T R A U M A

FULL NAME: Terrence Ward NICKNAME(S): Terry, Trauma, Emo Boy CURRENT TEAM(S): Freedom Force AGE: 23 DATE OF BIRTH: 10/31/2000 GENDER IDENTITY: Male SEXUALITY:  Straight NATIONALITY:  American ETHNICITY: Latino/Demon

► APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Rob Raco HEIGHT: 5′7″ SPECIAL / RECOGNIZABLE FEATURES: your answer here HAIR COLOR: Black EYE COLOR: Black ACCENT: New England SCARS: None TATTOOS: None

► BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Pittsfield CURRENT HOME: Avenger’s Compound FINANCIAL STATUS: Surviving on Avenger’s amenities, grants, scholarship, and funding from the initiate program. EDUCATION LEVEL: Currently enrolled in masters of Clinical Counseling with focus in Marriage child and family CONVICTION(S): None SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S): English, minimal Spanish PAST OCCUPATION: Initiate CURRENT OCCUPATION: Hero and Student RELIGION: Agnostic SNAP STATUS: Not Snapped

► RELATIONS

FATHER: Nightmare (Spiritual Father), Karl (Biological), Jerry Ward (Step Father) MOTHER: Naomi Ward SIBLING(S): Dreamqueen, Daydream, Billy Ward PARTNER(S): None CHILDREN: None BEST FRIEND: None ADVERSARY: Nightmare

► EXTRA INFORMATION

HOROSCOPE: Scorpio JUNG TYPE: ISFJ The Defender ENNEAGRAM: Type 6 - The Loyalist MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good SIN: Envy VIRTUE: Charity MOTTO / quote: “There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” - Laurel K. Hamilton THEME SONG: Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Green Day

► PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS: Caring, determined, emotionally intelligent, puts others before himself NEGATIVE TRAITS: Will do anything he can to cure his mother’s madness even if it’s against his better judgement, self hating, wracked by guilt, aloof, anti-social

► HEADCANONS/FUN FACTS

Blue and purple Jolly Ranchers are his favorite candy

His Music taste never left 2009 emo

His favorite color is black

His nails are almost always matte black

He draws to vent his frustrations. Usually they’re the most prominent fears he can sense

He’s trying to find the bright side of his powers by helping people through their trauma.

He prefers being called Trauma

► WANTED CONNECTIONS

- Dreamqueen        - MVP                      - Brother Voodoo

“If you aren’t already involved, I’m not sure what you’ve been doing.”

“Doing research for my dissertation, but guess that’ll have to wait.”

“Beat’s me, dude,” Rikki shrugged, before her expression morphed into one of slight pity, “Course work? Yuck.”

“Yeah, I’m writing a report on Brofenbrenner’s ecological system’s theory. It’s more interesting than it sounds, but probably not to most people.”

“Yeah, murder puppy. Like, I’m adorable like a puppy but also super murderous. Looks cute but carries a katana. Murder puppy.”

“Okay...?” Trauma said as he shifted his weight figuring out what to do. “I... I like corgis.”

“It’s a long story, my dude, but morally ambiguous and very much a murder puppy is maybe not what people want from me right now. I have to figure out the general consensus.” 

“Murder puppy?” Is all Trauma managed to say. Who was she and why was she here?

Nadia hadn’t even seen the guy until she bumped into him. She was so distracted by what was going on in her head and the notes she was reading that it was as if she was blind to the world. “Сожалею.” She replied automatically without noticing it wasn’t English. Upon seeing how he was acting, however, she hopped back a step. “What did I do?”

“Be a disappointment.”

 A voice vaguely resembling that of her father’s rang out as Trauma’s hair began to fade to strawberry blonde as it shortened and sideburns began to grow down his face. Trauma clenched his fists. This was his ability. He needed to control it and not let it control him. With a grunt and much strain his appearence

“Whoa –” Lana turned, brows furrowed as she took in the guy. “Are you tweaking? Back the $@#$ up.”

He regretted coming out of his room today. He hated changing, hated how it made those around him feel. If he had it his way he would have never been born with these powers, but like all things in his life, it didn’t go his way. His hair began to roll out in long brunette locks as he began to shift into a more familiar shape. “You’re no better than her. Deep down you fear this to be the truth. She exploited you and used you but inevitably that shaped you to be her.”

“Hey, dude,” Gwen felt the hairs on her arm raise as a chill ran down her spine. Whatever this dude was, he was making her spider senses go absolutely crazy.  She held one hand out, palm facing him in a it’s all good gesture. “I really don’t want any trouble.”

Peter Parker was a walking, breathing mess of a person sometimes. Or a lot of time. It was hit or miss, really. He had amazingly good reflexes now but he still managed to trip over his own feet. His bookbags were either lost or ripped at the zipper or the bottom, overstuffed and oddly shaped and never where it should be. He had a calendar but it was messy and he never remembered to look at it. Life was.. a lot. But he kept trying.

So when he stumbled into the common room, he wasn’t really thinking about anyone else being there. Peter misstepped into the room, holding up his fat bookbag with his knee as he stuffed one of his suits inside it and bit down hard on a folder. A few papers from inside threatened to fall out, so he bit down harder and then finally fit his suit in the bag– all before he realized someone was talking to him.

He froze where he stood, then awkwardly fumbled with the zipper to try and get it to close. Once it did, he grabbed the folder out of his mouth, cleared his throat, straightened up, and gave the other person in the room a wave. “Hey man– sorry about that–” He put the bookbag over his shoulder and then walked farther into the room, looking for which seat he wanted.

“No, no you don’t need to leave! I just finished some training and wanted to maybe get some homework done–” Peter lifted the folder up as he referenced to his work. “I didn’t think anyone else would be in here. Which is stupid, since this is a common room. I can go if you wanted to be alone.”

Trauma didn’t really have everyone’s faces down yet, but seeing how young this kid was and the knowledge he had of the Avengers he could put two and two together. He didn’t know what he thought Spider-Man would look like but it wasn’t him. He always had these images in his head of the other super heroes looking like paragons of good and human potential. This kid was just a dude. Made him feel a little less self conscious about his scrawny build and severe lack of tan.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” He said with a small nod as he paused his movie. While he meant it and didn’t want the guy to be uncomfortable his entire demeanor said otherwise. Between his straightened black hair, eyeliner, black nails, entirely black outfit and resting demon face he didn’t look like the nicest guy. He always hated that. Made it hard for him to make friends, even if he hated most cliques he still wanted to feel like he belonged when he was in high school. 

“You sure you don’t want me to go? I can go.” He said with some surprise and an awkward gesture to the door. He partially wanted his privacy but more than anything wanted to get this essay done. He had some control exercises to take care of in the morning and his essay was due by noon; he needed all the time he could get. With a look at his phone’s clock he set his stuff back down. “I don’t own the place. You can stay.” His tone was cold but once again that was something he couldn’t help. He didn’t know how he was supposed to get people to open up to him as a therapist with his demeanor but he was determined. 

“Room enough for both of us.” He said dividing his attention between the Peter and opening his textbook back to the page he had last been on.

Halloween. It was always one of Trauma’s favorite holidays from a very young age. Sure, you might say all kids loved Halloween, but it wasn’t the candy or being able to run around late into the dark embrace of night, it was something else. Something more personal. He couldn’t explain it then but he felt more at home. He was always the outcast kid. Quiet, dark, morbid and just all around strange compared to his classmates, but on Halloween? On Halloween he fit right in. He got to put on a mask that fulfilled all his morbid curiosities and not be judged for it. Then his parents couldn’t understand his fascination with the day, but now it made perfect sense.

All of that being said it was a shame his holiday had to be spent writing an essay on Bronfenbrenner’s ecological model. Trauma didn’t find it so bad, at least it was a subject that interested him and he had Silent Hill on the in the background and would occasionally glance up when his nose wasn’t in his textbooks or laptop. Next to him an ever growing pile of Jolly Rancher wrappers was stacked as well as half empty bag of them missing all the blue and purple pieces making his tongue a unique a noticeable shade of dark purple. 

Right as the girl in front of the church was getting her skin ripped off by Pyramid head he heard someone walking into the room. “Sorry, did you need the room?” He asked as he already began closing his books and saving his document to leave. Most people here didn’t want to spend much time around him. His powers crept them out. Some of his fellow graduates weren’t so bad, but most of these new guys didn’t know him well enough yet.