explain, and he wasn't even sure if Josh had shared the knowledge of his disorder with Josie. If not, Tyler wouldn't be the one to break the barrier. An irritated Josh was worse than a fainted Josh. So, Ty stuck with just nervously adjusting Josh's position in his arms, trying to wake him as subtly as possible.

More discomfort came when Josie kissed Josh's forehead. Yikes. If only you were awake right now, bud... He didn't comment outloud, just watched Josie turn away and gather herself before coming back to Josh's side. "The air. The air helps them wake - okay. I guess that makes sense." Honestly, Tyler wasn't all that concerned about Josh's welfare right now, he was more concerned on how he was going to talk to Josie. Mentally, he was begging his friend to wake up and distract her so he could recuperate from talking to another human being, much less his best friend's crush.

His metaphorical safety blanket, i.e. Josh's limp body, was moved over to Josie, and he accepted the notebook reluctantly. "Right. Right, okay." Her instruction was a little helpful, he thought, but Tyler was still rather awkward even in emperor-fanning Josh. He pretended to be as focused as possible for a few silent moments, then looked up at Josie, his gaze guarded. "He's gonna be fine, you know," he started, trying his most calming tone of voice. "Don't work yourself up too much. It's just - first days. They're rough. That's all." Tyler didn't make any mention of the particularly rough night Josh must have had, the worrying antics of this morning, the generally terrible home life - the whole shabang. These were things they hid from a very carefully woven public image.

CLOSED.

ARI FRANCIS ADASSI

---

Whoops, struck a metaphorical vein. Ari regretted his question as soon as he saw the expression that touched Jar's features, apparently none too pleased with his straightforwardness. Acting oblivious to how it might affect his bandmate, Ari shrugged a shoulder and stared off elsewhere, like matters concerning Jar's exes really didn't bother him. The dead tone Jar had adopted after a couple of moments of uncomfortable silence was more than unnerving, especially paired with the rhetoric itself. Ari winced, not appreciating the black humour but figuring it was nothing to take seriously. Hopefully. Still, Jar had made the implication that he'd be driven to that point by a girl. Just some girl. Just moments ago you wouldn't have been able to get Ari to hate her more, but here he was, ridiculously irritated.

He waited until Jar's back was turned to respond, and even then, it was mostly nonverbal. "'right," he mumbled dismissively, practically inaudible, and floundered with finding an unobtrusive place to stand before settling into a lean against the booth beside Jar. He squinted at the names, half-interested, and tried to keep his foot from bouncing impatiently. Ari was steadily growing more energetic (or, more accurately, more on edge), and it wasn't just affecting him physically. Goddamn Jade. In all fairness, Jareth probably ruined his health just as much as he did last night on every other night, but he didn't make as vocal a deal out of it then. Ari thought he had a right to be worried, personalky, but maybe not the right to be on such a lookout for her. Not like he'd even do anything if he saw her; just stare daggers from a distance, or something; Jade would probably win in a physical fight. Bummer. Good thing he didn't catch sight of her.

Without any prompting, Ari fell into an easy pace beside Jar towards the bleachers, not so surprised when he heard the concern about their band's name. Crimson was a cringey enough name in itself; capitalizing the 'S' for CrimSon just made them look like they thought they were special. He hadn't thought of official replacement names - just toyed with ideas, mostly - but still. He had some good concepts (which, surely, they would regret in five years or less time, but even then they'd have something less embarrassing to go by at the Battle).

Ari was preparing to voice some of the ideas in question when, while Jar was speaking, he spotted someone coming towards them. Running? No, that was... a skateboard. Oh man. Ari may be quite alert now, moreso than usual, but he didn't have the reflexes to get Jar out of the way in time, and he knew it in the single second he had to prepare for impact.

Useless. The damage mostly went to Jar, and so Ari was the one who remained most balanced in the end (even if he was taking a fall, too, it just spoke words how collectively clumsy they were). When Jar stumbled towards him, Ari at least attempted to set him upright, but to no avail. He wrapped an arm around the other boy's bony torso, but didn't get any grip, and fell backwards himself against the bleachers. Hey, it could have been a lot less graceful. He could've easily fallen flat on his face, but Ari just narrowly avoided that mortifying fate. Instead, he had his arms slung over the seat behind him, like he'd just exercised for hours and now had to collapse entirely just for rest, watching the other two gather some loose papers. Frankly, he was absolutely no help here.

Especially not when he was being struck with a very vivid reminder of who this skater was. Road trips were hell by themselves, but they got worse when you added in being teenagers with rampant hormones and room for experimentation; honestly, Ari wasn't into the latter, but he was a victim of it this summer (his words). He thought he was pretty good at hiding the fact that his sexuality was a gigantic question mark, but Davy supposedly thought otherwise. That's the only rationalization Ari could give the situation when he very nearly had his face sucked off in a goddamn national park. Or drugs, but that didn't seem like Davy's thing. In any case, he was still very suspicious of the kid.

"No worries," Ari tacked on to Jar's reassurances, eyeing Davy warily. There were some worries, but he was staying quiet to recuperate from the sudden flashback. Like, are any of them stuck with broken bones now? How would he live past this horrifyingly public incident? Evidently, Ari didn't realise that his reputation couldn't change just because he'd bumped into someone. He didn't bother with the cushy greetings and make-betters, since Jar seemed to have carried them out already.

He hadn't exactly been looking, figuring they were boring syllabi or pamphlets handed out like candy on first days, but both Davy squeaking a helpless don't! and Jar's unblinking stare prompted Ari to glance over at the now gathered mass of papers. The topmost paper was distressed from, supposedly, being tossed around in this encounter, but it was hard to miss. Less entranced by it than Jar was, he slowly looked up to Davy, as if trying to confirm it was actually done by him. Yep. He looked sufficiently embarrassed enough for it to be his own work. Odd - he'd never known Davy to be an artist, but then again, he'd never known Davy particularly well. A smile finally reached his lips, and he started nodding his head approvingly. "Holy shit," he agreed, speaking in unison with Jar.

While Jar was sitting there agonizing over the thing, asking to keep the memento, Ari jumped straight into business. "That's brutal. You making money off of this? You should," he rambled, moving around to look over Davy's shoulder. "I'd buy stuff like this. Shit, man, you're talented!" His arms were crossed over his chest, but one flew out to whack Davy appreciatively on the shoulder, like that was some true mark of appraisal.

Hider

little half-assed rendering of how davy's drawing might look like (his is much more meticulous)

Hider

ｒｅｎｅｇａｄｅｓ (ＯＯＣ)

I'm here now.

Does chameleon count as a specialty because that's what I'm going with atm

@Fabricant451

absolutely! although know that blending in is becoming quite a common skill - if you want it to be a little more personal i recommend adding a quirk, like your character could be a 'chameleon' in only very specific circumstances, not so good in others

ｒｅｎｅｇａｄｅｓ (ＯＯＣ)

MAX

MAXIMILLIAN "MOON" REED

^{HEY MOON • DEFIANCE • CAPE TOWN}

---

NAME }} Maximillian Lucas Reed V - he really appreciates just "Max," however.
CODENAME }} 'MOON'
AGE }} 16
SPECIALTY }} Breaking and entering; most anything that requires furtiveness

---

^{{{ SENSITIVE • PESSIMISTIC • RESERVED • MELANCHOLY • CONTROLLING }}}

PERSONALITY }} On one hand, Max has the perseverance and drive to do what needs to be done. He is self-sufficient and does not need to depend on other people for the material and physical things in life. On the other hand, he depends on other people heavily for emotional support and encouragement. He is not fully self-actualized, and needs the constant support of others rather than relying on his own conscience. He craves attention and comfort from other people and he is happiest when he has a small, close knit group of friends or family. Max is extremely loyal to those who appreciate and support him. He projects any good feeling onto other people instead of basking in it. Those who want to share deep emotional thoughts and opinions with Max might feel that the scales are tipped on one side, for he will rarely reveal his actual feelings.

Aside from incredible shyness and passivity, he is incredibly persevering and will stand up for what he believes in. Max is fragile, unpredictable, and temperamental; more than anyone he's known, Max needs to be needed. Even when all needs are satisfied, he can be irritable and cranky. His temperament is uneasy and delicate - Max has wild mood swings and frequent temper tantrums. Unfortunately, he is easily offended and will sulk and wallow in self pity for a long time when he gets hurt.

It is difficult for Max to open up and have a close emotionally fulfilled relationship with someone because he is so closed off, both emotionally and physically, to the world. Driven by a fear of trust, he has a difficult time confiding in others at all. He builds up anger and resentment inside, and his contradictory nature really takes a toll on him - Max has a very negative outlook on life, thinking that it is just too hard and miserable. When good experiences are to be had, he is skeptical of joyful people and his surroundings. He typically experiences "tunnel vision" due to his depressed outlook, and misses the nice things and pleasant experiences in life that make it worth living.

In addition to a lack of trust in people, Max is deeply sensitive and easily hurt. He lives in the past, holding old events close to him and dwelling solely in his memories. Constantly sick with nostalgia, Max comes off as mysterious, filled with contradictions. Typically he's very helpful to others, yet sometimes can be cranky and indifferent. His driving, forceful personality can be easily hidden beneath a calm and cool exterior. He is very possessive; not just with material possessions, but with people as well. Max will always want to stay in touch with old friends and anyone who has ever been close to him, because it is easier to maintain a friendship than attempt to learn to trust a new person.
STRENGTHS }}

• Intuition. Max is generally good at reading others and knowing whether their intentions are good or bad, but he isn't great at pinpointing exact details.
• Stealth. Max may be tall at five foot eleven, but he definitely doesn’t weigh enough to out his presence. He takes very quiet steps and manages not to leave a mess in his wake.
• Manipulation. Despite seeming shy and fragile on the outside, Max craves power and leadership, and knows how to control others while staying subtle about it. He typically abuses other peoples’ sympathy and self-esteem.

WEAKNESSES }}

• While not exactly socially awkward, Max isn’t charismatic at all. When he’s not trying as hard as he can to get along with everyone, it’s easy for his bad temperament to catch on and drive people away.
• He is very bad at taking care of himself. Max never eats enough to sustain himself, avoids sleep whenever possible, and will abuse the drugs he’s meant to be a mule for.
• For all that he abuses others’ self-confidence issues, Max has his own highs and lows in esteem. One week he might think he’s the best person on this Earth, and the next he’ll lash out at anyone who dares do so much as look at him.

---

HISTORY }} Max’s childhood was a perfect amount of problematic to send him spiralling into his own black hole. Neither of his parents were particularly abusive, and he certainly wasn’t stuck in poverty, but he was neglected enough to make him the person he is today. His father, up until the age of four, was an all right man - he worked as a salesman for a cable company, which seemed to be enough to support the family, until it registered that Max was growing and thus had more needs than before. When working overtime became too much for him, Max’s father found solace in the local bar. It started out as nothing habitual, just a source of stress relief.

However, when he was out too late with no call home one night in Max’s sixth year, his wife up and left him for his irresponsibility. Max’s mother, oddly enough, didn’t seem concerned for the child she was leaving behind; in fact, his visitation days were only on the weekend, and wouldn’t come until years later when his old man’s alcohol abuse turned into full-on alcoholism. Max’s father lost his job when Max was ten after coming to work under the influence.

A year later, with no access to his father’s budget, Max began stealing from shops for food. He started out fairly well at the task, having learned how to take silent steps and silent breaths from being around a loaded gun of a man. When committing crimes became easy, he delved deeper into the business. First it was dealing very fake drugs to very oblivious kids at school, which grew into him selling alcohol taken from his father’s cabinet to them in freshman year. The fellow kids of Las Vegas were very drawn to his business.

Of course, he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought. Max was caught in the beginning of his second semester at school, along with a group of his friends/cohorts, and held in juvenile detention. A girl clearly much more involved in the criminal underground was the one to earn them early release - particularly, from a big name in said underground: Richard Michaels. When his expertise in dealing and being invisible was discovered, he was given the duty of trafficking. In his career thus far, he has transported over $60,000 in various substances; then again, he’s still young.
OTHER }} suffers from EDNOS and disinhibited attachment disorder
best meme is spooky jim

ｒｅｎｅｇａｄｅｓ (ＯＯＣ)

Ｔｈｅ Ｂｉｇ Ｂａｄ Ｗｏｌｆ

_⒳

「 Ｒｉｃｈａｒｄ Ｍｉｃｈａｅｌｓ 」
^{ᴀ ʟ ɪ ᴠ ᴇ}
“Ƴσυ ѕєє, ǀ тσσк α ƖιттƖє ѕнαмвƖєѕ σf α ‘тнυg gяσυρ’ αηɗ cяєαтєɗ α ѕρяαωƖιηg ємριяє σf му σωη. ƁαѕιcαƖƖу? ǀ’м кιηg.”

⋙ ｇｅｎｄｅｒ ◆ ａｇｅ ◆ ｓｅｘｕａｌｉｔｙ ⋘
^{ᴍᴀʟᴇ ◆ ғɪғᴛʏ﹣ᴛᴡᴏ ◆ ʜᴇᴛᴇʀᴏsᴇxᴜᴀʟ}
⋙ ｂｉｒｔｈｐｌａｃｅ ⋘
^{ɴᴇᴡʙᴜʀɢʜ, ɴᴇᴡ ʏᴏʀᴋ}
⋙ ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ ｔｒａｉｔｓ ⋘
^{ᴄʏɴɪᴄᴀʟ ◆ ᴀɢɢʀᴇssɪᴠᴇ ◆ ᴠᴀɪɴ ◆ ʜᴏsᴛɪʟᴇ ◆ ᴍᴀᴄʜɪᴀᴠᴇʟʟɪᴀɴ}
⋙ ｏｔｈｅｒ ⋘
^{sᴜғғᴇʀs ғʀᴏᴍ ғʀᴇϙᴜᴇɴᴛ ᴍɪɢʀᴀɪɴᴇs}
⋙ ｓｐｅｃｉａｌｔｙ ⋘

^{Mɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟs’ sᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟᴛɪᴇs sᴘᴇᴀᴋ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇᴍsᴇʟᴠᴇs. Hᴇ’s ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀғᴜʟ ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ ɪɴ Aᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀ, ᴘᴏssɪʙʟʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇ ɴᴇᴛᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏғ ɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇʀs. Rɪᴄʜᴀʀᴅ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇsᴘᴏɴsɪʙʟᴇ ғᴏʀ sᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs, ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ’s ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴀɴ sᴛᴏᴘ ʜɪᴍ ﹣ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀɪᴛɪᴇs ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴇᴛ ʜɪᴍ ʙᴇ. Essᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ, ʜᴇ ʀᴜʟᴇs ᴀʟʟ.}

Ｔｈｅ Ｌｏｙａｌ Ｆｏｌｌｏｗｅｒ

_⒳

「 Ｈｕｎｔｅｒ Ｂａｒｔｌｅｔｔ 」
^{ᴀ ʟ ɪ ᴠ ᴇ}
“ƤєσρƖє ѕαу ǀ’м α вαɗ gυу. ǀ נυѕт ѕαу тнαт ǀ’м тнє мєѕѕαgє мαη fσя тнє σηcσмιηg ѕтσям.”

⋙ ｇｅｎｄｅｒ ◆ ａｇｅ ◆ ｓｅｘｕａｌｉｔｙ ⋘
^{ᴍᴀʟᴇ ◆ ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ﹣ᴏɴᴇ ◆ ʜᴇᴛᴇʀᴏsᴇxᴜᴀʟ}
⋙ ｂｉｒｔｈｐｌａｃｅ ⋘
^{ʟᴇᴇᴅs, ʏᴏʀᴋsʜɪʀᴇ}
⋙ ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ ｔｒａｉｔｓ ⋘
^{ʟᴏʏᴀʟ ◆ sʏᴄᴏᴘʜᴀɴᴛɪᴄ ◆ ᴅɪsʜᴏɴᴇsᴛ ◆ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ}
⋙ ｏｔｈｅｒ ⋘
^{ɪɴ ᴀ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ sɪɴᴇ́ᴀᴅ ᴏ’ɴᴇᴀʟ || ʜᴀs ᴘᴛsᴅ}
⋙ ｓｐｅｃｉａｌｔｙ ⋘

^{Hᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ sᴏʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴡᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ, ʜᴏᴏᴅ ʀᴀɪsᴇᴅ, sɪʟᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ. Iɴ ғᴀᴄᴛ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ’s ʜɪs sᴋɪʟʟ ﹣ ʜᴇ’s Mɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟs’ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ ᴀssᴀssɪɴ, ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ’s sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡs ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ʙʟᴇɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜɪs sᴜʀʀᴏᴜɴᴅɪɴɢs, ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ᴀs ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʜᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴀ ᴄʟᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ sᴏᴄɪᴇᴛʏ. Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ, ʜᴇ’s ɢᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ᴀ ʀᴇᴘᴜᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀs, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ sᴛᴏᴘ ʜɪᴍ ﹣ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴀғʀᴀɪᴅ ᴏғ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ.}

Ｔｈｅ Ｄｅｌｉｎｑｕｅｎｔ

_⒳

「 Ｓｉｎｅａｄ Ｏ＇Ｎｅａｌ 」
^{ᴜ ɴ ᴋ ɴ ᴏ ᴡ ɴ}
“AƖƖ ιт тαкєѕ ιѕ σηє ρυѕн тσ тσρρƖє тнє мσѕт ρσωєяfυƖ σf ρєσρƖє.”

⋙ ｇｅｎｄｅｒ ◆ ａｇｅ ◆ ｓｅｘｕａｌｉｔｙ ⋘
^{ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ◆ ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ ◆ ᴘᴀɴsᴇxᴜᴀʟ}
⋙ ｂｉｒｔｈｐｌａｃｅ ⋘
^{ʙᴏsᴛᴏɴ, ᴍᴀssᴀᴄʜᴜsᴇᴛᴛs}
⋙ ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ ｔｒａｉｔｓ ⋘
^{ᴄᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ◆ ᴅᴇᴄᴇɪᴛғᴜʟ ◆ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴛ ◆ ᴊᴜᴅɢᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ◆ sᴀʀᴄᴀsᴛɪᴄ}
⋙ ｏｔｈｅｒ ⋘
^{ɪɴ ᴀ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ʙᴀʀᴛʟᴇᴛᴛ || ʜᴀs ᴏᴄᴅ}
⋙ ｓｐｅｃｉａｌｔｙ ⋘

^{Sɪɴᴇ́ᴀᴅ ɪs, ᴇssᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ, ᴀɴ ᴇxᴘᴇʀᴛ sᴍᴜɢɢʟᴇʀ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ’s ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ɪᴛ. Hᴇʀ ᴏᴄᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇs ʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ғɪᴛ, sᴀʏ, ᴀ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴄᴀɪɴᴇ, ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ sᴜɪᴛᴄᴀsᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ɪᴛ ᴜᴘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ, ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴡᴀs ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ᴡʜʏ Mɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟs ᴛʀᴜsᴛᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ sᴍᴜɢɢʟᴇ ʜɪɢʜᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪɢʜᴇʀ ᴀᴍᴏᴜɴᴛs ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴛɪᴍᴇ. Uɴғᴏʀᴛᴜɴᴀᴛᴇʟʏ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ, ʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ғᴀɪʟᴜʀᴇ.}

ｒｅｎｅｇａｄｅｓ (ＩＮＴ. ＣＨＥＣＫ)

what a sexy idea

jake's gallery

FIRSTNAME

FIRSTNAME "CODENAME" LASTNAME

^{THEME 1 • THEME 2 • THEME 3}

---

NAME }}
CODENAME }} Play off of a character quirk or specialty, or just use a nick from their given name.
AGE }} 13-19
SPECIALTY }} In the criminal aspect, of course. If your character doesn't have one, just put N/A.

---

^{{{ TRAIT • TRAIT • TRAIT • TRAIT • TRAIT }}}

PERSONALITY }}
STRENGTHS }}

WEAKNESSES }}

---

HISTORY }} A brief description is fine.
OTHER }}

jake's gallery

[hider=FIRSTNAME][center][h3][color=?]FIRSTNAME "CODENAME" LASTNAME[/color][/h3]
[img]FACECLAIM REQUIRED[/img]
[sup][url=SONG]THEME 1[/url] • [url=SONG]THEME 2[/url] • [url=SONG]THEME 3[/url][/sup][/center]
[hr.]
[color=?][b]NAME [i]}}[/i][/b][/color]
[color=?][b]CODENAME [i]}}[/i][/b][/color] Play off of a character quirk or specialty, or just use a nick from their given name.
[color=?][b]AGE [i]}}[/i][/b][/color] 13-19
[color=?][b]SPECIALTY [i]}}[/i][/b][/color] In the criminal aspect, of course. If your character doesn't have one, just put N/A.
[hr.]
[center][sup][b][i][color=?]{{[/color] TRAIT [color=?]•[/color] TRAIT [color=?]•[/color] TRAIT [color=?]•[/color] TRAIT [color=?]•[/color] TRAIT [color=?]}}[/color][/i][/b][/sup][/center]
[color=?][b]PERSONALITY [i]}}[/i][/b][/color]
[color=?][b]STRENGTHS [i]}}[/i][/b][/color][list][*]
[*]
[*][/list]
[color=?][b]WEAKNESSES [i]}}[/i][/b][/color][list][*]
[*]
[*][/list]
[hr.]
[color=?][b]HISTORY [i]}}[/i][/b][/color] A brief description is fine.
[color=?][b]OTHER [i]}}[/i][/b][/color]
[/hider]