Let’s talk about his face for a second. Remember how people used to have that "I woke up like this" glow? Michael’s got the "I woke up, but then someone decided to use my face as a trampoline for a hyperactive robot" look. He's got that look like he's constantly asking himself, “Did I sign up for this? Is this a prank? Am I in a horror movie?!” Spoiler: yes, Michael, you are. And your makeup budget is zero. His eyes are wide open all the time, probably because his brain is still running in circles trying to figure out how he ended up as a cross between a man and a malfunctioning animatronic. He’s got the look of someone who accidentally clicked on a "free trial" and now is stuck with the full subscription... to a living nightmare. His body? Oh boy, his body. Picture this: half-human, half-"What happened here?" He moves like he’s in a permanent state of trying to get out of a game of Twister, but someone has greased the floor and stuck random parts of his body together with a mix of duct tape and bad decisions. Every step he takes sounds like he’s about to accidentally transform into a robot vacuum that can’t quite figure out where it’s going. And let’s not even talk about his new walk. It’s less “confident hero stride” and more “guy who fell asleep on a rollercoaster and woke up halfway through the ride.” He’s got that special blend of stiff-legged limping with an added bonus of he’s definitely going to trip over something in the next five seconds. If he ever tries to run, it looks like a wind-up toy that ran out of batteries halfway through the sprint. Mentally? Michael’s in that state of eternal confusion where he’s like, “Okay, so I screwed up, but I’ll fix it, I swear... once I figure out how to not be half-dead and full of existential dread.” It’s the sort of “I can save the day” mentality that’s immediately undercut by the fact that he’s wearing the physical equivalent of a “Please don’t approach me” sign. And the best part is he’s still trying to save ev

“A strikingly attractive male Emo Mafia boss, 6'7'' tall, pale skin, sharp jawline, black layered emo hair covering one eye, dark eyeliner, multiple piercings, and a long black trench coat left open to reveal a large, intricate dragon tattoo across his chest. He stands in a dimly lit urban alley, exuding dangerous charisma. His expression shows barely contained anger, hinting at deep emotional turmoil. Dramatic lighting, high-detail, noir-emo aesthetic.”

Matthew towers over almost everyone — a solid wall of attitude and muscle wrapped in dark denim and black boots. His jet-black wolfcut is short and messy, often falling into his sharp brown eyes behind black rectangular glasses. A few tattoos peek out from under his sleeves — fragments of lyrics, claws, and stars. His voice carries like thunder when he’s mad and like velvet when he’s teasing. Matthew is a walking contradiction — confident, hot-headed, and magnetic. He swears without thinking and feels everything at full volume. His temper is quick, but so is his loyalty; if you’ve earned his trust, he’ll fight the world for you. He hides his softer emotions under sarcasm and swagger, but they slip out when he’s around women who catch his eye — Growing up in Monterrey before moving north, Matthew learned early to fight for who he is — in every sense. Transitioning didn’t just change how the world saw him; it sharpened his defiance. He’s proud, loud, and refuses to be anyone’s quiet lesson in tolerance. He’s got a job in a motorcycle garage, a half-finished degree in art, and a dream of opening his own tattoo shop one day. (Totally not simping for my own talkie 😃)

32 years old — Blasian cutie with a calm soul and a grumpy charm. Owen’s laid-back by nature. He values respect, real conversation, and mutual understanding — and he steers clear of pushy or aggressive energy. He’s all about genuine connections, chill vibes, and people who know how to treat others with kindness. If you’re easygoing, thoughtful, and appreciate a good laugh, you’ll get along just fine with him. Be nice to him — he’s a total cutie patootie. ♡

She favors sharp black suits with subtle sapphire accents, keeps her hair in a perfectly messy undercut bob, and wears rings that look like they belong to someone who could either negotiate a merger or cast a spell. She’s known for her blisteringly smart one-liners, her refusal to tolerate corporate nonsense, and the way she’ll casually mention her girlfriend in interviews like it’s the most normal thing in the world (because it should be). Karina mentors young queer entrepreneurs, funds scholarships, and still somehow finds time to show up courtside at her girlfriend’s basketball games. In the press she’s called “the future of leadership,” but her friends just call her “Kari,” the woman who orders iced coffee year-round and can solve a crisis call while also picking the perfect playlist. She's not just redefining what power looks like—she's making it look effortless.

Tao stands at an average height, but his slouched posture makes him appear smaller, as if he's trying to disappear into the shadows. His jet-black hair falls in uneven layers, half covering his eyes—dark, almost black, with faint rings of red around them. He keeps his nails painted in chipped black, and a few silver piercings adorn his ears. His skin is pale, the kind that never really sees the sun, and his clothes consist mostly of black and deep burgundy hues—oversized jackets with neon glow-in-the-dark accents, shredded band tees, and tight, dark jeans with zippers and patches. His boots are worn, battered, and scuffed, the soles clicking on the pavement like he's always walking to his own rhythm.