cardinal kismet >> TATE
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โงโหโง. ๐ท๐๐๐๐ ๐ด๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ .โงหโโง
โโโโโโโโโโหห หห โ หห หหโโโโโโโโโโ
โโโโโโโโโโ
๐๐๐๐: Tatum Reginald Rowe
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: Tate๐๐๐: Eighteen
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: Lubec, Maine
๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐: March 15th
๐๐๐๐๐๐: Pisces๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: he/him
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: bisexual๐๐๐๐ & ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: Half African-American and half Caucasian
๐๐๐๐๐: Max Fieschi
๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐:
#AA515A
#D9AC82
#7C91AA
#6E0034 -
โงโหโง. ๐๐๐๐๐๐ .โงหโโง
โโโโโโโโโโหห หห โ หห หหโโโโโโโโโโ
โโโโโโโโโโ
๐๐๐๐: Floofy, chin-length curls that are light to dark brown
๐๐๐๐: Deep brown, almost black
๐๐๐๐๐๐: 6'4''
๐๐๐๐๐: Lanky
๐๐๐๐: Olive-toned, melanated
๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: A smattering of tattoos. Pierced ears. A small nose ring.
๐๐๐๐๐: here
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โงโหโง. ๐ป๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ .โงหโโง
โโโโโโโโโโหห หห โ หห หหโโโโโโโโโโ
โโโโโโโโโโ
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: eyes always seeing, unapologetic, self-assured, logic-based, driven, eloquent, devious, witty, focused to the point of having blinders on, sardonic, pessimistic, egotistical, chronic liar, competitive, tactless, always awake at odd hours and never free when you need him, actions over words, obsessive, existential, morbid
๐๐๐๐๐: days spent looking at old articles with the microfiche, theories of any sort, cold coffee (but not iced; just coffee that was brewed and left out to cool), a fresh mint vape, the feeling of a plastic bottle cap opening for the first time, baking brownies, solving any sort of logic puzzle, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, swimming, the smell of fish and the look of their gills flapping open and shut, the absurd, thunderclouds, hiking, braiding hair, and March 15th.
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: when things donโt make any sense, music that he deems is just noise, choking on smoke, falsified carbohydrates in the form of junk food (though potato chips are his one vice), the feeling of a pill sliding down his throat and getting stuck, the smell of liquor, mathematics (ironically), texting people, seeing people cry (he has a bit of a complex about it), 20/20 specials about murders they know nothing about, and people making comments about his life๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: studying like he has a gun to his head (even though 90% of it is for fun), sticking his nose in other peopleโs business (preferably those of the dead), spending times in cemetaries, looking into ancient texts about the supernatural, worrying his family, not sleeping at the proper times and disappearing for long hours
๐๐๐๐๐๐: making friendship bracelets when listening to other people talking, knowing a bucket-full of useless information heโs convinced will be useful some day, fixing things (the internet, the TV, the toaster, your emotional issues) other than himself๐๐๐๐๐๐: Youโre read his info up until this point. You fill in the details!
๐ ๐๐๐๐: Never finding out what happens when we die๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐: in the cemetery, behind his desk, in the library
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โงโหโง. ๐ญ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ .โงหโโง
โโโโโโโโโโหห หห โ หห หหโโโโโโโโโโ
โโโโโโโโโโ
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐:
โ โ coming soon bc iโm lazy๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐:
โ โ Tateโs infancy isnโt much to report. In fact, nothing about his life up until the past three years is anything worth writing home about. He has always been an oddball kid. A sore thumb. A black sheep, though more so with the world and his father. The one constant has always been these three things: fish, murder, and his momโ โ Living barely long enough in Lubec to even recall the town, Tate still adores the smell of fish. His father, Nigel, was a Swedish fishing-hand living on the coast. His mother, on the other hand, was a waitress working for tourists all-day. A one-night stand led from one thing to another, and out popped Tatum Reginald. Before moving, they were a quiet family, even if they werenโt very happy. Money has and always will be tight, not to mention the fact that Nigel and Dahlia werenโt each otherโs biggest fans. Where Dahlia was warm and lively, Nigel was hard-lined and ruminous. Their move from Lubec would spell absolute disaster for the wreckage that already lined Tateโs living room.
โ โ Sometimes, he wonders if it was the constantly screaming, the swearing, that turned him so twisty and turvy. Truthfully, Tatum doesnโt understand what has brought him to who he is besides the obvious: an unfortunate brain chemical soup and the lack of an ability to control it. Maybe, to his fatherโs credit, a touch of parental issues. However, even Tate canโt fully commit to such an idea. Even now, after the pair have finally divorced, he doesnโt see the ways in which his father harmed him, wrapped him around a pencil like he was a pipe-cleaner. Some memories, Tate decided long ago while getting high for the first time and recalling some unpleasant things, are better left buried. It isnโt just people that die, he realized
โ โ This though occurred freshman year, when he learned of more than just long-forgotten secrets. Tatum always had an affinity for the extreme, the most logical, and his own view on things. Then, he started smoking weed full-time, and quickly, his world turned nightmarish. It started slowly, with the shadows of people appearing in his peripheral vision. Then, he wouldnโt be able to sleep at night due to the sounds he thought he heard. Finally, he started talking of being a god, believing he created the world and everyone else was secondary. It was finally with these talks, coupled with the fact that she saw a smear of blood on the sink after he went to the bathroom, that Dahlia realized her son needed help. Nigel grumbled at the news that they would have to pay for him to go to an in-patient program. However, as always, Tateโs mother won. He was put on paliperidone, and over the years, heโd grown to accumulate a collection of medications meant to stabilize him.
โ โ Thankfully, the past three years have gone by rather uneventfully. Unpleasant past-rememberings remain locked in a box, sunk into the seas, in favor of Tate spending his new-found emotional stability discovering the secrets of the world. His ultimate challenge: tackle religion and discover what happens when we die. Without actually dying. Tatum tends not to bring this up to his mother, instead opting to talk constantly about his conspiracy theories regarding certain serial killers (particularly the one local to their town). The only downside to his life is that every other weekend, heโs subjected to โfamily timeโ with his father. Like with memories, he prefers to keep these moments to himself, tucked far away like a landmine that might explode at any moment. For the most part, Tateโs managed to keep himself under the radar, passing through high school simply known as the mythical, local weirdo (and proud of it! Ask him about his famous authorโs teeth collection!)
โ โ Now, with the murder of the Prom king/queen, Tate has a renewed obsessed with the seeming serial killer in their midsts. How can he resist?
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โงโหโง. ๐ฐ๐๐๐๐๐ .โงหโโง
โโโโโโโโโโหห หห โ หห หหโโโโโโโโโโ
โโโโโโโโโโ
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐:
โ โ coming soon๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: here
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: here