Username ▷ Master of Nothing
Name ▷ Kilroy Daniel Bixbyite
Nickname ▷ Danny
Gender ▷ male
Orientation ▷ biromantic homoflexible
Age ▷ 24
Residence ▷ Richmond, Virginia
The Name
Kilroy
Intended name meaning: Kilroy was the name of the character that appeared in the World War II era, commonly in the form of graffiti. He was almost like a meme,if you will, becoming a trend throughout Europe and America. The common image was of a cartoon man, with text above spelling out "Kilroy was here". He tended to represent hope for soldiers, and it is even rumored that famous world leaders of the time believed the character Kilroy to be a real spy.
Thoughts from the name bearer: "I've never liked my first name. For a long time I hadn't even known it's meaning, just that the name sounded ugly, and then I completely abandoned it when I discovered why the name had been made famous. For some reason I found it... disturbing."
Daniel
Intended name meaning: Daniel was the name of Danny's biological father. There are no records whatsoever on a Daniel Bixbyite, so the man would be hard to trace. Whoever he was, he must've either been very important to the family or thought it important to gift his son his name before surrendering Danny to the orphanage.
Thoughts from the name bearer: "I don't favor this name, but it's certainly not as bad as Kilroy. I still can't bear to have myself called Daniel, so I'm always sure to introduce myself as the shortened version, Danny. Danny is a much more respectable name, don't you think?"
Bixbyite
Intended name meaning: The reason why Danny's parents gave him the surname bixbyite may always be a mystery. Bixbyite is a relatively rare crystal, and it looks like this.
Thoughts from the name bearer: "I adore the name Bixbyite, and I wear it proudly! I assume that it wasn't my birth parent's last name, what a silly thing to be named after a chemical compound! But, then again, somebody named my Kilroy Daniel. Maybe miracles can happen! I have several samples of bixbyite in my lab, and find that there is nothing more therapeutic than staring at its orderly lines and color so dark it could absorb all of the evil in the world."Humble Beginnings
He felt himself swaying back and forth, wrapped snugly in the warmth of the wool blankets. Normally, this would be comforting, but he could sense fear in the man who carried him. He was almost brought to tears, distraught that he could not put words or meaning to the man's fears, but he was too tired to cry. The moon shone bright above him and to be awake now would simply be unnatural, though to sleep would be unthinkable.
The man's breath was heavy, and his footsteps crunched through the autumn leaves below. He seemed to step on every twig he passed, each snap of a twig a defeat. We can't let them see me... Please, for goodness sake, let no one see me! His paranoid eyes darted here and there as he made his way to the rocky building down the hillside. He prayed there would be someone inside to take the baby before they did, but he knew he couldn't risk sticking around to find out.
The baby was set ever so gently on the warped wooden porch of the building. That simple act of laying the wicker basket down was the only one the man was willing to spend time on; it would be the one time that he'd do something right. In the comfort of the shadow the porch offered, the man felt safe enough to pause for just a second to admire the baby's face. The child's face contorted, his eyes shut tight, frustrated that he could not fall asleep. The man had such a powerful affection for the little kalon, and he felt a pain in his chest knowing what he was about to do.
Without further hesitation, the man pushed the doorbell and darted away, northeast of the way that he had come. Within the building (of which had no name but held the title of "orphanage"), a short woman darted to attention at the sound. She was exhausted, having been dealing with the kids all day and then cleaning the building all night. She loved her job, but she rarely got rest from it. The woman rushed to the lobby of the building, the floor creaking and echoing as she stepped. She was used to the doorbell ringing at odd hours, but she wished it wouldn't. Just be normal, will you? Why does everyone have to be mysterious, anonymous? I don't bite!
She opened the door and quickly scanned the landscape at eye level. Noticing nothing, she looked down at her feet to see the little baby. Now, of all times, the baby had broken down and cried. He cried out of confusion, mostly. Why am I not being carried? Where is the fearful man? Who is here now? He could answer none of these questions. His eyes were still shut tight, so he didn't see, only felt, himself being picked up and ever so carefully escorted into the building. He ceased crying instantly, content once more. "Let's see about you..." the woman said. She hadn't the slightest idea who this child was, but her instincts and her loving heart told her to protect the child as if he were her own. The baby didn't know it yet, but this woman, Ms. Prescott, would be his caregiver (the closest thing he'd ever get to a mother) for the next seventeen-or-so years of his life.
Ms. Prescott sat down, still holding the child, and gently removed his arms from the bundle of blankets. She had this skill for knowing how people work in this kind of situation. The ridiculously mysterious-types always leave a note, like a dramatic scene in a movie. So, it came as no surprise that attached to the baby's left arm was a message. On one side, it read "Kilroy Daniel Bixbyite". Surely, it referred to the name of the child. Ms. Prescott squinted at the peculiar name. "All right, Kilroy, I guess." she said as she looked down at young Kilroy.
On the other side of the message were eleven simple, bold words. The handwriting was different than the other side. "Learn To Heal People As I Have Learned To Break Them". Ms. Prescott rolled her eyes. How stupidly predictable. She removed the tag from Kilroy's arm and put it in her shirt pocket. She promised that she would keep the tag hidden until Kilroy found his home.
Personality
○ logical ○ passionate ○ dramatic ○ candid ○ lonely ○ skeptical ○ dismissive ○ humorous ○ orderly ○ realist ○
Danny is, on the outside, simply emotionless. He's constantly busy, and he behaves not unlike a machine, processing and acting on anything thrown at him without further thought. To strangers, Danny may appear more apathetic than he really is; this perceived apathy is truly only a consequence of his view on the world. Danny refuses to believe the world is any better or worse than he personally thinks it is, which is to say that his world is a perfect medium of utopia and misery, structured only by fact. Because his life is based on knowledge and fact, Danny feels the need to say whatever pops into his mind to anyone it may concern. This doesn't necessarily make him the most friends; how would you like it if someone was always over your shoulder telling you that your shoes were a waste of money, or that your laugh sounded like "the chortles of a pig with a cold"? Right. Danny is bothered by anything that cannot be deciphered through formulas or patterns, so he isn't necessarily a fan of the arts. The only exception to this is music, which blends with Danny's mind like ink bleeds into paper. Music is the key to a deeper look into Danny's personality; ironically, this piece of information that completely alters perspective on Danny's character is exactly the kind of thing that would bother him. As Danny's relationships and passions reveal a further personality past the dull and calculable Danny the reader just met, one emotion and one talent strongly stand out: loneliness and a keen sense of humor. As discussed earlier, one could rightly infer that this young man's company isn't enjoyed by many. Through constant reminders that he'd be too busy to participate in anything, anyway, he can't help but thinking that he's missing out socially. With very few loved ones, Danny's heart yearns for just a couple of acquaintances that really care about him. He is yet to find such characters, so the only people he really talks to are the kids that he grew up with. As a start to a friendship, perhaps Danny should consider telling a joke to potential friends. Though usually painful to make conversation with, Danny can surprise and entertain a sizable gathering with his light jokes. It's hard not to crack a smile when someone hears the jokes, partly because they're so unexpected from someone like him. They're so original and enjoyed by such a large percentage of listeners that perhaps his jokes are the most amiable thing about dear Danny.
You're a Doctor?
"Yes, I am! Not by technicality of course, but I'd like to consider myself one. I haven't gotten my degree yet, but I'm a few semesters away from the title "rare genetic disease specialist". The meaning should be pretty obvious; I wish to specialize in the study and treatment of rare diseases transfered and produced through genes and genetic mutations. I've always had an interest in sciences, and genetics is a comparatively recent one that I feel I have the potential to be successful at. Studying the rarities of genetics may also mean that I could develop new understandings of certain diseases, as well as possibly improving the lives of the disease's victims. Victims of rare diseases usually have a harder time getting treatment they need because rare diseases aren't studied as heavily as common ones that strike a larger population and have been deemed more 'important' to treat.
Currently though? Well, obviously I cannot be seen working in rare genetic diseases yet, I am not properly certified! However, I have found a way to compact my interest in medical science and my passion for music into one job that I am actually qualified to get paid for. All I do is play violin, really, but it is to the benefit of patients. It is controversial whether or not (and to what extent) music can benefit an individual, but in my opinion it's pretty clear that it helps heck of a lot. Have you ever gotten a shiver down your spine from listening to a single measure of music? Have you ever retreated home after a long day to listen to music, and you realize that the more you listen to your favorite songs, the better you feel? Now, I'm a pretty strict guy when it comes to evidence, but that seems evidence enough to me that music can heal. I play music for anyone that feels like they need it, so my audience ranges from trauma victims to sick children to elderly communities to someone who's simply had a bad day! I love my current job because I get to choose the music that I play. This opens me up to opportunities in the study of psychology. Playing different genres of music in front of controlled groups can give me an insight on the effects on specific types of music on the brain. How cool is that? Now, I can be considered to be a doctor, a scientist, and a musician, but Dr. Bixbyite is a much more noble title than the alternative 'Mr. Bixbyite', if you ask me."
Goodbye to Youth
Dust fills your lungs. You appreciate the smell; it reminds you of the romance of the Victorian era, flowery, bitter, warm. You greet the old woman whom you've accidentally called "mother" about a thousand times now, though "mother" is an almost true title. You wish she would remove the wallpaper from the walls. What is this, 1957? Walking right past your room, which you've had for about five years now, you return to a more familiar place, the place where you've lived for the past twelve years. The room, when empty, looks bleak and geometric, with beds set up in straight patterns like desks in a school. The room isn't empty now; it's filled with fifty-seven of your roommates. All of them are so innocent, smiling with missing teeth, even though you know all fifty-seven of them are so lonely. You catch their attention as you drop a bag of gifts at their feet. They always enjoy when you get them presents, and you're always happy to supply them. This will be your last set of gifts for them. It's hard not to cry but you remind yourself that you're a grown-up now, and grown-ups aren't supposed to cry. You make a silent prayer that the kids won't waste their childhood as you did. You return to your room and unlock the suitcase that rests on your own bed. Inside, there's a gift from your father, your damn father and his mysterious ways. If Ms. Prescott can't be your mother, he can't be your father. You put the clothes on (clothes, really?) and stare at yourself in the mirror. Eh, the clothes are a little big, but that's fine. It looks good, that's what matters. You stare at yourself in the dusty mirror and sigh. This is me, you say to yourself, I'm a doctor now. Time to go to college...

Hobbies
As a child:
▷ Baking - Danny's never been good at baking (always too much flour and too little sugar!), but he 's always enjoyed it. Ms. Prescott taught him some baking techniques, but they've never really caught on.
▷ Frog Catching - What child doesn't love catching frogs? Danny's practically a master at it by now, but it took many clumsy trials in order to develop a perfect frog catching technique. His technique isn't very advanced for such a scientific doctor; he kind of just flails his arms around until he gets hold of one of them, though he'll insist that his technique is strictly formulaic and works "ninety-five percent of the time, give or take".
▷ Running - Gee, why did Danny ever give up this hobby? Oh, right. There was that one time where he collapsed out of exhaustion during a marathon. But, before that, Danny adored running! He loved the thrill it gave him, the feeling of achievement when he completed a lap around the orphanage's property line. Those were the times...
Now:
▷ Binge watching horror movies - Sleep is for the weak, am I right? Because... Danny's not getting any for the next four nights. Danny adores horror movies. His favorites are the classics, but he'll watch newer ones, too. He finds a certain genius in horror movies that he doesn't believe is apparent in other movie genres, and, of course, the science behind why horror movies are so terrifying. If, on rare occasion, Danny gets (or gives himself) any free time, he's probably watching horror movies.
▷ Playing Violin - Danny wouldn't consider this a hobby since he does it for a living, but he certainly does more than is required of him for his job. He's very interested in music theory and what makes music sound pleasant to people, and he practices hard to make sure that he makes music that is likeable to all.Summer Nights
Summer is something Danny hold near and dear to his heart. He finds many ways to enjoy the summer, but his favorite thing to to is go to the beach, where he usually treats himself to a dinner and participates in whatever activity happens to be going on at the time. This type of evening seems to be the only time where Danny can be categorized as "normal", though there seems to be an air of extravagance even about these causal outings.Thank You For Reading This Form!