SIREN'S PULL - information.

Player Information

Name: Pana
Age: 28
AIM SN: shadow shibari
email: PM
plurk: pana

Character Information

General

Canon Source: Breaking Bad
Canon Format: TV series
Character's Name: Jesse Pinkman
Character's Age: 25

What form will your character's NV take? A red Samsung SPH-M300 flip phone.

Abilities

Character's Canon Abilities:

Jesse is an ordinary human with ordinary abilities. He gets into brawls very frequently but he isn't much of a fighter and almost always loses. He can at least shoot a handgun with decent accuracy. Although coveted for his ability to cook high-quality methamphetamine, Jesse works strictly from a memorized procedure and has no true knowledge of chemistry. He's more artistically inclined... but even his drawing skill is mediocre. He believes he can play the drums, but he can't. He really can't.

Conditional: If your character has no superhuman canon abilities, what dormant ability will you give them?

"Power dealing", or the ability to transfer powers from one person to another. In doing so, Jesse can completely and permanently remove one or all supernatural abilities from someone, contain them within himself for an unlimited amount of time, and bestow those powers upon another person (or the same person from whom they were taken, if the situation requires). When he learns to harness this power, he'll be able to turn even divine creatures into ordinary, mundane beings.

He is not capable of using any of the powers he "holds", only transferring them between parties. It also requires uninterrupted skin-to-skin contact for about ten seconds, meaning that it's difficult for him to use in a fight scenario - although he wouldn't hesitate to steal someone's power if they happened to be grappling him. Most likely, however, it'll serve him less as a nulling ability in combat and more as a source of income. Jesse's through with selling drugs but selling powers will be highly appealing to him.

This ability will never be used without OOC permission.

Weapons: Unarmed, but he's carrying a cigarette full of ricin.

History/Personality/Plans/etc.

Character History: [ wiki ]

( SPOILERS )

Character Personality:

Jesse Pinkman is in over his head. It's his constant state of being. He's a suburban white boy who's spent years of his life fronting like he's some kind of hardcore gangsta, but the truth is that all his thug swagga fools nobody and only serves to get him into some serious shit. For all his wisecracking and disrespectful backtalk, Jesse's neither truly street nor streetwise. He comes off as a clown: silly and overambitious, lacking the callousness required to succeed at his dangerous trade. As his journey goes on, he seems increasingly lost and afraid, especially in the face of mortal peril. Helpless confusion is the expression most often written on his face. His continued survival is merely a result of luck and reflex.

Jesse's lot in life is not a result of unfortunate circumstances. He grew up in an upper middle class neighborhood and a loving family. No horrible accident befell him. He was never orphaned. His family never fell upon hard times. He was just a slacker, a delinquent who couldn't give any fucks about school, a dropout who only ended up kicked out of his home because he refused to stop doing drugs and his parents refused to continue enabling his destructive lifestyle. He began selling drugs to fund his own drug habit, not out of any kind of noble sacrifice or great need.

Yet, despite a lack of tragedy in Jesse's past, he is a tragic person. He wants desperately to be good at something, and it so happens that drug-dealing is the only thing he's ever felt good at doing. He also desperately wants approval, and that desire is a vulnerability that others exploit. Jesse has always just been a kid without direction, waiting to be guided and directed so that he can make himself useful and prove himself valuable. Due to his insecurity and fear of messing up, he's prone to making excuses and pointing fingers. He can be unbelievably stubborn, too proud to ask questions or admit to his mistakes. His drug use began as a result of his fears, providing relief from the pressure of trying to succeed at school and live up to his parents' expectations.

Later in his life, drugs became an anesthetic to numb the pain of the trauma he experienced through his ongoing criminal activity. For a long time he seemed in denial of his own addiction, rolling his eyes at others' concern for him. He viewed his crystal meth as an art form as well as entertainment. But he hit rock bottom when he started taking heroin, which claimed the life of his girlfriend and sent him into suicidal despair. Addiction remained a struggle, and probably always will. He went through rehab once only to relapse some time later, turning to drugs to dull his guilt over murdering an innocent person. Though now he has a tenuous hold on sobriety once more, the slightest push threatens to send him off the wagon.

The greatest threat to his recovery is his guilt, which overwhelms him frequently. He blames himself for his girlfriend's overdose and he refuses to forgive himself for committing murder. He believes himself entirely removed from all goodness now, stating bluntly: "I accept who I am. I'm the bad guy." And he does have many despicable traits. His frustration with his own powerlessness can lead him to be selfish in turn, greedy and manipulative of others weaker than himself. At one point he starts showing up to group sessions for the sole purpose of selling meth to other recovering addicts.

Even so, his descent into darkness is not nearly as far as he believes. He clearly continues to operate according to a strong personal moral code. Jesse's greatest strength and his fatal flaw is his loyalty. He will remain at someone's side through their darkest hour, even if that person is entirely undeserving. He's honor-bound to his word, incapable of backstabbing someone to whom he's made a promise no matter how much he's come to despise that person. Though he's often paranoid and accusatory, he has every right to be; he's been betrayed numerous times by those he's trusted, and even he isn't aware of the full extent to which he's been deceived. And although he responds readily to any threat with violence, he hesitates when it comes to taking a life. He has a deep appreciation for life and can be incredibly sweet and gentle, especially with children but even with animals and insects.

Jesse has positive qualities beyond his sentimental devotion and caretaking. He can actually be a true entrepreneur at times, resourceful and clever. When he's feeling confident, it shows in his work. With him, a little encouragement goes a long way. And although not articulate, he's surprisingly observant. His ability to catch on, cover up, and roll with the punches is why he's not only a good friend to have, but an instrumental one.

Character Plans:

I would love for Jesse to be lured into working for SERO, either by the promise of money for his services or out of fear. He'll likely be grateful to be out of the Cartel's reach and he'll honestly find the Port a little magical, but he's exceptionally bad at taking care of himself and will almost certainly fall in with the wrong crowd. He's made to be some bad guy's lackey. I'm hoping for him to cause a whole lot of power-swapping shenanigans at some point, too.

Appearance/PB: [ icons ] [ aaron paul ]

Writing Samples

Third Person Sample

At first, he thought he'd been shot. A blast to the chest, and then he was falling. But that didn't make sense. He'd done a good job. A really good job. They wanted him to stay forever. That's how good it was. So shooting him... That'd be what Mr. White would call "counterproductive".

And anyway, he landed in the mud. Cold, wet mud. Not the kind of thing he was likely to find in Mexico. Although if they shot him in the lab, then wouldn't he be landing on concrete, anyway? Whatever. There was Jesse Pinkman: fresh out of a Mexican meth lab, still wearing his orange jumpsuit, face-first in the mud and snow.

He lay there for a second, trying to figure out what was wrong with his chest - because it felt like there was a great big hole there and something was trying to pull his heart out. In other words: it didn't feel like he was full of bullets, but something was still wrong. Really wrong.

Scrambling to his feet was unsuccessful at first. He rolled a few feet, slid on his knees, and then finally managed to stand up. The bags covering his shoes were a problem, so he kicked them off. His hands went to his chest, feeling around his ribs, but as far as he could tell, his heart was where it should be. The sick, tugging feeling didn't stop, but there was nothing he could do about it. At least he wasn't dead, right? Unless he was, and he didn't know it. Like in that movie.

His hands dropped back to his sides and he finally looked around, half-expecting to find himself in Hell. Instead - A... city? A real, live city and not Hell or a piece-of-shit, dusty Mexican village full of Cartel fucks. (Same difference, he thought bitterly.) He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, a short laugh of relief and disbelief. Someone had rescued him. But when he looked around, there was nobody near him. No Gus, no Mike, not even that son of a bitch Tyrus. He could see people in the distance, off in the perimeter of the field, but nobody headed toward him. They barely even looked at him. So what did that mean? Was he allowed to move? Was he actually free?

He spent a good, long time just staring. Waiting, maybe, for someone to pick him up. It was a full ten minutes before he realized he was standing in the middle of a wide open space where anyone could see him - and shoot him if they felt like it - and he stuck out like an escaped convict in this lab suit. He unzipped it quickly (on the bright side, it'd kept his clothes clean underneath it) and wiped the mud off his face as best he could, then went running for the street. Strangely, no one was really paying him much attention, not even when he stuffed the orange suit into the nearest trash bin.

Right, so... Somehow he'd gotten away from the Cartel, blacked out or something, ended up really far from Mexico (judging by the weather), and no one had even taken his wallet. He pulled out his Parliaments, noticed his "lucky cigarette" was still in the carton too, and grabbed a different one so he could have himself a smoke. Watching the cars speed down the street, he still half-expected Mike to roll by, give him a lecture for standing around like an idiot, and tell him to get in. But by the time Jesse was crushing the butt of his cigarette underfoot, it was getting pretty clear that no one was coming for him.

And he wasn't even sure how that made him feel.