OLLIE OLLIE OXENFREE, DISTRICT THREE {CBD}

*JUST PLOTTING INFO, NOT ACTUAL BIO, I LOVE YOUUUU <3333*

MONEY MONEY MONEY MAKES THE WORLD GO SIDEWAYYYYSS. FIGHTING. SMOKING. GAMBLING. HIDING. SLEEPING, OMG LET ME SLEEP YOU STUPID NIGHT TIME. KEY GUNS! AH HA HA EXCELLENT. COLLECTING ON ALL THE THINGS. I BET YOU THAT SNAIL WILL GET TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STREET BEFORE THAT ONE.

Always has something to prove, and all this pent up anger at things because nothing ever seems to go exactly right for him. I can see how he is a bit of a loud mouth, but at the same time he doesn't really say much in the meantime, unless it's to taunt, because he isn't extremely sociable. He used to like to fight like his twin brother until he once did some serious damage to another guy and it put him off it. To combat his need to fight, he knows when it's coming because his fists curl up and he feels heat forming behind his eyes, he gambles and watches the fighting. There is always a cigarette behind his ear or in his mouth, however, he barely ever smokes them. Basically only when he's tired, he uses them for a pick-me-up. He just likes to have it there for the question of whether he would ever actually light it or not. (TFIOS) REF.

He feels like he's spiraling out of control at the same time that he's living life so closely to the edge that he never seems to get enough of it. He's got this weird sense of personal honour even though some assume that he has pretty much none of it. It's almost feudal in the way that he's so old fashioned. If you damage his honour, expect him to challenge you to something or other.

He's collecting his money away because one day he wants to own every single body in the stupid District because maybe then they'd look at him differently, and he would get the respect he deserves.

He's an insomniac. He walks through the District at night fucking shit up, looking for that telltale glow of junkyard light, and occasionally getting into some dirty business.

OMG NO WHY. MYSELF CONTROL EQUALS NOTHING. SOBU SOBU. BROTHER WWHY WE ALWAYS ON THE WRONG FOOT, JOKES, I DON'T EVEN CARE, YOU MAD BRO.

Let's put all these feels of mine in a little box and then put that box inside of another box and then mail it to myself and SMASH IT WITH A HAMMAH.

LOOOOOK.
KEY GUNS OKAY.