Cameron james gallagher

the basics

full name ♦ Cameron James Gallagher
nicknames ♦ Cam
age ♦ twenty-four
birthday ♦ january 1st, 1994
occupation ♦auto  mechanic
school ♦ Phalanx
species ♦ skinwalker
ability/power ♦ change form
how the ability works ♦ cameron finds it more difficult to maintain his original form while he's emotional. he's better at controlling it now than he was in the beginning, but he still slips up sometimes. even though it requires effort to keep from shifting into someone else, it also requires effort to maintain the new form. after about twenty minutes, he'll start to experience fatigue and headaches. he can change his appearance partially or fully, but he has to have seen a person to alter his appearance to match such person. for example, you can't go up to him and say 'change into my girlfriend' and expect him to be able if he doesn't know what she looks like.
gender ♦  cis-male, he|him|his
sexuality ♦ bisexual

the appearance

face claim ♦ timur simakov
height and weight ♦ 6'2", 145 lbs
identifying features ♦ scar above his right eyebrow
overall appearance ♦ cameron is tall and a bit lanky. he has a bony body structure and dark circles under his eyes. his brown hair is usually uncombed and long. he doesn't exactly look approachable due to his stone face. he has a scar above his eyebrow after falling down the stairs as a kid.

the personality

likes ♦ tinkering, smoking, tattoos, sleep, drawing
dislikes ♦ lying, complaining, candy, nagging
strengths ♦ fiercely loyal, honest, willing to go out of his way to help people
weaknesses ♦ impatience, lack of will-power, likes things to be easy
dreams ♦ opening up his own automotive business
fears ♦ overdosing
overall personality ♦ cam is generally quiet, thoughtful, intelligent, and hard-working. he doesn't like hanging around people who are always negative. he doesn't always know how to express himself and is often sarcastic. he can come off as really cold but anyone who gets to know him knows that he would drop everything to help a friend out. if you do something to lose his trust, you'll have a hard time getting it back.

the history

father ♦ joseph gallagher, 52, deceased, miner/president of local miner's union
mother ♦ mother, evelyn moriello-gallagher, 47, deceased, grocer
siblings ♦ Malcolm Reed Gallagher , 31, brother
hometown ♦ central city, new orleans
overall history ♦

tw: this section will have mentions of substance abuse and parental death.











your mother was your world from a young age. you were always close and making her proud was your priority. she was the one who you ran to with refrigerator-worthy exams from school. she was the one who never failed to make you smile. she loved you like no one else ever will.

you didn't mind living in a trailer park. you never minded-- family was more important than money. as soon as you were old enough to work, you were mowing neighbors' lawns and picking up groceries from down the street for the elderly. you were always ready to help others, and eager to come home at the end of the day.

school wasn't too bad. you were an average student, and you were held back a couple times but it was mostly that fucking math you couldn't get. you usually put a lot of effort into your classes and you didn't mind studying or doing your homework. you didn't need your parents on your case about that. you partied a little more than your mother liked and you hang out with some destructive kids but you had enough sense to stay out of trouble.

malcolm was one of the reasons you wanted to be a good son and brother. disappointing him as almost as bad as disappointing your mother. despite your age difference, the two of you got along well. he'd sit through movies with you and try to help you with your homework. you were always willing to offer help in return, if there was anything you could do for someone who never had any problems in his life.

your brother always seemed perfect. becoming mac was your goal, and you often tried to follow in his example. between mac and the marvel superheroes that you idolized, you had set pretty high standards for yourself. unfortunately, not all of your idols lived up to your expectations.

high school lost all value when your mother died. it hit you like a thousand tons on your chest when you learned of her passing. it had come so suddenly, and she had taken your good qualities with her. your grades slipped. you started skipping school and drinking more. you developed a temper. people kept asking you if you were okay, wanting you to talk about it. you didn't want to talk, or cry, so you didn't. you pushed the overwhelming sadness into a safe in the back of your mind and you have yet to open it.

it wasn't much longer until your father died, and everything during that time was a blur. you started using anything you could get your hands on, desperate to remain numb. you starting shutting out anyone who tried to "fix" this behavior. if people couldn't accept you for who you were, you didn't need or want that kind of negativity. you lived with your grandparents, though you kept your distance from them. they didn't want to sit back and let you destroy yourself and you didn't want to hear about it.

things started changing when you were seventeen. your body was constantly overrun by fatigue and your fevers kept coming back. you figured you were just sick... until it revealed itself-- that something in you that separates you from everyone else. you were in a grocery store and your card was getting declined. you were frustrated and arguing with the cashier. you knew you didn't have a lot of money, but there was no way you'd run out. as stress overwhelmed you, you caught a glimpse at your hand. the cashier's olive skin crawled up your wrist from the tips of your fingers... like paint. you walk out of the store quickly, fearing that you've contracted a skin disease and wondering how you hadn't noticed it before. by the time you got home, your hand had returned to its original color.

you didn't think much of it until it started happening more frequently. it wasn't just your hand-- it was your eyes, your hair, your face. you would pass a mirror and see the face of someone you were thinking about looking back at you. it scared you at first, but it didn't take much time for you to decide that you had been through worse than this. you kept it to yourself, not even knowing the word for what you had become: a skinwalker. of course, you were born with the ability, but this is not information you had ever had access to. 

this world was entirely new to you. it wasn't until  about of loss of control gave you away in public that someone came to your aid. she directed you to phalanx, where you could figure out what was happening to you and talk to other people who were dealing with the same thing. it was phalanx that taught you control and gave you the home in which you currently reside. it was phalanx that gave you a place to feel comfortable and motivation to get clean.

by the time mac came back, you hated him. somehow, it was his fault. he hadn't been there. he'd left to go be a husband and father and have his perfect life and you didn't matter anymore. you'd lost track of how long you'd been losing weight and developing dark circles under your eyes. it was difficult for you to see that malcolm had lost his parents, too. you were too busy drowning in your own self-destruction.

the role player

alias ♦ jem
age ♦ 23
pronouns ♦ she|her(s)
code ♦ ADMIN EDIT
other characters ♦ n/a