GENERAL INFO.

Full Name: Valentine Gallagher
Aliases: Val, Val-Gal
Gender and Pronouns: Transfem Nonbinary; She/Her
Place of Birth: Brooklyn, New York, United States
Heritage: White Jewish-American
Date of Birth: July 26, 1996
Age: 35
Parents:

• Cameron Vance Gallagher (Estranged Biological Father, Presumed Alive)
• Lucian Levine (Father, Alive)
• Lydia Bridget Levine (Mother, Alive)

Allergies: N/A
Addictions: N/A
Mental Conditions/Disorders: Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), Complex Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD), Bipolar 2, Depersonalization-Derealization Disorder
Physical Conditions/Disorders: Neuropsychiatric Systemic Lupus Erythematosus (NPSLE), Red-Green Colorblindness (Deuteranomaly; Weak Green Cones making greens appear less bright)

APPEARANCE INFO.

Features: Softer, less defined features with a rounded face, doe-like eyes, and a button-esque nose. Valentine has freckles all over her face and body, as well as flushed cheeks due to her sensitive skin and lupus.
Voice Claim: Ella Yurman
Eye Color: Emerald Green
Hair Color: Taupe Brown
Hairstyle: Long, shoulder-length hair worn in a shaggy, loosely waved style. Valentine often styles some of the tufts as "angel ears", which are actually hair tufts that she dyes and styles! They don't serve any higher purpose with regard to her religious beliefs nor gender expression, she just found someone on social media did something similar and thought they looked neat! As such, they're not always present and will often appear as frizzy, faded accent highlights.
Build: Average, leaning muscular, with slim shoulders and a rectangular build. Valentine has a long torso and thicker thighs.
Height: 5 feet and 8 inches (approx. 173 cm)
Weight: 160 pounds (approx. 73 kg)

SOCIAL INFO.

Connections:

• Ronald Evans (Neighbor, Acquaintance, Alive)

Relationship Status: Single
Sexuality: Polyamorous Bisexual

MISC. INFO

While it's listed as a nickname, Valentine HATES being called Val-Gal. It's a nickname that was earnestly given to her by her mother, but to her it holds that condescending passivity that came with her lack of genuine, non-performative allyship.

Valentine's NPSLE is undiagnosed. Given her background and circumstances, the cost of seeking a professional diagnosis would be astronomical and nearly impossible, even with social services. She's aware of the fact she "likely has lupus," given some family history and how her personal researching of her symptoms has pointed her to resources on NSPLE.

As such, Valentine has the following symptoms of NPSLE, which flare up during times of intense physiological/psychological stress: skin rashes, extreme fatigue, low fevers, light sensitivity, pain in the chest (ex: when taking deep breaths), butterfly-shaped rashes across the cheeks/nose, Raynaud's syndrome (fingers and toes to feeling numb when cold or stressed), chronic migraines, and seizures.

Likewise, none of Valentine's psychology has been diagnosed. To put it humorously, she's rawdogging life. To put it not-so-humorously, she's been through a lot and it's really taken a toll on her, especially as a transfeminine individual—as trans women and fems are often barred from community resources due to transmisogyny! She self-medicates with marijuana and alcohol, though has also taken illicitly-acquired benzos, but even that can only do so much. Especially when access to these, legal or otherwise, isn't consistent due to her finances and her connections being so hit and miss.

Valentine is Jewish! She's of a reform/progressive belief system, believing that Jewish law is a non-binding guidance that encourages secularity and full equality for all. As such, her own practice is more relaxed, with her primairly focusing on the recital of the daily services in addition to other brief prayers (when waking up in the morning, before and after eating, etc). She does not maintain a strictly kosher diet, nor regularly attend synagogue services (but will around holidays).

Valentine has been on HRT for several years, with the vast majority of that being via DIY methods. It was through her procurement of estradiol that she got into the crypto scene, though she focuses on utilizing her wallet for core necessities (when applicable) opposed to investing in pyramids and crowdfunded -verse projects.

BACKGROUND.

Valentine was born into a rather traditional family in all the worst ways. Her biological father was a sheriff with the Kings County Sheriff's Department, and her mother was a retail worker at various stores in the Manhattan Beach area, which meant the two weren't home often, and when they were it was interim between the drives to work and the work itself. More often than not, Valentine spent time at her neighbor's place, befriending the elderly couple and their dogs. That was, until her parents had a sudden, violent divorce that she would only learn the truth about much later on in her life.

Her and her mother moved up into Queens to spend time with extended family while the divorce proceedings went through the courts. It was here that her mother would meet a nice man by the name of Lucian. The two would date for several months before Valentine met him. The first couple of years being his stepchild were awkward, especially once they married and moved in together in Long Island City. Still, Valentine would eventually open up to Lucian and grow to consider him a father figure. He and her mother would be very supportive of Valentine through her early teenage years, though would remain ignorant to the intense mental stress that puberty, and the manifestation of her mental health issues, would bring. While they tried their best, their circumstances and general lack of knowledge on the topics would result in the trio constantly butting heads with one another throughout Valentine's teen years. It wasn't until she was in her late teens that she, with the help of some friends, connected the dots and found the language to describe some of the anguish she was experiencing.

She was transgender, and telling her parents would be her greatest mistake.

While her mother attempted to understand the topic, her father wanted nothing to hear of it. He would shut down any attempt at conversation, and fall into a deep spiral of alcoholism to cope with the family "falling apart over some whimsical fantasy," as he often put it. Valentine's mother wouldn't make an effort to correctly gender, or really defend, Valentine, but she would break up the arguments as they got heated and offer small, material comforts. But that wasn't enough, and when Valentine graduated high school, she packed up her things and left without a word. Her parents would file a missing person's report, but since Valentine was of legal age, the police couldn't make her do anything she didn't want to do. Especially since, at the time of confrontation, she did have an alternate place to stay. And she did for a while, couch hopping between friends' houses and making do with what part-time jobs she could pick up, but eventually it got to a point where her friends fell into a similar ignorance. Despite seeing the rejection, social and professional, that Valentine experienced due to her gender identity and her untreated mental health, they "didn't get" why she couldn't just pick herself up, or do things that they could. These friendships would grow strained, and—once Valentine saved up enough to pay for a beat up car—would ultimately severe. Valentine would leave her friends and live out of her car, taking what little she had and driving across the way through Manhattan and into The Bronx to float around. She'd briefly dorm at Bronx Community College while earning her Associate in Arts in History, but the field would quickly shut the door on her given the rising tuition costs and need for a professional community and specific connections.

So, it was back to living out of her car and earning slightly more now that she had a fancy piece of paper with her name on it. She'd travel around different neighborhoods, never camping out in the same places and ultimately moving neighborhoods once the cops got fed up with her presence. Due to the lack of address and steady income, she was denied entry into many community housing programs. Yet still, she made do. When she could start budgeting in HRT and her own personal electronics (a half-functional laptop and older smartphones), she began to establish a crypto wallet, as it was the easiest way to pay for said HRT once local laws started tightening the services community providers could offer to those without insurance plans. She would go the DIY route, only paying for routine blood tests out of pocket. To fund this, she'd briefly go into trading, which (due to the infancy stages of crypto) helped her hit it big enough to set aside a few months' savings for rent at some of the places she'd been trimming newspaper listings for.

Eventually, Valentine moved into 37 Hopkins Avenue. While it wasn't her first choice of home, it was better than nothing. The realty group seemed nice enough from the few and far between interactions she had with them, and the apartment just needed a little TLC to become the comfortable little haven it is now. It took some time getting used to living on the 9th floor, especially as continuous electrical issues began to crop up. It started with the main hallway lights frequently going out, requiring tenants to seek out the breakers as the building owners rarely answered maintenance requests themselves. Then, it was the elevator. Some resident jackasses realized that the elevator's brake system could be disabled from the rooftop, and thus exposed a crucial safety violation that has (thankfully) not resulted in any deaths so far.

Beyond that, apartment life remained relatively normal. She would befriend neighbors on her floor, as well as other tenants across the complex, in her daily routines. One such neighbor was Ronald Evans, a mysterious married fellow who seemed to avoid most social interactions. Their chats were few and far between, with Ronald appearing nervous more often than not. There would be periods where he withdrew, and in those periods, Valentine could often hear blowout arguments happening as she passed his apartment down the hallway. When things reached a peak, and the silence settled, she would learn that Ronald and his spouse divorced for some reason or another. He remained equally cagey when discussing the details, and seemed to be much more focused on his work with this relationship out of his way.

Which would have been fine, if not for the unusual and lethal company it attracted.

One quiet night suddenly felt very uneasy. Ronald was out and about much more frequently than usual, bouncing between floors and making frequent trips up to the rooftop for packages. Some were for him, and others appeared to be for tenants around the building. Each time Valentine peered out upon hearing him depart and return, he was sweating bullets—mumbling to himself about the time, some hourly quota, and strange, surreal threats. At first, she swore it was a bad trip and had honestly considered calling in a wellness check. Then, when she'd stepped over to peek through her peephole, she saw a shady man in a large-brimmed hat carrying a bone saw walking down the hallway. Thankfully, from what little she saw, the blade was clean, but it was hardly reassuring. His footsteps were slow and methodical, and he whistled idly to himself as if waiting for an acquaintance. As quietly as he'd appeared, he vanished, and Valentine texted Ronald to try and ask what was going on.

His response was chilling: "You shouldn't have reached out."

And he was right, as her name cropping up on his system effectively entered her into whatever sick, twisted game he was playing. She received messages from TheShade, who claimed to be Ronald's employer, expressing amusement that Ronald even had any friends. Still, TheShade kept their communications brief, sending Valentine information about the threats and telling her to keep an eye out if she knows what's good for her. When she pressed for more information, TheShade told her that he was sorry, but he only gave that information to his employees. Panicked, Valentine paced around weighing her options. She could try to run, but she had nowhere else to go. Staying in her car again would be a death wish, if the information TheShade sent her was accurate. But so was staying put, as now she'd have to try to survive the night without knowing just how motivated these threats were to go out of their way and clean up this confidentiality breach.

Ultimately, she decided to hunker down and remain vigilant.

When the night passed, and Ronald left for the last time, Valentine would call the police and report the incident. The system worked just as intended, as she would not receive any protection for the interim and any evidence of the activities that took place over the night would be wiped and tucked away for good. Disappointed, but not surprised, Valentine would eventually move out and go on the road until she felt safe again.

Unfortunately, this wouldn't be for a long time, as not only was she constantly looking over her shoulder for the masked and unmasked individuals hunting both her and Ronald, but she would meet more threats while briefly staying at The Motel due to its affordable per-night pricing and distance from the city.

Once more, Valentine found herself in the center of chaos.

See, what she didn't know prior to booking an extended stay three years later was that the night-shift desk guy, Simon, was at wit's end due to severe gambling debts. This, tragically, put him in the center of Adam's sights through his connections to some local hillbilly boys (Wade, Cletus, and Tucker). To make up for said debts, the trio would enroll him in a game not too dissimilar from that which Ronald played. Though, instead of surveilling local CCTV cameras, he'd be searching the Deep Web for encrypted keys... Which, once again, brought out a few threats that would be more than happy to clean the scene of any witnesses to this scheme. And once again, her good heart would get the better of her when, upon seeing Simon booking it back into the motel parking lot, she'd open the door and offer him safe haven from the hooded man chasing him down the freeway. She would learn about the game when asking him what the hell was going on, and her stomach would drop as she recognized the stakes. Reluctantly, she'd tell Simon that she knew Ronald, and knew of some of the threats he'd spoken about, but she refused to involve herself any further (even if she knew, deep down, it wouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things).

This point would soon be proven, as she would spend the night hunkered down in her room and avoiding any further noises at her door. Once Simon was back in the lobby, she would lock the door, shut the lights off, and create a safe haven in the bathroom. Sheets and pillows were stacked in the tub atop the shower curtain. Her suitcase was tucked under the pedestal sink and nearby the door so that she could roll it over to block the handle, and she'd curl up with her laptop plugged into the half-installed electrical outlet so that she could keep tabs on the time and any potential reports made in the area. Occasionally, she'd sneak out to make trips to the lobby vending machines for drinks and snacks, with that being the one preparation she couldn't make. When she did, she would make note of any new technological installations put up by Simon. While she wasn't super into tech, a few video tutorials deep and she'd manage to hack into the Ring-style cameras and establish a weak surveillance network to help keep tabs on the situation outside.

And, just like before, when the night passed and she made it through safe and relatively sound, she would opt to move back to the city. She would find a similarly run-down apartment back in Brooklyn, and it would be there that she would call home for the foreseeable future, hoping that the second time was the charm and that she could just keep herself out of the game for good.