Realistic or Modern —𝙄 𝙒𝘼𝙉𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙄𝙀𝙑𝙀 (cs)

[BELIAL.]

• sheet guidelines
• cs outline
• roles

• 
  
  
  APPS WILL BE DUE IN ONE WEEK. NOVEMBER 26.
  
  I won't be requiring an excessive amount of information for the character sheet. If you wish to add more for flavour/flare/compelling nature of your character go right ahead! That being said, please don't take the excuse of minimal requirements to write minimal. Again, the literacy requirement for this will be multi-para, heavy on the descriptions and full of all the great things people want to read in a sheet. Be persuasive without being overt. Show, don't tell.
  
  Since apps are not first come first serve, I will be taking however many people apply that I think will fit together as a team. If you do not make the cut, please don't take it personally. It's not a slight against you whatsoever. I'm making decisions based on the character you've applied with and your writing style, whether or not I think it fits with what I have asked.
  
  As a reminder, your characters are FBI agents of current or shaky standing, sentenced to the x-files in order to keep being useful without being fired outright. I have mentioned before that knowing the ins and outs of the FBI or related government entities is not required, but do try to play into the realism at hand. Consider the age, skills, and experience of your character. Consider how well they may work as a team, or if they will be a lone wolf (please do not supply the latter, as that is not helpful to creating functioning RP experiences).
  
  Age of characters is 23+, diversity welcome, and if there are any questions on lore/things in the universe that you can play on, please ask before you assume.
  
  
  
• 
  
  Leaving this fairly simple; CS layouts/Code is not required but it's always nice Feel free to drop placeholders.
  
  CS OUTLINE
  
  Basics
  Name:
  Nicknames:
  Age:
  P.O.B: (place of birth)
  
  Appearance
  Faceclaim:
  Written description of appearance: (optional)
  Height:
  
  Personality
  FOUR positive traits:
  FOUR negative traits:
  Written description: (optional)
  Fears:
  Wants:
  Skills:
  Talents:
  
  Background
  Personal history: (bullet points are okay! please cover the listed information at least: their time within the FBI, how they got to where they are, any experiences relevant to their perspective on the x-files or the supernatural/paranormal/unexplained.)
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  PLEASE REMEMBER ROLES ARE NOT A REQUIREMENT, JUST EXAMPLES OF EXPERIENCES YOUR CHARACTER CAN HAVE/OUTLINE FOR THEM. MULTIPLE CHARACTERS CAN HAVE THE SAME 'ROLE'. PLEASE AVOID DIRECT COPIES OF EACH OTHER, HOWEVER
  
  1. Visited by the MIB - These 'men in black' are entities that are not mere government agents sent to silence those who speak the loudest on things unknown. No, they're hardly human at all. Something between a demonic figure, or maybe something otherworldy, either way they visited your home and made their presence quite known. Whatever you've seen they don't want you telling anyone. Sometimes you see them around a street corner. Sometimes you're sure one of them has followed you into traffic. You just can't shake the feeling of being followed.
  
  2. 'Dreams of the Visage - Without explanation a face has haunted your dreams. A man, a woman, or something undetermined, this thing pollutes your sleeping mind and leaves you restless and unsure. Part of you thinks you'll see it one day when you're awake, and then you'll know if its real or if it's your psyche trying to tell you something. You are fractured, nonetheless, desperate to find answers.
  
  3. 'Animal' Attack - Any manner of cryptid encounter goes under this role. Be it an actual attack by one, a simple sighting or the stalking of a creature on the hunt in the woods, you have witnessed an animal or creature that should not exist. Your evidence, if any, just gets thrown in the pile with the rest of the weirdos. But you're so sure of what you saw that you'll do what it takes to prove it to everyone.
  
  4. Psychic Encounter - While not psychic or holding these traits yourself, you have encountered someone or something psychic or paranormal. Ghosts aren't real, that's a fact of nature, but what of the mutated human genome? Could it be capable of performing extrasensory feats? This event has left you yearning for more, or marked by emotional trauma, and you can't help but feel like there's something you're not quite seeing.
  
  5. Aliens Aliens Aliens - Abducted? Saw a ship? Saw a little green man? You have encountered something related to aliens or UFO, and it has never left your mind since. Maybe everyone just thinks you're crazy, or maybe you're even convinced your sanity is not all there. It's marked you greatly as an agent, however, and you are not sure how to go forward knowing that no one believes you.
  
  6. Unremarkable Agent - An agent that has not been visited, encountered or otherwise marked by an event featuring something unexplainable. Maybe something happened to someone they know, or maybe not at all. Either way, they are 'unremarkable' and are more of the role of a skeptic or third party within the group.
  
  
  
  

 

[BELIAL.]

amelia dobson

38 ; abducted by aliens

annabelle wallis

♡coded by uxie♡

—𝐁 𝐀 𝐒 𝐈 𝐂 𝐒.
Name: Amelia Harriet Dobson
Nicknames: Mia, Dobson
Age: 38
P.O.B: Albany, New York, USA

• • ● • •

—𝐕 𝐈 𝐒 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄.
Faceclaim: Annabelle Wallis
Written description of appearance: (optional)
Height: 5'7"

• • ● • •

—𝐏 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 𝐎 𝐍 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘.
FOUR positive traits: Sophisticated, Perceptive, Professional, Cautious
FOUR negative traits: Neurotic, Forgetful, Pretentious, Irrational
Written description: Someone far more composed once upon a time, though not without the uninhibited Type-A habits and crippling sense of perfectionism, Mia has unraveled at the seams since the encounter. These retain to some degree, as she can maintain her willpower and punctual impressions, but things tend to worm their way under her skin a lot easier than before. She can seem erratic after any usual fits of sleeplessness, of prolonged frustrations, or of being pushed and pushed until she boils right over. Her core self, someone raised in easy wealth and high standards, speaks to the interests and habits she partakes in. Small things like the smells of some wines, or the type of product one uses, can elicit a bit of a haughty response from Mia. She (usually) does not mean so in a condescending or rude way, but it may come off as such to someone with less privileges than the Dobson family.

Since the incident Mia has become almost a shell of herself, forgetful and dismissive, and is easily agitated by things. It's frustrating to her how her body should physically clam up when her mind begins to hesitate or waver, and how she just can't seem to find herself anymore. She records things often with a little handheld recorder, conversations with others or thoughts of her own, since her short-term memory is inconsistent at best and nearly depleted at its worst. Putting on a braver face, pretending that none of it is happening, is the best way she's been able to keep her job (despite the very active liability she is sure that she is).

In the workplace she's a strong kinesthetic learner, preferring to be there and be physically present in whatever way possible. Independent to a fault at times, it's not that she doesn't know how to include other people in what's going on her mind, it's just that she prefers not to. She's become less of a natural leader and more of a shaken bystander, much to her chagrin, and it makes her a little envious of people who have more of a grip of their self.
Fears: Losing control, Being taken again, Rats, Her child cutting off contact
Wants: To find the truth and decide that she's not crazy, merely traumatized by a traumatic incident; and to heal herself from the inside out. To keep her job, most of all.
Skills: Pattern-recognition, Criminal Profiling, Written reports (concise, critical and informative), Organization
Talents: Ballet, Holding breath for extended periods of time, Recognizing classical art and music from a glance (the artist, the period, etc), Piano

• • ● • •

— 𝐇 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘.

⌧ Born the eldest by five minutes to a Mr. and Mrs. Craig and Lorna Dobson. Her twin brother's name is Thomas. Raised in an upper middle class household in a brownstone in the Upper East Side of New York. The twins were born when Lorna Dobson went into labour at a Christmas party in Albany, visiting her husband's family.

⌧ The Dobsons met in university and proceeded to not see each other again until they applied for the same teaching position at NYU. They hit it off, marrying after five long years of engagement, having their kids a short year after their marriage. Lorna Dobson, older by a few years than her husband, was sure that she'd not be able to conceive. After some treatments and appointments later, their miracle finally happened.

⌧ Traveling and high education was a big part of the twins life, with their parents making it clear that being experienced in as many ways as possible was good for their education. Though they spent a good chunk of their childhood in public school, it was after Lorna took a sabbatical that she decided to homeschool them until they were ready for high-school. A lot of that time was spent abroad, and a lot of it spent mingling and learning local cultures, languages and experiences.

⌧ Still, the Dobson family was drenched in self-made wealth and privilege. Whatever 'worldliness' Lorna and Craig hoped for was quashed by the very notion that their children never had to beg or ask for anything. It was always given to them. Thomas always seemed to be the one who dislike this lifestyle more than Amelia, though the latter had her mother's voice in her ear much more than Thomas did.

⌧ Amelia was her mother's prodigy and her father's bane. They fought often, sometimes over the littlest things, where Lorna always took Amelia's side. Soon the issues and fights bled into the happily married couple, and perhaps due to time or truly due to how much Amelia sought to go against her father's wishes and interests, their commitment to each other whittled away. It was Amelia who caught her mother cheating on her father, and with that the idealistic image of her mother finally died as well.

⌧ Eventually it became clear that both parties were no longer loyal, though they did not move towards divorce. Amelia and Thomas became stronger together, confiding in one another more now that they didn't have their parents influencing either. Twins at their core, they knew that then and there they only had each other. Though, as similar as they were, their goals in life were divided once more. Promising to call every week, when the twins departed for their separate universities, Amelia truly felt whatever loneliness really was. Socially estranged from their parents, though present when needed in order to continue with the financial support that neither wanted to admit they relied so heavily on, Amelia sought to reinvent herself in university.

⌧ It was university that drew Amelia into an interest in criminology and forensic psychology. After a few semesters of trying to do a literature and sociology double major, she changed her tune after a single lecture by the head of the psychology department. It drew her in, more than she thought she'd ever be interested, as gore and crime had never appealed to her before. Perhaps it was the innate need to understand, to catalogue, both the inner workings of criminals as well as the legal side of things. Though she knew she'd never want to be a lawyer, far too much success that her parents would probably be proud of, she decided she could maybe settle to work a little closer to the ground.

⌧ Joining the FBI was another whim, something that her brother was vehemently against, but something that Amelia was simply drawn to. A friend of hers within her degree expressed interest and after careful research together and a weekend trip to Virginia, Amelia did decide to sign up. Though she had full confidence in herself, it was the fact that she was well and truly wanting something and hedging her bets on it that doubt began to creep in. Still, despite her fears, she passed the application process and the rest came somewhat swimmingly.

⌧ Upon graduation and assignment to a field office, Amelia found herself whisked across the country and stationed in New Mexico. The Albuquerque office was full of nice enough people, and she did her best to fit in and show her mettle. Starting a new, new life Amelia did find herself in a short amount of time finding herself dating and marrying a biomedical engineer. A nice man, a good man, though their life experiences granted them the opposites attract sort of perspective on their future life together. Amelia found out she was pregnant before the wedding, but didn't say a word until after. She'd not been sure how much she'd wanted a kid, still starting her career out, but her instinctual need to do better than her own mother won out. Their daughter, Eleanor, proved to be the light of their lives.

⌧ Things were unremarkable in the years after, save for the usual ups and downs of one's life. Mia gained a promotion to a supervisory position, working mostly in cases of violent crime and the odd kidnapping or two. It was the typical bombardment of violent imagery, violent scenarios and some of the real horrors that humanity could sponge up. She kept her work at work, and her home life at home. The late nights did wreak havoc on her time spent with her daughter, try as Mia did to be there, leaving the matter mostly to her husband and their live-in nanny.

⌧ The 'encounter' happened two years ago, marking the beginning of the end to everything that Mia had worked so hard for. There was a crop of missing persons cases showing up in some small town on the border of New Mexico and Colorado. They'd be gone for a week and then back, almost like clockwork, and by now it had been about five people coming and going. They'd initially thought it was some sort of organized effort, some kids playing tricks, but the people involved were not the same as they were before their abductions. Most claimed that a beam of light had taken them, that they didn't know how long that they were gone, and that they'd had nonstop headaches since they were back. Mia's team was sure that perhaps a serial kidnapper was targeting young adults, trying to make some impact, maybe to get the attention of local authorities. They searched the town inside and out, working with the Denver field office, but the evidence was sparse to be found. Then there was a young girl, maybe 20, who claimed that she knew that she was going to be taken, and that it would happen on her daddy's field. Mia's team staked the position out but were not fast enough to watch in alarm as the girl went and took off into a nearby ravine. Mia dashed after her, falling down some of the cliffside and breaking her leg. It was the last thing she remembered before a great beam of light.

⌧ The memories of what happened come only within dreams to Mia. Memories of stark white, of surgical tools and great eyes staring her down. Her mind did not remember when she was awake, but her body remembered and her unconscious did. She was gone for a week, that's what the report said. Came back with not a bruise on her, and with the girl as well. They asked what happened and Mia didn't know, not at first. Then when she began to dream, began to see it, she almost couldn't believe it. She told who she could, made it very clear that she had been taken as well. The rabbit hole deepened from there, Mia becoming convinced after reading the reports again and again that it was aliens. It had to be. As improbable and as insane as it was, she knew it was true.

⌧ She suffered after that. A lack of sleep and a lack of sanity drove her husband and her daughter away. They separated, but did not divorce, seven months or so after the event. He claimed she needed to be booked at a psych ward, she claimed that he needed to just listen to her. Eleanor was torn between, though her empathy did remain with her mother. Mia had been thankful for that. She took a brief and forced break from work that turned into much longer stints after every time she went back she fell further and harder.

⌧ It became clear that something needed to be changed. Transfers didn't happen often but Mia found herself transferred back to the FBI headquarters for a position she didn't even think existed. Whether it was made out of pity or because she had shown promise beforehand, she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Buddy McBride

the animal attack

• .
• .
• .
• .

• i

  ii

  iii

  iv

  full name

  Bellamy McBride

  nicknames

  Buddy

  age

  Thirty-five

  date of birth

  September 19th, 1962

  place of birth

  Boston, Massachusetts

  occupation

  Aviation Survivalman (former), FBI agent
• i

  ii

  iii

  iv

  height & weight

  5'11, 175lbs

  hair

  Light brown. Long enough to look a little unkempt most of the time. Has a short beard to match.

  eyes

  Brown.

  physique

  Athletic, but not so beefy he isn't fast. He's a swimmer, after all. He goes to a gym regularly and you can tell.

  style

  Buddy doesn't think about clothing much--he leans to the utilitarian. Prefers to be in good boots and a warm jacket. Always looks mildly uncomfortable in the dress code required suit and tie.

  face claim

  Chris Evans

  We Will Rise

  LIZ
• i

  ii

  iii

  iv

  positive traits

  Friendly, driven, resilient, brave
  
  

  negative traits

  Obnoxious, obstinate, impulsive, bossy
  
  

  fears

  That that weird fish he saw isn't the weirdest thing out there, that someone he cares about is going to have a problem he can't fix
  
  

  wants

  To keep his team from falling apart, for the Red Sox to win a World Series
  
  

  skills

  Survival, Search & Rescue, EMT, Firearms
  
  

  talents

  Swimming, fishing, encyclopedic knowledge of Red Sox trivia
  
  

  personality

  Think of the quintessential golden retriever, with a head full of fluff and love. That's Buddy. Well. You think it's full of fluff. He's simple. He never did notably well at school. Just a big, pretty, dumb jock, right? But he's not stupid, and he's better at reading people than most give him credit for. Highly emotionally intelligent and genuine in his friendliness, Buddy tends to get on well with most people.
  
  The youngest in a large, working class family, he grew into a cheerful, helpful personality, the kid most likely to volunteer to set the table to help his mom out. He’s still a sunny optimist, even though he’s seen some shit by now. The thing about Buddy is that under that bright, shiny, friendly exterior he's driven, dedicated, and stubborn as hell. He's chosen to do good and be kind, and he'll do that come hell or high water, even if it's the harder choice. People either love this about him or hate it.
  
  He's also the kind of person who willingly jumps out of helicopters into storms to save other people. Maybe his fear response could use work. Maybe he has a little bit of a Messiah complex. He definitely is going to talk to you about baseball whether you like it or not.
  
• i

  ii

  iii

  iv

  personal history

  The youngest of seven, Buddy grew up in a large Irish-French Canadian family in Boston, in the kind of neighborhood where the Red Sox were as much a religion as the Catholic church was. Though reasonably athletic and never doing poorly enough at school to give anyone cause for concern, it was Buddy's unrelenting optimism that made him stand out from his siblings. Outgoing and charming, he never had difficulty making friends, and was well liked through school. In high school he joined the swim team and found, to his surprise and delight, a sport that he was really, really good at.
  
  Immediately after graduating, Buddy joined the Coast Guard and began working towards the rating to become a rescue swimmer. Despite the high attrition rate of the helicopter rescue training school Buddy enjoyed every minute of it, and after a year of training got to save people for real.
  
  Buddy spent eight years in active duty in the Coast Guard working Search and Rescue, mostly out of Alaska, before deciding to move into a career that involved less jumping out of helicopters into storms, and made his mother worry a little less. He'd been planning on something medical--Paramedic or ER nurse, maybe--but a friend from the Guard convinced him to give law enforcement a shot. He's been with the FBI almost ten years now, and weirdly enough, he's pretty sure the move into the X-files unit isn't so much an insult or polite attempt to get him to quit as much as it is an acknowledgement that this department needs somebody functional in it, and he'll put up with it.
  
  

  the attack

  It's perhaps not unusual that Buddy's seen some weird shit after eight years pulling people out of remote locations. The one he can't explain is the thing he saw in Iliamna Lake, rescuing a kayaker. It was some thirty feet long, square faced and dark, and doing its damndest to sink the kayak. The pilot of the helicopter that brought him saw it too, and they both agreed there was no way it was a sturgeon, though that was what their commanding officers decided it must have been--sturgeons are gentle bottom feeders, and would have no reason to attack a kayak. Buddy had to punch it in the nose to get it to leave the kayak alone long enough for him to get the kayaker out of the boat.
  
  Buddy maybe also saw Bigfoot in the woods near Anchorage once, but he's pretty sure that one was just a guy in a bad gorilla costume.
  

coded by natasha.

 

[sollie]

ʀᴇᴅᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ

33; haunted dreams

jessie buckley

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[swiftfeathers]

Booker Grey

UNREMARKABLE

the skeptic

bi-questioning

he/him

age

d.o.b.

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Praesent tortor sapien, auctor consequat luctus eget, semper quis elit. Praesent dictum suscipit erat, vitae eleifend lorem malesuada non. Pellentesque sagittis nisl elit, vel gravida enim porta ac. Donec at nunc tortor. Sed elementum venenatis arcu, ac sagittis mi porta sit amet. Ut suscipit aliquam nunc. Integer consequat justo ut varius lobortis. Donec non ante sit amet diam condimentum malesuada eu vel purus.

quote

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Alacrity_719]

Spoiler: Character sheet

Basic information:

Name: Steven Howard
Nickname: N/A
Age: 29
Place of birth: Minnesota (United States of America).

Appearance
Faceclaim: As appended towards the end of the post.
Height: 5'6

Personality
Positive traits: He's unusually good at fire-arms, having used them since childhood, and is known for having a nearly impossible miss. He's also capable of thinking on his feet in order to get away from unexpected situations he or someone else might find themselves in. Additionally, he has an in-depth understanding of criminal law which has proved useful more than once; aside from that, he's also excellent in disguising himself. He's compassionate towards those whom he likes & is willing to do almost anything for them. The catch, however, is that he doesn't trust people which signifies that once he does, Aiden would be great at being a life-long friend.
Negative traits: Impulsive when he's stressed, and holds grudges for an unusually long time. Doesn't work well with deadlines. He's also got a rather short temper.
Fears: He's claustrophobic.
Wants: To become promoted so as to gain more influence over the Department he works at.
Skills: Good at fire-arms (as stated above), and also at disguise.
Talents: Although it might not be very useful as he's a government official (and might also be frowned upon in certain occasions), he's good at manipulating people whenever required.


Personal history:

• Has worked in the FBI since he was 24.
• Being one of the more capable officers who's investigated various high-level crimes has helped him to reach where he are. He's currently moderately high-ranking in his position, and has felt that he deserves a lot more than that.
• Experience: With the Men in Black who've been pursuing him for a while now.

 

[idalie]

Margot "Maggie" Earnshaw

# dreams of the visage

# olga kurylenko

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[lisbeth]

⸻ THE VISITED ⸻

FC: Melanie Laurent in “Now You See Me”

Written by

LISBETH

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Cras hendrerit, tellus vel molestie pretium, tellus lorem pellentesque nunc, in porta lorem justo eu diam. Praesent urna velit, efficitur vel nisi vel, blandit suscipit dolor. Donec ut cursus dui, non dignissim urna. Proin fermentum, dui a ornare viverra, quam enim euismod ante, ut ultricies justo sapien in orci. Phasellus efficitur nunc non sollicitudin commodo. Proin tempus, sapien id tempor imperdiet, ipsum urna malesuada neque, ut efficitur diam leo ut risus. Vestibulum euismod lobortis massa ut dictum. Etiam hendrerit commodo velit in volutpat.

Integer nulla sapien, egestas eget est eu, varius porttitor nibh. Donec sapien neque, gravida vitae erat nec, accumsan dapibus odio. Pellentesque placerat urna nec magna tristique, ac pulvinar eros ultrices. Aliquam eget posuere neque. Maecenas vel varius enim. Sed eu neque turpis. Sed imperdiet in risus in sollicitudin. In mattis mauris vel molestie hendrerit. Aliquam eget posuere neque. Maecenas vel varius enim. Sed eu neque turpis. Sed imperdiet in risus in sollicitudin. In mattis mauris vel molestie hendrerit. Aliquam eget posuere neque. Maecenas vel varius enim. Sed eu neque turpis. Sed imperdiet in risus in sollicitudin. In mattis mauris vel molestie hendrerit.

CODED BY UXIE

 

[celadon.]

charles adams

# ...

# kieran culkin

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[yokai.]

dr. mikhailov

# aliens aliens aliens

# oscar isaac

♡coded by uxie♡

o green world

gorillaz

confidential: ETB sighting

I.

twist the knife, like it's something to do

name

███████ Mikhailov

a.k.a.

Answers to "Kolya" depending on who is addressing him, otherwise prefers to go by last name or formal titles

occupation

Head researcher, Upper Div

Re-assigned to X-Files

age

Fourty-three

gender

Cis male

Sexuality

Undisclosed

P.O.B

Almaty, Kazakhstan; previously known as the Kazakh SSR

hair c.

Grey-black

eye c.

Black

height

5'8"

face claim

Oscar Isaac

II.

i'm a voluntary victim

vices

mercurial, obsessive, self-aggrandizing, unorthodox

virtues

meticulous, ingenious, adaptable, collaborative

Mikhailov's brilliance is only rivaled by the enigma of his character, a magnetic man with secrets brimming below the surface. During his time as head of the science division, he made quite the impression, dazzling his team with quick-witted rapport and insightful contributions. His intellect is not strictly solitary; it blooms and thrives in the fertile ground of collaboration. As long as he's tackling a challenge, he's happy to work with others. Hell, he enjoys debating, relishes in bouncing ideas off of other people. He has a knack for reading the energy of a room and mediating tensions, having dealt with many heated debates in his years of higher academia, often able to see both sides of an argument and offer input when needed.

Conversationally, he is mostly scatterbrained but keenly insightful, jumping from topic to topic with the confidence of a well-read scholar. Adaptability is second nature to him, a cosmic force that allows him to bounce seamlessly between the mundane and the profound, the humorous and the serious. He exhibits a quick-witted and dry sense of humour, a double-edged sword that can cut through pretense but occasionally leaves a sting. His impulsive streak may sometimes lead him to behave condescendingly when faced with what he deems intellectual naivety, sarcastically tearing down arguments in a way that alludes to an inflated sense of ego.

Because of his many achievements, competencies, and personable demeanor, most tend to overlook his many eccentricities. However, in recent years, something manic has begun to lurk under the surface, an intensity that drives him to questionable places and overrides his better judgment. As spontaneous as the scientist may be, the one thing that remains constant has always been his relentless need to understand, resolute in his pursuit of the greater unknown.

fears

mediocrity, dying a slow and painful death, sleep paralysis, natural disasters

wants

scientific prestige, to gain a greater understanding of the universe, to run his fingers through his daughter's hair one more time, a good week's sleep

skills

Astrophysics expert, Multidisciplinary knowledge, Experiment Conduction, Data Analysis, Empirical reporting

talents

Eidetic memory, exceptional intelligence (able to grasp complex scientific concepts with ease), mentorship & teaching, classical violin

III.

watch your colonial tongue, i'll watch you tighten the knoose

His early life in the KSSR is largely unknown, having immigrated to America at age 6 after the deaths of his parents at the height of the Cold War, and was subsequently adopted by a wealthy uncle who managed a textiles company in New York. His uncle was in awe of his nephew's intellect and took it in stride, ushering him into prestigious programs by rubbing elbows with Ivy League board members.

He mostly kept to himself, a quiet but brilliant child who spent the days tucked away in the corners of his uncle's apartment, hunched over various encyclopedias. The local librarian was his best friend, a kind and patient woman who answered most, but not all, of his questions about the universe, gifting him books about stars and space matter to feed his curious mind.

He went through prep school in Manhattan, skipped a few grades, and dedicated his time to various academic endeavors. His true love, however, was astrophysics. Spending most of his adolescence at the Hayden Planetarium, he was transfixed by the scale of the universe, feeling a magnificent tremor in his beating heart at the vast horizon of stars at his fingertips, something forming within him that has never left him since his first visit; this interest was further ignited by the 1969 moon landing of Apollo 11.

He entered Oxford at age 18 and graduated 3 years later with a major in astronomy, writing thesis upon thesis on the possibility of extraterrestrial life on other planets. He was mostly regarded by colleagues as a fanatic conspiracy theorist with an undeniable skill for rhetoric. He went on to study at Harvard for a master of science in physics, then went back to Oxford for his doctorate in astrophysics. He ended up lecturing at Ohio State University as an astronomy professor for a few years before being scouted by NASA at age 27 and offered an advisory position.

His brief time there led him to access sensitive correspondence between the FBI and NASA's head advisor, a particular string of conversations catching his eye that detailed inquiries of potential extraterrestrial life. He fell deeply in love with a fellow professor at Ohio State during this time, they married fairly quickly right before his wife became pregnant with their daughter, Zvezda. She was a sickly and frail child from birth, but blessed with a calm temperament. He loved her with all his being, so fiercely it hurt. His wife, Helena, was uncompromising and vehemently set on prioritizing her career, so he resigned from NASA to take care of Zvezda, who had been diagnosed with a lethal genetic disease, one that attacked her lungs and left her bedridden for all of her childhood. "Cystic fibrosis" they called it, the black hand of death that shrouded Zvezda's eyes and stole the breath from her lungs, leaving her lifeless in his arms at the young age of 7

He was devastated. His marriage had never recovered after Zvezda died, both parties torn between shouldering the blame and forcing its heavy weight onto each other. They filed for divorce as quickly as they signed their marriage papers. Consumed with grief, he returned to his research, his mind needing to latch onto something, anything, that would give him a reprieve from the guilt that plagued him. One night, under a drug-fueled stupor in his Brooklyn studio, he remembered the files he came across at NASA, and that lingering curiosity once again overtook him. He started to plan.

He neglected to shave, legally changed his last name, moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico, and applied to work for the FBI's scientific analyst program under the alias "Mikhailov," preferring not to be associated with the idealism of his youth. Mikhailov was a new man with a renewed interest in the stars, the mysteries that took place in the glimmering corners of space, though this interest took on a more zealous fervor, almost bordering on obsession. His time as head researcher was monotonous and unchallenging, and he made no headway in his search for the truth behind the FBI's interest in alien life with the limited access he was afforded. Hopeless and bordering on delirium, he was ready to draft a resignation letter after only 2 years of working for the Bureau.

Then, the incident happened. It started out as something innocent, a harmless endeavor to transmit a signal into the void of space and see what would happen. He'd done it before dozens of times, having access to unused radio equipment as head researcher. He used to wait patiently with bated breath, hoping that something out there would answer his call. He stopped expecting anything to happen after the first ten tries, only continuing out of habit in his downtime and having grown used to the stretch of quiet that followed, showing him that he was crazy for even hoping.

At first, it seemed like just another quiet night. He went home alone, back to his remote country house, parked the car in the driveway, and headed for the door. Then- a bright light seared across the sky, plummeting down to Earth in a trail of ethereal fire. What he thought was a small meteor headed straight for the field behind his house, knocking down several trees with its impact as it rooted itself into soil
Mikhailov drew nearer, undeterred by the debris that surrounded the crash site, and marveled at what he saw. Standing there, in the middle of the crater that had formed, was a being of pure light. Inexplicable in its existence, it emitted a glow of pale blue and yellow, and faintly, in the back of Mikhailov's head, he was reminded of a blue giant star. Even more ridiculously, he would remember seeing the face of his daughter as he gazed upon its eye-searing brilliance. Blinking, he crept forward, hand outstretched. And then, as bizarrely as it appeared, the life form was gone.

He returned to the Bureau the next day, demanding access to the organization's correspondence with NASA with an uncontainable intensity, shouting about "star people," showing pictures of the crater to anyone who would look, and blatantly attempting to sneak into unauthorized areas. He was quickly escorted out of the premises by security, only told by his supervisor that he would be on probation until further notice.

The notice came a few weeks later, a nondescript letter that told him he would be transferred to another position. 'The X-Files,' it read. Whether this reassignment would be a brand new start or a punishment, remained to be seen. Mikhailov only hoped it would lead to worthwhile answers.

iv.

i'm burning in your mad iq

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[minajesty]

aimee callahan.‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎✸

* local agent blames mysterious cryptid for husband's murder.‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‎

♡coded by uxie♡

↟↟↟
𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐨𝐫 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄 ?
played by CAMILA MORRONE.​

full name.

aimee marie callahan. — previously hendrix. since her husband's murder, aimee has reverted back to her maiden name despite the legality of it still intact. she has yet to pursue any official changes to her name, mentally clinging to hope that her husband's cold case is all just a big nightmare that she will eventually wake up from. however, while one foot remains in the past, the other stays in the present knowing that there is too much evidence that solidifies his death. hell, her hands were covered in his blood the night of.

nicknames.

mimi, mainly used by her mom & was sometimes used by former colleagues at work. not so much now.

age.

twenty-eight years old (28).

place of birth.

portland, oregon.

gender + pronouns.

cisgender & utilizing she/her pronouns.

sexuality.

heteromantic heterosexual.

occupation.

violent crime & major offense supervisory agent reassigned to the x-files.

face claim.

camila morrone.

height.

5'9"ft. / 180cm.

weight.

125lbs. / 57kg.

hair colour.

medium chestnut brown flowing past her shoulders in a mostly straightened fashion. there are a few strands of waves that add dimension to her hairstyle, but otherwise, it's kept styled with simplicity.

eye colour.

light brown and framed by short eyelashes and just slightly bushy eyebrows. there used to be days where she would dabble in eyeshadow and eyeliner to enhance their beauty, but dark circles and a tired gaze have been her current resort. maybe even some moderate amounts of concealer to look alive, at the least.

distinguishing features.

her height is her only, if not, the most prominent distinguishing trait about herself. aimee is fully aware of how towering she may appear to some, surpassing the average height of a woman by about 5 to 6 extra inches. it's not an insecurity to her, however, and it never stops her from wearing boots with heels on them in the work environment. if anything, it makes her perfect reach-top-shelf-items material.

scars.

aimee brandishes a keloid scar on the surface of her hip from the night of the attack. it's healed fairly well but still leaves a contrast against the natural color of her skin. to the touch, it feels soft and doughy.

modifications.

both earlobes are pierced, to which she decorates with simple gold hoops or studs. she's not a fan of extravagant jewelry, especially ones that make her earlobes feel weighed down. lightweight is preferred. and although not noticeable unless aimee shows it, there is a simple heart outline in the inner workings of her middle finger. a product of a dare never turned down so it's now aged into a faded gray.

virtues.

observant; astute; cautious; & assertive.
-- observant ] stemming from primary education days, aimee has always been quite the observer & it has fiercely grown since her time as an agent began. minor details aren't considered minor to her as she takes mental note of everything she's seen and heard throughout her life. it's a state of mind that she never turns off, even when off duty. and it's especially been heightened since after her attack in the woods. one might even have to tap aimee out of her anxious trance and bring her back to reality from time to time.
-- astute ] aimee possesses sharp observational and analytical skill in her field of work, especially when it comes to anticipating the next moves of perps through any behavioral pattern recognition in cases. always having the ability to notice subtle similarities or abnormalities in what she works with is what kept her successful. her astuteness, however, has also been pinned in her downfall considering not many people understood how an fbi agent could miss signs of threats the night of the attack. although solid evidence points aimee away from being a suspect, denial of an otherworldly threat has kept her morally and emotionally responsible for her husband's death in the eyes of the outsiders.
-- cautious ] aimee has always been the cautious type of individual, seemingly walking on a neverending road of eggshells when it comes to approaching situations. for the most part, it's kept her out of trouble and out of danger zones. again, however, this has been especially heightened. she won't admit it either, but there are times when she can be too cautious when there's no need to be, and there's no coming out of that state of tension until a space has been proven to be safe for her and others.
-- assertive ] a characteristic that is a shining example of assertiveness done right. she never comes off as intentionally insensitive or disrespectful but ensures to command respect for herself and others when it is due. aimee is fully aware of how she wants people to treat and approach her, and will unhesitatingly make sure that boundaries are treated with reverence.

vices.

confrontational ; irritable ; defensive; & distrusting.
-- confrontational ] confrontational behavior isn't out of aimee's ordinary, but it's been especially difficult to get under control lately. she has never been one to allow comfortability for someone who isn't due for it; especially if they've done something to upset her or someone she cares about. timing is everything, however, and aimee struggles with recognizing that. once she figures something out or solves mental puzzles, she wants answers and explanations immediately.
-- irritable ] while she may project a sense of professionalism and tranquility, she certainly isn't patient with people who get on her nerves or leave a bad first impression of themselves. it's quite easy to antagonize her or bring out a sense of irritability, a key alert being heightened defense, and with that comes a more confrontational side (as mentioned). although she is working to manage her temper, slipping up isn't out of the ordinary for her, especially when she's actively participating in therapy sessions to manage her outbursts.
-- defensive ] aimee has had trouble lately with distinguishing healthy criticism from destructive criticism. she's been more on the sensitive side when it comes to people challenging her or if she feels a conversation is becoming too personal. immediately defensive, she's quick to believe that others have underlying intentions or may even pity or dislike her for whatever reason she comes up with in her head. it's off-putting for many she comes across, but it stems from being deemed a liar and a possible murderer. consistent reassurance is key to letting her know otherwise.
-- distrusting ] as expected, there aren't many people that aimee says she can trust anymore. relationship and friendship maintenance and stardom is difficult for her when she believes that there aren't many people on her side. while it isn't impossible to get through with her and build connections, it's a long dig to get through all the barriers she seems to have surrounded herself with.

likes.

button-up shirts, silk scrunchies, neatness, walking & driving in the rain, fuzzy socks, watching debates, solving cases, journaling, comedic sitcoms, & finger food.

dislikes.

unrealistic romance plots, being stared at for too long, staining her clothes, overly spicy food, surprises, liars, loud rooms, having a stuffy nose, loose-fitted clothes, & feeling like a third wheel in any situation (romantic or platonic).

fears.

facing the reality of her husband's fate, losing her job as an agent, staying out too late in an unknown area, being caught in a vulnerable state, & dying.

wants.

to keep her job as an agent, move on and fully heal from what happened to her, & proper sleep without the help of medication.

skills.

criminal profiling, pattern recognition in cases, making an effective tourniquet, empathizing & properly reporting to families of victims, & making mental escape routes of every location she comes across.

talents.

sprinting in boots with heels on them, lock-picking, & public speaking under pressure.

history.

tba.

 

[glitch3d]

milo reed

# psychic encounter

# avan jogia

♡coded by uxie♡

—𝐁 𝐀 𝐒 𝐈 𝐂 𝐒.

Name: Milo Reed

Nicknames: Miles

Known Aliases: Luca Khan (1991-1993), Evan Meyer (1995 - 1996), Jon DiSalvo (1997)

Occupation: Criminal Investigative Division, Undercover Operations X-Files

Age: 33

P.O.B: Detroit, MI

• • ● • •

—𝐕 𝐈 𝐒 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄.

Faceclaim: Avan Jogia

Written description of appearance: (optional)

Height: 5’10”

• • ● • •

—𝐏 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 𝐎 𝐍 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘.

FOUR positive traits: Perceptive; resourceful; athletic; works well under pressure

FOUR negative traits: Impulsive; stubborn; disorganized; seems allergic to completely following protocol

Fears:

• Getting his cover compromised, and his family hurt as a result
• Paperwork
• Finding out he’s going crazy

Wants:

• To find out if he is going crazy

Skills:

• General spatial awareness and memory
• Leave him to wander around a building for a few minutes and he’ll have at least 7 detailed escape routes planned out by the time he comes back
• Climbing, sprinting, and getting around places
• Getting people to trust him
• Blending in with the crowd

Talents:

• Karaoke. No, really. Give him a mic, and he’ll give you a show. Milo’s the type of guy who wants you to think he’s into grunge or whatever kids are into these days, but he’ll always be a Motown boy at heart.
• Claw machines. Again, just ask.

Written description:

Milo is the very definition of “going with the flow,” even when the flow is less of a flow and more of a violent riptide determined to take everyone out. Quick to think on his feet, and equally quick to move them, he’s a natural improviser, coming up with out-of-the-box solutions on the fly. The only way to have a plan for everything, after all, is to make it all up as you go.

When things become a little more structured, though, he struggles. Out in the field, he shines. Behind a desk, he’s slow, easily distracted, and completely disorganized. And yet, in spite of all this, Milo excels at compartmentalization; it’s part of the job, after all. Behind the easy smiles and self-deprecating humour, he’s become too good at making friendships, and even better at cutting them off at the drop of a hat.

A self-confessed adrenaline junkie, Milo’s come a long way from traversing condemned buildings and getting himself into places he shouldn’t be. Well. There’s still a bit of that nowadays, of course, but at least now he’s getting paid to do it.

• • ● • •

— 𝐇 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘.

Growing up in Detroit’s North End, the fifth of nine children, sure, life could have been a lot better; there were kids who had trampolines in their backyard, who didn’t have to share their room with four of their siblings.

But, indeed, life could have been a lot worse. At least they never had a constant stream of shouting coming through the paper-thin walls of their next-door neighbor. Beyond the occasional temper tantrums from the younger ones, the Reed household was a sanctum. Milo’s dad was, if anything, a peaceful drunk, and his Ma had fallen off the face of the earth not too long after Jamie, the youngest, was born.

Good riddance, as Milo’s older sister would say. It was one less mouth to feed.

That was another thing Milo was thankful for: Unlike his older siblings, he never really needed to grow up too fast. The quintessential middle child, he was left to his own devices, and, with no real responsibilities of his own, he fell into the world of urban exploration.

Rife with abandoned buildings, rusty factories and little shops with barred-up windows, the city and its secrets were all his to discover. Often, Milo would even return with a nice little souvenir. Donnie, the boy from two doors down the hall, had a good eye for finding these things, while Milo had the silver tongue for selling them to the neighborhood pawnshop. It wasn’t much, but it got him a whole lot more than what was waiting on the dinner table when he got back home at the end of the day.

One night, the summer before their senior year of high school, Donnie came knocking, snot-faced and red-eyed, his knuckles bruised. There was blood on his hoodie. He needed somewhere to go. Milo looked behind him, at his siblings huddled together on a worn-down mattress on the floor. There really wasn’t anywhere to go there.

He picked up his backpack and stuffed it with a change of clothes. Where to? It was the only thing he’d asked his friend about that evening.

Just before he stepped out of the fire escape, he swore he heard his older sister rustling in her sleep. It almost sounded like she’d murmured something: Good riddance.

The pair hitchhiked from city to city, state to state, sleeping on park benches and picking up odd jobs where they could. Sometimes, Milo would go into the local grocery store, turning over milk cartons to see if his face was there. It was always someone else looking back at him.

Summer didn’t last forever, and soon enough, no one was asking to have their fences painted out in the pouring rain. Before Milo knew it, they had graduated to car break-ins and petty theft to survive. Donnie started to disappear for days, only to come back with his eyes glazed. Milo just wasn’t equipped to deal with any of it.

Inevitably, they parted ways. But Milo was too stubborn to go home. He’d done well enough for himself in the streets, he thought, and without Donnie dragging down, perhaps he could go back to simply scoping out abandoned places and selling things that no longer belonged to anyone.

It didn’t go very well. By December, he was down to one meal a day, if that. It was by pure stroke of luck, when, one winter night, he first came across her.

She was dressed in all white, wearing a flowy embroidered dress that was far too thin for the middle of winter. Putting a finger to lips, she beckoned him to come closer, and so he did, trailing just out of her reach. When she turned a corner, and he thought he’d finally caught up to her, she was gone; instead, he found a middle-aged man, hunched over with his back against the wall, clinging onto dear life as his freezing hand desperately tried to put pressure on the gunshot wound on his thigh.

That was the night he met Walter Monroe, disgraced-cop-turned-private-investigator, out to catch a bounty before things took a turn for the worst.

After that, Milo was able to turn his life around – or, more accurately, he stood mulishly in place while Monroe spun him around and around until he finally found himself facing in the right direction. The old man took him in, offering him a job as his assistant, on the condition that Milo worked towards his GED.

The old man wasn’t a conventional private eye by any means; he lied to people, picked their pockets, broke into their homes – whatever it took to get to the bottom of cheating spouses and missing relatives. Together, Monroe and his new trusty sidekick caught bail jumpers right before they crossed the border. Once or twice, they’d even managed to find a break in a case the cops themselves had long abandoned.

Shadowing Monroe was the most fun he’d had for a long time, even if Milo could never admit it – although he never really needed to. In his own way, Monroe kept pushing him to do more, to aim just a little higher. Within two years, Milo was in community college, hard at work to make up for lost years in high school. Not long after, he was able to transfer into Penn State to get a degree in criminology.

(Once, Milo asked the old man what he ever saw in him. I ain’t seen shit, the old man said, grinning. You’re an idiot, but you did save my life.)

With Monroe’s contacts in law enforcement, Milo eventually landed a job as an officer in the Pennsylvania State Police. He was placed in the Bureau of Criminal Investigation, assigned with monitoring and apprehending narcotics activity in the area. During his time there, he had his greatest success as an undercover agent, posing as a small-time dealer in an attempt to infiltrate a drug trafficking network that spanned across multiple states in the Mid-Atlantic.

Due to the interjurisdictional nature of the investigation, his team worked in collaboration with other state police, as well as the FBI. After a successful bust, the Feds, having seen his potential, recruited Milo into the agency.

After completing training and getting placed into their Criminal Investigative Division, Milo found himself primarily working with Undercover Operations. His most recent assignment led him to Colorado. A doomsday cult had moved to a compound just outside of Boulder, and Milo had been tasked with investigating the group for any illegal activities.

Assuming the identity of a drug addict in recovery, he managed to get into the compound. Three months into living there, the leader, Elijah, pulled him aside. Do you still wonder, he asked, if they even stopped for a second to look for you?

Through his rapid heartbeat, Milo could only manage to respond with a confused look. Elijah simply laughed, shook his head, and told him not to worry about it. Not anymore.

Paranoid he’d blown his cover somehow, he’d spent the night wide awake. That was when he saw her again: In the far distance, the lady in white, untouched by time, by anything, really. She was standing outside, unfazed by the cold, staring at something far away. Sneaking out through the window, Milo went after her, determined not to lose her this time.

Alas, she’d managed to slip away from him a second time. He ran down the hill, looked everywhere in the surrounding woods, but once again, it was like she simply vanished into thin air. The moment he decided to turn back, he smelled cinder and ashes. Through the cover of tree trunks, he saw sparks of orange and yellow. The compound was on fire.

Against direct orders, he rushed into the building to try and get people out, too impatient to wait for backup. Most people got with minor injuries, though one person ultimately ended up passing away from the fire. Elijah Cross had been on the run since.

In the debriefing that followed, Milo was questioned about what he had been doing outside when the incident occurred. He thought he’d seen something suspicious outside, was the only remotely rational answer he could come up with. But the security footage they’d recovered only confirmed his worst fears: he had been chasing after no one, nothing. As a matter of fact, he had wasted almost an entire hour doing so, when backup could have been alerted of the fire earlier than they had.

The agency put him on mandatory leave. For his own mental health, they’d said. Since when did the agency ever care about mental health? Sure enough, when Milo returned two weeks later, he found himself transferred to a new department.

 

[FireMaiden]

Gabriella Jones‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‏ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

* "You need to let it go, Jones, you need to let go."‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‎

♡coded by uxie♡

Seeing Before Believing
code by uxie!
​

full name.

Gabriella Jones

nicknames.

Gabs, Dr. Jones

age.

37

place of birth.

Hickory, North Carolina

gender + pronouns.

Cis-Gender, She/Her

sexuality.

Bi-Sexual

occupation.

Profiler X-Files Agent

face claim.

Amanda Crew

height.

5'8" (172cm)

weight.

165lbs (74kg)

hair colour.

Brown, Blonde highlights

eye colour.

Dark Brown

distinguishing features.

Light freckles on her shoulders

scars.

4-inch scar from mid collarbone to her right shoulder

modifications.

Both ears are pierced

virtues.

Open-Minded
Loyal
Hard-Working
Compassionate
Logical
Kind

vices.

Stubborn
Reserved
Secretive
A bit rash

written description.

Now, you're probably expecting some stern woman who's been hardened by her past and years of working with criminals and those suffering from metal illness. But the truth is pretty much the opposite. Gabriella is a bright, bubbly woman who some could call, a bit much. She's a very friendly, approachable person which makes her a great fit when it comes to counseling or approaching the families of victims. In fact, that's why she started going out with the agents in the first place. She offers a kind, non judgemental ear for anger, grief, and any other emotion someone may need to talk through. In the office she often goes out of her way to make that fresh pot of coffee or help someone else with their paper work. But don't take this as Gabriella turning herself into a doormat. She knows where to draw the line and when. And she's got a pretty good sense of when someone is trying to take advantage of her kindness. Lovingly referred to as the mom friend in most circles, she often has younger agents seeking out her advice, and older ones sometimes being annoyed by her mother hen tendencies. But this gives her an insane amount of patience and an extremely long fuse when it comes to her anger.

Now, when the time comes she can be, and is stern. Her anger is pretty much the embodiment of "I'm not angry, just disappointed" as she tends to not raise her voice or yell, but rather talks it through. In most cases anyway. Gabriella is still human after all. And she can be pretty scary when she's actually angry. It doesn't happened too often, mostly when she or someone she cares about is in danger. Even with Morrigan being pretty rebellious now, Gabriella is level-headed. Cool as a cucumber. She seems sadder these days though. After the incident that got her out on leave, she's quieter. Still friendly and out going, but she's definitely got some sort of sadness in her smiles.

likes.

Spicy Foods
Rainy Weather
Mystery/Thriller Novels
Maury (Or Trashy reality TV in general)
The at home shopping network (just to watch, not to buy)
Fruity Alcohol
Pretty Perfume Bottles
Collecting old books

dislikes.

Very strong floral scents
Horror movies
Heavy chocolate desserts
Reporters
Whicker Furniture
Small dogs (Big dogs for the win!)
Puppets/Mannequins

fears.

Drowning, Losing her daughter, spiders laying eggs in her ears, losing her job

wants.

To find the man who took her brother, Write another book, make it back into the Behavioral Analysis Unit, maybe be a teacher one day

skills.

Writing, Simple Firearms Training, Therapy (Has a Ph.D, and is a licensed clinical therapist), Interrogation and Reading People,

talents.

Really fast reader, can always hit the vending machine jusy right for free snacks, can run in heels??

history.

Gabriella was born in the small town of Hickory, North Carolina back in the good old days of June 10th, 1960. Her parents, Elizabeth and Marcus Jones were up there in age, her mother 39 and her father 43 when Gabriella surprised them. Her slightly older brother was supposed to be their last, and when that went out the window, Gabriella was certainly supposed to be their last. Well, surprise again, they had another boy about 5 years later as a complete surprise. Her mother didn't know she was pregnant until she was about 6 months along. So with a total of 5 siblings, Two older sisters, two older brothers, and one younger brother, the Jones's house was always an epicenter of chaos. Her father worked at a local mill, and her mother worked at a pre-school and after school center. For the time, she lived in a fairly progressive household. Her father and mother split the housework as evenly as they could, her father was involved in raising them in more ways than just the occasional game of catch and fatherly advice. And they put a focus on education for all of them, not just their sons. Elizabeth and Marcus wanted a bright future for all their children. Only...one of them wouldn't make it.

During the summer of 1971, when Gabriella was 11, she was taking her younger brother down to the corner store to buy some ice cream with the unforseen windfall of two whole dollars. They achieved their quest, and on the way back Jacob wanted to play on the swings at a local park. Gabriella agreed but only for a few minutes because they needed to get back home. Well, wrapped needed to be thrown away, so Gabriella stepped away from watching Jacob to take care of it and when she turned back, she saw an odd looking man talking to her brother. In the next moment, he was grabbed. Gabriella's heart raced, her blood ran hot and before she realized it, she had started sprinting after the man. Jacob scream out for her, the man kept running but with a squirming 5 year old in his arms, Gabriella was able to catch up. She grabbed a hold of him, yanking back on that brown work jacket with all her might. But with the swing of his elbow right into her temple, Gabriella was knocked unconscious. Marcus found her lying in that park about an hour later with Jacob nowhere to be found.

He was just the first in the string of other kidnapping of young boys between the ages of 5 and 7. Gabriella didn't remember much about the man, and what she did remember wasn't the most helpful. Things at home changed after that. Her relationship with her mother declined rapidly. As an adult, Gabriella understands why, Elizabeth needed something, someone to blame. And Gabriella was unfortunately that scapegoat. She was easy target, and even knowing the pressure Gabriella put on herself, how much she blamed herself, Elizabeth took her anger and guilt out on her. Her father did what he could, but wasn't surprised when Gabriella moved out at 17. She had graduated highschool early and was already on her way to college. She started that with a local community college before moving on to Davidson College where she would get her bachelor's degree in Psychology. During her college days, Gabriella met her husband Micheal. He was the artistic sort, kind at first and charming, they married quickly and shortly after had Gabriella's daughter. She was married, a mother, and a fairly successful counselor by the age of 25. But she aspired for more. Especially after she learned a rather shocking secret about her husband.

Turns out, he was gay and having an affair with a football coach at the highschool. Gabriella was understandable upset, but made sure that it was clear her anger was about the affair, not his sexuality. In any case, they divorced and kept a somewhat amicable relationship to co-parent their daughter Morrigan. But this event was the kick in the pants she needed to go back to school. This time her goal was getting her master's, and after two years she graduated again. This time, with an additional minor in criminology. See, separating from Michael gave her a lot to think about, and with that, Jacob became a focus again. Morrigan had just turned the age he had when he was taken. She found herself increasing paranoid about Morrigan and her safety, and Gabriella decided to use that as a push towards a new career. Of course she kept her therapists license as it was her day job, but she started to consult with the local police departments on their criminal cases. Her skills were quite useful for an array of reasons, but engaging with the criminals was one of her stronger areas. In some cases, she had already known them to some degree through her practice, and in others, it was simply the case that Gabriella had a better understanding of their psyche than even they did. It was during this time she was also juggling working on her Ph.D, using her work with criminals as the focal point of her thesis. And let's say that gained some attention. Gabriella graduated with her psychology Ph.D at 29, and the recruitment letter from Quantico came soon after.

With nothing much to keep her in Hickory, as her siblings had all moved off, and her parents being capable adults in their own, Gabriella packed up her and Morrigan's life and headed to Virginia. Gabriella was set for the FBI's behavioral analysis unit. A group who studied the trends and connections of murders and other high profile cases like bomb threats, mass shooters, and kidnapping. And Gabriella couldn't be more thrilled. She loved her work. Bright and early to the office every morning, the older agents took bets on how long it would be before she burnt out. Nobody won. For the past 6 years, Gabriella has consulted on hundreds of cases. With each new case that crosses her desk, Gabriella faced it with the same vigor she did as a newbie. Until a case roughly 7 months ago. It was a kidnapping case, a young 6 year old boy had gone missing right there in Virginia. It was withing 48 hours though, so Gabriella was optimistic about his odds. But something about it felt... familiar. The witness report was from the boys older sister, who said she saw a strange man talking to her brother on some playground equipment. She looked away, and when she looked back saw the man grab him. Gabriella's blood ran cold, her stomach twisted as she read that file over and over again. There was no way, no way it was the same man.

Gabriella immediately demanded all unsolved kidnapping cases dating back to 1971 and spent hours pouring over them. Of the hundreds they could give her, there were an additional 12 cases with the same MO. Same type of witness statements, same man. All with that brown work coat. Spanning back 26 years. Her head was spinning. Gabriella couldn't even remember speaking with the FBI. Hell she hardly remembers anything when it came to the investigation but reading all those files brought it crashing back down. The woman naturally insisted on being in charge of this case, and by God, she did it. 2 months after the disappearance of the most recent victim, she had enough knowledge to set up a trap and it worked. That strange looking man was brought in, and she felt triumphant. For a little while at least. Coming into work on foggy morning expecting to get an update in the direction of a court date, she was instead given the news that he was released.

Gabriella was livid, storming straight to her section chief. But they had no answer. "You need to let it go Jones, you need to let go." Those words haunted her. Every day for a month she bothered, and poked, and proded everyone and anyone she could about answers. She hunted for clues about his wearabouts, his next possible location, anything and everything she could. Gabriella was determined to catch him. He couldn't hurt anymore families, she was finally in a position where she could do something about it! Her hard work wouldn't pay off though, and it all came to a head when the chief said something off handed. Gabriella can't even remember what it was, but whatever, it was the last straw. Gabriella collapsed into a pitiful puddle of tears and choked sobs. She was taken home and given a mandatory leave. Four months with no work to do was hard, but it did let her spend some much needed time with Morrigan and her current fling. Not to mention finally refine and finish her book, a history psychological look into the Satanic Panic. This time, and a few psychology evaluations later, Gabriella received news she would be returning to work.

Her enthusiasm was as high as ever, but after her first week back, she not used her colleagues didn't veiw her the same. The following Monday, Gabriella was given notice she had been reassigned. To the X-Files. There was a small note scribbled on the back too. Maybe you'll find you're answers.

 

[Sunsmiter]

Memories from Beyond the Grave​

• General
• Appearance
• Background

• 
  
  Name: Lachesis Ravenlocke
  Nicknames: Layla
  Gender: female
  Sexuality: Pansexual
  Occupation: FBI X-Files
  Age: 30
  P.O.B: Ireland
  Siblings: Scarlett(twin sister, deceased)
  
  
• 
  
  Appearance
  Faceclaim: Carolina Porqueddu
  Written description of appearance: (optional)
  Height: 5'9
  Hair Color: Blonde
  Eye color: Grey
  Distinguishing Features/Scars: Scars from the accident along her ribs, chest and back
  Modifications: Lily tattoo on left shoulderblade
  
  Personality
  FOUR positive traits: Logical, courteous, pragmatic, creative
  FOUR negative traits: workaholic, callous, cold, haughty
  Fears: Water, being regarded as insane, painting
  Wants: To uncover the truth
  Skills: Psychoanalysis, interrogation, investigation, psychology, medical assistance, lifeguarding, painting/sketching, art history
  Talents: Singing, dancing(ballet), playing the piano, painting
  Written Description: A formerly artistic soul who seemed to have all she wished at her fingertips, yet desired more. Polite, courteous, yet cold and haughty, her frosty charm is overshadowed by her scrutiny.
  Layla writes reports in a clear, cursive hand, with polite, cold formality, not spurning friendships yet not welcoming anything greater than a professional response. She has a sharp mind, yet a coldly professional one, one that pushes her to work herself to the bone when she catches a new case to obsess over. She's blunt when pressed, charming when needed to be, and surprisingly melancholic under all her layers of frost. Layla could have gone into the Arts(desired it even), yet her obsession drove down a path of inquisitiveness and unending questions.
  
• 
  Background:
  Layla was born in Ireland to a wealthy family, and grew up in relative luxury with her sister. She had everything a girl could desire, except for health. When Layla was born with her twin sister, she was not expected to survive past two weeks. In fact, in the hospital, her heart stopped two times, and both times she was brought back. Against all odds, little Layla pulled through, and was welcomed home. Even though she would be a sickly child throughout her infancy, she would eventually grow up without complications.
  Yet, the joy of Layla's survival was not without it's own cost. Upon a day in June, when Scarlett was happily trotting around alone while Layla annoyed the nursemaid, her sister had found an old derelict well upon their family manor's property, and immediately proceeded to climb over the edge, fall and snap her little neck. Layla was not brought to the funeral.
  Yet Layla took her sister's demise fairly well. So well, she refused to believe Scarlett had died at all. For quite some time, Layla would deny Scarlett's absence, stubbornly insisting on seeing an imaginary figure she called "Red" who acted as her playmate when her sister was gone, claiming it followed her through her daily life and was her best friend. Layla was an...odd child, proclaiming herself her grandmother's favorite grandchild despite never having met the grandmother who had died before she was born, or repeatedly asking when her sister would "come home".
  In terms of Layla's life, things were relatively normal until she nearly drowned upon August 8th. She had wandered too far from their family's beach house and waded too far out in the surf. The waves had dragged her out, and Layla lost the battle against the surf. She had thrashed, breathed in water, spat it out, and sucked in some more seawater. She might have screamed then, in the innocent way of a child not knowing what was happening to her, and screamed even louder when a cold, incredibly cold hand had seized her and dragged her out onto the sand. She was found crawling on the sand, hacking up seawater, yet forever vehemently thanking "Red" instead of the coast guard or her father who found her.
  The child psychiatrist would say it was a hallucination induced by trauma, or perhaps a bid for attention. Layla would insist it was Red who had saved her. In her last fleeting moments of consciousness, she had seen a red figure, bleeding like the waves, reach out and haul her onto the sand. It was red, it was always red.
  At the age of seven, such encounters tapered off with surprising rapidness. Layla did not respond when questioned upon Red, and only brushed off questions about Red with irritation. The voice in the wind never spoke to her again. Not through middle school, or high school, or university when she took philosophy and majored in psychology, had a minor in arts, and had many a wrecked relationship and graduated. The voice didn't speak up when she went into the arts and worked quite well for a while yet. However, after a few years, she suddenly quit just as she was about to become a rising star in the arts world, wandering off much against the dismay of her parents. No one knows why Layla so abruptly dropped her passions, only that she desired nothing more to do with painting. (Oddly enough, in the string of months before her sudden departure, her artworks contained eerie "self-portraits" that suspiciously resemble her twin sister, all grown up, painted in red. The portraits were blurry, sometimes misty, sometimes obscured by smoke, yet always painted in Layla's hand.)
  The voice mentioned nothing during the silent years of Layla's life, and it didn't protest when her inquisitive nature later lead her to join the FBI - much against the disapproval of her parents - in an attempt to escape the ink and water of her past. She climbed up the ranks(her privilege might have helped) and suffered the silent disapproval of her parents
  It was only when she had her accident did Red appeared again.
  The accident was quite simple. An investigation into a string of unearthed graves and suddenly excavated tombs(one of whom was close to the graveyard where her sister rested), and one suspect in mind. She had been doodling out an ugly, skull-faced figure that looked rotting, in red ink, as she examined the suspect before she headed off alone. The man, she remembers this clearly, was wearing red. Layla remembers quite clearly, because it was an ugly shade of red, not the beautiful, silky red that had saved her. (As a side note, his face looked almost as if it was rotting off of him. Layla was fairly certain she had seen corpses fairer than him.) Said man was not quite happy about being confronted with graverobbing, nor over the investigator's questions. So unhappy that he showed his anger by pushing her over the third-floor balcony of his apartment, and out into the mid-day traffic. Layla nearly died from the fall, and then again from the impact.
  The car was fine, the car driver(albeit traumatized) was fine, and Layla had four broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a punctured lung and nearly had her spine snapped in two. She remembered nothing of the impact except a sudden blur of metal, the sound of screaming tires, and a cold, but not unpleasant sensation enveloped her, and the flicker of something resembling a red mist that had circled her and jerked her to the side with enough force to dislocate her shoulder mere moments before impact.
  Had she remained stationary at the moment of impact, she would be joining her deceased sister six feet below the ground. The metal had barely avoided crushing her spine. The physical rehabilitation was intensive, but Layla hardly cared about that. She would insist on what she saw, the misty figure, the crimson, the sudden tugging motion that had saved her life. She knew the mind played tricks, but this was no hallucination. This was the same hand that had saved her so many years ago. Layla would refuse treatments, she knew what she saw, she would stand by her words with stubborn insistence even when told the suspect she had been chasing was an accused graverobber who had died over a decade ago, and that onlookers saw nothing but a woman falling from the balcony and snapping her bones like sticks.
  Her obsession would lead her to her suspension, and that hardly affected her insistence at all. She had seen what she had seen, she knew she was right in her investigation(this one graverobber was that man, she was sure of it), and Layla had seen what she had seen when she felt that cold, crimson hand rest upon her shoulder.
  Had she chosen to live as the resident mad heiress of her family's fortunes, her parents would have cared none for it, and neither would have the public, more or less. It was only she she had received the transfer did she briefly reconsidered quitting entirely. It may or may not be because they had written her transfer to X-Files in red pen.
  
  X-Files: Layla was originally rather miffed at her "demotion" to X-Files, but accepts it nonetheless given the fact it's a way she could investigate "Red" closer.
  

 

[marzz]

((Sorry this is so crunchy, I'm new to figuring this formatting stuff out.))

 

[Ha_lfLife]

L.L. Halstead

39 // Disciplinary Probation

Joel Kinnaman

♡coded by uxie♡

—𝐁 𝐀 𝐒 𝐈 𝐂 𝐒.
Name: Logan Landry L. Halstead
Nicknames: Absolutely not.
Age: 39
Birthday: October 30, 1958
P.O.B: Mandeville, Louisiana, USA
Occupation: Santou's Pizza Palace Delivery Driver (Age 15), New Orleans P.D. Officer>Detective (Age 20), F.B.I. Spec. Agent (Age 27)
• • ● • •

—𝐕 𝐈 𝐒 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄.
Faceclaim: Joel Kinnaman
Height: 6'1"
Build: Slim, toned
Hair: Ashen blond; kept short, sometimes combed; used to be clean-shaven, but has recently become sloppier with his upkeep; current facial hair varies biweekly
Eyes: Hazel

• • ● • •

—𝐏 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 𝐎 𝐍 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘.
FOUR positive traits: Resourceful, Unwavering, Blunt Direct, Loyal
FOUR negative traits: Sour, Cynical, Direct Blunt, Apathetic
Skills: Gunsmith / general gun enthusiast, Hunting, Interrogation, Inductive/Deductive Reasoning
Talents: A very good shot, Decent deer calls
Fears: Dying alone and unmourned
Wants: To get back to his old position ASAP; these people are fucking psychos
Written Description:

Following his three-week suspension, Halstead returned to a new position with headquarters. While the details of his disciplinary correction were occasionally debated among co-workers, the circumstances of his evident demotion were kept by a few select tight lips. All most folks knew was that when Halstead came back to headquarters - a mostly unfamiliar face, as he'd spent almost all of his prior F.B.I. career in K.C. - was that he was unpleasant to be around. He hardly socialized, almost never after hours. Most days, he barely even managed the common courtesy of an elevator "hello." His personality reads mostly as distracted, disinterested, impolite and harsh. His new frustrations at his luck get tampered down until something finally sets off his temper. He's spontaneously aggressive and intimidating towards suspects. Sometimes, this can be seen as a talent; other times, a liability. He spends most of his off hours drinking excessively, though he has managed to keep it from affecting his working hours. He doesn't believe in aliens or anything supernatural. He thinks the F.B.I.'s inclusion of this department as not only unnecessary, but insulting. Humans are bad enough. Why waste resources on imaginary monsters?

• • ● • •

— 𝐇 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘.

Logan was born to a lower-class single mother in Mandeville, Louisiana. He and his mother, along with two younger brothers, shared a small trailer off the highway. Though they didn't have much, they were a relatively happy family. At their mother's demand, all three boys stayed in high school until graduating. Logan alternated between odd construction jobs and restaurant jobs until he was twenty. During a weekend hunting trip, a friend's uncle from the N.O.P.D. was impressed with Logan's shot, and suggested logan consider joining the force. Despite a lack of higher education, Logan's intuition and dedication soon took him from the role of a field officer to a detective. He stayed in that position for nearly a decade, satisfied with the life he was building. He was newly engaged to his longtime girlfriend and was comfortably paying the mortgage on the house.

A murder case involving federal jurisdiction later brought the F.B.I. to New Orleans. Having gotten to know many of the agents over several months, Halstead considered joining a federal agency. He applied to the F.B.I. the following year. He had little to offer in the fields of language, technology, or psychology, but carried several positive recommendations and an impressive track record in law enforcement, along with clearing his physical and tactical tests. Upon his acceptance as a special agent, he was assigned to the Kansas City field office, where he remained for ten years. He steadily climbed to higher ranks in the local office during his time there. His home life thrived, and his world revolved around his wife and newborn daughter.

Recently, a tragic change in circumstances saw Halstead on leave for several months and, upon his return to the office, a swift and hushedly controversial incident that afterwards resulted in a disciplinary probation. The disciplinary board narrowly agreed to allow Halstead to remain in the Bureau, though his demotion would be immediate and the conditions of his staying were tedious ("You must meet with a psychologist weekly until he/she deems you fit to go without supervision." Fuck's sake). The move back to Virginia wasn't such a difficult change, as he was now doing it alone.

He views his new position in the X-Files as a pure punishment, a corner cabinet where they stuffed the pseudopsychoanalysists and the other delinquent agents. With any luck, he won't stay here long.