TRIGGER WARNING: TALK OF SUICIDE AND SELF HARM PLUS PROBABLY THE MOST DEPRESSED CHARACTER I'VE EVER MADE LIKE JEEZ-

"Why can't I just get it over with?"

|Name|

Anderson (Andy) Wilde

|Age|

29

|Gender|

Male

|FaceClaim|

Keanu Reeves

|Sexuality|

Bisexual

|Job/Affliction|

Head Accountant to a money laundering Bank

Has to obey a violent and shitty boss.

Plus, no dental.

|Personality|

Andy is a tired of life, mildly suicidal businessman who's mostly known for his inability to say no. He's quiet, gloomy, a bit awkward, and overall is just a raincloud of a person. At least when you're trying to talk to him. After years of having the life beaten out of him from his desk jockey job down to his own problems with the few "supporters" he has, he just hasn't got much expression or hope for something better left, and at this point has almost begun to like having things go bad for him. He's recently felt like he has nothing left to offer the world, and has convinced himself that he might just not want to be a part of it anymore. He's a casual dancer with death really, purposefully sticking himself between fights he can't win, doing dangerous favors he really doesn't need to do, and mega stupid acts without much fear of the fact that he's just a push away from the true k.o., and it makes the oblivious people around him think he's genuinely just the life of the party instead of how plainly he seems to be dead inside. But when it comes down to it, he's a kind, soft-spoken, and at times, unnecessarily timid man with a serious case of resting b*tch face. Andy's the sort of dude you see everywhere around everyone, but never really talking to anyone, a guy who looks like he could punch you in the face but at the same time apologize if YOU poured hot soup in his lap. His only real stopping point that keeps him from making the dumb decision of offing himself is his pet dog his exwife gave him on his 25th birthday. He has no one close to give him to.

|Background|

Anderson Wilde was born to Dee Dee Wilde and Jack Wilde on the ides of March. His mother, a former stripper turned waitress after the domestic life hit her like a truck, wasn't much of a mom like most people would guess. She offered her son his first cigarette at 6 to see if he would stop crying over a scraped knee, forgotten the boy, several times in fact, in various places for Jack to have to go find him, and was best known for having some of the worst benders anyone has ever seen, sometimes even going so far as to disappear for days at a time. Jack was only a slightly better man. He was known best for selling what Andy only gathered years later some illegal arms and other substances and things of the sort. His work kept him busy, so he hardly had the time to spend with the tot. Jack did try his hardest with him though, helping the boy with baseball, reading to him when he could, picking him up and taking him for a stroll to help him stop sobbing after mommy forgot him at the store again. Andy loved his dad to death, of course, the rare days he woke up to banana pancakes filled the happy parts of his childhood. Which, like the time he did have with his dad, was scattered and few. On his 13th birthday, on the little dinner, they had managed to work out together at home with some relative peace, he recalls only two things. Being handcuffed and thrown around like a ragdoll, and the screaming policemen beating his father to near death. Apparently, someone gave them a tip on what Jack was doing to make ends meet and his flashy car run, and it all went downhill from there. Andy says there was a blank time between the ages of 13-19. It all blurred together and seemed to lose its color. His father was killed in Prison, the men who hired him afraid he'd squeal to get parole. His mother died from lung cancer, hadn't even showed up to the doctors to diagnose the pain she was feeling. He sold his soul to the devil the moment his current job was offered to him. Things took on the same sort of stale flavor he's felt for the longest time. He married a girl he met in college. A pretty little thing who might've seen something in him the first time they talked. It didn't last long. Neither of them where happy, she was dissatisfied, and he didn't know if he even liked her, they split after a rocky 6 years. No kids. No happiness. No show for it.

It's why he's where he is today.

|Other|

He smokes on occasions he finds himself thinking about being a kid, almost like scratching at a scar.

His dog is a sweetheart of a golden retriever. He's named her Tommy and is the most spoilt girl one could imagine a dog to be.

His boss, a man named Grant Durban, very much uses him as a pawn in his illegal activities, seeing as he's the perfect candidate to push around to do his bidding, and Andy had accidentally gotten in too deep to really back out now.

Andy has become recently aware that he might have a half-sibling running around somewhere from the years he and his mom stopped talking. He's been lead to believe the kid is maybe only 16. He wonders if he could give him his dog.

While he's certainly no prince charming, Andy has a very good way of articulating his words, he might stutter every now and then, but you can't help but feel drawn to the way his smooth voice and clever words sound to the ear.

His favorite activity is 100% sleeping. He loves it, adores it, and if you're curious enough to look in his office, he's certainly face down in his papers resting his eyes.

"It's not that I think there's something wrong with where I am, I'm almost certain it's just me being the problem."

"She's the best damn dog on the planet, she deserves the world and a biscuit."

"Of course I can, how could I refuse?"

(I have no idea why my adult oc had to take such a turn-)