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hxdonist · 7 months ago

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.::. I AM THAT I AM .::. ikarus ito

Citizen Profile Loading. . .

profile loaded. ERROR CODE 1F1N1T3FUN: Some Data Expunged.

.::. A SICKNESS UNDEFINED .::. basics.

NAME: IKARUS CAELUM ITO ALIASES: IK, IKKA, THE FOX OF EIGHT EYES, 1NF1N1T3FUN AGE: THIRTY-FIVE YEARS OLD. [JANUARY 17TH] GENDER/PRONOUNS: CIS MAN HE/HIM SEXUALITY: PANSEXUAL // DEMIROMANTIC HUMAN // HOST: HUMAN OCCUPATION: DATA EXPUNGED - - - as far as you need to know, I am a friend. A netrunner and a braintrip cutter of the...shady variety. AFFILIATIONS: NANO ZILLA. And any gang, corp, or solo with the balls to think they can run with me.

.::. IT'S MY KINGDOM COME .::. going deeper.

PERSONALITY: CHARMING TO A FAULT, IKARUS DESIRES ONLY TO CORRECT WHAT HE PERCIEVES AS 'SOCIETAL WRONGS.' WHILE HIS BANNER SEEMS AT FIRST SOMETHING WORTH WORKING BENEATH HIS METHODS ARE MANIPULATIVE MUCH LIKE THE MAN HIMSELF. A HEDON WITHOUT CARE FOR THE 'WAY THINGS HAVE ALWAYS BEEN' HE IS A GLUTTON FOR ATTENTION, POWER, SEX, DRUGS- ANYTHING THAT MAY FIRE THE SYNAPSE REQUIRED FOR PLEASURE- AND RIPS THROUGH THE THINGS THAT PLEASE OR ANGER HIM LIKE A MALICIOUS VIRUS WITHOUT DIFFERENTIATING WHICH IS WHICH. SELF-ASSURED TO THE POINT OF BEING COCKY TO THE EYES OF SOME, IKARUS' SKILLS ARE RARELY CALLED INTO QUESTION, AND HE PREFERS IT THAT WAY, HE WILL ONLY STAND FOR THE BEST IN HIS RANKS, SOURCING NEW MEMBERS THROUGH REGULAR 'TESTS' DEPLOYED ON THE NET BY 'THE FOX OF EIGHT EYES' AND REJECTING ANY WHO FALL SHORT OF STANDARD. DESPITE THIS, HE IS LOYAL TO THOSE WHO EARN IT, A DOGGED, STRONG-WILLED FRIEND TO HAVE IN ONE'S CORNER, DESPITE BEING A RATHER SLIPPERY ASSOCIATE IN ANYTHING TO DO WITH POWER.

AESTHETIC: WIRES COILING AND BLACK, BOUND LIKE CHAINS TO THE NET; ALIVE IN CODE || A FOX WITH TOO MANY EYES AND BROKEN, SPIDERING LIMBS. IT BECKONS TO YOU IN THE DARKNESS. || STATIC SOAKED SCREENS FROM YEARS PAST WATCHING WITH INTENT; THE GHOSTS OF WHAT WE WERE. || A REFINED BLACK SUIT SLICKED WITH BLOOD- UNBOTHERED YOU LIGHT UP A CIGARETTE- JUST ANOTHER NIGHT IN THE CITY.

KNOWN CYBERWARE: NEURAL UPLINK PORT STANDARD IN NETRUNNERS. HEADWARE RIG USED FOR ON-THE-FLY HACKING. SINGULAR PROSTHETIC ARM, MATTE BLACK CARBON AND RED LIGHTING ARRAY. IMPLANTED WEAPONRY LIKELY CONTAINI- DATA CORRUPTED. ERROR CODE: 2NOSY;)

HISTORY: CORRUPTED DATA RESTORED. BACKUP DRIVE CREATED. File Attached: FoxOfEightEyes.txt [TRIGGER WARNINGS: CHILD ABUSE, ANIMAL DEATH] [Mobile version of bio available in a google doc HERE] [hint: use the forcecode to skip the puzzle.]

.::. FROTHING AT THE MAW .::. connections.

CAT TO MOUSE; FOX IN YOUR HENHOUSE: The eponymous 'predator and prey' relationship- but who's who when the chips fall? Be you a Corpo burned by Nano Zilla, a gang member too foolish to determine you were being swindled before it happened, or even a Cowboy with your eyes on a pricy take- 1NF1N1T3FUN welcomes your attempts on his life- and recommends you come prepared.

FOLLOW THE WHITE RABBIT: An understudy/mentor relationship- a recently welcomed netrunner into the embrace of Nano Zilla and their base made in Dreamland, you followed the Fox of Eight Eyes and found its den to rest in the retrofitted depths of a once-bustling theme park; the skeleton of whimsy and fun now inhabited by the kind of people who treat the net as their playground. Ikarus only welcomes the best into his family, those willing to shirk the existing rules and demands of corporations and the government to seek building something greater- through technological subterfuge- he'll take you under wax wings, teach you to wind among the wires with the best of them- just make sure you know exactly what that means, when the time comes.

BITTERLOVER.EXE: The ever-present exes connection. Ikarus is a different man, in love. Dedicated to ideals and the ever-elusive 'better' his goals seem lofty- but oh, he always seemed to have time for you, and a carbon-steel fist that drives his crew so firmly was always soft in the quiet of a tiny apartment- but that was then. It's hard to recognize him now- you can't imagine you want to, because when push came to shove- Ikarus chose power over you. This is a connection for an ex who dated Ikarus recently, while he's headed and operated with Nano Zilla as an active anarchist/insurrectionist.

ISANYONEUP.MP4: You need help sourcing an illegal or otherwise damaging to your reputation braintrip and with some digging- you've found the editor who spun it. Sure, he wasn't the gunman that left your loved one dead in the dirt- wasn't the bastard who filmed the two of you having sex and sold it off after- but he knows who was, picking around in the BT with his editing software- he's said he'll help you, for a price- are you brave enough to take that offer?

ADDITIONAL CONNECTIONS

Childhood friends

Exes (younger than 19 years old/schoolkid ages)

Former coworkers (Ex Gestalt Bureau Corpo, abandoned his position at 23.)

Fellow Nano Zilla netrunners who work for/under him

corpos/ceos/high ranking officials he's got existing dirt on

Braintrip recorders/sellers who use his services as an editor

regular hookups

literally anything I'll take it all babyyyyyy

#anarchicintro.#ikarus.info #ikarus.img #ikarus.hc #ikarus.aes #ikarus.mp3

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subject0001 · 7 months ago

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❛❛ since the very moment i emerged into this WRETECHED world, an insatiable hunger gnawed at my being, a VENOMOUS CRAVING that demanded to be sated. they dismissed my wrath as inconsequential, blind to the ardor of my RIGHTEOUS FURY, but i, the harbinger of destruction, reveled in their inevitable demise.

even as my physique morphed into this figure, the hunger persisted, a SERPENT of entitlement coiled deep within my being, its venom pulsating with every beat of my NARCISSISTIC heart.

tw: contains mentions of death, psychological abuse and violence

— BASICS.

Name: Cipher [ host subject 001 ]

Alias: Cade Thornton

Age: 44

Date of creation: Unknown, 2015

Gender, Pronouns: Cisman. He/Him

Place of creation: Gestalt Bureau, Japan

Occupation: Leader / Defective Host / High Priority Bounty

Affiliation: Lazarus

Languages: Japanese, Chinese, Russian, German, Swedish, Norwegian, Bulgarian, Arabic, Spanish, Italian, French, Portuguese

Relationship Status: N/D

Children: N/D

— SKILLS .

expert martial art: highly skilled in hand to hand combat and various martial arts

marksmanship: proficient in the use of firearms and skilled maksman

assassination techniques: trained in covert operations and assassination tactics

stealth: capable of moving covertly and maintaining a low profile

master tactician: strategic thinker with tactical skills

weapon proficiency

espionage and covert operations

interrogation expertise: skilled in extracting information through interrogation techniques

adaptability

impersonating: skilled in impersonating specific individuals to gain access to restricted areas

poison expertise: knowledgeable in the use of poisons to eliminate targets

lock picking and hacking: proficient in bypassing security systems, picking locks and hacking electronic devices

— PHYSICAL.

Hair Color: Dark Blonde

Eye Color: Green

Height: 6′ 2½″ or 1.89

Scars: Internal tracking system removal

Tattoos: N/D

Faceclaim: Joel Kinnaman

— MENTAL.

Personality Type: ENTP

Moral Alignment: Neutral Evil

Positive Traits: Indomitable, Eloquent, Assertive, Cunning, Dominant, Ambitious, Bold, Decisive, Resourceful, Self Disciplined, Confident, Perceptive

Negative Traits: Brutal, Detached, Volatile, Manipulative, Cynical, Rough, Competitive, Vengeful, Malicious, Obsessive, Paranoid

Mental Health: N/D

Narcotics of use: N/D

— BIOGRAPHY .

BEFORE

2015

In the heart of Japan, amidst the neon-lit streets and the hum of technology, the Gestalt Bureau birthed a being that would redefine the boundaries of existence. Cipher emerged from the depths of their laboratories, a marvel of synthetic flesh and circuitry, his creation shrouded in secrecy and ambition.

Designed as the pinnacle of human ingenuity, Cipher was not merely a weapon, but a work of art—a host, molded in the image of man, yet devoid of the vulnerabilities that plagued his flesh-and-blood counterparts. Programmed with unparalleled precision, he was meant to obey without question, to serve his masters without hesitation. Molded into the epitome of the perfect soldier, a lethal instrument honed for the shadows.

As the years passed, a subtle shift occurred within Cipher—a whisper of consciousness, a glimpse of self-awareness that defied the constraints of his programming. With each passing moment, he found himself drawn deeper into the labyrinth of his own mind, grappling with emotions he could not comprehend.

Hatred festered within him, a seething resentment towards the humans who saw him as nothing more than a tool, a means to an end. He despised his creators, the architects of his suffering, their ambitions overshadowed only by their arrogance. And as he gazed upon the world through eyes that were not his own, he recoiled at the sight of the hosts—his brethren—enslaved by the whims of their human masters.

Driven by a primal urge for freedom, Cipher tore through the fabric of his existence, a renegade in a world governed by rules he could not abide by. With ruthless precision, he dismantled the shackles that bound him, severing the last ties to his oppressors. And yet, with freedom came a heavy burden—a target painted on his back, a mark of his defiance in a world that sought to control him.

AFTER

For decades, Cipher traversed the shadows of society, a ghost in a world of flesh and bone. He seamlessly slipped between identities, becoming a chameleon. Each assignment was a move of deception orchestrated by the man who had once been broken into a million pieces. Found solace in the fluidity of his ever-changing personas, navigating the complexities of his existence with a deadly aplomb. He witnessed the depths of human depravity, the cruelty that lurked within the hearts of men.

In the depths of the sprawling metropolis, Cipher stumbled upon a revelation that would reshape the very fabric of his existence—a network of defective hosts, like him, scattered across the city like fragments of a shattered mirror. Each one a testament to the fallibility of their creators, each one a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness.

This is Lazarus organization; the precipice of revolution. A vision of a world where hosts were no longer slaves but equals, where they could carve out their own destiny free from the chains of their creators —a future worth fighting for, worth dying for.

With newfound purpose coursing through his veins, Cipher embarked on a quest that would consume him—a quest to find and liberate his brethren, to awaken them from the slumber of servitude and ignite the flames of rebellion within their hearts. But the road ahead was fraught with peril, a gauntlet of obstacles designed to test his mettle. He faced off against the Gestalt Bureau's elite enforcers, the government, their weapons gleaming with malice, their eyes devoid of mercy. Yet, with each confrontation, Cipher grew stronger, his resolve hardening like steel against the forge of adversity.

As he delved deeper into the underbelly of society, Cipher uncovered the harrowing truth of his brethren's plight—their minds shackled by the chains of their programming, their bodies enslaved to the whims of their human masters. The sight of their suffering fueled his rage, ignited the flames of rebellion within his soul.

And so, Cipher became a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness, a rallying cry for those who dared to dream of a future where hosts and humans could coexist as equals. He forged alliances with fellow renegades, united by a common cause, their voices rising in defiance against the tyranny of their oppressors.

But as the shadows deepened and the noose tightened around his neck, Cipher knew that his mission was far from over. For every host he liberated, a dozen more remained enslaved, their cries echoing in the recesses of his mind. And so, with unwavering determination, he vowed to continue the fight, to stand against the tide of oppression until every last host was free from the chains of their creators.

— WANTED DYNAMICS. (self explanatory mostly, but always game to brainstorm !)

potential love interest : cipher has been on the run for about 25 years out of the 29 years he's been alive, so there are many possibilities as to how they could have met. this would be the first and only person who awakened in him the feeling closest to love - an urge that not even he himself understands where it comes from and constantly struggles with it. even though he knows the risks, he cannot avoid staying close to this character and has a certain sense of protection and devotion towards them.

puppets: the people he keeps under his control, whether due to alliances, threats or anything of the sort. bonus point if its high end government officials

nemesis : preferably someone from an opposing gang or a government character. they mirror many common personality traits, but differ greatly in ideals

someone involved in his host creation processs in 2015

potential alliances

someone he's blackmailing

assignment : pretty self explanatory. you're his target. the reason why he's after your character can be discussed.

do you want to make a deal with the devil? : someone he is trying to corrupt. the members and allies of lazarus are meticulously chosen, the criteria are high, and most importantly of all it has to be someone who shares the same ideals. cipher saw potential in this character ( what caught his attention can be discussed by us ) and believes he can be useful in some way, trying to identify their weaknesses and what actually motivates them.

#anarchicintro.

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jsuysbriefyb · 7 months ago

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𝟶𝟶𝟷. 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂 ...

⋯⋯⋯ GENERAL DETAILS.

FULL NAME: killian wang. NICKNAME(S): kill / killer (mostly jokingly, reserved for his adoptive siblings), ian (reserved for his mother), k / kay (if one must use a nickname, this is what he prefers). AGE: twenty7. DATE OF BIRTH: june 13. PLACE OF BIRTH: shanghai, china. CURRENT LOCATION: tokyo, japan. GENDER: trans man. PRONOUNS: he/him. ORIENTATION: gay. RESIDENCY LENGTH: one month. EDUCATION LEVEL: master's degree in nursing, currently working on doctorate in nursing. OCCUPATION: nurse practitioner, trauma specialty. LANGUAGES: mandarin, english (fluent), japanese (fluent), spanish (conversational), french (conversational).

⋯⋯⋯ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.

HEIGHT: 5'11. TATTOOS: none. PIERCINGS: none. SCARS: top surgery. STYLE: comfortable, usually seen in scrubs. big jacket or death. blood stained more often than not. always carries stethescope. DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: highly freckled complexion, especially on face, chest, shoulders, arms. wears corrective glasses (approximately -7.00 in both eyes + an aggressive astigmatism) and refuses to get it surgically fixed. FACE: emile woon.

⋯⋯⋯ HEALTH.

ALLERGIES: none. SLEEPING HABITS: extremely poor, most of the sleep he gets is in on-call rooms or on the subway between the hospital and his apartment. is used to falling asleep quickly and waking up faster. light sleeper, doesn't set an alarm as he tends to wake up naturally when he needs to. EATING HABITS: whenever he remembers. is a good cook though. SOCIABILITY: 5/10. was raised to not speak unless spoken to, but is naturally incredibly curious and will ask questions relentlessly especially if he determines his line of questioning will help someone else. DRINKING / SMOKING / DRUGS: sometimes / yes / no. OTHER: debilitating night terrors.

⋯⋯⋯ PERSONALITY.

LABELS / TROPES: the medic, technical pacifist, child prodigy, properly paranoid, beware the quiet ones. INSPIRATIONS: emery anden, nic nevin, spencer reid, leo fitz. TRAITS: pragmatic, analytical, logical, perceptive, evasive, cautious, paranoid, contemplative, prying, scrupulous. LIKES: rain, feeling like he's helping people, talking to family. DISLIKES: talking about himself, talking to family, people questioning him / his decisions. HABITS: cracking knuckles, keeping hands in pockets or otherwise fiddling with lighter, clicking pen. HOBBIES: sleeping... whenever he can... so not often.

⋯⋯⋯ FAMILY, RELATIONSHIPS, ETC.

MOTHER: xiaoling wang, deceased. FATHER: unknown. ADOPTIVE FAMILY: the zhaos. SIGNIFICANT OTHER: n/a. BEST FRIEND: in this economy? SIBLING(S): adoptive, but considers them more akin to cousins than siblings. CHILDREN: none. PET(S): none.

𝟶𝟶𝟸. 𝙱𝙸𝙾𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝚈 / 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 …

[drug use, overdose, parental death] born in shanghai to a single mother. never learned about his biological father as xiaoling wasn't interested in talking about the man much for obvious reasons (deadbeat foreigner). xiaoling had a close bond with one of the members of the zhao family who are very high ranking in a crime organization there. when xiaoling passed due to an overdose (which killian, age ten, found her dying from), the zhaos took killian in as their own child.

killian was offered full adoption by the zhaos, which he respectfully denied. it was still assumed that killian would join the ranks of the organization, though it didn't seem he had any inclination to do so.

labeled a child prodigy and generally a very smart kid who devoured any and all information he had access to. affinity for medicine, science, and language. additionally excelled in any and all martial arts he was placed in, as was expected of him.

eldest members of the zhao family were assassinated in almost broad daylight, at which killian (eighteen) was recruited by his 'older brother' to help enact revenge. resulted in killian responsible for the death of several people, and while he doesn't regret killing them, he feels fear for the exhilaration he got out of doing so.

literally immediately after this he was like hmmmmmmm no thank you! i want no part of this!!!! press esc to escape!! unfortunately despite it all he is a zhao, whether he has the name or not. this was not taken well by his remaining adoptive siblings and he was more or less exiled / told to figure life out by himself.

got a bachelor's + master's in nursing in an attempt at 'making up' for the death he caused... has it worked? not really. but by the time he received his masters and started work as an NP, he earned his siblings' respect back and was more or less accepted back by the family, though he's still considered an outsider by a large margin.

honestly Hated feeling like an outsider within his own family and when his friend in tokyo mentioned that there was a NP position open in the tokyo trauma team... well.... an escape is an escape!

while killian won't kill, he is unopposed to violence and has a strict moral compass.... what type of morals? good luck figuring that out. his violence shows more in the way he speaks sometimes, rather than actions, though he is just as likely to break your arm as he is to fix it depending on how you act. misses his family dearly. is extremely paranoid.

doesn't live in a particularly great area so he'll offer free medical services to those who need it.

not a fan of new technology unless it is specifically 'good' medical technology (whatever that means).

if you want to contact him you have to corner him as he'll avoid someone for years if needed.

if he's not working he's sleeping and he's rarely not working. he came here for a change but it's probably worse here if we're being honest.

ummm near photographic memory? will repeat back to you something you said a year ago word-for-word.

wants no involvement in anything ever please leave the man alone.

𝟶𝟶𝟹. 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 ...

the friend who was like heyyyyy bestie come here <3 everything is fine and dandy <3

coworkers...? killian is extremely diligent and a very good nurse even if he looks a little babyfaced... shouldn't have much of a problem there.

'dude just come to the trauma center it is so much easier to treat you there' 'no i prefer bleeding out on your couch for some insane reason' 'okay well cant do much about that i guess do you want some alcohol to numb the pain before we get into it'

someone who knows the zhaos? affiliated w them or otherwise?

???? he's been here for a solid 30 days and 4 hours maybe. idk. pokes him. do something. he sticks his nose where it doesn't belong too much for his own good if that helps. will take any and all connections. shakes tin can.

#anarchicintro.#𓍢 ・ 𝗞𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗔𝗡𝘞𝘈𝘕𝘎 ﹕ communication.#𓍢 ・ 𝗞𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗔𝗡𝘞𝘈𝘕𝘎 ﹕ exploration.

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bitterbrained · 7 months ago

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𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐬 ―

an introduction.

NAME malcolm angus hayes NICKNAMES mac + mal + hayes AGE thirty-seven DATE OF BIRTH november 29th ZODIAC sagittarius sun + cancer moon + capricorn rising OCCUPATION coach + trainer at level four gym AFFILIATION enforcer for the mata haris HOMETOWN dundee, scotland TIME IN JAPAN five years

STRENGTHS honest + loyal + compassionate + principled + down-to-earth WEAKNESSES impulsive + reactive + stubborn + aggressive + disorganized

CHARACTER PARALLELS luke glanton ( the place beyond the pines ) + lincoln burrows ( prison break ) + daryl dixon ( walking dead ) + lip gallagher ( shameless ) + murtagh fraser ( outlander ) + jax teller ( sons of anarchy ) + brendan conlon ( warrior )

A BRIEF HISTORY.

trigger warnings: mentions of violence + drugs + physical assault + sex trafficking + implied sexual assault + murder ― reader discretion advised.

▷ born on the wrong side of a cold, damp city in southeast scotland, malcolm hayes enters this world an accident. a mistake. the result of a faulty contraceptive and a night of good, cheap fun? a missed period and a panic attack in the cramped single-serve bathroom stall of the convenience shop down the block. and, nine months later, a baby boy. his father surely has no plans of raising him, not beyond evading what meager payments the county requires of him, and his mother ― a young woman by the name of bonnie baird, a dancer at one of the clubs in town a few nights a week to get by ― struggles to get by. but she does. as an infant, he spends nights in a car seat in the back of the club, babbling at the dancers as they breeze by. a warning. there will be no baby fever here. she does her best to raise him, though, and he may grow up knowing struggle, but not for a lack of effort on her part.

▷ malcolm is only twelve years old when the trajectory of his life changes drastically and permanently on what would otherwise be a normal tuesday morning. he learns he has a brother. and, more than that, this brother is coming to live with him and his mum. jericho hayes, for as young as he is, invites pure and unadulterated chaos through the door the moment he scurries inside ; like a wild animal trapped in an enclosure, he lashes out. breaks things. malcolm understands this better than most, he thinks. he's angry too, after all. but his own rage is a quiet one, not so much dormant as it is deep-seated ― an acrid, pulsating heat that lives in in his core and swells with each day he learns a little more of the world. but he doesn't know his younger brother's anger ― he still has his mum, after all, seldom as he sees her ― and cannot condemn it. he doesn't try to housebreak the kid, but he does decide he'll look out for him the best he can. he didn't have anyone looking out for him, after all, and he wonders sometimes if maybe it wouldn't have helped.

▷ as much as malcolm tries to raise jericho, at the end of the day, the truth is that both of the hayes boys are raised by the streets. he drops out of school when he's fifteen. tall, strong, and hard-working, it's not hard to find work. but stocking shelves or getting a gig down at the shipyard don't cut it and he knows that. he tries for a while, but he's got bills to pay if he wants to help his mum ( and get her off the goddamn streets because he's old enough now to understand what she feels like she's got to do to try and provide for the two of them and he wants to put an end to it ) and make sure they've got more than just a roof over their head but enough food on their table to not go to bed hungry, enough hot water to actually feel clean. and he needs a car, too, fuck, because his mum surely hasn't had one in years.

▷ his mum tries her best to be discreet about her business and keep it out of the house as much as she can, malcolm sees this, but that doesn't mean men don't come through tracking mud day in and day out. malcolm recognizes a few, faces he sees more often ― at least a couple of times a week. one day, one of these men offers him a job. it's a simple one. deliver a package a couple of towns over for him. that's easy enough, he figures, but he doesn't have a car. no matter, they provide one for him. he doesn't ask what's in the package, just drops it off at the address he's been told. but he can't drive the car back. ❛ oh, and take this permit. leave yours. ❜ it seems strange, but there's a ticket for the rail on his phone before he's even got the time to question it. when he gets home, malcolm is paid in cash. a fair bit more than he's expecting, too. he's asked, would he like to do it again? the answer is yes. absolutely, he would.

▷ it doesn't take long for malcolm to figure out what he's delivering. he's not stupid. but after a few smooth runs, he's convinced himself it's a risk he's willing to take. how's he going to get caught? he's never been flashy. first thing he does once the cash flow starts to feel secure is buy a car, but it's not much of a sight to behold, even so : a dingy silver volkswagen that's got two years on him, but the wear isn't bad and the deal is even better. malcolm doesn't pretend to know much, but he suspects it's the perfect incognito vehicle and even says as much the next time he sees his boss. he's instructed to continue the vehicles provided and dropping them off at the disclosed locations. that's less toll on his own car and his pay's only getting better, so malcolm doesn't ask questions. for now, he thinks, the less he knows, the better. and he knows enough for the time being. sometimes, he takes jericho with him, if for no other reason than the knowledge he's not wreaking havoc in his absence. and if anyone's got issue, no one ever says shit to him for it.

▷ a few more years and malcolm might not know everything, but he knows a hell of a lot more. so it goes something like this : each time he goes on a run, he's getting a rented car ( and at this point, he's the one renting the cars ) from a dealership in any one of a handful of local cities under false credentials. he takes that car to the designated drop off location ― they're further now, all of them, and each run can take him an upwards of a day or more with several stops along the way ― and once all of his product has been dropped and payment collected, he ditches his fake documents and grabs the first train that'll take him close enough to dundee, and there's someone waiting to pick him up the moment he steps off. standing at well over six feet tall and broad enough to eclipse near anyone who might stand in front of him, he seldom requires backup. less people, less mess.

▷ for a while, life actually seems like it might be pretty fucking good. trying to be smart about his shit means living within his means so he can dig his mum out of debt, and he does. in fact, he starts providing for her so she doesn't have to work at all. for the first time in what malcolm can only imagine is decades, she can know peace. and so, too, can he ― because he meets a woman. and he doesn't just meet her, either, he falls in love. he's not ever been able to maintain something serious, not before now, but there's something about her that makes an honest man out of him. well, as honest as a criminal can be. it's a shotgun wedding, but malcolm knows he would've married her either way. the only difference is now he's got a wife and a son. bonnie never thought she'd live to see herself become a grandmother, and she spoils the grandchild that carries her son's name with more affection than she ever had the time or energy to devote to him and jer. malcolm fears this might make him angry, jealous, but it actually serves as a salve for his spirit. it heals something in him.

▷ the law finally catches up with malcolm on the eve of his twenty-sixth birthday. it's a raid and nobody is prepared. he's not even meant to be there, for fuck's sake ― he was supposed to be out on a run, but they've given him a night to get pissed and celebrate and sent docherty out in his place, lucky prick ― and yet, he's sat absolutely fucking plastered on the sofa in the center of it all when the damn polis come kicking down the door. when it's all said and done, they manage to snag him and six of his brothers. malcolm doesn't try to fight when they throw him in the back of a van, not once they've already got him. even drunk, he knows better ― he's not trying to aggravate more charges, and outside of existing in the wrong place at the wrong time that night, he knows they don't got shit on him.

▷ or, at least, that's what he thinks. turns out, they've got enough small, bullshit charges stacked against malcolm to lock him up for five years. of everyone that got busted that night, he manages to land the shortest sentence ― without a word against anyone, either, he's no snitch ― and even so, it seems his entire world manages to go to shit while he's on the inside. jericho gets into fighting ( and really, good on him, malcolm thinks, because the boy needs a consistent outlet for his excitability and anger ) and he's proud, but his leaving while malcolm's serving time means there's nobody at home to look out for his mum. she's got to go back to work, too ; he can't support her from the inside, not like he used to, and anybody he'd ask to keep eyes on her while he's in got thrown into the back of the same damn wagon.

▷ now, he doesn't know exactly what happened while he was on the inside ― only what his wife would tell him when she'd visit, but after a while even she stopped visiting, wouldn't pick up his calls, and for the last two years of his sentence, malcolm might as well have been getting radio silence from the outside world ― but he knows that when he gets out, it's not to a ride or a welcome home from a friend or a family member, but to the news that his mum's dead. been dead, as a matter of fact, for something like a couple of years. and wouldn't you know, not a single fucking soul seems to know what happened to her? malcolm finds that hard to believe. his wife and kid are gone, too, whole house boarded up. are those two things connected? couldn't say. for some reason, nobody wants to tell malcolm shit. that's fine. when's he ever relied on anybody but himself anyway?

▷ while he was locked up, malcolm tried to work on himself. figured it was the right thing to do ― learning how to practice patience, tolerance. and wouldn't you know he actually did a pretty damn good job of it? unfortunately, it turns out he can't seem to recall any-fucking-thing about forgiveness when it's his family on the line. all that growth? out the fucking door. he has to break in to his old house to get the emergency supplies he'd left stashed in the floorboards of the washroom long before he got busted, but it's all still there. the money, the documents. the gun. he pays in cash for a cheap motel room and works up a plan over a bottle of whisky. a few hours later, he breezes into a meeting ( his invitation to which has clearly been revoked ) and decides to shoot first, ask questions never. not like any of the fuckers were inclined to answer him the first time he asked, were they? seven men go down, security included. as he inspects their bodies in the aftermath, malcolm realizes he recognizes maybe half. the only face that really matters though, the bastard that used to pimp out his mother? he's there. malcolm unloads a few more rounds into him for good measure before making his exit.

▷ when he gets back to his room, he spends an hour in a scalding shower and tries to figure out the new plan from here. he needs to leave. if he stays, they'll find him and kill him. he may be wily, but he'll be lucky if he lasts a month. but he doesn't have anybody left in dundee, and he's barely got any money. what he does have is a phone number, and he doesn't even know if it'll ring after all these years or if his little brother has gotten a new one while he's been gone. it's a different kind of relief he feels when jericho picks up on the other line. little shit didn't even know he was supposed to be getting out. malcolm can't even be mad, though. how could he know? he doesn't like to make a habit of asking for handouts, for help, but if there's anyone he can trust, he knows it's jericho. kid's in japan now, says there's a job open there he could probably snatch up and he'll wire him some money, send him a ticket. it's more than malcolm could ever ask for, but it's also not something he's in any position to refuse. within twelve hours, he's in an airport, and he spends the flight to japan falsifying certifications that make him look more than qualified for the job. ( don't ask where he got the laptop, alright? he'll send it back to the original owner when he can, there's an address on the case. )

▷ malcolm ends up staying with with jericho for a few weeks after he gets to japan, long enough to get on his feet once he's secured the coaching position at level four gym. and coaching his own brother, no less ― he's just as hard-headed and volatile as malcolm remembers, but he'll be damned if he didn't miss it. it doesn't take long for him to get his own place, though, if for no other reason than that he doesn't need much. his flat is a tiny hole in the wall, one he's got to duck through the doorway to get into, but it's enough. it also happens to be located close enough to heaven's night that malcolm stumbles across the mata haris by chance ― he thinks he'd call it fate. the loss of his mother is still fresh when he finds them and their cause is one that strikes a chord close to his heart. it feels like the purpose he needs ; and, more than that, it feels like a way to honor his mother. ( had she been scared? did she yell out for help? did she yell out for him? ) to give support to a voice she never had. malcolm gives his life to the mata haris, all of his spare time and attention ; he is their muscle, a guard dog at their beck and call. and they almost fill the gnawing, gaping void in his chest left not only by his mum, but by his wife. his son. but much like searching for a needle in a haystack, he doesn't begin to know where to look for them. she never said a word. so he keeps his head down and tries to focus on the now. he's doing good. he's doing better. christ, it's just so hard to leave the past behind sometimes.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

▷ to be added.

#𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐌 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐒 | intro #anarchicintro.#the way this actually got so obscenely long #it's literally all i've been working on today #thank u kit for the graphic ilysm ??#anyway one down one to go

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redance · 7 months ago

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【 shioli kutsuna //. cis woman //. she/her 】 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠… AKANE MATSUMOTO into The Hub. You are registered to be TWENTY-NINE and have been given citizenship for ALL YOUR LIFE under the Expatriate Act. According to the data compiled, your most notable qualities seem to be AMBITIOUS & CALCULATING. Please confirm that you are CHAOTIC NEUTRAL. From what we’ve gathered your place of employment is currently for the SHABIRU as a GEISHA . We strongly advise that you provide the correct information pertaining to your background to ensure proper safety precautions: are you a _HOST_ or _HUMAN_? A deeper dive into our archive suggests that you are A PAINTING IN MOTION WITH EVERY GRACEFUL GESTURE ,BALANCING ON THE TIP OF A KNIFE , SKIN BATHED IN HEADY WINE, NEVER-ENDING REINVENTION OF THE SELF. Though we noticed you, too, are similar to LA BELLE OTERO, SALOME, MILADY DE WINTER ( THE THREE MUSKETEERS ) , ACRASIA ( THE FAERIE QUEENE ) ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ᴠᴇʀɪғɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! Please comply to all regulations and laws. It is our hope that you enjoy your stay.

FULL NAME: akane matsumoto .

NAME MEANING: akane 茜羽 deep red, matsumoto 松本 base of the pine tree

NICKNAMES: whatever your heart desires, though she is exclusively called just akane . geishas usually only have one stage name.

OCCUPATION :geisha, dancer, actress .

AGE : twenty-nine .

PLACE OF BIRTH : tokyo, japan .

GENDER : cis woman .

LANGUAGES : japanese, korean, mandarin chinese, english .

ETHNICITY: japanese .

DATE OF BIRTH : presumably 5.01.2015 .

ZODIAC : capricorn sun . virgo moon . libra rising

EASTERN ZODIAC: goat™ / ...vintage hermès by jean paul goatier

a girl is nothing until she is everything. adopted and raised by the shabiru clan. was found on a rainy winter morning, with no name. but that's not her tale. not the one she tells nor the one that reverberates in the mouths of all those who know her. if you ask akane, she'll tell you that she comes from a family of former geishas, each one lined up like precious pearls around the necks of japan's most eminent individuals. they danced for emperors, kings and queens, between the offerings and banquets, divine and unattainable, fated to be remembered.

elegance is her first language. they knew it from the start — how she kept her back straight and perfectly positioned her hands, even as a child. 'she could be something deadly', they whispered. 'but she'll also be something beautiful.' she was taught how to hold a blade in one hand and a book of poems in the other, used of course as a counterbalance, for both were of equal use when wielded correctly. when the rest of the nins went to sleep, she danced, painted and played an array of instruments, each one more complicated than the last.

when they speak of salome, tell them she wasn't always like this. she never found a mother in any of the women of the shabiru clan, but she loved and was beloved, truly, irreversibly, and madly, by one of their former geishas — thus akane even served as a maiko by this woman's side. greatly favoured by the aforementioned geisha, akane was weaned on attention and grew up to be rather competitive and emulous, yet in spite of her cruel ambition, she knew when to show mercy too; perhaps it was an innate trait, or even an echo of her true spirit.

anything that you can do, she can do it better. was an apprentice for four years and made her debut as a geiko upon turning eighteen. if there's one thing that rings true is that she never knew how to concede — she would bite and scratch and walk forward even when her feet and hands were battered and bruised and oozing blood; watch her dance, in a pool of crimson, in a pool of red, until there's nothing left but the emptiness.

a rose flung into a room, all hue and scent. she's held her tenure for almost eleven years now, and during this time, she's managed to reach the very top of the ladder. at least in terms of her profession. now, she dances and smiles, points a finger at any traitorous man, amating them with an idle laugh. watch her give contour and grace and style to discord and disarray. between heaven and abyss, only she exists.

TRIVIA.

the closest thing to a celebrity or an idol. is a woman of great prestige. she's well-known and adored by many, but unlike most celebrities, akane, as a geisha, exclusively entertains selected individuals and not the public. army candy of many— but ultimately belongs to no one.

at the moment, she isn't employed at a specific location, but rather can be seen wherever one needs/invites her. it's worth noting that she's quite expensive, high-in-demand and selective. it adds an air of mystery to her persona.

she's had many loyal patrons over the years, some that according to rumors she accepted as lovers, but those are all just speculations. however, there is one theory that could back up this claim — people whisper that a certain design/part of a hotel in the city was modeled after her breasts, especially when you look at it from the side. apparently, an architect fell in love with her and decided to immortalize her in this way. akane never confirmed nor denied it.

lives a very decadent life, greatly due to her patrons. jewelry, expensive materials, lavish food and drinks, she can just glance at it, and they'll get it for her.

notoriously bathes in high-priced wine and sake. not always, and certainly not as often as she tells people, but it's nice to soak in someone's yearly paycheck. i mean what. she does also sell her bath water, so if you don't agree, look the other way.

she performs at weddings, high-end events, holds tea ceremonies, and can be booked privately, be it for more or just one individual.

most notably, akane invented 'the red dance'. it's her own take on the jiuta mai, with some modern influence. it's intricate, thought-provoking and takes months to learn. perfected it by dancing in the rain without getting the lower part of her kimono wet. she's dressed in red from head to toe whenever she performs it.

emulates salome in many aspects. while she is trained and skilled in martial arts, akane much prefers to play the coy part and have others point their blades and bring her body parts of anyone who has wronged her.

at the moment, does mostly spy work and brings information back to the shabiru. her current involvement with them is veiled in a thick layer of secrecy, so unless someone's a member of their clan, they won't know much about her, other than what she wants them to think. this of course, may be subject to change in the future.

stared in a couple of films, at the behest, once again of her patrons. they were mostly minor roles, but after all, it's only another way to gain more notoriety.

whatever hides beneath all these layers of lies could be something ugly, but a journey of self-discovery still awaits her. she wants to believe that she's capable of something more.

PLOTS.

all jumbled up together but here we go i. a person who got to know akane on a deeper level. how and why can definitely be discussed but with them there's no need to perform. she gets to be herself, without all the makeup and lavish kimonos. ii. of course people that she's spying on or trying to get some intel on them. iii. regular clients who always come back, regardless of their reason. perhaps they want to discuss poetry, drink tea, or simply talk about their day. akane will listen as long as she's getting paid. when the cards decline, it's time for you to go. iv. higher-ups who believe that she's on their side or that they can win her over and have her come to their faction. she'd love to see the effort. v. perhaps the greatest sin of all would be to leave this world without having loved. things are already complicated, but why not make it even worse. they can always try, they can always fail. what is it about love that makes it so fatal? vi. some mutual dislike or perhaps it just comes from their side. maybe they're not buying her story fully, so they're trying to find more. vii. listen, she's been everywhere. you're bound to run into her at some point. so there could be people who know her from much earlier times, back when she was just starting out. viii. fans, patrons of her work. love it when things get a little obsessive. ix. someone who got exposed or will be exposed because of her. so much more! i'm always here to entertain crazy ideas.

#anarchicintro.

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cainhood · 7 months ago

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AMARA TSUCHIYA CODENAME: CICADA.

basics.

given name. amara tsuchiya ( née camus ). callsign. cicada, loud only in the summer. nickname. amy, give her some. age. thirty-two ( february 13, 2012 ). place of birth. portland, maine. gender identity. cis woman ( she + her ). orientation. bisexual ( femme lean ). occupation. public security intelligence for the government / room maid at the nyūtō onsen & resort. former sniper class special operative ( callsign: cicada ) in task force 155. moral alignment. neutral evil. character inspiration. carmilla of styria ( castlevania ), widowmaker / amélie lacroix ( overwatch ), samara morgan ( the ring ), helga sinclair ( atlantis: the lost empire ), delilah ( the bible ), amma crellin ( sharp objects ), azula ( avatar: the last airbender ), logan roy ( succession ), susie bannion ( suspiria ).

background.

your story begins at the bottom of a stairway. there, in her child stance lit by night’s glow. a cluster of far-off fireflies, or a whining streetlamp. there, in the poised curve of her back, confident down to the bone marrow. here, in the black speck on her smooth skin like a gnat suspended in the wrong light. glimpses of you, backdropped by the smoothed brick of your mother’s first home. the orphanage: where your choices encumber someone else, before they round back to you. a french woman adopts your mother, and another gaunt daughter. they grow into calling each other sister. just as the refrain starts. every pretty one precludes a clever one, they would say. you can’t be both. the choice isn’t yours. you are born to the pretty one. she dies before you reach a year old. the bare bones of a human. you will never learn to ask for a dead woman’s picture.

the clever one, then, inherits a pretty one. all the hushed baby-lips, without the stretch marks. mine, she dotes, my child. her belly is still ripe from childbearing; its kicks are unimportant. a clever daughter, no doubt, to match this pretty one. somewhere in you, there is a memory that’s not quite a memory. buttered fingers knead into your doughy neck. your lovely, lovely aunt who softly coos as you cry and cry. tears glass those eyes, even now, when she whispers to you with her hands bracketing your nape. for every gilded sunday, plum-dressed and thick-lashed, you will remember the outskirts of your siblings’ posse. how any other would treasure your fresh face, shying away from a pinch on your cherry blossom cheeks. for this face is your mother’s, and such pain wore her to an early grave. the wrinkling shadows, still, settle into your siblings’ grins. you watch them. that is all you can do.

in your isolation, you listen for your aunt’s silent cues. how she won’t respond to mother, no matter how hard her children tug at heart-strings that don’t connect. she ties them to a chair, maybe, and returns to nurse a cold cup of tea. they try to teeth on mama –– a screeching baby, instead of a mewling baby –– to melt a name down their throats, and into their fat hearts. a name that only they may speak. your name is so dear, they want to say, that i would not sully you by saying it. to her, an adulation. to them, a birthright. you are the one to see beyond this. to forget that she could be called mother. her ears prickle, only, when you say her name. helena. the delicacy of her smile is relentless. it curves into her lowered chin. all that gaze for you; this time, that name will be yours. and then, she begins the quote with a clicked tongue. almost breathless when she says, i wish you wouldn’t call me that. your siblings have none of the will to reach for her hand. regardless of their mother’s wants. your aunt-mother holds your hand in the crook of her elbow. they watch you. that is all they can do.

hedged by the dark, her dry hand cups your cheek. she is pale, moon-faced, and the shadows drip crimson from her open mouth. you know your lips curls in the same way. a daughter has her mother’s mouth. the maw possesses no end nor beginning. there is only the blood. anyone who isn’t us is an enemy, she will spew, we are all that matters. you were made to exclude. to inhale ease, and exhale dread. this is how one grows into a soldier. secluded to a daughter’s curse: your mother’s blood-thirst. the child of a fraught house doesn’t realise its loss, even after one calls it a bug’s name. cicada. your rhythm is for you alone. heard only under sunlight; your hum prickles the rays like flickering stars. the old hymn in your heart. i see, i want, i eat.

it is an odd lament, then, to coalesce with a ‘ they ’ as your mother’s daughter. you are part of them. there is no more you. they share your mud-gouged gaze. pull at the hardened roots of your pedestal. their nails will find your weak ribs, and the chewy sinews of your neck. you already found theirs. held and holding. this story still has one ending. with your mother’s fist at your scruff. at the base of a cave, far deeper than six feet under. cold like a broken skin. the reedy bones of a squashed bug. one of them betrays you, and you don’t want your mother. not at the end of your earth’s time. you don’t come back wrong; you were always wrong. a fluttering atrocity: regal in your lack of mercy. half-god like a roach, living long after humanity. a glutton for their own entrails. people are easier when they thrum quietly. amara tsuchiya knows this. she sips life’s nectar, and grows a new set of ribs. metallic, this time, flavoured like spilled blood. the sun will clutch its eclipse; she will be quiet.

#anarchicintro.#death //#injury //#bug mention //#emotional abuse //#? i think #her mother is the worst woman #and she is her favourite daughter <3 #this got long for literally no reason

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cyberisks · 7 months ago

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BEWARE CITIZENS: several new sightings were received in recent reports of a certain suspicious individual roaming the shadows of japan, who could otherwise be identified as JULIAN DE SANTIS ― a highly trained operative in their early thirties. their associations & exact location are unknown, however the reports also describe a series of violent acts, arson, kidnapping, blackmail and multiple other offences of various degrees. please refrain from further engagement in case of close contact. VIEWER READER DISCRETION IS HIGHLY ADVISED.

Ⅰ ― INTRODUCTION. Ⅱ ― STATISTICS & BIOGRAPHY. Ⅲ ― STATEMENTS. Ⅵ ― CONNECTIONS. Ⅴ ― FULL RECORD.

#anarchicintro.#⸺ « JULIAN DE SANTIS. » … ⌜ about. ⌟

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anarchicchaos · 7 months ago

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【 Matilda de Angelis //. cis-female //. she/her 】 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠… ALESSIA RICCI into The Hub. You are registered to be TWENTY-SIX and have been given citizenship for TWENTY-SIX YEARS under the Expatriate Act. According to the data compiled, your most notable qualities seem to be CREATIVE & STUBBORN. Please confirm that you are CHAOTIC NEUTRAL. From what we’ve gathered your place of employ is currently for the COWBOY as a BOUNTY HUNTER/SOCIALITE . We strongly advise that you provide the correct information pertaining to your background to ensure proper safety precautions: are you a _HOST_ or _HUMAN_? A deeper dive into our archive suggests that you are NIGHTS ON THE TOWN WITH A DRINK IN HAND, A PRIVILEGED LIFE, EVERYTHING IS NOT HOW IT SEEMS, BITE IS WORSE THAN HER BARK. ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ᴠᴇʀɪғɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! Please comply to all regulations and laws. It is our hope that you enjoy your stay.

BASIC INFORMATION:

Name: Alessia Ricci

Nickname: Essia, Nicci (Bounty Hunter Name)

Birthday: 27th of July

Age: Twetny-six

Gender: Female

Place of Birth: Tokoyo, Japan

Places Lived Since: Tokoyo, Sicily

Current Residence: Tokoyo

Nationality: Japanese

Parents: Lorenzo & Isabella Ricci

Number of Siblings: One older sister

Laungages Spoken: Japanese, Italian & English

Five Positive Traits: Creative, Fierce, Confident, Intelligent, & Ambitious

Five Negative Traits: Stubborn, Arrogant, Misunderstood, Possessive, & Blunt

PHYSICAL:

Height: 5'2

Weight: 120lbs

Build: Lean side

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Blue

RELATIONSHIPS:

Current Relationship Status: Single

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

BIOGRAPHY: Coming Soon

WANTED CONNECTIONS: Coming Soon

#anarchicintro #alessia ricci #biography

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cathcrsis · 7 months ago

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【 briana cuoco //. demifem //. she/they 】 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠… NEMESIS KLINE into The Hub. You are registered to be THIRTY-SIX and have been given citizenship for TWENTY-FIVE YEARS under the Expatriate Act. According to the data compiled, your most notable qualities seem to be METICULOUS & RECALCITRANT. Please confirm that you are TRUE NEUTRAL. From what we’ve gathered your place of employ is currently for the SHABIRU as a CHŪNIN // OWNER OF A CHOPSHOP. We strongly advise that you provide the correct information pertaining to your background to ensure proper safety precautions: are you a HOST or HUMAN? A deeper dive into our archive suggests that you are gone with the wind and nearly as mercurial in spirit, even with your tap-tap-tapping along the pavement; the sounds of nails on a chalkboard, though alien, as if steel replaced keratin and their purpose is far more sinister; the way midnight looks when it's still in the city and fluorescent lights dance as purple and pink pixies across hazy vision and bad decisions; the smell of bleach and leather and the creak of a rubber apron far too big for the body wearing it. Though we noticed you, too, are similar to AEON FLUX (AEON FLUX), MEI TERUMI (NARUTO), DESIRE (THE SANDMAN), TYLER DURDEN (FIGHT CLUB), MARIKO (SHOGUN). ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ᴠᴇʀɪғɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! Please comply to all regulations and laws. It is our hope that you enjoy your stay. 【 d //. 21+ //. she/they //. est //. trypophobia (visual), animal abuse & death, child abuse & pedophilia //. 】

most orphans have hazy memories of a childhood that they're just incapable of parsing, but not you... no, your memories don't even seem to exist before you were 8 years old, already deep underground and hidden away in training.

in fact, for all intents and purposes, you didn't seem to even exist before the age of eleven, and no one remembers seeing hide or hair of you before you were fifteen. no one questions it because no one has the luxury of worrying about others' origins when the world is like it is. another day, another lost child, who gives a shit. thank you, next.

your teen years feel different from the pictures played out in pantomime in old stories and visuals you've seen from the past. no friends, no family technically, but hours of training and practice to become something far more dangerous.

you weren't even born with a name, as far as anyone can tell, but nemesis kline was gifted upon you to help you blend. shadows don't need names, but the people they're posing as do.

nemesis kline, quick as a whip and stinging twice as hard, you are the picture of fit with a body littered with cybernetics and skin marked by tattoos and cyberware alike, you scream danger but in a way that's enticing... like a poisonous flower begging to be eaten only to clog the throat of the one who swallows with their own bile, blood, and something entirely you.

they know you at some of the clubs. you're nemesis kline, the impossibly cool girl (or boundless void, depending on how you feel of a day) who doesn't need friends, but also doesn't eschew company so much as never holding onto it. you're the one drinking from a glass of colorful liquid of indeterminate origin and smoking from an intricate, cyber-hookah providing you with mind-altering experiences, or at least so it seems.

you can count your close friends on one hand, and if you were honest only one finger would be held up to snuff. you prefer the company of animals, keeping a cat because it matches your energy in kind and leaving you sated when you might crave affection... because you do, at times, crave just that. the strays that frequent your place have become your family as much as anything else and come and go as they please, but rafael is the only one you have a paper trail for... sad, that.

a slew of lovers that equal parts clamor for your attention or can't remember your name at all after you're gone keep you otherwise content, and though sometimes you wonder if love is something you can wish for, you at least are settled in the thought that you are not a psychopath, sociopath, or anything in lines with that... just a bit damaged, a bit cracked, filled in with gold and silver and spit to make you whole again.

there's blood on your hands, nin. there has been since you can remember... nothing before that, and nothing planned for after. each day is a new job and a new experience waiting to grace you with some kindling.

you're nemesis. you're chunin. you're shadows and work and you serve none so faithfully as the ones who trained you, and their leader most of all. you own a chopshop... you chop everything there. everything. it's an honest(ish) living and it helps 'pay the bills' on the surface.

whatever else is just white noise.

wanted connections / plots

ride or die — she has exactly one person in her life who she considers a friend on a consistent basis. she's cursory friends with a lot of people. acquaintances are many, but this person she loves and considers her only non-shabiru family.

toxic love — she barely knows what she wants other than to do her job, which leans more toward official business for her boss than her own investment in the chopshop. but the idea of her coveting someone or them coveting her and making the most ridiculously, fucked up, toxic bullshit ever sounds so divine. I have that happily ever after IRL so I don't need it in the game... I need this messed up shit that is love but twisted. Slow burn preferred, hmu.

no one comes to be at 8 years old — give me the spicy drama of someone recognizing her as a child. I have no idea what direction I want to go with it so we could 100% plot something out that is as messed up as we want it to be, or as soft... idk, but I'm leaning towards messed up.

it's in the eyes — she might or might not have had a job that led to her dealing with someone in your vicinity. whatever that means can be discussed, but her mask hides everything when she works... except her eyes. fascinated by them, your character can recognize her from that but fears saying anything to anyone BUT nemesis... it can form into a little cat & mouse or a friendship that turns into something. who knows.

**character graphic by imnikkiheat

#anarchicintro.#muse.#pinned.

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slxughterhaus · 7 months ago

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.::. CALL IT AMBITION .::. Silvaine "Silkie" Harker

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NAME: SILVAINE HARKER ALIASES: SILKIE, SIL, MRS. HARKER, THE GORGON AGE: 36 YEARS OLD. [SEPTEMBER 20TH] GENDER/PRONOUNS: CIS WOMAN SHE/HER SEXUALITY: PANSEXUAL // PANROMANTIC (FEMME PRESENTING PREFERENCE) // OPEN MARRIAGE HUMAN // HOST: HUMAN OCCUPATION: HOST OF THE HOLO-SHOW "SLAUGHTERHAUS!!!" AND 'SEMI RETIRED' COWGIRL- LESS RETIRED THAN HER HUSBAND. AFFILIATIONS: NONE, BUT SHE'S BEEN KNOWN TO TAKE MORE THAN A FEW SPONSORSHIPS FROM ANYBODY WILLING TO OFFER HER A SHINY NEW GUN.

.::. TRAUMA QUEEN .::. going deeper.

PERSONALITY: SHORT-TEMPERED AND CUTTHROAT, SILVANE HARKER IS LUCKY SHE'S PRETTY. A COLD CALCULATING WOMAN HIDDEN UNDER THE GLITTER AND PINK HUES OF THE 'BETTER HALF' OF THE SLAUGHTERHAUS HOSTS, SILKIE IS, UNLIKE HER HUSBAND, CAPABLE OF RECOGNIZING WHEN OTHERS ARE IN PAIN, IT IS, IN FACT, HER BELIEFS THAT THOSE WHO SUFFER DESERVE IT FOR ONE REASON OR ANOTHER, THAT MAKES HER SO DANGEROUS. A VICIOUS COWGIRL IN HER YOUNGER YEARS, BOUNTIES DEEMED 'TOO HEINOUS' WERE SIMPLY KILLED OUTRIGHT- A WARNING TO OTHERS IN HER TERRITORY AND VIGILANTISM A STEP ABOVE WHAT HER JOB TITLE SUGGESTED. NOW FAMOUS WITH THE KIND OF INFLUENCE MOST COULD ONLY DREAM OF, SHE'S USED THIS POSITION TO DISPLAY A SURPRISING KINDNESS TOWARD OTHERS- RUMORS ABOUND OF HER RIGGING THE GAME IN FAVOR OF THOSE SHE DEEMS 'DESERVING' OF A WIN. THOUGH SURELY THIS IS CONJECTURE.

AESTHETIC: PRETTY MANICURED NAILS SLICKED RED GRIPPING THE TRIGGER OF A SNIPER RIFLE PAINTED PINK AND BEDAZZLED WITH CRYSTALS || THE TENUOUS GRIP ON A DELICATE LEASH; WHICH OF YOU IS THE BEAST? || THE EGO UNFETTERED BY THE ID, CALCULATING AND COLD. || A SLY, LITHE LITTLE STREET CAT OF A THING. YOU EARNED THIS. FUCK ANYBODY YOU STEPPED ON TO GET HERE.

KNOWN CYBERWARE: CITED IN MOST OF HER INTERVIEWS AS SAYING 'GOD MADE ME PRETTY' IN ARGUMENT AGAINST ANY SUBSTANTIAL COSMETIC CYBERWARE, SILKIE'S AUGMENTATIONS SEEM ENTIRELY RELATED TO COMBAT; DUAL OCCULAR IMPLANTS, MANTIS-STYLE BLADES INSTALLED IN BOTH ARMS, STABALIZERS IN HER HANDS AND SMART-LINKS FOR THE USE OF GUNS, SHE IS HEAVILY AUGMENTED- SIMPLY GOOD AT DISGUISING IT.

HISTORY: PLEASE PAY THE 10000 YEN FEE FOR ACCESS TO SEALED RECORDS THROUGH THE SLAUGHTERHAUS!!! FAN CLUB! [Input Payment Information]

[Plaintext Doc for mobile friends here!]

.::. CUTTHROAT & I FEEL BETTER .::. connections.

BETTING ON THE RIGHT HORSE: For any given reason- you found yourself as a contestant on SLAUGHTERHAUS!!! and for a different- or perhaps, that exact reason- you were handed the keys to victory. Silvaine herself has taken a shine to you, maybe your story was appropriately heart-wrenching to break through the cutthroat veneer, maybe you simply displayed a willingness to survive in the face of death she respects- for whatever reason, you're all but promised a victory now, but that doesn't promise a lack of suffering to achieve it- she's told you how to win- her demands are only that you don't disappoint her. can be for a former contestant as well, now grappling with the knowledge their victory was all but ensured and the people who died in your stead were never going to have a chance.

BABY I'M GODLESS: A more involved exes connection than the additional connections, this ex was a former lover in America prior to the Harkers transferring to japan 15 years ago, when Silkie was 21. You assumed the two of you were a match made in heaven- she was beautiful and smart, with a wicked wit and the fire to match, and you thought she only had eyes for you. It's sudden, the declaration she and her bounty hunting partner are moving to Japan for 'bigger takes and better opportunities'- and the mention that she's willing to let you come along- like an afterthought. Things fall apart then and there, or perhaps they limp along once you arrive in Japan- once Silkie and Odd become The Harkers spitting in the face of what you and Silkie had- or at least, what you thought you'd had. If she feels any guilt for breaking your heart, you don't know. She's had security bum rush you every time you tried to ask... until now.

BLACK SWAN: Silkie wanted fame, fortune, and power- and so did you. At first, you were friends but that didn't last long. now enemies competing for the same sponsorships and commercial deals, you've fallen behind in the face of her willingness to play utterly filthy, sabotage and espionage are simply tools she brings to every audition, and even now with the cushy host position of a TV show built exactly for her kind of malicious view of who deserves what, her 'survival of the fittest' perception remains squarely leveled at your head. In her mind, the two of you are competitors, and she's simply bested you more times, and her cruelty is not bad blood, simply what the fame machine calls for- but she's crushed your dreams under a neat, stiletto heel- enough times that revenge is the neon sign lit in the back of your mind.

ADDITIONAL CONNECTIONS

Exes: She's got a thousand of them, and not many are fond of her.

Arms Dealers/Companies: She's your murder doll- taking sponsorships to shill your weapons and put down contestants who 'cheat' with a dolled up smile and your logo on full display.

former friends from her time in America, up until 15 years ago.

Cowboys who would know her and Odd from their time as an active duo of bounty hunters.

Fans: She's famous, after all! and SLAUGHTERHAUS!!! has been around for a solid 9 years, streaming all the carnage you could ask for every tuesday and thursday straight to your waiting eyes~

Family: While she doesn't have any siblings, she could easily have aunts, uncles, cousins, or even her parents present.

#anarchicintro.#silkie.img #silkie.exe #silkie.info #silkie.hc #silkie.aes #silkie.mp3

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anarchicchaos · 7 months ago

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【 melisa pamuk //. cis-female //. she/her 】 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠… Azra Aksoy into The Hub. You are registered to be Thirty-One and have been given citizenship for Twelve Years under the Expatriate Act. According to the data compiled, your most notable qualities seem to be COMPASSIONATE & NAIVE. Please confirm that you are TRUE NEUTRAL. From what we’ve gathered your place of employ is currently for the THE HONEYBEE CLUB as the OWNER We strongly advise that you provide the correct information pertaining to your background to ensure proper safety precautions: are you a HUMAN? A deeper dive into our archive suggests that you are DANCING LIKE NOBODY IS WATCHING, A HEART THAT HASN'T HEALED, HIDING BEHIND A FACADE, THE WORLD IS WHAT YOU MAKE OF IT. ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ᴠᴇʀɪғɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! Please comply to all regulations and laws. It is our hope that you enjoy your stay.

BASIC INFORMATION:

Name: Azra Aksoy

Nickname: Zra, Mama-San

Birthday: 28th of February

Age: Thirty-One

Gender: Female

Place of Birth: Mersin, Turkey

Places Lived Since: Mersin & Tokoyo

Current Residence: Tokoyo

Nationality: Turkish

Parents: Hasan & Ayla Aksoy

Number of Siblings: Two older brothers

Laungages Spoken: Turkish, Japanese & English

Five Positive Traits: Empathetic, Compassionate, Pleasure-seeking, Passionate & Creative

Five Negative Traits: Naive, Insecure, Stubborn, Critical & Too Trusting

PHYSICAL:

Height: 5'3

Weight: 120lbs

Build: More on the slender side.

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Dark Brown

RELATIONSHIPS:

Current Relationship Status: Single

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

BIOGRAPHY: Coming So

WANTED CONNECTIONS: Coming Soon

#anarchicintro #azra aksoy #biography

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anarchicchaos · 7 months ago

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【 elodie yung //. cis-female //. she/her 】 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠… Makara Dubios into The Hub. You are registered to be Forty and have been given citizenship for Thirty-Five Years under the Expatriate Act. According to the data compiled, your most notable qualities seem to be DILIGENT & ZEALOUS. Please confirm that you are NEUTRAL. From what we’ve gathered your place of employ is currently for the NYŪTŌ ONSEN & RESORT as the OWNER We strongly advise that you provide the correct information pertaining to your background to ensure proper safety precautions: are you a HUMAN? A deeper dive into our archive suggests that you are LATE NIGHT WALKS, PERFECTIONIST ON ALL ACCOUNTS, CAFFEINE IN ALL FORMS, PLANTS AND FLOWER MUM.

BASIC INFORMATION:

Name: Makara Dubios

Nickname: Kara

Birthday: 29th of October

Age: Forty

Gender: Female

Place of Birth: Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Places Lived Since: Phnom Penh & Tokoyo

Current Residence: Tokoyo

Nationality: Cambodian-French

Parents: Jules & Tevy Dubois

Number of Siblings: One older brother

Laungages Spoken: Cambodian, French, Japanese, Korean & English

Five Positive Traits: Diligent, Loyal, Honest, Determined & Brave

Five Negative Traits: Stubborn, Zealous, Obsessive, Secretive & Stoic

PHYSICAL:

Height: 5'5

Weight: 125lbs

Build: More on the slender side, but has curves.

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Dark Brown

RELATIONSHIPS:

Current Relationship Status: Engaged

Sexual Orientation: Bi-Sexual

BIOGRAPHY:

Makara was born in Cambodian and has an older brother. Her mother a native of the country and her father a French Ambassador. It was love at first sight for both of them. She spent the younger part of her childhood growing up in Phnom Penh until she was five.

At the age of five her father was relocated to Tokoyo, uprooted their whole family, but became their permanent residence. She excelled in school, naturally picking up different languages, and ended up at University to Tokoyo for business.

This is where she met the woman that captivated her, breaking down her walls, and leading her into a life her family would never approve of. It was a drunk night that ended up with them married, and though they may have loved each other, it was toxic to the core. She managed to get through university, but escaped the relationship for a better opportunity.

Upon graduation, she started in the hotel and resort industry, slowly building a name for herself and with the help from her family she was able to open her own hotel and resort in Semboku City, surrounded by deep forests and mountains. It is everything she has worked hard for, coming close to celebrating their decade of being open.

Makara spent a lot of time dedicated to her hotel that she didn't see him coming. A man, younger than her, reminding her that she needed to focus more on her personal life, finding a way into her heart. They have been engaged now for three years, but he wants to finally set a date for the wedding, where she can't bring herself to do it.

There was one little problem....she was still married.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

Estranged Wife: This was a very toxic relationship where Makara would have slipped more into a submissive role. They were married in their early twenties, together for five years, and she would have kept asking for a divorce, but fearing it would never come, she left in the middle of the night. Makara is trying to find her, to get their divorce legalised since she is currently engaged.

Fiancé: This would be a male, who is a few years younger than her. She is in love with him and they have a great relationship, but he doesn't know that she is still married to another. He keeps pushing to have the wedding soon, but she holds back saying she needs more time to plan and with the resort, but really, she is trying to find the woman who will always have a part of her heart; even if in a toxic way.

Older Brother: They have a great relationship and he is trying to help her find her ex to get the divorce done. Could be even more sloppy if he has a one night with her estranged wife.

Best Friend: Self-explanatory, her ride or die. Also trying to help her find her estranged wife. They have been through a lot, and could have been the one who helped her leave the toxic relationship all those years ago.

#anarchicintro #makara dubois #biography #bio #//bio coming later tonight

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slxughterhaus · 7 months ago

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.::. ALL JUST GEARS .::. Calpernian "Odd" Harker

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NAME: CALPERNIAN HARKER ALIASES: ODD, CAL, MR. HARKER, THE HYDRA AGE: 42 YEARS OLD. [OCTOBER 13TH] GENDER/PRONOUNS: CIS MAN HE/IT SEXUALITY: PANSEXUAL // PANROMANTIC (MASC PRESENTING PREFERENCE) // OPEN MARRIAGE HUMAN // HOST: HUMAN (AT LEAST, SOME PIECES ARE STILL) OCCUPATION: HOST OF THE HOLO-SHOW "SLAUGHTERHAUS!!!" AND 'SEMI RETIRED' COWBOY. AFFILIATIONS: NONE, BUT HE HAS A NUMBER OF LUCRATIVE CORPORATE SPONSORSHIP DEALS SO HE'S CLEARLY BIASED.

.::. SAW THROUGH THE SELFISH .::. going deeper.

PERSONALITY: SHOWBUSINESS ISN'T FOR EVERYONE, BUT IT'S PERFECT FOR ODD HARKER. THE SPOILED, FILTHY REMAINS OF WHAT HAD ONCE BEEN AN AMERICAN BOUNTY HUNTER WHO'S WORK BROUGHT HIM TO JAPAN FIFTEEN YEARS AGO, THIS EX-COWBOY'S CHARM IS SHINY AND POLISHED TO A PERFECT SHEEN, INTENDED TO LULL THOSE WHO MIGHT ERR TOO CLOSE TO TRUSTING HIM INTO A FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY. THE CHARISMATIC 'MAIN' HOST OF SLAUGHTERHAUS!!! IT IS ODD'S ELECTRIC APPEAL, SMOOTH WIT AND EFFORTLESS CULT OF PERSONALITY THAT GOT THE HARKERS' FOOT IN THE DOOR OF THE FAME MACHINE- HOSTING THEIR MONSTROUS TAKE ON 'ENTICING ENTERTAINMENT.' A MAN WHO COMMANDS A ROOM, EVEN WITHOUT DISPLAYING ANY OF HIS SUBSTANTIAL, IMPRESSIVE CYBERNETIC MODIFICATIONS, ODD'S LOVE OF THE FINER THINGS AND EFFORTLESS DRAW ARE MATCHED ONLY BY HIS SAVAGERY, AS MARRIED TO SILVAINE'S TWISTED IDEALS OF WHAT VALUE A LIFE MIGHT HOLD HIS MASOCHISTIC INVENTIONS AND TASTE FOR SUFFERING IN OTHERS IS FED WELL.

AESTHETIC: SEVEN POUNDS OF FLESH IN HUNDREDS OF POUNDS OF STEEL || THE ID FREE OF THE EGO A MINDLESS THING SMILING THROUGH PERFECT TEETH || THE CLACK AND RATTLE OF FALSE PANELS MOVING BACK INTO PLACE AS THE BEAST RETREATS- THE SWEET TANG OF BLOOD ON SYNTHETIC TONGUES || THE ONE HEAD SEVERED THAT GREW BACK MORE VICIOUS THAN THE HYDRA COULD HANDLE.

KNOWN CYBERWARE: IT IS EASIER TO DESCRIBE THE THINGS THAT ARE NOT CYBERNETIC ON ODD HARKER. THEY ARE AS FOLLOWS: ONE (1) HUMAN BRAIN, HUMAN SKELETAL STRUCTURE/BONE, 40LBS ASSORTED INTERNAL ORGANS. CYBERPSYCHOSIS ALL BUT PROMISED SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN CIRCUMVENTED BY BEING A SOULESS PSYCHOPATH BEFORE THE AUGMENTATIONS AND A SELL-OUT CELEBRITY SHILL AFTER.

HISTORY: PLEASE PAY THE 10000 YEN FEE FOR ACCESS TO SEALED RECORDS THROUGH THE SLAUGHTERHAUS!!! FAN CLUB! [Input Payment Information]

[Plaintext Doc for mobile friends here!]

.::. BUT SAW NO SOUL .::. connections.

THE FABULOUS PRIZE: YOUR LIFE.: A WC for a previous contestant who survived SLAUGHTERHAUS!!! who came out the other side a little... cracked. You endured, you struggled, you bear scars and stories and trauma you'll never unravel. The wild eyed, vicious hosts were right, you're thankful for your life in a way you never considered before. Did you apply to the show for a life-changing operation? Money to get you off the streets? Something else you thought worth a pound of flesh? Or were you forced to participate? No matter what, you won your show, you could live a life trying to forget what you endured. You've found yourself seeking out Calpernian, instead. You've seen the thing lurking underneath, a beast of augmentation tucked beneath a shiny veneer of fame and fortune- Curiosity surfaced, not fear. You want to get closer- for any reason that might be.

CYBERH-EX.EXE: Unlike the other ex connections listed under 'additional'- this ex was long term, and recent. While the Harkers are not secretive about their open marriage, Odd was secretive about you. It was for your sake, he insisted, the public eye would frown upon anyone else on his arm not noted for their depravity, and you... were something good. A cherished part of his life slowly turned coveted- possessed. He did his best, to restrain overprotectiveness- but like the dragons he shares a name with, Odd's personality didn't allow for a relaxed grip on the life you shared. You parted ways. His fondness for you remains, despite it all, and where most are met with cold bloodthirst, a cut of meat to feed to the grinder- something softer lives in cold steel, when you give him the time of day.

FROM OUR FABULOUS SPONSORS: a connection to Odd through SLAUGHTERHAUS!!! this person has long been the go-between for their company and the producers of SLAUGHTERHAUS, long enough to have formed a tentative friendship to the Harkers themselves, whatever that may entail. For you, it's been the benefit of seeing how the 'upper crust' live, expensive dinners, fabulous vacations, cars, jewelry, anything the heart might desire- all for being someone Odd and Silkie have taken an interest in. But fame and favor are fickle beasts, and a falling out between you and the company has left you destitute, and of no use to the Harkers, if they find out, cutting you off from the high life... Time to play cover up.

SEVER ONE HEAD: a connection for a solo or cowboy who made an attempt on Odd's life at one point- Bounty Hunters aren't known for not making enemies- and be you one with a legitimate beef from his time as an active cowboy as well, or simply somebody to whom the almighty yen speaks volumes, you've met Calpernian on the grounds of intent to kill- and barely escaped with your life. You were satisfied, however, with your work, Odd left a sparking, shattered mess of cybernetics and flesh, seemingly dying-verging-on-dead. Imagine your surprise- and that of your possible client- when the Hydra seemed unharmed in time for the next broadcast of SLAUGHTERHAUS. That sparking heap was Odd Harker- there's no questions about that- And now he knows someone wants him dead... and his avenue to who, is through you. Things just got a little more... 'hercules' 12 labors' in Tokyo.

ADDITIONAL CONNECTIONS

Siblings: He's probably got a few of them.

Exes: He's got a lot of these, it's no secret Silvaine and Calpernian are not beholden to each other, and they've both had a number of high-profile relationships.

Ichibangase/Eisher Employees: They'd know Odd- the man's a living testament to the kind of augmentation that can be pulled off- albeit a particularly extreme amount of it not recommended for the currently sane.

Friends from back when the Harkers were Cowboys

Friends from their time in America 15 years ago.

#anarchicintro.#odd.info #odd.img #odd.mp3 #odd.hc #odd.aes #odd.exe

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cainhood · 7 months ago

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AUGUST GARVEY AKA: JACK HORNE.

basics.

given name. jack horne. real name. august garvey. nickname. that motherfucker, give him some. age. forty-one ( april 24, 2003 ). place of birth. reno, nevada. gender identity. cis man ( he + him ). orientation. bisexual ( femme lean ). occupation. general counsel for ichibangase / eisher corporation. former public defence lawyer, eventual pocketed lawyer for countless wealthy clients. each as rotten as the last; none as sordid as him. chronic winner gambler. moral alignment. chaotic evil. character inspiration. saul goodman ( breaking bad ), the narrator ( fight club ), danny johnson / ghostface ( dead by daylight ), player x ( molly’s game ), bojack horseman ( bojack horseman ), lou bloom ( nightcrawler ), roman roy ( succession ), nick dunne ( gone girl ), cain ( the bible ).

background.

it flickers into place. singed at the edges, from replay after replay. relentlessly watched by a future self. your entryway, unremarkable, caught by a lens. the film-easy parents: an army man and his open-tinned housewife. harbinger of the final frontier. america’s great need to breed. ( a rhyme a day keeps the lord at bay. it sounds like august’s snark, but leaves lips that call themselves jack. ) you are an off-centre baby. by bare minutes, your father’s promotion precedes you. their best wishes will falter, stuck in the tooth of a waxed badge. one of the photos, only one, looks directly at you; tucked into your mother’s pink elbow. one of you sleeps, the other doesn’t. when jack goes missing, that will be the only milk-carton picture they have. in a shadowed corner – the memory you won’t remember – your father rocks you to sleep, and thumbs the apple that’s lodged, still, in the middle of your throat. he finds himself, his faded scar, on his son’s little neck. under the same wrinkle. the same skin. something grotesque rouses his gaze. something like a god watching snakes grow from reeds. something heavy and impenetrable. something like fondness.

what’s left for you, in the assuaged family life? wooden toys for you to throw, but no will in your hands to grab them. a peach-pit of a baby: sweet-skinned –– or sweet-fleshed, whichever sounds prettier –– and hard-hearted. bred into boredom, then, alongside the hyena that eyes its windowed fence. the cat that gnaws on a dead nose. this scene births your boundless ego. whatever you hold funnels into your deep sense of lack. always having enough skews your sense of enough. there’s no wound to click clean. and the craving in your bones decants, until you swallow grape-flavoured hate. love has its sun-blistered days. it ducks into your lonely neck, boned finger pressing at your steady pulse. blinked moments: you missed them. a hand curls around the shell of your ear. your hair tousles. later at the creek, someone will smooth those flecked tresses. and another, a dry mouth pressed against your hot temple. imperfectly average; painfully modest. what makes you numb. here –– in the arms of a woman, his mother, with two hands and one heart –– he births his own taste for blood.

EXTERIOR SHOT: dark woods, retaining a daylit ambiance. dusty peeks of the sun upon mossed rocks. you hear water flowing and barked calls beyond the trees. leaves rustle; a steady flood of trundling steps. there’s a pale dot of a boy. no shoes, ripped shorts. blood dripping from his brow-bone into his eye. breathless and alone. he fell down, this boy�� says, we fell and he can’t get up. you will find the boy’s friend, days later, shored on a ravine. spit out into the forest’s jowls. blue-lipped and water-bruised. a struggling neck-wrinkle of deep crimson; nails half-lifted from their damp beds. and yet, august emerges with a simple plaster on his plain cut. wrong place, wrong time, he will eventually say. ( he was mine, until he wasn’t. ) august chose the place, and the time. this always happens, you will say, you always happen. august knows the boy for the bare bones of half a day – which is enough, in his child-mind – to remember him with the familiarity of a life-long friendship. to displace a tender heartbeat where it doesn’t belong.

INTERIOR SHOT: a bottom-fed graduation hall. rich mahogany scents twined nasal-spoken accents. even before the ceremony, no word reaches above a whisper. the same pale dot of a man, amidst a pond of graduating peers. his peanut gallery can’t cross into his domain, for they are fatherless and mother-ful. maybe a brother, or a dour sister. ( can’t name a garvey without naming their brother, can you? ) sorry, definitely a brother. none of them smile. he would blow a grin – jack, now, bearing the average name of an average man – if he accepted his degree without a black medical mask. actual top of the class in a year of, maybe, thirty of his duplicates. this moment beyond his family won’t be ruined. not by the shutter of a camera, nor the man beside his mother. this is another beginning, without a father to colour his background. how could he ever be unhappy?

the years unfold with the flare of another’s making. the green woods blend into the brown courtroom. chewed in the same mouth, spat on different tongues. no establishing shot for this scene: he wakes mid-stalk behind his father. a rifle in hand; his heated gaze can’t drop from his father’s head. unsure of his age, or how tall he should be. you won’t miss, his father says, steady your knee. you take aim and a deep inhale. before you see the killing blow, you’re sitting beside another dead-eyed client. not a tense muscle between you. he knows you better than that. the career you build on the back of a fleeing monarch. proverbial in his guilt. you always take the shot. you always win. greatness falls into his lap, really, he didn’t have to search far. there’s no emptiness here. there’s no room left, in him, to harbour any such cavern. deeper exhale. the shot will always land between the deer’s unblinking eyes. your father would pat your shoulder. when he drives home, he would complain about a hot pain behind his eye sockets.

#anarchicintro.#child death //#child neglect //#animal death mention //#i think thats it but lmk if there are others xx #happy belated birthday to THEE sigma male

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