HEALTH & LIFESTYLE

DIET: Tends to only eat raw ingredients such as fruits and nuts as the need for perfection has more or less ruined meals for him - it all tastes like failure and mistakes and room for improvement. He also eats sporadically and not enough - it's hard to remember to maintain a body that doesn't feel like it belongs to you, and it's even harder to want to.

EXERCISE: Doesn't exercise.

SLEEP: Passes out at random times for small periods, until he amasses enough sleep debt to find a quiet hiding place to pass out for 12+hrs in. Cannot sleep at all if anyone is in the room - unless he trusts them, in which case he's finally able to sleep normally.

HYGIENE: Carefully maintains himself and always keeps himself clean and put together. Gotta keep up appearances.

ADDICTION: Alcohol

HISTORY OF PHYSICAL ILLNESS

Fairly hardy as far as sickness goes - he usually winds up in med bays due to dropping from exhaustion or malnutrition. Has also broken a few bones.

SCARS: Series of scars covering his upper back, one is particularly worse than the others. A long cut down his right palm, another long cut on his scalp, hidden by his hair. His knees and elbows are also pretty banged up generally. He's unsure if he has a scar underneath the bandaid trinket, and he's no longer able to check.

ALLERGY: Mild hay fever

INTOLERANCE: None.

STRENGTHS

Charismatic. Gets along easy with others and can usually talk his way out of most situations.

Clever. Used to thinking on his feet and devising a plan on the fly.

WEAKNESSES

Passive. Often goes along with things regardless of his feelings because "oh, this is happening now, i guess"

Succumbs to social pressure pretty easily. Doesn't want to cause a scene or make a fuss or have people notice if something is happening, so he'll go along to keep things running smoothly.

Incapable of holding grudges and far too forgiving. He can move past just about anything and still work to help someone.

FLAWS

Resigned. While there are usually ways he recognizes he can escape a situation, he'll often not take them because he's already resigned himself to his fate.

Paranoid. Always has an eye out for what could go wrong, finds it very difficult to let his guard down around people, even if he rationally knows they're unlikely to do anything like what he's worried about.

HABITS

Rubs the back of his neck when uncomfortable, also a famed nervous grinner.

Tends to quickly check around the room to see who's around when approached.

PET PEEVES

Oversharing. Do you have no shame?

Something getting dirty right after he cleaned it. Can't you last like just a little while longer?

WISHES

For everyone to be okay.

To be forgotten and die.

PREJUDICE

This boy can hold so many racial issues inside of him

Wary of Repents - a lot of sin are here for something stupid. Repents usually did something.

SECRETS

Did you expect there'd be anything written here for you? Of course I'm not telling you. LMAO

PHILOSOPHY

You have to believe in something, right? If everyone is inherently cruel - born wicked and seeking only to cause harm - then how could you go on? Isn't that such a lonely way to think? No matter how many times the world is viciously cruel, I'll hold onto the belief in something better. I could never doom you to a world that would never love you back.

ETHICS

If you can do something, you should do something. It's the least you can do. Lying is good if used correctly. Everything catches up with you eventually.

HISTORY OF MENTAL ILLNESS

Depression, dissasociative disorder, PTSD. All are undiagnosed.

TRIGGERS: Flirting, sexual aggression, suicide imagery, women of similar disposition of his mother

PHOBIAS: Abandonment, suffocation, physical restraints

DEFENSE MECHANISM: Rationalization

THREAT-BASED MINDSET: Freeze

BIRTHPLACE: Albanon

ENVIRONMENT: Small, middle-class town in the Okanogan.

OVERALL HISTORY

CHILDHOOD: You were born in a small village.
You spent a lot of time around your family - maybe one particular branch of it, looking back. Your grandma with the massive house, your auntie with a beautiful smile who would dress up you and your sister in clothes from the old country and spin you around, your uncle with the funny stories, running down a hallway and hearing tense conversation drifting from a room, poking in, they turn to see you and chase you out. You never figured out what that was about.
Your mom works long hours in the city that's pretty far away, so you barely see her - spending most of your time with your twin sister, Dad, and his extended family. It's always busy. You go out on a lot of trips, see a lot of the country. Play with your cousins. Stay up really late at night, hiding in the entryway, trying to catch your mom when she gets home. You wake up to her scooping you up in her arms, saying something in her language you don't understand and tucking you back into bed. See you Saturday, kid.
Saturday comes and your dad loads you into a car with your cousins to go on a picnic. You'll see Mom next Saturday, you suppose.
You leave Albanon pretty abruptly.
This new town looks a lot like the village you were in previously - orchards and rolling hills lined with trees. The houses are a lot different. The people are even stranger. You've barely learned one language and now you have to catch up on another one. You and your sister get sent to the first day of kindergarten and you sit in the back, trying not to cry in frustration as everyone speaks in weird ways you don't understand even the slightest. You miss your family. You miss your home. You're kinda lost as to who came with and who stayed behind, to be honest - catching up on the concept of a nuclear family after spending your first six years in a multigenerational home. Your mom being here doesn't make any more sense than your aunt being here. You're happy your mom dad and sister are here at least - but you miss Ran, and Minuette...
You see your Mom a lot more, now, though. She doesn't seem too happy about being here, either, but she's a lot closer to whatever it is she does, now. She gives you a tired smile and ruffles your hair before heading upstairs. You try to follow, but you still can't really talk to her, huh? You and Miranda stay up all night studying English.
You still spend most of your time with your Dad. He's always cooking something or watching TV or taking you guys out on whatever excursion he has planned for the day, when he's not in his studio, painting. He has sketchbooks full of you and your sister - a portrait of the family in the livingroom. You wander in and he hands you a paintbrush and a small canvas. You can make anything you want, Joojeh~
It's a lot of fun. Doodles fill the margins of your schoolbooks, the top of your desk, the walls of your room - everything turns into a canvas to be decorated. You draw a lot for your new friend - a girl named Zoey - neither of you are big talkers, but for different reasons. But a drawing of a flower is universal - and so is the frog she cusps in her hands, offering it to you. You two spend a lot of time together. Eventually you start talking.
You get the hang of English eventually.
You don't understand why you never see the rest of your family anymore, but - after a few years, this new country, Lacuna, Summerland - it's not so bad. You have new friends, new opportunities. You start talking to your Mom every now and then. The four of you go out on trips and adventures - it's a lot of fun, actually! You make a lot more friends at school, now that you can understand other people. It's perfect, right?
It's not perfect. Your memories gloss over the details. You keep waking up to hearing your parents argue - your Mom starts doing more and more work, she can't cook nearly as good as Dad does, so you're unsure why she's always making dinner now - cleaning the house, she always looks so tired and stressed out - you try to ask and she screams at you, which leads to Dad screaming at her, which leads to a screaming match, which leads to...
...the door being locked.
You and Miranda are ten. No amount of knocking will get it open. You look between yourselves. Your parents are in the room, right? Why won't they come out? Miranda looks like she's about to cry, so you quickly take her hand. You can make lunch, right? You try to slap something together and head to school. It'll be fine. A car is missing. You're sure it's nothing.
The door is still locked that night. You and Miranda crawl around the kitchen for whatever food doesn't require a stove. Without a parent telling you what to do, you stay up all night watching movies and skip out on homework. Occasionally, you knock on the bedroom door. Hello?
This goes on for a few more days, before the teacher asks why you don't have any food today. Police show up to the school, and some lady in a nice suit escorts you and your sister into some sort of car. They take you back to your home to pack. The bedroom door is open. They can't tell you where your parents are. The one car is still missing, the other isn't. You swallow down the panic that's been building over the last few days.
Mom is sick, they finally tell you, after a night in a strange building. They don't know anything about your dad. But they've contacted your family, you'll be spending some time with them. You and your sister wait excitedly for your grandma. Instead, some white couple shows up. They kinda look like Mom. They refuse to take Miranda? Before you know it, you're in the back of their car. They ask you some questions. You ask what's going on. Where's Dad? Where's Miranda? What happened?
You only spend four months with them, back in Albanon, but there is nowhere on Earth you wouldn't go to avoid going back.
They try to lock you in a back room when your Mom arrives. You didn't know she was coming. You bang on the doors and scream. She tells you to stand back as she kicks the door in. You've never seen her so angry in your life. You cling to her as she pulls you out, dozens of legal threats and insults pouring from her lips as the two of you leave. You don't even get your things. You dimly realise that your Mom wouldn't have had someone to rescue her from that when she was a child. The thought terrifies you. If something happens to her - you wind up back here again, right? It's a long flight back to Lacuna - you wait in the car until you see your Mom emerge from the strange house with Miranda. Mira looks miserable until she sees you. You cling to each other in the backseat as Mom starts the long drive back home. Mira tries to talk about the place she was, but Mom cuts her off every time. You can't bring yourself to say a single thing about your grandparents. You talk vaguely about cartoons until you pass out.
You wake up at the house. You go inside, ready to head to bed. Instead, Mom gets you to gather up all your art supplies. Anything Dad ever gave you. She walks around the house, tearing paintings off of the walls. It all gets piled in the backyard - your mom lights a match and sets it ablaze. The iron grip she has on your shoulder burns into your brain. Dad left. Dad hates her. He forced this life on her she never asked for, and when she didn't behave how he wanted her to, he left her with it. To watch her fail. The grip gets tighter. But we won't let him win. We will not be failures. We are Joneses. Do you understand?
It's a lot - finding out your own mother never wanted you. But if she doesn't want you, you know where you'll end up. You swear up and down you'll do whatever she says. Terrified of her disappearing again. Terrified of being sent back. Terrified of what might happen. Whatever the price is - you're happy to pay it.
The three of you watch the fire until embers die down. Mom finally lets go and you all head inside. In the mirror, you see where her fingers bruised your skin.

ADOLESCENCE: You're not actually that smart, honestly. The key is just to have a good work ethic. Which is easy to develop given the correct circumstances. Everything changes rapidly - abandoning whatever friends and social engagements you had as your mom's demand for perfection ramps up - she's no longer a figure in the background, but the central role your life pivots around. The house goes from a mess to a pristine showhome - loud to dead silent, late night movies turn to late night studying, you and Miranda doing your best to keep up with her ever-evolving list of requirements. She works late hours, you quickly learn how to clean. You get sick of takeout, you learn how to cook. Everything has to be proper - be polite, don't cause trouble, do as you're told, never show weakness - all the beautiful colours your dad always surrounded himself with leaving your wardrobe, replaced with blue.
It all seems pretty blue, doesn't it?
You and your sister slowly make your way to the top of the class, adjusting - adults laugh about how much you've matured recently. You certainly agree. There's a bit of resentment as you watch the other kids play - it vanishes whenever you see your mom.
You feel bad about abandoning Zoey. Now that she's alone, Chris and Paul keep harassing her. You step in - Zoey is a crybaby, and you've been through enough to where the two of them don't really scare you anymore. Beyond just bullying you, they absorb you into their little group. It's not exactly what you expected, and it's not exactly good - you're not supposed to cause trouble, and there's nothing they do more, but... it's a bit cathartic, and Liam isn't that bad, so... it's all working out, right? Besides, you can try to dissuade them from the worse things, they certainly have... ideas.
They push a can of beer into your hand. It tastes like shit. After the second one, it doesn't taste so bad anymore. It's kinda fun, actually...
Transfer students are a pretty big deal - they almost never happen. Who would willingly move to Summerland? His name is Lewis, and he has the worst act you've ever seen in your life. Your charade works a bit too well on him. Somehow he manages to get under your skin. Maybe you were getting a bit desperate. At least he's willing to fake it. You two bond over divorce and missing parents. He laments a stepmom and stepsisters. You sympathise until you meet them. You start spending a lot of time at his house.
Your grades slip. You stop spending a lot of time at his house. Mom hates it when you're over there.
Mom hates a lot of things.
Mom occasionally wakes up in the morning with a completely different attitude. You and Miranda find yourself in planes and trains all over - weekend trips, day trips -
"What's the point of all that work if we can't enjoy it?" she hums. You have a walkman now, with 4 currently popular CDs. You listen to it idly and wonder if you like any of them at all. Maybe it's not so bad. The view is beautiful, at least.
Mom occasionally doesn't get out of bed. The door isn't locked, so you crawl in, helping her up, finding her drunk, cleaning her up, that terror in your stomach, stay with me-
Maybe if you worked harder.
Miranda starts getting sick more often, fainting at school, in and out of the hospital, rail thin - you're not even sure what happened. You realise you've been so busy with everything else, you hardly noticed. You research eating disorders and do your best. It seems like everything is always bursting at the seams - you're not sure how to keep it all together. The entire house rests on your back.
Maybe if you worked harder.
It's all too much. Mom and Miranda get sicker. Chris and Paul get meaner. You drink more. Your grades slip. Mom gets angrier. She drinks more. Miranda pulls vase shards out of your back with trembling hands that can barely grip the porcelain. Mom and Miranda get sicker. You try to find anything to cope. You go out more. Your grades slip. Mom gets angrier.
Mom switches from screaming to sighing apologies as she ties a splint around your arm, rubbing your shoulder and kissing your forehead. You choke back tears as you dismiss her apologies, the two of you crafting an excuse together, when

ACADEMY: They really didn't give you enough time to process.
It doesn't take long to put a broken arm into a cast, or bandage up cuts on your back, fresh out of the hospital and into the jailyard, broken arm at your side. You can barely process all the new faces and spaces - how could you? Days keep passing, the sun keeps rising and setting, people keep speaking to you like the world didn't just end. You feel like you've survived the rapture, after a lifetime of trying to make it to heaven.
The broken arm really makes you an easy target - it probably would have healed a lot faster in different circumstances. The nurses sigh as you wind up in the medical ward again. The doctor debates placing you in solitary just to keep you out of trouble. You can't catch a foothold no matter what you do - though it's hard when everything feels so surreal. When you're always a few degrees off of a total meltdown. When's the last time you had any privacy? Your mom died, and it's been occupation ever since. You never thought you'd miss your house so much in your life. At least in your room, you knew it was private. Here, it's all surveillance and monitors and rooms packed with other students with ears like yours. Your room has three other people in it.
Where are you supposed to cry?
You'd already met him previously - repent boy, a year older than you, it's a small school - you hadn't really thought much about it until your back is against the wall and he talks your would-be assailants down. You ask what he wants in return and he waves the suggestion away. It seems like no one will mess with you as long as you're beside him. You keep running back to him until you have the foresight to just not leave his side.
His name is John. You're not quite sure what he did to get here, but that's usually the case, isn't it? He's actually pretty easy to talk to - you two bond over divorce and missing parents. Maybe you're just desperate. At least he's charming. He has a group of repent guys he usually hangs out with - they invite you along, all various different ages. It's an easy thing to agree to, considering the alternative. The other boys are always causing problems and getting into shit - like most of the boys in the prison. It's something you're used to - it's maybe a bit cathartic again. But not John - you sort've wonder why he hangs out with them at all. The boys come back to the highschool with a backpack full of booze from a connect they have at the proper Academy. You're pretty eager to get smashed again. John doesn't drink. He spends the night making sure you don't get into trouble. Apparently you talk a lot when you're drunk, which is pretty embarrassing. You know this because he tells you the next morning, waking up and seeing him on the floor next to your bed. You apologise profusely for all the trouble you put him through - he brushes it off. He trades bunks with one of the guys in your room. Now you're roommates. You start to feel a bit uneasy. Maybe a bit too much attention? Since when did anyone pay such attention to you?
He knows your mother's name. You're not quite sure when you let your guard down so hard. It does make sense, though. He really is so easy to talk to. He kinda gets everything he wants. Everyone respects him. He's friends with everyone, it seems. He's friends with everyone. Familiar faces. Wait a minute-

You're seventeen. People say you killed a man. You wish you remembered more of the interim.
It was months ago. You and John vanished. Only you came back. You wish you remembered less. He ran away, I tried to stop him seems to be your story. You can't remember if that's the truth or not.
They don't find a body, so it must be, right?
Most of the guys from his crew dipped, it seems - but Andy kept you around. He has a new crew of guys in his grade. You're aware he's being uncharacteristically nice to you. You're not sure why, but you appreciate it. You really don't want to be exposed like that again - especially with all these gaps that keep appearing in your memories.
The room is scary without John in it - though you're not sure in which direction. You start finding new places to sleep. You'd rather not sleep at all.
You wish you could have simple emotions. You wish everything wasn’t so complicated. It’s a ridiculous thing to feel guilty over. It’s an insane thing to feel relieved about. It probably wouldn’t be so complex if you simply weren’t involved, Jones - lives that would be easily improved without you in them. Just like your Mom. You should make yourself scarce.
Jake finally talks to you again - grabbing and dragging you into some room, clearly panicked. The guys he was hanging out with were rough - he didn't care, but they stabbed someone - Jake panicked and turned on them, taking the kid to the infirmary. Now he and that kid are dead meat. You dimly reflect on how that kid was probably dead either way. Still, it's serious. You get the names of all the players involved and sort it out. The details don't matter - no one else is getting stabbed.
You walk by the infirmary and pause. No one is there for him, huh? You hear one of the reasons he was targeted was because they found out he was born cursed. You suppose nothing is stopping you from meeting and hanging out with new people nowadays, so you sit with him.
His name is Peter, and he's pretty awkward, but he manages to fit a perfect sweet spot that doesn't stress you out. You try to check in with him as much as you can. Turns out he's pretty religious, which tracks. He manages to get you to attend Church for a while. You sit in the pews and reflect on the upcoming school year.
The Academy is reopening soon.

ADULTHOOD: This freedom you have feels... like a mistake. Something that will get corrected soon. You do your best to delay the inevitable.

BEST MEMORY: The lights of the carnival seemed to stretch on forever from the ground, but at the top of the ferris wheel - it was like he could see everything. He still couldn't read any of the signs, in this strange country with a different language, but they were still beautiful.
"You should see the stars in the countryside," his mother mused, leaning back in the seat. "On a clear night like this, you can see the entire Milky Way."
"Like the galaxy?"
His mother nodded, and the twins both looked up at the sky. It was beautiful - it was hard to imagine it could ever be more beautiful than this... What does a galaxy look like from the ground?

WORST MEMORY: You finally pick yourself off the forest floor, having run out of tears to cry. You're so exhausted you can barely move, in so much pain you can barely speak, and so destitute you can barely fathom going for another fucking minute, but you have to keep moving, so you crawl back to the highschool...

SHORT-TERM GOALS: He's been primarily focused on medicine and healing, moreso than usual - do your best to keep everyone alive, Jones.

LONG-TERM GOALS: Seven years is so fucking long but at least its blameless and guaranteed, and no one can say he didn't try. If nothing else gets him first. Sigh.

INTERNAL CONFLICT: You'd have a much easier time if you stopped caring and just did as you're told, Jones.

EXTERNAL CONFLICT: People he's worried about. People who make him nervous. People who are getting too close - you used to be better at this, Jones, what happened?

CURRENT CONCERN: What isn't concerning him right now?

VERBAL

ACCENT: Slight English accent. The slight accent masks a few of his slightly-off pronunciations, hiding the fact that he's not a native English speaker.

VERBAL TIC: Ah. Ugh. Gods. Uhh...

CATCHPHRASE: Don't worry about it!

SPOKEN LANGUAGE: Farsi (native), English (second), also speaks French on account of the Canadian

ARTICULATION: Generally talks very casually and friendly, tends to use nicknames, usually focuses the conversation on his conversational partner. Doesn't share more information than he has to, usually shapes his information to come off like a well-to-do ditz.

BREATHING PATTERN: As normal as he can manage

NONVERBAL

BODY MOVEMENT: Doesn't move a great deal - some minor hand guestures to match his speech, will occasionally shift his position.

EXPRESSION: Perpetual grinner.

EMOTIONAL STATE: Usually friendly and laid-back, doesn't get upset very easily, brushes things off.

BODY POSTURE: Usually has pretty good posture, just a bit dialed back to seem more casual.

WALKING STYLE: Left to his own devices, he powerwalks, but usually walks at a normal pace to seem normal.

SITTING STYLE: Pretty good posture generally, slouches a bit more if no one is around.

SLEEPING STYLE: Been sleeping in a lot of sitting positions lately. If he can lay down, he tends to sleep in a straight line, leaving a lot of room. Hmm...

ABILITIES

Healing - can mend bones, knit skin back together, and remove burns.

Able to numb pain and administer adrenaline to get people to keep moving. You have to keep going, after all-

TALENTS

Good at lying and improvisation - can quickly come up with something on the fly that you'll likely believe.

Good artist. Has a natural eye for shape and form, despite having not drawn in about ten years.

SKILLS

Excellent chef. Has spent a lot of time learning and experimenting with flavours - can turn just about anything into a meal. Chopped Champion.

De-escalating situations - he's gotten used to talking his way out of things.

TRIVIA

Really good at memorising people's names. If he cooks for you, he'll also memorise your flavour profile.

If you grab him, he'll just come. He's infinitely draggable.

Treasure trove of random trivia from all of his studying. Pretty much the only use for it, eh?

Has a key to Lyla's office from Lyla and a key to the staff room from Cassidy. Thanks.

All the bandages on his transformation correspond to an injury he sustained the night he got cursed. Thanks, Themis!

His transformation can be triggered by outside forces - removing his bandage will cause him to transform, removing his surgical mask will cause him to detransform. Maybe make sure he's healed his arm before you detransform him though - or he'll keep the broken arm. The upside of this is that his trinket cannot be taken away, since removing it causes him to transform.

Be glad I removed Joakim from his extended backstory, jesus christ.

HOBBIES

Drinking.

Reading.

Cleaning is an unironic hobby of his.

Loves people-watching, if he's in a place where he can. Watching people go by with their own lives... lowest-stakes possible version of being social.

REFSHEET

DESIGN NOTES

Link to full image

underweight

hair is very fluffy and stops just above the chin

perpetual grinner - a grin pairs with any emotion!

MOODBOARD

PLAYLIST

Drake - Madiba Riddim

Purity Ring - Begin Again

Sufjan Stevens - I Want To Be Well

Alt-J - Breezeblocks

Metric - Grow Up and Blow Away

Kid Cudi - Down & Out

Billie Eilish - Bury a Friend

Nori P - Butterfly on your Right Shoulder

ATTITUDE

TOWARDS STRANGER: Very wary of strangers, but always polite and friendly.

TOWARDS ACQUAINTANCE: Wary of acquaintances, but always polite and friendly. Makes casual conversation and always willing to help them out.

TOWARDS FRIENDS: Around friends, he drops the act, becoming a lot more deadpan and sarcastic. These are people he actually trusts so he tends to be more relaxed around them - though not necessarily any less of a liar. He constantly pushes back against friends, trying to get rid of them.

TOWARDS FAMILY: Who, Miranda? Not if he can help it.

TOWARDS LOVERS: Extremely weary of men he sleeps with - has very little trust for them. Usually pretends to be a stupid airhead, agreeing to everything and always keeping an eye out for an easy escape, just in case. Focuses the conversations on them and tries to reveal as little as possible about himself.

TOWARDS RIVAL: Can get pretty damn competitive given the right circumstances.

TOWARDS ENEMY: Ask Joakim.