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orionxcastillo · 3 years

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full name: orion castillo nicknames: ori, conejito (”little bunny” in spanish) gender and pronouns: cis man, he / him. age: thirty-eight. date of birth: april 9, 1983. hometown: chelmsford, england. nationality: british born, cuban and american heritage. religion: catholic. sexual and romantic orientation: bisexual biromantic. occupation: antique store assistant. living arrangements: lives on his own. languages spoken: english, spanish. (accent is a mess of english, american, cuban) strange history: edith alby

TW: mental institution, domestic violence, attempted murder, mental instability

Orion’s mother left America to study mythology at a British university. It was there she met his father, also studying. The pair hit it off and eventually married, Orion wasn’t far behind.

The night Orion’s mother told his father they were having a baby she took him outside to star gaze, telling him the stories of the ancient Greeks above. He struggled to see what stars she was talking about, except for Orion’s belt - three stars perfectly lined up together. Just as they would be as a family.

When he was born Orion cried like nothing would ever be okay in the world. The nurses and doctors worried, but found nothing medically wrong. It wasn’t until Orion’s father nursed him by the window, pointing out Orion’s belt to the newborn did he seem to finally calm. The new parents felt the name Orion was fitting, as if he picked it out himself.

Life growing up in the UK had its ups and downs. He didn’t look or sound like the rest of the kids around him - his father was first generation Cuban-British, his mother was American. Sometimes there were fights in the school grounds, or out, some days he just skipped class entirely. Sometimes that was to flirt with the local girls school as they walked by his returning from sports at the nearby oval. If anything he would have thought of his childhood relatively normal, expected even. He did well in class despite his absences, he participated in sports and made friends who would invite him over to watch the latest movie on VCR. It was normal, at least in that aspect of life.

Home life was getting more and more destructive as Orion moved into his teen years. His father was becoming known for outbursts, whether anger or from distress. His mother would pretend all was okay; he was just having a ‘tantrum’ or a ‘funny day’. It was normal! Everyone had trouble sometimes. But sometimes when he was alone with his father he could hear him talking to someone, when the room was empty. He would say something to his father and the man would seem to be in another world entirely, not hearing a word that left his mouth.

Things got the worst when Orion was 15. His grandparents, his fathers parents, moved in. They used the excuse they were struggling with money, but they always seemed to have a wallet full of cash ready to go. He was starting to get pushed out of rooms, told to go study or sleep when he heard his father scream. They didn’t want him to see what was happening to the man. He was sick. Doctors were in and out of the house, sometimes they would help - for a few days the house would grow quiet. Then things would get bad again, and every time it seemed to be getting worse.

Orion spent a lot of time out of home, he would sleep at friends houses or wander the streets. It felt for a while there no one cared what happened to him, he was pushed out and forgotten. Most mothers would worry about their son being out all night, his mother didn’t even notice. She had a lot on her hands, he knows this now, but as a teenager sometimes you need that support.

Everything came to a breaking point when one night that he did happen to be home he was awoken by his mothers screams for help. He scrambled out of bed, launched through the house in nothing but his boxers, to find his father welding a knife trying to prove to everyone they were all dead. He doesn’t remember everything that follows, his mind protecting him from as much trauma as they can. All he knows is he put himself between his mother and the knife, tackling the man he had looked up to as a child.

Orion, his mother, and his father all ended up in hospital that night. His grandparents came home after a later dinner party in time before trauma turned to tragedy. Doctors submitted his father into the psych ward as his grip on reality slipped away completely. His mother would come to divorce his father, his grandparents taking care of the man moving him to a care facility where he remains today. His mother would take Orion across the sea to America where her family would welcome him.

Orion would struggle after what he went through, it wasn’t allowed to be talked about - his mother wanting to forget it ever happened. A fresh start, why would they dirty it up with what has been? She would go on to work at Pleasance library whilst Orion finished his education through home schooling. He was of age to get a job so filled his free time working small jobs around town, planning to build enough funds that at age 18 he would return home to England.

Except he never did. Ask him today and Orion will probably shrug as to why not, honestly he doesn’t quite know. There was something about this town, he didn’t really feel like leaving. Ever. Strange, no? In his time in Pleasance Orion has made friends, had good and bad relationships, lived a typical life. He moved into his own flat, even bought himself a cat to keep him company. His mother eventually retired and calls in on him far too often but he humours her, knowing she never meant him harm.

Over the years Orion has received letters from his family in England looking to update him on the state of his father but they go unanswered. Truthfully, he wishes they would stop, but part of him would appreciate that the line of contact always stayed open. It was just more annoying than welcoming when a letter showed up in his mailbox.

The last few years Orion has been working at For Keeps, the antique store. He likes working there because there is always something new in store, something he had never seen before or a story locked away inside. Orion liked to research the history behind them, filling his time with books at the library or fingers tapping away at the keyboard as he looks online for further information. It feeds his curiosity, making it always annoying when he hits a dead end.

Life was normal, well as normal as you can get in this town (it’s always been a bit strange). Except, well, there was the fact he was seeing dead people. Well, Orion isn’t completely sure they’re ghosts. It’s not everywhere nor is it all the time. He first noticed it around five years ago, or maybe it was longer than that. They would just be there, doing their thing, when a figure that didn’t belong would join him. The ‘ghost’s don’t talk to him, not really. Sometimes they utter a word or shake their head but it’s never enough to know what they want from him. Occasionally they move his things, or things around the store, or follow him around as if they were breathing down his neck.

Orion would be more distressed over the idea of ghosts if it wasn’t a more comforting idea than what happened to his father. Ghosts meant he wasn’t insane, just haunted. That he could handle, they didn’t bother him enough for it to disrupt his life and sometimes the company was nice on a slow day. Of course he told literally no one of the things he was seeing, they would call him crazy and break his mothers heart. If she ever found out she would have him hospitalised and possibly end up there herself.

Telling himself it was ghosts felt easier than the fact he was of the same age his father was when he lost touch with reality, that the things his father saw could be appearing in front of his own eyes. To turn into the man he left behind so long ago was his worst nightmare - he may not have an exciting life but he had one he longed to hold on to. So ghosts were easy to handle, for now at least. Trauma from his father? He’ll pass on that one, even if it meant his own health was a risk.

Orion to his friends is just like his cat, he likes to find somewhere warm and settle. If he’s at the bar he’s in the corner booth with his drink, maybe a book in hand until company joins him. He likes to check out sometimes, go out to the lake with some camping gear and forget the worst exists. You’re lucky if he invites you along, he clearly doesn’t want to forget you.

Orion almost always is carrying a packet of cigarettes, a notebook or novel, a packet of gum and spare change. He walks most places so his car is collecting dust in its garage. He likes to cook for people, as long as you’re not a picky eater. He is often scribbling in his notebook, whether reminders or notes on something he’s researching, or poems no one is supposed to ever hear.

To most Orion is known as Ori, his parents are the only one who would call him conejito, which means ‘little bunny’.

OOC:

My name is Jen but for less confusion you can call me J. I’m 27, live in Australia, and have been on Tumblr for like... over 10 years. Love me.

He is open to all kinds of connections, I do not have a specific list so just hit me up to plots.

@phqextras

#domestic violence tw #mental institutions tw #attempted murder tw #mental instability tw

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behrooz-najm · 3 years

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BIRTH NAME: Behrooz Hakim Najm NICKNAME: Bez AGE+DOB: 26 years old, March 5th 1994 GENDER: Non-binary/agender PRONOUNS: they/them NATIONALITY: British ETHNICITY: Indian EDUCATION: High school diploma, six week cop training HOME TOWN: London, UK CURRENT LOCATION: Pleasance, Ohio OCCUPATION: Junior Detective RELIGION: Islam ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good FAMILY: grandmother and extended family in London, UK, aunt and her four kids in Cincinnati, Ohio, USA. FACECLAIM: Viveik Kalra @phqextras

+ Innovative, warm, witty, kind, protective, geeky +/- Intellectual, observant, horny - unreliable, outspoken, easily distracted

++ BIOGRAPHY

full biography here

Tdlr; Behrooz is the child of a mother who disappeared and a father who drank himself to death before they were even one year old. As a result they were told to lay low and not make themselves another burden to the family. After being contacted by their aunt, Behrooz tried everything to try and meet her. At nineteen they traveled from London to Cincinnati, Ohio, the United States, where they moved in with their aunt and started a six-week training program to become a cop. Their grandmother called them crazy for their choices, but that only made Behrooz more intent to succeed. At age twenty-four they were made a detective, as part of a commisonar’s reelection program, promoting a British Muslim who also openly identified as Agender was the best promotional stunt. Soon as she was reelected, Behrooz was transferred to Pleasance, Ohio.

++ WANTED CONNECTIONS

++ A FRIEND AND CONFIDANT: Behrooz moved in recently, they never shy away from a conversation with a stranger, and neither have you.

++ THINK AS… VERY STRONG COFFEE: every single morning - save for a few days especially on the weekend - you have stood in front or behind Bez in the line at Daily Grind. They’ve struck up a conversation several times, they’re friendly, boastful, very open, and you are very confused. But it works.

++ HIDING SOMETHING?: They’re a cop. They’re supposed to find the bad guy, they’re supposed to notice when something is off about someone. And you are very certain that the reason why they keep on checking in on you is because they think you’re not who you want everyone to think you are.

++ I SUPPOSE? WHY NOT: Friends with Benefits. ‘Nough said.

++ AND I WOULD WALK FIVE HUNDRED MILES…: hiking by yourself can be interesting, but hiking together helps heal the soul. Behrooz has seen you take to the trails a few times, and they’re very keen to join you.

++ SOME FUN HEADCANONS

++ Wears a lot of loosely fitted clothing outside of work

++ Continues to pray five times a day, alas they do that on their own. They try to drive to a nearby city every weekend that has a mosque. Religion still calms them down.

++ Is very open about who they are. Whether their gender identity, religion, or where they’re from, they’re not used to hiding it. That and having been the poster-boy for a future commissioner has made them unable to hide it as well, at least within the police force.

++ They come off as rather lazy, drinks a lot of coffee, and falls asleep on the job. They’re less outspoken, more silent and observant, that and their quick reflex to smile makes them appear stupid.

++ But while silent and observant on the job, Behrooz in more personal situations is a bubbly individual with a lot to say, a lot to ask, and a lot to joke about. They’re friendly, eager, presenting the very best that they can. They give people way too many chances and they get far too personal with most people. They’re kind and curious in their demeanor, more likely to strike up a conversation with a suspect rather than state them their rights.

++ They believe in the occult, they can be rather spiritual and superstitious. It has nothing to do with their religious background however, but they think the USA is filled with spirits and mysteries that nobody can make much sense of. A continent of pain and genocide. Or in their words; a fucked up place if you ask me.

++ They regularly send back letters to their aunt - despite not really sure where they stand with her - detailing what they’ve been doing.

++ They love to go hiking. Nature is a place where they can be alone and recharge just as much as a mosque is. Also placing a prayer mat outside is one of the best experiences, it makes them feel even closer to Allah.

++ INCREDIBLY helpful. They have some background in coding, so they tend to jump on things when ICT is concerned, they also are a great listening ear.

++ Horny, very horny.

++ No task is too small. Getting coffee, no problem, they’ll probably make a friend along the way. Printing some papers, not an issue. Writing out a report, give them five minutes. Behrooz does everything with the same conviction.

++ They’re very chill with the nickname Bez. Though they’re formally known as Detective (or Junior Detective) Najm.

++ They never did learn what happened to their mother. From what they have been able to figure out - another reason why becoming a cop was not such a bad idea - their mother was never heard from again after delivering a baby in a New York hospital. She did survive however, and the man with her was named Hakim Najm, who helped her out of the hospital. Between then and Hakim arriving back in London with a little baby, things are a blur.

++ Their house is an absolute mess, coffee mugs everywhere, clothes on the floor. They’ve considered hiring someone to clean, but never got to that part.

++ Confused about the idea of being called an adult, still very much feels like they’re a child. However, this is mostly because despite their position in life, they often feel like they’re on a road without any road markers.

++ They don’t drink, they don’t do drugs, and they’ve been eating less and less meat because they can’t find Hallal anywhere nearby. Being raised in a strict Muslim family, Bez’s one huge obstacle when becoming a cop was the idea that they didn’t want to consume alcohol and also not touch it - a statement that got them fired after two months working in a grocery store in London because for that reason they didn’t want to be a cashier. However there have been instances where they’ve been asked to take in bottles of alcohol for evidence, and they’re very uncomfortable with the notion.

++ Receives the question: “Behrooz, are you paying attention?” way too often.

++ Gets lost in thought a lot.

++ Heavy British (Cockney) accent. (Think John Constantine)

++ They’ve read the Quran, although their grandmother never taught them Arabic beforehand, so they’re currently reading it in English in between classes, thesis writing, and walks.

++ Is always running from one place to the next because he has too much planned on a daily basis.

#intro #phqintro

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kincadedonnelly · 3 years

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Gender: Nonbinary Pronouns: they/them Age: 29 Birthday: April 7th Occupation: Owner of For Keeps Antique Store

@phqextras

Bio: No one ever remembers the night Kincade was actually born.

His mother said it was a surprise birth that happened at home, but even then… no midwife, and it was a few days before the baby was taken to the hospital for all the requisite paperwork and checkups. In fact, most people were surprised. They couldn’t particularly remember Kincade’s mother, Rhona, being pregnant. They couldn’t remember her not being pregnant either. It just seemed that anyone close had failed to notice the lovely young Irish woman and her soft-spoken husband had been expecting. Rumors hardly even started at his birth, and certainly none sustained by the time Kincade entered school.

Not nearly so quiet as their father, Kincade was an excitable child, eager to talk and to please. They fit in well with the other children, not a natural leader per se, but one who stepped up when no one else would, offering imaginative ideas for play. In the younger years, the sheer energy of the child had been a boon to all those around them. By the time they got older, however, teachers didn’t take so kindly to their talkative, excitable nature. It wasn’t an easy lesson to learn, but Kincade became quiet and withdrawn over the years and impossibly polite to boot, much to the dismay of their parents. But despite their efforts to communicate with Kincade’s teachers, there seemed nothing amiss to anyone else. Kincade excelled in school in some areas, was merely passable in others, but that was to be expected. The teachers encouraged Kincade’s interests in english and social studies, finding their comprehension well above that of their peers. Nothing much came of it though, as Kincade began to shy away from others with each passing year.

Those who knew them well knew that Kincade was a bit of a collector. At the tender age of ten, they had found a silver pocket watch hanging from a tree branch and snatched it up to show at school the next day. The story encouraged a teacher to touch base with their parents, concerned of stealing, but Rhona and James assured them that the pocket watch was honestly gotten, swearing it belonged to them and James must have simply lost it in the backyard. The matter was put to rest, and nothing was ever said of it to Kincade.

As years went on, Kincade found more and more things that way. Picked them up off the sidewalk, found them in spare spaces and closets, just little valuable trinkets here and there. As they got older, seeming more larger stuff appeared. An antique wooden chair, an old steamer trunk, a decent wooden table. With a few woodshop classes in high school, Kincade would soon learn a hobby that would become the main distraction from the tragedy that was soon to befall them.

Just days after their 16th birthday (and telling their parents they didn’t quite feel at home in their body), Kincade’s parents disappeared. They’d seen their parents on the walk home from school, just stepping past the treeline into Southwood Forest from their small neighborhood. Kincade had called out, but it had fallen on deaf ears. Unconcerned at the time, Kincade headed home, picking up a rare mint coin off the sidewalk on the way. It wasn’t unusual for their parents to go for walks together, after all. What was unusual was when they didn’t return home after an hour, or two hours, or later that night, or the next morning. Eventually, a search was underway, but there was no sign of them. Kincade temporarily went into the care of a teacher in town while the search carried on, but eventually everyone had to conclude that Rhona and James simply weren’t coming back. Abandonment. No one would say it to Kincade, not in so many words, but they were all thinking it.

With the help of a few teachers, the sheriff, and a small fortune left to them by their parents, Kincade successfully filed to become an independent, even at the young age of 16. Their grades were okay enough, finances well cared for until they were at least 21, barring any major financial setbacks, and it was clear Kincade could handle themselves. No one saw much grief from them in the time after. It seemed that Kincade was simply as quiet and withdrawn as ever, polite to every well-wisher. Many called it maturity, but it was simply a sad child unwilling to let others see their weakness. God forbid anyone take them from their home, send them to people they had never met. With no family to speak of and no experience with the larger world, it seemed safer to simply stay in Pleasance and try to make the best of it. When they were old enough, they would surely leave, go to college for something widely applicable, like business or accounting. But it never happened.

Kincade never flagged in the last years of high school, still pulled top marks in social sciences and adequate marks everywhere else. Though still prone to rambunctious outbursts of excitement and chattiness, the timid nature had started developing nicely into passive politeness with everyone, even the once close-friends who had grown distant. The only place Kincade was really themself was the library. After graduating, Kincade would sink entire days in the library and its archive, consuming every piece of history contained within. News articles, journals and diaries, letters and cards uselessly donated after every estate sale.

Eventually, ends had to be met and Kincade had a mind to do some sort of work to stretch their inheritance a little further, maybe even save up again for personal purposes. Kincade doesn’t remember the first time someone bought something from them, but pretty soon, people knew of their ability to restore antique items. When it wasn’t a commission to repair a piece of heirloom furniture, it was an offer to buy one of the far-too-many furnishings in their house, and the money came in easily. Taking a gamble on what they’d saved and the last of their inheritance, Kincade leased the storefront for their new shop, For Keeps. It was small throwback to one of the many times Kincade’s mother had gently given back something they had found. “For keeps,” she’d say, and it would find itself stashed on one of the many shelves in their room.

Now years down the line, Kincade lives life on autopilot. The town has its comings and goings, but they don’t pay much attention. They go to work, go home, find items as they always have out in the world, repair them, bring them in to sell, go to the archive to look into disappearances in Pleasance’s history, go home, go to work…

And really, Kincade is unsure what’s keeping them here. The community college would be a good place to start, it would help their business at least to get a degree, but better yet, it would offer them the opportunity to leave Pleasance. And yet, something about it doesn’t feel right. Like the destination is wrong, so they can’t even step down the path. People are nice enough, but they talk, and more than anything, Kincade wants to not be “the boy abandoned by his parents.”

Headcanons:

Kincade is quite good with their hands, but woodworking and fine jewelry are their favorites. One scratches the itch to be active, the other to be hyperfocused.

Absolutely has ADHD but has no idea and functions just this side of well enough that no one else notices. Had a lot of their more dramatic behaviors suppressed through punishment in the school system as a child.

Absolutely obsessed with trying to understand what could have happened to their parents, convinced that they were not abandoned.

Doesn’t believe in the ghost stories around town, but also doesn’t not believe.

Reads quite a bit, somewhat old-fashioned with technology. Whip smart at learning new things nonetheless, just doesn’t particularly prefer it.

Something of a loner. Kincade makes fast friends with plenty of people, but it isn’t very deep and they tend to fail to become anything more because Kincade, for whatever reason, doesn’t put the time and effort in to cultivate it.

The silver pocket watch they found as a child is the only thing they haven’t sold or refurbished. It’s constantly on their person, along with a small silver key that once belonged to their mother, though they have no idea what it goes to.

Prone to moments of overly-excited talkativeness. If prompted to discuss one of the few things they care greatly about, all social mores go out the window for at least a few minutes, until such time as they remember themselves and settle down with a quiet apology.

Has never had the sense of being followed, but has also never felt truly alone.

#phqintro #about

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ajita-tannu · 3 years

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BIRTH NAME: Ajita Tannu NICKNAME: Aji AGE+DOB: 24 years old, 18th of February 1997 GENDER: Demi-girl PRONOUNS: she/her or they/them NATIONALITY: Indian/American ETHNICITY: Marathi Indian EDUCATION: High School diploma, Bachelor in Philosophy from the University of Ghent, one unfinished Bachelor in Philosophy at the University of Barcelona. PLACE OF BIRTH: Mumbai, Maharashtra, India CURRENT LOCATION: Pleasance, Ohio OCCUPATION: Working at their parent’s business at Southwood Inn RELIGION: Hinduism ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good FAMILY: Unknown FACECLAIM: Prajakta Koli

+ Active, Friendly, Challenging, Dedicated, Disciplined, Passionate, Resourceful +/- Perfectionist, Ambitious, Outspoken - Argumentative, Blunt, Domineering, Meddlesome, Opinionated

@phqextras

HISTORY

Ritesh and Harsha had one dream for their only child: to be born under the best possible consequences. Which was after they had settled down in the United States, gotten their motel running, and ensured there was no possible way they could be sent back.

None of that worked out. Ajita Hannu was born in Mumbai, India, after all.

She grew up with her family, all of them on a small estate in the middle of the city, being exposed to the noises and the smells of her parent’s city. She was taught English by her mother’s sister, she learned some Hindi, but mostly she was kept at home while her parents tried to figure out their plan. Because the plan was still the plan. When her parents had finally gotten the visa’s and everything needed for their planned immigration, Ajita was seven. She had the same attitude as her peers: to be the best at everything.

Still, Pleasance Ohio was a huge adjustment. Everything was so quiet. Ajita spent a lot of her time either at home or at school, because she didn’t like how quiet it was. Something about it felt eerie. But slowly she became more and more acquainted with the other kids in the town, even if she had little time for it. Her parents owned the small inn at the border of the tow: the Southwood Inn. And between herself, her mom, her dad, and a friend of theirs who helps with the cleaning all the work is divided up. After school she helped out. Just a little bit at first, but by the time she was twelve, she did everything. And she did it as practically as possible. Ajita wasted not a single moment.

She would study while manning the front desk, listen to Spanish podcasts while she cleaned the rooms, and prepare her school paper while she checked the inventory. Ajita always had her hands in multiple projects at once. She was the main voice for less plastic at school, protected anyone at school who felt different, started a LGBTQ+ group because she had realised already at eleven that she was very much into women. Most people thought she was too much, always voicing her opinion or trying to get votes or signatures or followers or whatever she needed. She had very few friends, but she didn’t care. Her parents were her best friends, and Ajita had great plans. Like her parents, she had great plans.

Studying came effortless to Ajita, she got high marks, sucked in information at any opportunity and by age sixteen was fluent in English, Hindi, and Spanish, with the intention of learning Catalan, German, and Italian. To her every subject was equally important, but there was one thing she was most interested in: what people wanted. How people saw themselves. People. She wanted to know how humanity worked. So she applied at the University of Barcelona. Her parents weren’t happy, and she was met with some resistance. They didn’t want to let her go, afraid that she would be the odd one out, misunderstood, and that she didn’t want to come back. But they didn’t realise how much Ajita loved Pleasance. She would always come back.

After a whole lot of begging, Ajita was allowed to leave.

She moved to Barcelona at eighteen, her grades were top of the bunch, the scholarship was in her pocket, and she had grand dreams for her future. She was already on her way to study Catalan, and managed to pick her way through the application in Spanish without any difficulty.

She studied for one and a half year in Barcelona, traveling all over the country on the weekend, before she quit the program. The language was part of the problem, Catalan was different from Spanish, and because of her internal confusion trying to differentiate between two languages, she didn’t get the marks she wanted, or the marks that would keep her there.

Since she still had half a year till the next semester, Ajita traveled around most of Western and some of Eastern Europe, backpacking and crowd surfing. She had made enough friends over the years that she could knock on the doors in random cities and towns, and would always find a place to stay if she wasn’t staying in hostels. The experience was fantastic, and it was even better when she realised not much later that she had been accepted at the University of Ghent for another course in Philosophy.

Now nineteen, Ajita moved to Belgium for a second try at Philosophy, taking Dutch classes on the side and once again spending her weekends traveling all over, this time visiting places in Belgium, the Netherlands, and Germany.

Her bachelor was three years, and a one year Master - another reason why she came to love the Belgian system. That and she didn’t have to pay all that much when it came to tuition. But Ajita found more than just happiness in the place. She also learned a lot about herself. Belgium was a whole lot more accepting of her status as being a lesbian, but it wasn’t just that, she joined the LGBTQ+ clubs around the city of Ghent, and found herself.

Growing up they had always felt different, not really fitting the gender roles people had assigned to them. They didn’t like wearing dresses, they joined soccer teams, and all their friends growing up had been boys. They had felt slightly awkward in their own body, and jealous of male characters in the media. Growing up they wanted to be Batman or Ash Ketchum for Halloween, not a princes like their girly classmates. They loved getting dirty and felt awkward when someone suggested they wear make-up. They were a tomboy, according to the neighbors, their long hair always in a knot on the back of their head, checking out their face in the mirror, imaging themselves different.

Although Ajita could never really say different in what way.

Demi-girl was the term she adopted in Belgium, and she planned to bring home with her.

Their last summer vacation they traveled to India, where they stayed till Holi.

She returned home with a Bachelor in her pocket, and over twenty thousand followers on her youtube traveling account. Both of which were worth little back in Pleasance, but she would find a way.

The plan was to take over the family business, and then she was going to run for mayor, but before she would do everything she could to make Pleasance better. Her beloved hometown. Despite all the cities they had seen and placed they had visited, nothing could top Pleasance.

HEADCANONS

They have a husky called Charlemagne. They found him a year ago in Bulgaria, and after a whole lot of effort, managed to send him to their parents in Pleasance. For the past year they’ve taken care of him, but he instantly recognised Ajita when she returned home.

Ajita does not believe in Ghosts. She does believe that local legends can help Pleasance grow as a tourist spot.

Ajita is rather known around Pleasance, or was, before she left to study abroad. She was a very annoying kid, who was always putting a foot in someone’s business, writing her school paper, getting signatures. Ajita had so many causes that she got swamped half of the time. She would talk to anyone who she met on the street, any tourist, any traveler. The tourists love her, the locals not so much at times.

She helped put some places out of business when she was younger, outing businesses that were doing horrible things to their employees. But she has also managed to keep a lot of big corporations out, collecting so many signatures that she got a project stopped before it even began.

She doesn’t like George Alby at all.

Local businesses to Ajita are the most important thing in a small town, and big companies put them out of business is one of their major concerns. They understand the philosophy behind it, and get why small business have problems surviving while big corporations can go ahead without much trouble, but she believes there is a possibility.

They love backpacking, and hiking, which is what they always end up doing during the weekend, bringing Charlemagne along.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

- childhood friends: Ajita was seven when they came to Pleasance. They’re bound to have known most people around the school, being as active as they were, though few people could probably stand them.

- enemies: you don’t get as politically active as Ajita and not make any enemies, they are sure to figure out where they stand now, having returned after studying.

- visitors at the Southwood Inn: Ajita works at her parent’s business, though sometimes it looks like she’s the one running it. She’s not curious, but she will try to strike up a conversation.

#phqintro #intro

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ofhoneyblood · 4 years

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BRYCE ATLAS WINSLOW

pronouns: HE , HIM , HIS

age: THIRTY - EIGHT

species: HUMAN

nationality: IRISH , ITALIAN , AMERICAN

sexuality: PANSEXUAL / DEMIROMANTIC

sign: AQUARIUS SUN , LIBRA MOON , VIRGO RISING

occupation: OWNER & BOUNCER @ RED HOT PUSSY LIQUORS

+ traits: INVITING. FAIR. FUNNY. OPEN-MINDED. TOLERANT.

-- traits: GUARDED. DETACHED. DESPERATE. SELF-DESTRUCTIVE.

faceclaim: MILO VENTIMIGLIA

soundscapes: HERE

aesthetic: HERE

yo yo you yo , it’s lydia ( yes , that’s my real name ) here with my noble beast bryce winslow ! i have had bryce as a muse longer than any other and it’s been literal years since i’ve written him so i’m extremely excited. this is the first time he will be milo though and i’m super hype to get things going ! i have headcanon after headcanon for him , so hit me up if you want to do something bc i am ready to do some shit !! again , i’m lydia ( or nary , nettle , snottie , etc. ) and i love a good name change , twenty five years old , pansexual demigirl ( she / her & / or they / them ) residing in the central timezone.

this is THIRTY-EIGHT year old BRYCE WINSLOW , the OWNER OF & BOUNCER AT RED HOT PUSSY LIQUORS BURLESQUE AND BOOZE who uses HE / HIM pronouns. he grew up in DUBLIN , IRELAND but came to pleasance in JULY 2006 ON HAPPENSTANCE AND TO RUN AWAY FROM HIS PAST and now enjoys spending his time at FOR KEEPS AND RED HOT PUSSY LIQUORS. BRYCE is written by LYDIA.

PERSONALITY

element: air ruling planet: uranus — planet of originality body part: ankles good day: communicative , original , open-minded , fair , logical , inviting , tolerant , funny bad day: guarded , detached , self-destructive , out-of-touch , irrational , desperate , lonely favorite things: dancing , teaching , team sports , anything with a cause or mission , independent films , working out , baths , animals , preserving plant life / flowers , reading least favorite things: injustice , drama queens , feeling isolated , owing money or favors , having to choose just one thing , personal questions , gossip , cigarette smoke secret wish: to experience total freedom how to spot him: a cute smile lighting up a tired face , quirky movements , tired eyes , long legs , big hands , flannel , old beat up truck where you’ll find him: backpacking or hiking , protesting , coaching a team , revolutionizing the industry he works in , the gym , red hot pussy liquors , alone at home , working on a project , taking a walk by northwood lake keywords: friendliness , eccentricity , teamwork , humanitarianism , technology , groups , avant-garde

first thing to know about bryce winslow is that he’s a free-spirit that prizes individuality and plays well on a team. he has been known to do things his own way , moving on a path different from everyone else’s. some call him eccentric , others appreciate his cutting-edge originality and authentic style.

one of the many ways that the irishman is a paradox ? he’s highly individualistic , but also an amazing team player. he might look like the fresh-faced guy next door on the outside , but inside he marches to his own beat. naturally popular , as he’s vibrantly social and loves to be among people , telling jokes and introducing thought-provoking conversation topics.

people truly do make his world go round , and he can become friends with the most random strangers. can be a bit of an alien — a little “ out there ” in his approach to different things. not that he cares about offending anyone ! loves a good casual connection , bryce can disengage as quickly as he connects. in fact , platonic pals sometimes get better treatment than romantic partners.

while he can be a bit unsentimental on a one-on-one level , he can be moved to tears by the plight of animals , the environment or other social justice issues. yes , this big irishman is a bohemian at heart in some ways , but he also gets the job done. as a tenacious aquarius , he can be quite hardworking when he devotes himself to a goal.

a competitive ( and lesser-known ) type a streak can emerge when he really wants something. nothing turns him on like progress , especially in the name of his grander ideals ! playing hard to get REALLY works on him lol

philanthropic and objective , bryce is in a lot of ways innovative and avant-garde. from experimental electronic music to community-oriented living , there’s nothing that this man hasn’t or won’t explore. as someone who loves being a part of a good group or team , bringing people together is also one of his specialties.

intense bryce energy is cutting-edge , “ out there ” and even a little strange at times. a total nerd for all things futuristic , science fiction and wacky inventions. no topic is too cutting-edge with this irishman: extraterrestrials , stem cells , cloning , robots taking over the earth…yup , bryce will go there.

while he likes to influence rebellion and detaching from reality ( c’mon bryce , back to earth ! ) , he likes to help others see possibilities they wouldn’t otherwise. the essence of his true energy is: community-oriented , original , open-minded , fair , logical , humanitarian , connecting , and inviting.

the negative expression of bryce’s energy can be: guarded , detached , destructive , out-of-touch , irrational , and desperate. reluctant to express emotions — the irishman prefers rational reasoning and cool-headed logic to the messy tapestry of the human feelings.

one of his favorite authors is ayn rand , founder of the objectivist movement , and that’s pretty much all you need to know. objectivism has been a major influence on the libertarian movement , which has a real bryce flavor. it’s an organized system that also preserves individual freedom and limits government intervention. it’s very “ fringe ” and mainstream all at once , a fascinating paradox and something that really intrigues him.

playful gusts and a social butterfly whirlwind combines into a gale force of humanitarianism for all. bryce is a visionary , dreaming up quirky utopias and alternative realities that can shake up the status quo. emotional detachment , unpredictable energy and rebellion are major factors in the irishman’s personality. not going to lie , he can be “ type a “ and totally quirky all at the same time ??

a stabilizer — the one who sets up a solid goal or foundation then starts building. bryce can take the enthusiastic idea that someone else sparks and craft it into something real. he picks up the ball when another passes it , running the distance to the goal.

the trustworthy type who likes “ to-do ” lists and fancy titles. if a friend says , “ let’s go on vacation ! ” he’s already calling the travel agency , booking the tickets and hotel , and sending everyone a list of what to pack.

true believer in friendship and teamwork , so bryce tends to be more focused on a group than an individual. freedom is important to him , which is why he likes to keep things light on an interpersonal level. that way , he won’t feel bad about running off to the opposite corner of the world at a moment’s notice.

at times , this nomadic strategy backfires , leaving him lonely and disconnected. in truth , the irishman is uncomfortable with too much intimacy. this free spirit belongs to the world and feels off-balance giving his considerable energy to just one person.

while bryce’s friends get first-class treatment , family and lovers see a different side of him: moody , brooding , anxious and neurotic. he may pick one ( and only one ) person to open up to , getting attached to the point of obsession.

learning to accept and express his emotions would help him avoid the massive freak outs and anger flashes that come from pretending everything’s cool when it isn’t. bryce appreciates a quirky or eccentric twist , enjoying colorful characters and people with counter cultural personalities.

BIOGRAPHY

bryce atlas winslow was born into a very straight lace , play by the rules , catholic family. his father , matteo winslow , was an italian military man and his mother , deirdre winslow , was a cold irish homemaker. matteo was every bit the ‘ man of the family ’ and bryce grew up only answering to his father. deirdre would only every answer a question with ‘ ask yer da ’ or ‘ dija’ ask yer da ? ’

she was a mostly spineless , god fearing woman that was afraid of her own shadow and that’s what made her such a good puppet for matteo. bryce’s father was a stern , angry man that only grew angrier when drunk , no one dared put even a single toe out of line with him around.

( TW: implied child abuse ) with bryce being the first born and only son he was expected to be perfect , from a very young age he felt the pressures of that. it was like walking on eggshells , always afraid of making a mistake or displeasing his father. he did not have the fun , happy-go-lucky innocence a child should expect of their early years ; instead for bryce winslow there was not much more than discipline , hard work , and punishment.

for the most part , bryce succeeded at being the perfect son his father expected him to be — a robot more than an actual living boy. nothing more than a machine , a machine being bred for war.

it wasn’t until the beginning of his secondary school , when puberty and hormones began blossoming , that things became precarious. voice cracks , uneven patches of hair…. oh , and a sudden sexual desire for the same sex.

( TW: suicide ment. ) now , the winslows were catholic - extremely devout catholics - and bryce grew very self-loathing and afraid in this confusing time. he contemplated suicide , all because ‘ homosexuality was wrong ‘ and ‘ you go straight to hell ‘ if you engage in anything associated with it. it didn’t matter how good of a son you were , because ‘ man shall not lie with man. ‘ he kept it hidden for years , he also managed not to act on it until well into the last year of secondary school.

despite bryce’s fears and shame , when he was sixteen he fell in love for the first time. first loves can be explosive , dangerous even and this one was nothing short of just that. the boy kept his forbidden love a secret from everyone , his family and father above all others.

all good things must come to an end though or so they say , for the boys it came far sooner than later. matteo , bryce’s father , happened upon a note from the boy bryce was seeing , cian , and in said note was all sorts of information including a meeting spot. as you can imagine , matteo flew from the house in a drunken rage in search of his “ sinner “ of a son only to catch him red-handed.

( TW: assault , child abuse ) bryce managed to save cian from his father’s wrath , taking the brunt of the attack. cian watched as bryce was beaten , begging and screaming for the man to stop , that he was killing him. the drunken bigot was turning on the younger boy when bryce told him to leave and never come back , so that is what he did.

( TW: implied abuse ) to this day , he has never laid eyes on his young lover and that was probably for the best. after his father had tired himself out and satisfied his rage , he left his son there in the dirt and the beaten boy didn’t bother moving.

( TW: suicidal thoughts , conversion therapy ment. ) will to live depleted , too tired to go on , pain too much to endure — he just slept there until the next morning. he was awoken with a kick of dirt in the face , his father telling him that he was being sent to a ‘’ special ’’ facility where they would get rid of his ‘’ ailment. ’’

( TW: conversion therapy / facility ) time melded in the facility , but he estimated nearly a year of his life was wasted away in there. resistant and defiant for most of his time there , it wasn’t until his father visited him , the one and only time . that things changed.

( TW: suicide ment. , homophobia ) his father brought news that his mother had killed herself but this was a vicious lie , a last ditch effort to get bryce to change his ways and boy , did it work ! hardly a month later , the young man was discharged from the facility only to find his mother was indeed very much alive.

matteo up and moved his entire family to england after bryce got out of the facility. his father gave him nonsense about wanting to get away from the bad memories , starting over new , and ‘ lead not into temptation ‘ by sending him back to school with ‘ sinners ’ and ‘ sodomites. ‘

so , bryce finished out the remainder of his schooling in england and went straight into the forces as per his father’s wishes. sadly for him , he would never become what he so longed to be. he had just finished boot camp and life had just started to seem somewhat normal - if you can call anything the winslow’s had normal - when he lost it all.

( TW: eye injury ) the young man was honorably discharged after an accident that left him legally blind in one eye , when he returned home after his short stent in the defense forces there was no longer a place in the family for him. his father quite literally disowned him all for something he had no control over , a mere accident , but there was nothing more disappointing to matteo than a son that was ‘ kicked out ‘ of the forces.

( TW: gang ment. , human trafficking ) fast forward a year , bryce had found himself in a gang. this part of his background is the most unresolved seeing as it’s not part of his original backstory. long story short , he was involved with the gang until he was twenty three but it all became too much for him after his boss tried to involve him in human trafficking.

( TW: gang ment. , suicide , death ) when you join a gang you don’t usually do it thinking someday you might one day retire or quit said gang , but then as you get older you realize you’re not as tough as you thought. bryce was twenty-three when his mother finally really did ‘ commit suicide ‘ , the first time his father spoke to him since he returned home from the forces was only to blame him for her death.

( TW: death ment. , implied murder ) honestly , it was just the straw that broke the camels back. bryce wasn’t allowed at the funeral or anywhere near it , he’s almost certain his mother’s death wasn’t by her own hand or an accident but he’ll never truly know. after he was certain she was in the ground , bryce fled to america in the hopes of outrunning the gang and getting lost in the melting pot.

once in the land of opportunity , he got his hands on the cheapest ride he could find first and just started driving. it was well after his twenty-fourth birthday , right smack in the middle of a hot ass summer in ‘06 , that he found himself in pleasance of all places. he never had any intention at all to grow roots there , it simply happened.

other than that , the man busies himself with drying and preserving flowers , taking baths , working out , and playing with his dog. he parades around like this big , tough hard ass when in reality he’s quite the domestic goofball type.

ETC.

has a dog , it’s a beagle named shiloh literally

a big hobby of his is preserving flowers in his spare time , he keeps a small book of pressed flowers and plant life on him a lot of the time in the chance he comes across something he wants to preserve

can play guitar and doesn’t have a bad singing voice either

legally blind in one eye , but doesn’t wear his glasses often

has a younger sister that he does keep in contact with , but not very well ( WC ? )

a guilty pleasure of his is taking baths ; he enjoys adding bath salts , flowers , and other so-called ‘ feminine ‘ products like bath bombs , etc. to them and honestly takes one nearly every day

he was born and raised mostly in dublin , ireland and has a thick accent that only gets thicker when intoxicated or angry. he does use a lot of uncommon terminology to american’s ( yes , i own the feckin’ book of everything irish. . . it’s that serious ) but i’ll lyk in the tags what it means unless i forget

@phqextras

#DOSSIER.#phqintro #phqextras #am i doing this right ?#idk

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margaretflorist · 3 years

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The small bell above the door chimes, announcing her entrance into town hall. The clerk behind the desk looks up, and Maggie’s quick to plaster on a smile. “Here for the museum,” she says, gesturing towards the small room that serves as a gallery. The clerk nods, saying nothing, and returns their attention to the book laid out on the desk in front of them. Maggie nods, pressing her mouth into a thin line, and marches into the gallery.

She’d spent a lot of time thinking about her next move. For awhile, she’d seriously considered getting back into Alby’s mansion. The man in the attic called out to her, like a lighthouse beacon or a siren song, and she wanted so desperately to return. There was something else there, something she was supposed to see. It was as certain as the rest of Pleasance, a dark gravity that dressed her bones in lead. Sometimes, Maggie would stand on the sidewalk, eyes trained towards the trees that hid the estate. She’d gotten lucky once, escaping by the skin of her teeth. A part of her had gotten trapped in the attic that night, some sliver of her soul stuck on the scraps of canvas that made up her ghost’s face. If she was going to go back, she’d need help --- and that was what stopped her. KJ’s warnings over dinner - the alert staff, the cameras, Alby’s impermanent ignorance - had stayed her. Hannah knew, but Maggie would never ask her to put her life on the line. She could have tried to poke around the hotel and the resort, trying to find someone who knew more about Alby’s schedule, who could have shepherded her into the home. But word traveled fast in a town like this, and word was the last thing Maggie wanted to travel. It’d make it back to George, no doubt, but also KJ. Maggie didn’t want him to discover she’d lied to him. Not like this.

Margaret never considered letting it go. The man in the painting had become her close companion. She’d seen his face in the water of the bath, the glass of Beau & Kaye’s sparkling windows, the moment between flipping the switch and the lights coming on. His shadow followed her home. He watched her as she slept. Someone in the Alby family intended him to stay a secret forever, melt into dust or ash or nothing. Maggie had found him. If a piece of her was trapped in the attic, a piece of him had clung to her, slipped down the staircase and into the world once more. If she was ever to be free of him, she’d need to give him the gift of his name. The library had been a bust -- but the museum held some hope. She doubted anyone in the Alby family would have allowed anyone outside of Pleasance to paint their portraits. All she needed to do was find a matching signature, and the next part of her path would align.

She starts at the beginning. She’s the only one in the gallery - a room barely big enough to garner such a title - and she plans on taking her time. One by one, Maggie stands in front of the paintings hanging along the walls. She studies the brushstrokes, the style, the details of the clothing. The first one has a signature with wild flourishes, the second holds no people, the third is a still life she’s sure was done by a child. None of them match the small scribble in the corner of her shaky painting. She can feel her frustration growing. It’s slow-going, this investigation, and she’s growing hot and uncomfortable in all of her layers. But she can’t give up. He’s there, just out of sight. He needs her to find this, and she needs to find this. She has to find something. She has to.

By the time she reaches the last portrait in the gallery, her cheeks are flushed and her palms are sweaty. She gives it a cursory glance, expecting failure, when suddenly -- the details on a jacket match his. The brushstrokes of the background have the same sweeping motion. She takes a step back. This is similar. It’s the closest she’s gotten all day. Underneath the portrait, a small caption reads: “Mayor Warren and Arthur Cornish-Alby cut the ribbon for the opening of the Town Hall. Cornish-Alby is with his wife and three children.” She looks back at the picture. There they are -- two young girls, seated primly in pinafores, and a young boy. His face looks out at Maggie. She swallows a scream. It might be him, it might not be. But it’s a start. Her eyes rove over the rest of the painting, searching, searching -- there. The signature in the corner looks exactly like the one she’s been studying for weeks. She lifts her phone, just to be sure, and confirms. Leaning in, she gets as close as she’s sure security will let her.

F.D.

Frederic Deblanc.

Almost there, she thinks. We’re almost there.

@phqextras

#phqtask #[ solo ]#phqextras #sorry it took me so LO NG #i also listened to an instrumental cover of house of new orleans so no lyrics this time skaf;dka

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jhellstrom · 4 years

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pleasance, a playlist.

#phqextras #???#「 jules 」 » musings. ⋮

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orionxcastillo · 3 years

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Ori goes to the Lavender Ball, escorting Mama Castillo as she volunteers for the night. You can find him outside sharing his cigarettes with good company, his lavender shirt sleeves rolled up around his elbows and top buttons undone @phqextras

#S I R #ori face is here #phqevent

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wispykatsopolis · 3 years

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meet whisper spirit katsopolis. she’s 28, has lived in pleasance her entire life, and she’s a mortician at faccone funerals & cremations. you can find her about page HERE to read a little more about her, and you can find some tidbits about her below the cut! if you’d like to plot, please hit me up either through tumblr im or discord! @phqextras

trigger warnings: congenital heart disease

whisper will also answer to wispy and any other variation you can get from her name

she has congenital heart disease. she was born with it and she takes medication for it. she had open heart surgery when she was three months old, so she has a large scar down her chest. she doesn’t hide it and she doesn’t mind people asking about it, it’s not a sensitive subject for her. the only close call with death she’s ever had was when she gave birth to her daughter. she’s been fine ever since, and tends to take it easy as far as strenuous activity goes

speaking of sensitive... she is one. she has sort of a sixth sense. she can feel when something unordinary/supernatural is around (it’s mostly the energy of spirits she can feel, she’s just ultrasensitive to it). it doesn’t mean she can talk to ghosts, but she can in fact see certain apparitions. she can feel when something of the like is around, and she can usually tell if it’s good or bad. she gets the feeling most of the time around cemeteries, in the morgue, in her embalming room, or near places that are historically old

mom is italian, dad is greek. she speaks both languages fluently and she can speak american sign language, as well as in italian and greek

if you’re not her family or her friend, don’t call her anything that pertains to her height (or lack thereof)

she’s a mortician and she loves her job, even if it’s emotionally trying at times

she’s a practicing witch and has been ever since she could remember

she loves creepy stuff

scary movies are her favorite

she will eat anyone out of house and home

her daughter is the love of her life

don’t come for her or her family. she can and will make your death look like an accident

tries not to curse, so she uses alternative phrases the best she can

will absolutely correct you on something if she knows she’s right about it. if she’s claiming she’s right, it’s because she is --- she learned it, didn’t guess it

dresses like a total tomboy. she only gets ‘girly’ when she’s dressing up for an event or meeting. her usual attire consists of jeans and a baggy t-shirt and converse

her hair is forever messy. she can never get it to look decent

#phqintro

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behrooz-najm · 3 years

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++ HOME

Bez’ house is a mess, most likely. They’re not great at cleaning, they’re usually out of the house, and they ALWAYS forget their coffee. Resulting in way too many coffee mugs standing everywhere. Also on account of just moving in (about 4 months, but still) they haven’t had time to buy proper furniture, so it is mostly a matras, a table, and a little side table. Their apartment is a one floor room, bedroom, living room, and kitchen in one, and a shared bathroom/toilet. It isn’t much, and they could afford more, but that just means more space to make a mess of.

@phqextras

#muse #//never has people over #//at least not people like Dagny

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rhyslovespopcorn · 3 years

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EMRYS “RHYS” HANCOCK

BIRTH NAME: Emrys Jordan Hancock NICKNAME: Rhys AGE+DOB: 38 years old, September 18th 1982 GENDER: Cis-male or whatever PRONOUNS: he/him usually, also replies to anything else NATIONALITY: American ETHNICITY: Something European EDUCATION: High school diploma, teacher training, lace-up diploma HOME TOWN: Pleasance, Ohio CURRENT LOCATION: Pleasance, Ohio OCCUPATION: Elementary teacher RELIGION: goes to church sometimes when he remembers to go ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral FAMILY: All his family lives in Pleasance, he thinks. FACECLAIM: Matt Ryan

+ Kind, friendly, passionate, invested, interested, studious +/- Obsessive, fixed, overly-excited - easily distracted, unpredictable, a little all over the place

@phqextras

FULL BIOGRAPHY

(full biography here)

Summary in Rhys’ words: Hi, I am Rhys. I am currently thirty-eight years old, give or take since you know the days go on and on and then before I know it I will be thirty-nine. Anyway, I am the little brother of Jesse, you know, our Mayor. He is fantastic, really, no matter what anyone says he’s got this, he’s perfect for the job, I don’t know any other person who is as kind as he is! He got me through my childhood. I was a pretty “difficult” child, mostly because nobody really knew what was wrong with me, and they had me tested for like, all these weird conditions. Like… at some point my parents thought I was bipolar. I got an assortment of meds, but none of that really worked, and some even made it worse, but Jesse was always there for me. When I was eighteen my teacher suggested that my parents should look into ADHD, because that sometimes gets overlooked because I wasn’t really the jumping around kind of kid, or the ‘can’t sit still’, I was more the type to sit still for hours and then completely forgot the time. Like, it would be 3am and I would’ve read a whole wikipedia history of four hundred pages. Anyway, soon as they realised I did have ADHD, or ADD, I think technically it is ADD now, everything got a lot better! I am now an elementary teacher and have been for almost two decades! I love kids, they’re the best, they’re fun, they get me, we always get up to crazy adventures, and I get to teach them whatever I think is interesting. It is a pretty free school, I think after failures in the past they sort of value my teaching techniques and experiences. Also I love popcorn.

HEADCANONS

Is completely smitten by Edith Alby, yes the ghost. He’s run into her a few times already - though nobody believes him - and she has been nothing but kind to him. Even once saving him from a bear near the lake by pointing him to a tree he could easily climb into.

Has to take meds daily for ADD. Often forgets.

Hyper-fixates easily on random subjects. He knows EVERYTHING about whales at this point.

Has four “best teacher” mugs.

Drinks a lot of coffee, not because he likes it, but because coffee usually helps him focus.

When he hasn’t had his medicine, he tends to lose track of time or shut himself off from others and dive extremely deep into his own thoughts.

He LOVES popcorn.

His favorite movie is A Knight’s Tale.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

FRIENDS- Rhys was born and raised in Pleasance, so he’s bound to know people. Either people who he used to be friends with, or people he still hangs out with and who can/or have to deal with his jumbled mind.

BROTHER OF- Being the little brother of the most important man in Pleasance comes with its… troubles. Either your character is a huge fan of Mayor Hancock or really thinks he’s in over his head. You will find Rhys only saying good things about the Mayor… oh, and the occasional thing he shouldn’t have said.

MORE THAN FRIENDS- Despite being completely smitten by the ghost of Edith Alby, there is always more room in Rhys’ heart for others - which in the past has led to some awkward situations because Rhys really needs to be told a relationship is “exclusive” in order to understand that he’s supposed to be in love with only one person. Your character has one of the characteristics Rhys appreciates in other people: is pretty, is kind, or has helped him in the past.

#intro #have a rhys

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