- █ █ B A S I C S
█ NAME ▬ Jaxon Morcos.
█ AGE ▬ 28.
█ NICKNAME ▬ Jax.
█ GENDER ▬ Male.
█ RACE ▬ Werewolf.
█ ORIENTATION ▬ Pansexual.
█ OCCUPATION ▬ Tattoo Artist.
█ PARTNER ▬ Single.
█ SLAVE ▬ None.
█ █ A P P E A R A N C E
█ HAIR ▬ White.
█ EYES ▬ Blue.
█ BUILD ▬ Tall and muscular.
█ TATTOOS ▬ A large tribal tattoo on his left arm.
█ SCARS ▬ Various scars of shapes and sizes are located in random spots from different scuffs he's gotten into over the years. Lots of very little scars on his shoulders and neck from Excoriation Disorder.
█ BIRTHMARKS ▬ None.
█ █ P E R S O N A L I T Y
█ THEME SONGS
█ ▬ O1 Nightmare
█ ▬ O2 DNA.
█ ▬ O3 Look At Me!
█ LIKES
█ ▬ Creating (drawing, painting, sculpting, etc.)
█ ▬ His job
█ ▬ Smoking (various substances)
█ ▬ Sex (real kinkster over here)
█ DISLIKES
█ ▬ Getting yelled at
█ ▬ Hospitals
█ ▬ People that talk too much
█ ▬ People that don't talk enough
█ PERSONALITY TRAITS
█ ▬ Impersonal
█ ▬ Aggressive
█ ▬ OCD
█ ▬ Passionate
█ █ H I S T O R Y
█ BACKGROUND
When newly weds Hassan and Rebecca Morcos found out their household was going to be blessed with their first child, they were ecstatic. Hassan was a realtor and poetry enthusiast. Rebecca ran a mildly popular cooking blog. They were two Lycans just trying to live happy, regular lives. Rebecca's sister was the wild one, and she saw where that got her. Single mother living in the slums with nothing. Mom and Dad refused to help her because of her drug issues. But Rebecca was different. She was happy, lived in a cute apartment downtown, and she loved her husband. She had no interest in partying or acting crazy. She was a good, down to earth girl.
It didn't take long for the happy illusion to be shattered. The drive home was tense and unbearably silent. She clutched the black and white scan in her hand, staring at the blurry image with glazed eyes. "It's from your side of the family, that's for certain." Hassan grumbled in disbelief. "We'll get through this, though. I'll make the appointment to.... be done with it when we get home, and then we can adopt a baby. There's plenty of children that need good homes." He tried to make light of the situation. He refused to look at his wife. Her knuckles were white as she held the scan.
"You're crazy if you think I'm getting rid of my baby."
They were divorced in a month, clean break. Rebecca's parents told her they would help her as much as they could. "My grandmother had the same condition," her mother said, "Awful thing, really. But it was bound to turn up again somewhere along the line."
No one could really prepare themselves for this child. Since the minute he was born, he screamed. And screamed. And screamed. There was no end to it. One night Rebecca had half a mind to smother her newborn baby. Horrified at the thought, she immediately rolled over, squeezed her eyes shut, and forced herself to sleep. She blamed sleep deprivation for ever considering such a thing. Eventually, when he stopped crying his brains out, he was quiet. A little too quiet for a baby, she thought. He didn't really cry for anything. Nor did he really respond to her. Just stared at her with his big, blue eyes. Something had to be wrong. Had he gone deaf? She took him to the doctor. He wasn't deaf. Wasn't blind. Everything checked out.
"This is... normal when they're at that age."
She guessed it was okay. At least he didn't cry anymore. But he didn't babble and coo like normal babies. And as he got older, he didn't really bother with learning to talk either. He didn't respond to her trying to teach him anything. He shoveled food into his mouth with his meaty little fists and rolled and crawled all over their little apartment. Yeah, this wasn't that terrible. Mildly concerning but not bad.
Toddler years hit. Terrible two's times ten. It was a tantrum every five minutes. He got into everything, ruined the house, destroyed her belongings, ripped her hair, threw food everywhere. Her patience was put to the test innumerable times. But she knew this baby wasn't going to be easy. She learned to be calm, tolerant, and forgiving.
She eventually discovered that the best way to keep him quiet and calm was to plop him down with paper and crayons and let him go at it. He loved to draw and color and while his brain and his hands were occupied with that, she felt that, for those brief moments, he was a regular kid. She encouraged his artistic pursuits his whole life.
Now we could go on and on throughout Jaxon's early childhood, his horrifically awkward preteen years and so on, but all that really needs to be known now was that as a mother, she took it a bit too far. She was overprotective of her child. The truth was, she was frightened. Not only of Jaxon potentially being taken from her, but she was frightened of how his behavior could reflect on her as a mother. She tried public school, and the first time he got in trouble, she pulled him out, and decided he would be home schooled. The first time he had a meltdown in the grocery store, he went to grandma's when mommy had to run errands from now on. The first time she had guests over and her prepubescent son started touching himself at the dinner table, he was taken to his room and she never had guests over again. She shielded him from the world and barred the world from him.
Thankfully, his grandparents knew a little better. Even though social norms were thrown out the window with this kid, they didn't try to hide him away when he did something generally unacceptable. Grandma was very caring, but very firm and patient. She wanted him to be capable of surviving on his own when he grew up and not clinging to his mother's skirt his whole life. He made friends in his grandparent's neighborhood who he saw every time he went over to visit. He has good memories of them.
Thanks to all the time he got to spend at home with his mother, he was really able to hone his artistic ability. As a teenager, he was a very fine artist. He put together a rather impressive portfolio, and was offered a scholarship for a prestigious art school. It was quite a ways away from home. His mother couldn't stand the idea of him being so far. She didn't think that he could take care of himself (who's fault is that?) and was worried he would get into trouble. He was positively ecstatic to get away from home, and though he loved his mother and admittedly depended on her a little too much, he was excited to get away from her too. But college wasn't easy. Without mom there to help, he was basically failing any classes that weren't directly related to art. The partying hit him hard too. It was the first time he was actually allowed to go out and mingle with a large group of his peers in person. Granted, a lot of kids thought he was pretty weird, he had too much energy, he was way too touchy, way too aggressive, but he still had a good time, made a few friends. And he found that every weekend, he was at someone's house, drinking, smoking, doing, ahem, other things... Weekends became longer. The party started Thursday night, now, not Friday. And then Monday got added to the mix. Pretty soon, he found he was skipping most of his classes, nursing hang overs and getting revved up to get ******** up. It was like the alcohol and the drugs slowed his world down. He didn't feel so high strung anymore, his senses were dulled, and he could just.... be. Everything was at an equal pace and imagined that that must have been what it was like to feel like a regular person (wrong).
Jaxon dropped out of school, moved his a** from dorms to a shared room in a punk house down the street. The rent was cheap and he used up the last of his student loans and the allowance from his grandparents for bills and booze and drugs. It was fine. He was fine. He was having the time of his life. And, as always, he filled the spaces between the parties and sleep with his art. He did his first tattoo on his roommate at their kitchen table. No, not with a machine. Sewing needle on a rig and some india ink was his weapon of choice. His first tattoo was okay. Just some words. Can't ******** that up too bad, right? He did a second and a third and a fourth, and each one he found himself getting lost in the tedium of the act, dot after dot. Researching hand poke tattoos was easy. You upgrade from sewing needles to tattoo needles, india ink to tattoo ink, you actually wear gloves now, change out the needles, you learn about hygiene and contamination.
Nah, he's not a scratcher anymore. He's a bonafide professional, and works in an upscale shop, charging folks more money for a hand poke, for that real tattoo experience (it's bullshit). But he makes art for a living and he makes real decent money just doing three appointments a day. And as a tattoo artist, he has a little more control over his schedule which helps for "that time of the month." Dealing with customers can be difficult, and yeah, some people in the industry have decided that he's a total asswipe, but by now, he's been tattooing for ten years, and his work can speak for itself. He's good. If you can get past his attitude, you're in for a treat.
█ ABILITIES
▬ TRANSFORMATION
Every month, during the full moon, Jaxon must transform into a full, canine form. However, it's nothing like the transformation of a Lycan. It is forced, extremely painfully, and rather horrific to behold. Jaxon is no longer mentally or physically himself, and when he wake up the next morning, he'll have no memory of his activities. He'll be left in a severely weakened state and will need to take several days to heal.
▬ SCENT
Jaxon has a strong sense of smell. His grandma taught him how to differentiate and control it. He can get distracted by scents as easily as the next guy, but he can at list pin point something and tell where it's coming from.
▬ STRENGTH
Jaxon can very easily build muscle. He's just a naturally strong dude. He had a therapist once suggest that he go to the gym and work out to help with his various emotional issues. That's great! It helps. He also just likes fightin' dudes too tho.
▬ MOON HEALING
Like all other werewolves, Jaxon's temperament is in sync with the phases of the moon. The closer it gets to the full moon, the more irritable, moody, and frustrated he becomes. He also heals incredibly quickly, which is necessary considering the trauma his body goes through for each transformation he experiences. Despite this, he does deal with chronic pain, and often has dislocated joints and sprained limbs. Win some, lose some.
▬ SILVER
He is highly allergic to any form of silver, as are all werewolves.
█ EXTRA
▬ FC is Striker from GANGSTA
▬ Rumi Blackwell is his maternal cousin.
▬ Jaxon is almost constantly in motion. Tapping feet, fingers, fidgeting, doodling. It's like he's constantly trying to find ways to release pent up energy.
▬ He suffers from OCD. This could be from minor things to objects needing to be organized in a very specific way to manically counting things. Between the OCD and his constant fidgeting (and suffering from acne as a teenager), Jax has picked up Excoriation Disorder which is a type of OCD that involved skin picking. It started with picking at the pimples on shoulders just to keep his hands busy. Now he has "clear skin," but he picks at old scars rather frequently. He's getting better about it though.
▬ He highly disapproves of the slave trade.
