WE KISS ON THE MOUTH [✧] TESTING + STORAGE

[size=10px]general: [biography]
fletcher gowanlock | "fletch" to his friends | ♂
rank of alliance | no titles | unofficial titles
birthday/quick info | physical: here | mental: here
experience: here | social: here | emotional: here

relationships: [heart chart] [more info]
npc x npc | only child | generation one
homosexual homoromantic | single
½ _________ [info about ship]
best friend [open] | mentor [open]
friendly? unfriendly? info about how they interact with others

important facts:
• addictions, triggers, trivia, recent events, etc
• more facts here, list as you go

physical: [reference]
• some species info?
• fur info here, maybe? | eye colour
• build information
• accessories? add more info below for other physical quirks

injuries:
• bullet list injuries here

personality: [click] [click] [click]
trait | trait | trait | trait | trait
random facts? | more facts?
can include a short paragraph. or multiple in a spoiler.
or just witty statements.

powers:
• power — discovered? | xx% mastered

confrontation: [battle info]
• physical difficulty | mental difficulty
• battle dynamics — more dynamics — aggression
• attack in bold WHITE or bold #C9CC bold underlined
• can powerplay nonviolent or peaceful actions
— will these actions be met with violence?.

[size=8]GENERAL:
▪ Fletcher Gowanlock | "Fletch" | ♂
▪ Homoromantic | Homosexual | Semi-Closted, Semi-Obvious
▪ Weird Ageing | Young Adult | Mentally 22 y/o
▪ Rank of Clan | No Titles | Sad + Lame

RELATIONSHIPS:
▪ Single | No Crush | No "Maybe" Crushes
▪ ½ ship name [can do multiple]
▪ NPC x NPC | Generation 1 | No Mentor/Apprentice
▪ Appears as a social butterfly; badly damaged.

IMPORTANT FACTS:
▪ Former human + ice hockey player.
▪ From a collapsed alternate dimension.

PHYSICAL: [reference] [headshot]
★ DOMESTIC FELINE [current/main] | health: 80%
— lean and well-kept, golden tabby with white, bright green eyes.
— fluffy, but his body shape is still visible. not chubby-looking; thin.
— wears a pink baseball cap with a flower marking on the front.
— [i]injuries: bruising on legs + throat, general scarring [esp. forelegs]

PERSONALITY:
— Not based on anybody; original character.
— Has generalised anxiety disorder; recovering from depression.
▪ sociable, easygoing, dedicated, confident, humorous.
▪ emotional, dry, athletic, "obedient", creative, nontraditional.
▪ self-deprecating, manipulable, insecure, snappish, unstable.

INTERACTION:
▪ Some Training | Usually Passive | Moderately Difficult
▪ Rarely Starts Fights | Can Negotiate | Doesn't Kill
▪ Attack in in bold WHITE or bold underlined.
▪ Can powerplay peaceful or nonviolent actions.

[size=8]GENERAL:
▪ Kenneth Gowanlock | Kent, Kenny | ♂
▪ Homoromantic | Homosexual | Semi-Closted, Semi-Obvious
▪ Weird Ageing | Young Adult | Mentally 22 y/o
▪ Rank of Clan | No Titles | Sad + Lame

RELATIONSHIPS:
▪ Single | No Crush | No "Maybe" Crushes
▪ ½ ship name [can do multiple]
▪ NPC x NPC | Generation 1 | No Mentor/Apprentice
▪ Appears as a social butterfly; badly damaged.

IMPORTANT FACTS:
▪ Former human + ice hockey player.
▪ From a collapsed alternate dimension.

PHYSICAL: [reference] [headshot]
★ DOMESTIC FELINE [current/main] | health: 80%
— lean and well-kept, golden tabby with white, bright green eyes.
— fluffy, but his body shape is still visible. not chubby-looking; thin.
— wears a pink baseball cap with a flower marking on the front.
— [i]injuries: bruising on legs + throat, general scarring [esp. forelegs]

PERSONALITY:
— Not based on anybody; original character.
— Has generalised anxiety disorder; recovering from depression.
▪ sociable, easygoing, dedicated, confident, humorous.
▪ emotional, dry, athletic, "obedient", creative, nontraditional.
▪ self-deprecating, manipulable, insecure, snappish, unstable.

INTERACTION:
▪ Some Training | Usually Passive | Moderately Difficult
▪ Rarely Starts Fights | Can Negotiate | Doesn't Kill
▪ Attack in in bold WHITE or bold underlined.
▪ Can powerplay peaceful or nonviolent actions.

[size=10px]GENERAL:
▪ Kenneth Gowanlock | Kent, Kenny | ♂
▪ Homoromantic | Homosexual | Semi-Closted, Semi-Obvious
▪ Weird Ageing | Young Adult | Mentally 22 y/o
▪ Rank of Clan | No Titles | Sad + Lame

RELATIONSHIPS:
▪ Single | No Crush | No "Maybe" Crushes
▪ ½ ship name [can do multiple]
▪ NPC x NPC | Generation 1 | No Mentor/Apprentice
▪ Appears as a social butterfly; badly damaged.

IMPORTANT FACTS:
▪ Former human + ice hockey player.
▪ From a collapsed alternate dimension.

PHYSICAL: [reference] [headshot]
★ DOMESTIC FELINE [current/main] | health: 80%
— lean and well-kept, golden tabby with white, bright green eyes.
— fluffy, but his body shape is still visible. not chubby-looking; thin.
— wears a pink baseball cap with a flower marking on the front.
— [i]injuries: bruising on legs + throat, general scarring [esp. forelegs]

PERSONALITY:
— Not based on anybody; original character.
— Has generalised anxiety disorder; recovering from depression.
▪ sociable, easygoing, dedicated, confident, humorous.
▪ emotional, dry, athletic, "obedient", creative, nontraditional.
▪ self-deprecating, manipulable, insecure, snappish, unstable.

INTERACTION:
▪ Some Training | Usually Passive | Moderately Difficult
▪ Rarely Starts Fights | Can Negotiate | Doesn't Kill
▪ Attack in in bold WHITE or bold underlined.
▪ Can powerplay peaceful or nonviolent actions.

It's dark. Dark, cold, uncomfortable, the ground wet beneath his paws. He's a mess, stomach bloated and features gaunt from starvation, fur matted and filthy. Patches of it are missing, skin rubbed raw and bleeding; a halo of flesh is exposed around his jaws and his chest, splintered metal digging into aching wounds whenever he tries to strain against his bonds. A smarter creature would control their breathing, search for a way out, formulate a plan, but his mind is blank. Vast and wide and utterly empty, save for a small, primal need for warmth. Sometimes, he's treated with the presence of an unseen stranger, a body emerging from the blackness to settle beside him and flood his small form with the heat it needs to survive, but it never feels right. They don't smell good, they aren't good, but he doesn't know that. He just knows that their scent is all wrong.

Voices reach his ears, sneering and cruel, but he doesn't pick up on their evident disdain. He lifts his head, breath stuttering, heart pulsing in his throat. Hope. Perhaps they're here to warm him up again, or give him something to eat; they've forgotten to do that for a while, but Tino believes they're perhaps just scatterbrained, and that's okay, because he's scatterbrained, too. He forgets things, and he can quite easily forgive them for that. Perhaps they're here to take away the strange things wrapped around his muzzle and body, so that he can stretch his legs; perhaps they're going to make it light again, so that he can see. His eyes still throb from when they made it dark, but he's certain that the sun will make them better again. It's pitiful, how naïve he is, his tail wagging at the sound of people, expression one of eagerness.

"He's an idiot." says the voice. Tino wonders who they're talking about; he huffs inquisitively, a small sound tripping over his tongue. "Watch."

Beneath layers and layers of grime and muck, the boy tenses, weak body starting. Clink, clink, clink, and it floods the room, overpowering and unmistakeable. Home. Family. Safety, and it's right there, people coming to make him warm and bring back the light and give him food, and all he has to do is— Get to them. They're out of reach but he can pinpoint their distance, and he lurches forwards without thought, paws scrabbling in filthy puddles. He strains, and the barbed wire digs into his chest and muzzle — he doesn't even seem to notice, but blood wells at the surface, and his breathing shifts, laboured and ragged. He's in pain, he's hurting, but it's okay. They're right there. He can smell them, they're here to help him, and they want him to go to them, he knows it, he can tell, even though they're not saying anything, even though they're not helping—

The smell vanishes, and Tino stops straining, sitting back on his haunches. His eyes are wet and stinging, and he whips his head from side to side, barbed wire scraping his muzzle and painting it red. Clink, clink, clink, and it's back again, and he strives to reach it, choking on the wire around his neck, close to ripping something fatal, but he's certain he'll be okay if he reaches them. Sharp laughter grips him from all sides — laughter? Are they happy? Is he doing the right thing? — and the scent vanishes again. A low, frustrated sound rips itself from his throat, and he slumps, gasping unsteadily. His skin feels icy and far too small, prickling over bones and scraping his insides; he wants to go home. He doesn't like this place, doesn't like the way it smells — he wants the warmth and the food and the familiarity, and it was there, it had to be. His lips form words and names, faces dancing in his mind, but even they're blurry, now. He'd speak, cry out, but his jaw spasms before he can spit a syllable out, and the involuntary movement pushes metal spikes into him. Quiet is good.

"See? Idiot." he still doesn't know who the idiot is, but he hopes they're okay. It's not a nice thing to call anybody, after all, and he'd tell them that, but his priority is on screaming for those he loves, and he can't manage that. Not yet.