HEY, i think i just saw MILO WHITLOCK walking down the strip. stop by to catch up and you’ll learn the TWENTY-NINE YEAR OLD is working as a/an RESEARCHER FOR THE BOO CREW, INTERN AT 107.5 KILLER RADIO, & SNACK VENDOR AT GRIND HOUSE DRIVE-IN and lives in SOLSTICE APARTMENTS. given they are QUICK-WITTED but SCATTERBRAINED, it’s likely that they ARE NOT a vampire. on the flipside, rumor has it that DESPITE BEING A RADIO HOST HE HAS BAD STAGE FRIGHT IN FRONT OF REAL CROWDS and it keeps them looking over their shoulder i bet you can find them tearing up the dance floor to SUPERSTITION BY STEVIE WONDER and you’ll know why they’re called THE PHANTOM LISTENER. ☾ .⭒˚ joseph quinn. cisgender man + he/him. gay + scorpio.
BASIC INFORMATION
full name: milo whitlock
birthdate: october 31st, 1966
place of birth: reno, nevada
residence: solstice apartments
zodiac sign: scorpio
gender identity: cisgender man
sexual orientation: gay
species: human
occupation: researcher for the boo crew, intern at 107.5 killer radio, & snack vendor at grind house drive in
VISUALS
faceclaim: joseph quinn
hair color: dark brown
eye color: brown
distinguishable marks: tattoos & piercings tbd
height: 5'10/180cm
PERSONALITY
positive traits: charismatic, quick-witted, creative, passionate, adaptable
negative traits: overtalkative, sarcastic, scatterbrained, stubborn
mbti: enfp (the campaigner)
character parallels: shaggy rogers (scooby doo), peter venkman (ghostbusters), peter b. parker (spider-man: across the spider-verse)
HEADCANONS
milo has a habit of referring to other members of the crew as “harpo” or “groucho” when he’s nagged or given a deadline, a habit that followed him from family life into professional work. the nicknames aren’t designated to any one member in particular, it just depends on whoever’s pestering him at any given moment. he means it in a light-hearted way and the his crewmates are aware of this, he keeps his tone light when he delivers a “got it, groucho” or “on it, harpo”. he does the same with his family members, instinctively assigning a nickname to anyone familiar enough to give him orders. in his mind, anyone who sees him regularly is fair game for a marx brothers nickname.
milo has a bit of a sixth sense, though he’s not really aware of it. he’s good at picking up on the general energy of a person or place, and it’s happened more than once that he’s jotted something down in his journal that was more felt than said. when someone asks about it, he usually just shrugs and gives a casual “i dunno.” when the team arrives at a new location, he’s usually the first to say if something feels off—sometimes even beating the psychic medium to it by a second or two.
he has been diagnosed with adhd and he’s on medication for it. milo was diagnosed with adhd as early as middle school. before having this information, he had a decent amount of difficulty with staying still and focusing. over time, he has developed coping mechanisms to help him with certain aspects of the disorder, but he chooses to remain on medication to maintain a high level of focus, especially for the sake of his job. his role on the team requires intense focus and organization, and the meds help him maintain the clarity he needs to do it right. he doesn’t hide it, but he doesn’t make a big deal out of it either—it’s just part of how he gets things done.
milo's sleep schedule is basically nonexistent. he can and will stay awake for over twenty-four hours straight if a case demands it, often crashing at his desk not long after. it’s not unusual for the team to find him passed out with a pen still in his hand. no one mistakes it for laziness—they know if milo's asleep, it’s because he pulled an all-nighter compiling records, cross-referencing timelines, or trying to make sense of a haunting. it’s just how he works: dive deep, then collapse.
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Is it just me, or am I kinda' getting Camp Crystal Lake energy from this beach? Briar gave the surrounding area a quick once-over before turning back to the stranger. She didn't think that the vibe was too unsettling--it's not like Jason was about to pop out of the water and drag someone to the watery depths. And come to think of it, how exactly did Jason come back to life anyways?... Returning to the current moment at hand, she said "I mean, I guess so--it is Halloween. But let's hope that no one comes out of that water. Anything like that and I'm out of here." Of course, it was better to pretend as if she couldn't stand to see those sorts of things, as if it wasn't part of her daily routine.
"yeah, yeah, totally." he decides to nod along, though internally milo thinks maybe someone coming out of the water might liven things up a bit. but, he doesn't want to actually scare anyone so he keeps that to himself. milo's never really been the type to intentionally scare people, he's much more fond of having fun and joking around instead. "you enjoying the party so far? i like how almost no one's dressed as the same thing, shows that there's a pretty creative bunch in las vegas."
Bonifer had lived under a rock the past decade. Not a real rock, mostly a methaphorical rock, but a rock still. It didn't often come up, they actually found some joy in having a small segment of their radio show to be about people on the air trying to explain big cultural moments from the last ten years to them. In real life, however, it felt more like a failing, a reminder that they hadn't had a real childhood than anything else. "I"m sorry, you're going to have explain that reference to me," they said, smiling to the one with the long curly hair.
"oh, there's this slasher movie from the 80s. the killer's this dude named jason voorhees, it takes place at camp crystal lake...it's kinda bad, actually. a cult classic, maybe, but i recommend it." milo tries to keep his explanation brief, not wanting to bore the other with the origin of his reference. it's not that important to milo anyway. he decides to steer the conversation in another direction. "you tried any of the drinks over at the bar yet? i've heard there's a few good ones."
"That's just you," said Tomo, with the sort of casual ease that might just convince you he'd never been afraid of anything in his life. Like this whole thing was just child's play to him. No problem. No worries. Totally, totally calm. "You know that's a movie, right?" he asked, head cocked back, an eyebrow raised. This, for what it was worth, was a little less convincing. "You shouldn't take it so seriously. Once you've seen enough movie sets, the whole effect kinda just wears off—" And then he took a step back to gesture about himself, in an attempt to emphasise how ordinary the place was, and stepped on something soft and hairy. With a yelp, he tumbled backwards and landed ass-first on the floor.
Glancing down, Tomo realised, with no small amount of embarrassment, that the terrifying mystery item that had tripped him was... a discarded wig. So much for looking cool and breezy. A finger was now pointed, accusingly, at Milo. "I am so blaming you for putting murders into my head, getting me all freaked out." (What happened to it just being a movie? Tomo may be a hypocrite.)
"nah, i think jason's really boutta come out the water as we speak. yeah, i know it's a movie. just gave me a similar feel is all, sorry if i spooked ya." the sarcastic reply might be a little on the sharp side, but that's just how milo is sometimes. he's fully aware that friday the thirteenth is just a movie, he just figured it might be fun to reference his favorite movie genre on halloween. milo can't help but let out peals of laughter as he watches the other man fall mid explanation, shoulders shaking in amusement.
"here, lemme help you up?" he offers an extended hand once he stops laughing, ready to pull the man back on his feet. "i really am sorry man, i didn't mean to freak ya so bad you scared yourself. i'd say that's enough excitement for one halloween."
"Nah, nah, don't go bringin' that shit back up," he interrupted the other as soon as he mentioned 'camp crystal lake'. Wyatt was not a fan of horror in the slightest. Or slashers or thrillers or just about anything that made him feel like he needed to watch his back. "I just stopped punchin' the shower curtain open..." Which is also why it had come off the hook four times in the last couple of months.
And Milo was right. It did have that energy, which is why Wyatt tried his hardest not to think about it. "If someone comes outta the water in a hockey mask then I'm boltin', mate. Literally see ya at home, nice knowin' ya."
Still, the eerie gathering didn't stop him from his usual mischief.
He had two drinks in his hand; one a half glass of water, one a half glass of pure vodka. "Birthday traditioooon," he said in sing-song. Wyatt had that familiar shit-eating grin on his face. He'd been stitched up the past two years on both of their birthdays, having to neck back the glass of regret every time. "Gotta say I'm feelin' pretty lucky this time 'round." Of course he was already shit-talking the other. At this point, he had to. If he didn't get in his head, it was bound to be a three-peat. "Choose wisely, mate."
"bro, i've told ya a million times none of that's real." he laughs, fully aware of wyatt's aversion to the genre. of course, milo had talked his friend into watching a few horror movies, none of which the other had liked. "god, if you just stopped doing that you'd hate the shower scene in psycho. that'd wreck you."
"figures. one guy in a hockey mask pops up and you're already halfway home." he retorts, the mental image of jason coming out of the lake in his head now. it doesn't spook him, mostly just amuses him now that he knows wyatt would abandon him at the first sight of jason. "glad to know ya got my back, man."
"oh god, we really gotta do this every year? fine, bottom's up." he takes a glass from his friend, clinking the glass wyatt still has as a cheers. with that, milo takes a big swig of his glass, promptly grimacing and coughing after swallowing. "damn it, i got the fuckin' vodka this year!" interspersed between coughs are laughs, happy that he can share his birthday tradition with his friend. "i'm makin' you do this on your birthday next time, i hope you get the fuckin' vodka too!"
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Aviel puffs an unimpressed cloud of smoke from the corner of his mouth at the little backhanded comment about 'dying by cigarette'. But he lets it hang between his fingers before tucking the carton back into the breast pocket of the earth-toned wool blazer.
The older man's smile is just a touch crooked, as he pulls out a gummy worm and rips it in two between his teeth. "That means I can have a few for myself, then. Cheers, love." He tucks the other bag he's been given into his pocket.
"Was thinking of a lemon-drop martini, actually. Can I grab you anything, fair diver? Anything suit your fancy, from the bar?"
"...sorry." the apology comes half-mumbled as milo notices the disdain on the man's face, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. he didn't mean to insult the man but he could see how it came across wrong, milo really had to watch his tongue more.
“kinda wild no one’s passing out candy, though. I’m definitely too old for trick-or-treating now, but I still miss it. guess some habits stick" he definitely missed the tradition from his youth, but milo had long since made his peace with growing out of it.
"make it a double order? i don't think i've tried one of those before, worth a try at the very least."
oh, sweet addison. he was the most oblivious when it came to horror movies... and it was halloween after all, so why not come out to the local party at goob lagoon? they were dressed up in a costume that they’d put together at the last minute, and it may have been obvious. “camp crystal lake? oh, you mean with that one serial killer... or something?” addison heard of it. had he watched it? absolutely not. (that would be a ‘hell no’ from them.) you would have to pay him to go see a horror movie. “beach or lake, it still gives the same vibes.”
"yeah, jason voorhees." he mumbles, not expecting the name to get recognition. milo could tell that horror wasn't something the other was too keen on, so he decided not to push it further. he shifts his weight awkwardly, changing the conversation topic. "are any of the drinks they're serving good? i heard that they got a couple good cocktails over at the bar, i haven't gotten around to checking 'em out yet though."
with: @yourphantomlistener
where: salem's home
when: beginning of october
"Is this an early Halloween present?" Her humor was as blasé as the placid act that she donned like her outfits. Image was everything, in the culture that she had spent precious years on, and old habits were hard to shake. She turned the object over in her hand, guessing that Diego hadn't come up with any theories that Milo was satisfied with. "I'm not affiliated with the museum like most of the Boos. My specialty is spirits, by the way. I don't know that I subscribe to the belief of other cryptids... do you?" Nevada was known for its intriguing folklore, but so were many places of the world. Bigfoot, Mothman, shapeshifters, she wasn't sure that she thought of any of it as tangible. The evidence didn't hold true like the proof of the paranormal. It was an energy, felt through the earth itself. How could that be denied? She put it down carefully, unwilling to tarnish what was possibly one of Drusila's curated works for the museum. "You should ask Drew. If it's something that was in the museum, I'm sure she'd know it. I know she's busy, but she's always capable of being distracted." Mostly. "What gives? The fixation, I mean," she pressed after a minute, intrigue bettering her work ethic. They had plenty of time to go over the research he had managed to gather for their upcoming investigation.
"consider it my version of trick or treat, here's a trick." he quips back, the ghost of smile on his lips. milo hadn't known what to make of the fang, he had no idea what it might've belonged too. but, he also wasn't any expert on animals, so he was out of his wheelhouse to begin with. "well, i dunno. i think the stories all have some kind of merit. i mean, someone saw something, right?" he'd always been one who was less likely to dismiss tales about the unknown. milo believed that there was a reason why these stories existed, even if the explanation was something as simple as someone mistaking an owl in a tree for some otherworldly creature. he can't mull over it for too long, his attention is tugged back when she asks him about his interest. milo gives a sheepish shrug, not sure what to say. "i guess i've just always been drawn to it. i'm the kinda person who likes to run towards the unknown, not away. y'know, get answers, find out what's really going on. besides that, i feel like i'm kinda sensitive to the energies of spirits, if that makes sense. even if i don't say anything i can typically clock 'em when they're around."
it felt weird to milo to be attending a halloween party on his birthday, most years he would be exploring a haunted house or passing out candy. he didn't really want to draw attention to himself though, the holiday was much more important than him, at least in his mind. the beach setting felt like a set he might see in a horror movie, he roams said beach with his diver helmet tucked under arm. "is it just me, or am i kinda getting camp crystal lake energy from this beach? don't get me wrong, i like it, it adds to the whole atmosphere."
Location: Goob Lagoon
Date: October 31st
Status: Open ( @boneyardstarters )
"You want one?" The lighter flickers to life and the wobbling flame ignites the cigarette hanging from his lips. Aviel's already taken off his frog-faced beret, so at the moment he doesn't look like he's in costume. Just an older guy who really likes the color green. But the crime scene investigator doesn't much care. "Believe it or not, all I have in my pocket besides my keys are cigarettes, and a fun-sized bag of gummy worms. My granddaughter would flay me if I didn't bring her back her favorite." He holds the carton of cigs out and waggles eyebrows.
"You started drinking yet? I heard there were some good cocktails."
"nah, i don't smoke. by my logic something else's probably gonna get me, i don't want 'death by cigarette' to be on my headstone." milo quips, tone light and easy smile tugging at his lips. he doesn't judge people who do smoke, it's just not his thing.
"your granddaughter's got good taste, personally i like jolly ranchers. actually, now that i think about it--" he rummages in one of the pockets of his diver costume for a second, producing another small bag of gummy worms and holds it out to the man. "here, i'd rather a kid gets them, i have enough candy."
he looks out at the crowd for a second, taking in all of the people and costumes at the party. he's surprised by the variety in outfits, almost no one is dressed up as the same thing. "i haven't had a chance to look at the cocktail menu yet. any drink in particular you're interested in?"
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as per usual, milo had his nose stuck in a book. ever since he'd been in the rubble of the deadly possessions, the fang he picked up had never left his mind. he had found it among the debris and no matter how hard he tried, it seemed like he couldn't find a match for it any book. it was hard to tell what kind of animal it belonged to, but milo was currently leafing through what was one of no less than three books on animal anatomy, all strewn across his workspace.
he hears diego enter the area and immediately looks up, closing his book and standing to approach the other. "hey, you got any idea what kinda animal this came from?" he asks, completely skipping any formalities. milo pulls the fang out of his pocket and presents it to diego, holding it in the air. "i found it in that deadly possessions museum, i've been tryin' to figure out what it coulda come from. i'm no expert on animals though, i got all these books and i still got no answer. you think you might know where to start?"
milo had already been up for 18 hours straight and by the looks of it, he wasn't gonna sleep today, so he figured he might as well pick up some caffeine at the gas station. he only browsed the wall of energy drinks for a matter of seconds, grabbing no less than 3 cans. on his way to the register, he passes the candy and tosses a bag of m&ms onto the pile.
standing in line, he realized too late he’d been staring at the person in front of him. with a crooked smile, he nodded toward the junk in his arms. "not the healthiest options, i know. but hey, you're only young once. and it's lookin' like i'm gonna be a pullin' an all-nighter, so i gotta stock up." shifting his weight, he adjusted the cans carefully. "you heard about the dead captain? been all over the news. they're sayin' it was probably the mob but i got my suspicions. you got any thoughts on it?"
with: @boneyardstarters
where: the mad hatter's teahouse
when: september 11th, 1996
The place had been such a hot-button topic since the disappearance, and now untimely end, of Felix Martyn that curiosity had eventually gotten the better of the historian. One could say that they were of an eclectic sense of humor — some jokes, they went right over their head; it wasn't that they were dense, as their mother always said, they were different. They and Jeremiah both, cut from the same cloth, and sensible that they'd come into the world together, as a result. Life had a peculiar wit about it for that alone, didn't it? As an occasional smoker, the cigarette was stilted in their fingertips and barely touched, giving the acts most of their attention until there was an intermission. "I'm not sure if I would want this to be the last worldly place I get to see before I die — none of these acts are to die for, you know what I mean?" Okay, bad joke, and they laughed nervously after they said it, glancing at the person that they had been sharing the table with. Tough crowd, remind them not to quit their day job anytime soon. "They haven't really released any details about it yet, to the public." Elias didn't run with any of the in-crowds, and Walker sure as hell would be keeping his mouth clamped shut before breathing any sort of word to his little brother, they guessed. "What do you make of it? Another mob crime hit? Genuinely asking. The long history of all that hasn't seemed to die out in this place —" Not for a lack of effort... well... "I'm waiting to see if the mayor's got anything to say about it."
with the recent events, milo felt like he was in need of some levity. he wasn't one to be spooked easily, but even he had to admit that murder didn't sit very well with him. in an effort to get it off his mind, he decided to visit the comedy club, a place he had only been to a handful of times. maybe the acts were on the mediocre side, but at least it let him escape from reality for a while. "i dunno, that guy that was on last wasn't too terrible. sure, all his jokes were about fish, but i guess ya gotta start somewhere." milo remarks, absentmindedly sifting through a basket of now-cold fries in front of him. he doesn't look up when the recent news is brought up. "i think that's what they want people to think, that it was the mob. hard to say considerin' they're not giving us much to work with. if it was them, they sure as hell aren't opting for subtlety anymore." milo leans back in his chair, settling into the shadows of the club. he gives the other man a look, half curious and half weary. "you got an opinion on it or are you waitin' until the mayor gives us the autopsy report?"
