Relax.

NAME: Anderson Havoc
NICKNAMES: Havoc, Andy
AGE: 23
GENDER: Male (Post-op transman. 4 years on T.)
DATE OF BIRTH:October 31, 2012 HEIGHT: 5'9"

PLAY BY: Chace Crawford MARITAL STATUS: Single
SEXUALITY: Pansexual

OCCUPATION: Logger (Former Tattoo artist and musician)
HOMETOWN: Grand Rapids, MI
CURRENT RESIDENCE:New Vine, WA
PARENTS: Disowned
SIBLINGS: Two sisters; Disowned

QUIRKS: Bites lip, and taps beats with his fingers when anxious. Often uses endearments when fond of a person. Rarely found without a smile. Blushes when nervous, embarrassed, or called out on his shit, uses heavy sarcasm.
LIKES: Physical affection, singing, coffee (particularly pumpkin spice or salted caramel), smoking (both cigarettes and marijuana)
DISLIKES: Being put on the spot, whining, feeling inadequate, being reminded that he doesn’t have a penis.



NAME: Eyn
AGE: 21
AIM: kaleootter
CONTACT: Plurk
TIME ZONE:CST

Strengths: Patient, understanding, loyal, street smart, responsible.

Weaknesses: shy, some lack of self confidence when it comes to gender, not very articulate, fidgety, a bad liar.

If you saw Havoc walking into a local facility, you’ll always notice his hair and appearance first. Double takes aren’t uncommon to him, but where he’s become used to that, his self consciousness has made up for in the bedroom. Having never really been in a relationship, he doesn’t very much think that he is deserving of attention. Despite his intimidating appearance, tattoos, piercings, and the personification of a tall bull of a boy, he’s a sweetheart, and a kind person all around. More than willing to give you the shirt off his back, and more than happy to carry you to your car on a flooded day. Despite all of this, he can be fidgety, and anxious. When nervous, he never ceases to tap unheard beats on his legs, or on a surface. He’s tried to stop, but over the years, it’s only gotten worse. The only escape he can get from that anxiety is singing, or chain smoking on occasion.

5'9". Muscular, swimmer body. Jade green eyes. Naturally dark brown hair, but shaved in a mohawk. Facial hair: scruff and a bit of a goatee.

Anderson grew up as Andrea Havoc. Being the oldest of three girls, young Andrea had to practically raise his sisters, because his parents worked so many jobs and they could barely do it themselves without sacrificing putting bread on the table. It was just how the cards were dealt. During Middle school, he realized that he didn't feel the same as the other girls, preferring to wear more boyish clothing, and playing sports, collecting bugs, bones, and sticks instead of painting her nails and talking about dolls. He spent most of his childhood being picked on, but despite that, he managed to keep a cheerful demeanor and laid back attitude. In order to distract himself from what life had to throw at him, he picked up a talent for drawing and playing the violin.

At 16, he came out as a boy, telling his family. Instead of being accepting of it, they kicked Andrea out to fend for himself. He had no other choice but to leave the city, and proceeded to hitchhike from Grand Rapids, Michigan, all the way to Henderson, Nevada, drawing and performing music on the streets the whole way in order to pay for the trip. It wasn't until he hit 18 years old that he was able to legally change his name and gender, and thus became Anderson Havoc. He began working at a tattoo parlor known as Sweet Sin. Within months, he became one of the best artists in the shop and then began playing electric violin for a band called Crass Tradition. During this year, a cataclysmic event, known widely as World War IV, caused a majority of humanity to be wiped off the face of the planet, and the rest to mutate.

At 19, he started Testosterone treatment, provided by one of the last known medical facilities in the nation, and began to work out, accumulating a tattoo for every few pounds lost, thanks to a close friend who survived the bombing as well. At 20, he filed with the facility for a successful hysterectomy, allowing his estrogen levels to deplete, as well as a mastectomy, leaving minimal scarring. All payed for with the money he had saved up from his job. By the time he turned 23, he had been on Testosterone for 4 years, which allowed it to over take the estrogen levels.

A second bombing caused his home to be completely destroyed, and , being a survivor, Havoc made his way from the abandoned and leveled city of Henderson, and made his way to New Vine, Washington, one of the few safe havens left in post apocalyptic America. Here, he settled to make a new life, working as a logger in order to help rebuild civilization the best he can with what the small community was given.

The year is 2035. The world has survived World War IV, which brought about the long-feared Nuclear Holocaust that everyone was so sure was going to wipe out humanity; except it hasn't.

Not exactly, anyway.

There's hundreds of miles of unlivable landscape peppering the Americas and Canadas, and the rumors of what walks in the places that people can't live are disquieting at best (mutated beasts that rove the landscape) and terrifying at worst (zombies that are faster than they should be and who feast on every living thing that comes within a hundred miles). Electronics have stopped working, and though nobody's really sure why, they also aren't exactly working in the direction of getting telecommunications back online. Gas is precious, horseflesh moreso: there are several folks making tidy profits based on converting old cars into carriages that can be pulled by equine and human alike. Most everything works on a barter system, and those who had applicable survival skills found themselves suddenly in high demand when folks swept away the ashes and stepped blinking into the sun when it was all said and done.

Here and there, far from where the biggest bombs fell, pockets of civilizations have sprung up, reconstructing something out of the nothing that swept over the world five years prior. Some of the cities are virtual military states - there's rumors that the entire Southeastern portion (the parts that didn't melt off the map, anyway) of the United States is patrolled by strict enforcers loaded with shotguns and wearing slouched caps who shoot at anything that moves. Some are tiny Utopian states, where everyone in the town works towards the common good.

New Vine, WA falls in the latter category. Saddled between where Olympia and Portland once were and roughly where Napavine originally existed, it's enough off the beaten track that it didn't attract too much attention when the world went to war, and the residents there were rebuilding when the rest of civilization was still hunkered down in bunkers. While the city proper tends to be disregarded entirely (and has, in fact, been mostly overrun with wild animals), the few residents that remained in the area when everyone else wanted to go exploring have made a comfortable little township on the outskirts of downtown, complete with a tea shop run by a lovely pair of men and a hotel-turned-hostel manned by a lady named Sue. Everyone pulls their own weight, and if you're looking for a place to put up your feet in the aftermath of the world ending, New Vine's definitely one of the brighter spots in darker days. They'll give you a few days to get your bearings, but then the residents will politely encourage you to find a way to make yourself useful. There's plenty to do: since everyone's relying on boilers for hot water, there's always wood to chop and haul, and there's trees that need planted to help replenish in the future the stores that the folk are constantly clearing away. There's buildings that need refurbished for use in a world where electricity seems virtually a thing of the past, there's streets that need cleared. And there's always a need for someone with a good eye and a steady hand to bring down some of the wildlife for dinner. It isn't hard to make yourself useful in New Vine.

Come in and come home, they'd love to have you.