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Realistic or Modern ๐˜ฝ๐™„๐™‚ ๐™๐™„๐™Ž๐™ƒ, ๐™‡๐™„๐™๐™๐™‡๐™€ ๐™‹๐™Š๐™‰๐˜ฟ โ€” apps

Main
Here
OOC
Here

demonology

๐’…๐’†๐’”๐’•๐’Š๐’๐’š ๐’Š๐’” ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’๐’๐’๐’š ๐’Ž๐’š๐’•๐’‰.


big fish, little pond














an rp by demon + time



now playing
























I




II




III















  • character form






    full name:
    nickname: [optional]
    age: [check tab 'III' for the age range of your role]
    call name: [this is your role!]

    gender:
    sexuality:
    faceclaim: [optional; realistic only]

    synopsis: [the basic gist of your character]
    speciality: [their main crime(s)
    dossier: [the fact(s) Mother Goose used to blackmail your character; optional: a list of ]

    visage: [a paragraph or a list (ex. height, build, etc.]

    personality: [fairly free-form; can be brief, bullet points, etc.]
    fears:
    vices: [5+]
    virtues: [5+]
    weaknesses:
    strengths:
    headcanons: [optional]

    history: [3+ paragraphs]









    about













    roles

    4/7






    status

    accepting !













    links
















    lore


















You look down, they know youโ€™re lying and up, they know you donโ€™t know the truth. Donโ€™t use seven words when four will do. Donโ€™t shift your weight, look always at your mark but donโ€™t stare,


be specific but not memorable, be funny but donโ€™t make him laugh. He's got to like you then forget you the moment you've left his side. And for God's sake, whatever you do, don't, under any circumstances...



โ™กcoded by uxieโ™ก

 
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XI.
Inga Muรฑoz-Torres




moonknight


coded by xayah.แƒฆ



She rides with the shadows . . .

[ character sheet ]​



๐’๐˜๐๐Ž๐๐’๐ˆ๐’: A dull set of fangs, grown over with age and lack of bloodshed. Her mind remains a sharpened point, though the arrow head is wisened. She holds her hand open, downward, and letting slip old drudgery. The spindles of a missed opportunity haunt. Rotund lenses, a personal T.J. Eckleburg, and the squeal of a baby. Their innocence is daunting, reminiscent of the last breaths of her own. It will all end in ruin, so she remains a side-character in her kin's life. A wanderer, a drifter, but an honorable one. She stands at attention, guarding the nobility from afar, and finds solace in merry pursuits. A Robin Hood fable plucked from a Howard Pyle spine. She cracks her own. Her fist snaps a neck back, fingers nimble and swift, and another dime to the royal's trust fund. A kingdom forged at the cost of a place on the throne.



๐…๐”๐‹๐‹ ๐๐€๐Œ๐„: Inga Paola Munoz-Torres
๐๐ˆ๐‚๐Š๐๐€๐Œ๐„: Ingie [select few]
๐€๐‹๐ˆ๐€๐’๐„๐’: Kipper Montoya [current identity]
๐€๐†๐„: 35 years old
๐‚๐€๐‹๐‹ ๐๐€๐Œ๐„: Moonknight
๐’๐๐„๐‚๐ˆ๐€๐‹๐ˆ๐“๐˜: spy [former], artifacts reseller [current], thief [current]

๐†๐„๐๐ƒ๐„๐‘: transwoman (she/her)
๐’๐„๐—๐”๐€๐‹๐ˆ๐“๐˜: Bisexual
๐…๐€๐‚๐„๐‚๐‹๐€๐ˆ๐Œ: Elysia Crampton

 
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XI.
Madigan Menard




M&M


coded by xayah.แƒฆ



The shadow rises above the smoke. . .

[ character sheet ]​



๐’๐˜๐๐Ž๐๐’๐ˆ๐’: He stalks, circling in a slow, rhythmic pattern. Pitter patter... pitter patter. A pencil with the eraser bitten off, pen ink bleeding through prim-pressed shirts, and a sheepish grin. A weepy, impish beast who clocks your patterns before the clock strokes past a 1/12th. Those eyes... they seem so charming, unassuming, and yet, he knows. Pearls of opalescence, dirtied plastic, and shimmer of blood spatter. A portrait of a car on fire, drowning and stinking in kerosene. He doesn't bother to scream in his own demise, too shy. His mouth opens, it spews slime, before the wolf curls in his territory. Keep out and you will do just fine... Yet, that coat. It has thin wisps that bind, a thick red-thread of fate, and you cannot avoid his teeth as they clamp down. Sweet flesh, burnt. Quietly, he murmurs, "Rest in peace."



๐…๐”๐‹๐‹ ๐๐€๐Œ๐„: Madigan Aoife Menard
๐๐ˆ๐‚๐Š๐๐€๐Œ๐„: Madi [will bite you], Mads [preferred above all]
๐€๐‹๐ˆ๐€๐’๐„๐’: Marshall Mathers
๐€๐†๐„: 25 years old
๐‚๐€๐‹๐‹ ๐๐€๐Œ๐„: M&M
๐’๐๐„๐‚๐ˆ๐€๐‹๐ˆ๐“๐˜: accounting [semi-present], money laundering [semi-present], embezzling, murder-for-hire

๐†๐„๐๐ƒ๐„๐‘: male (he/him)
๐’๐„๐—๐”๐€๐‹๐ˆ๐“๐˜: Bisexual
๐…๐€๐‚๐„๐‚๐‹๐€๐ˆ๐Œ: Alain Delon
 
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1649013032910.gif

rina hiraoka โ€” NASCAR
WIP






























Fantasy



Meiko Nakahara












NASCAR















R

equisite.










name


Rina Hiraoka







a.k.a.


NaNa, Clank







age


33 years old







Gender


nonbinary; she/they







sexuality


demisexual







D.O.B.


April 1st







Role


NASCAR







JOB


engineer, mechanic, getaway driver, bank robber, 100% menace; one of many titles.















A

ppearance.










Hair


Cut short, Rina's hair is poorly bleached; tendrils of rust strewn about messily, but often worn under hats for more control. The hair is often worn under low-maintenance styles as well, to keep her eyes safe from the burden of staring back at light strands. Practicality is important, to have the hair out of the way. As she works, Rina opts for headbands to keep the strays in place.







Eyes


Her eyes are brown and nothing close to extraordinary--aside from the light that bounces against the dullness in the midst of a thought. Eyes are the windows of the soul, as some may admit, and theirs are just as giving; it is apparent that emotions are fully readable through them. They are almond shaped, double eye lidded, and slightly hooded accompanied by dark circles (she has genetics and coffee to thank for this). The eyes, however, are often protected by goggles and reading glasses; less than pristine eyesight is something they have learned to live with.







Skin


The skin is pale and slightly blemished, a few scars scattered throughout, the imprints of memories that are not often treaded lightly. Across her face are light freckles, barely visible to the eye unless you look close enough. Self care is not a thing in these times, with them often neglecting a routine that most had before the world went to shit; slightly dehydrated with a combination of dry and oily spots in the skin.







Build


Standing at 5'7", Rina isn't one of the shorter bunch. Their build, however, isn't as sturdy as their stance; a lithe, only slightly muscular figure, they aren't as strong as others. But this is often made up for in their quick wit and dexterity.







Distinguishing Features


Bunny teeth, a scar that runs along the length of their right forearm, and a few tattoos here and there.







Faceclaim


Rinko Kikuchi in The Brothers Bloom













p

syche.





A
Pathological Liar
and damn good at it too, so good in fact that most wouldn't even bat an eye. In some cases, Rina seems to be the most trustworthy person in a sea of liars, but that is far from the case.
Cunning
, Rina showcases how truly good they are at getting others to believe in their lies, but is smart enough to not believe in her own. It's a good thing she keeps tabs on the things she says, keeps it consistent so that if someone ever asked her about it, it slips right off the tongue. It almost feels right, setting up who you never were, but want to be. But it isn't all bad, there is loyalty in the hands of this fraud; while, yes, Rina might be a serial fabricator, once they like, admire, and trust you, it's smooth sailing from here.

Rina is
witty
and
sarcastic
, a bit
irritating
, but somewhat magnetic. Their
convivial
and
nonchalant
nature is what keeps others as ease. Well, that and the fact that they cannot take themselves seriously. In trying times like this, Rina can either be a breath of fresh air or a thorn in your side.

Don't let the attitude fool you. Rina is and will always be
intelligent
,
calculated
enough to assess situations and act in ways that they see fit. To them, it's easier to fake it when you're so disconnected from other people.

The world is a dangerous place, something that Rina has learned from a young age, maybe a bit too young. But they've taken this life lesson and molded it, their
resourcefulness
unparalleled; some would say it's like turning water into wine, but in Rina's case? It's like turning an old toaster into a new death trap. And maybe they're a bit too enthusiastic when they show off their latest creations, patting themselves on the back, sharing it with others, wanting to test them and bringing someone else along with them. Almost freakishly so.

VICES

Uncouth, Egotistic, Overzealous, Sarcastic, Detached, Spacey, Impatient, Deceptive

VIRTUES

Dauntless, Intelligent, Empathetic, Charismatic, Innovative, Humorous, Eccentric

HEADCANONS

!
Has a pocket teddy bear for good luck.
!
Often goes out to do test runs for devices.
!
Has unintentionally made something work when it shouldn't have worked.
!
Needs coffee 24/7.
!
Smokes a lot.
!
Likes risky business, but wouldn't put other people at risk.
!
Drinks a lot, maybe a bit too much.
!
Some days hangs out with others, other days would rather stick to building shit alone.
!
Usually covered in scrapes and cuts, tiny burns from working.

STRENGTHS

Resourceful, Detail Oriented, Knowledgeable, Independent, Intuitive, Versatile, Creative, Analytical

WEAKNESSES

Risk-taker, Competitive, Disorganized (when it comes to their workspace), not much of a fighter

FEARS

confined spaces, deep waters, maggots, centipedes, loss of bodily autonomy

AILMENTS

insomnia, hasn't gone to therapy--still needs to figure it out, weak eyesight









h

istory





TW: illness, death.

Some families are fortunate enough to never experience the truth of tragedy; the Hiraokas were never quite the fortunate bunch. They were prone to Chronic Tragedy, one after the other, with burdens that often followed one another. First there was the family cat, that thing had practically raised Rina, stuck by her side since it was a kitten up until Rina was 10. They still remember finding the body stuck in the hollow of an oak tree, peacefully at rest, after days of looking for it. Rina found it first, screamed, cried, shouted, and her parents had the response she didnโ€™t expect: they didnโ€™t mourn like she did, only wrapped it in a blanket and buried it, but their grief could have been shadowed by the fact that they didnโ€™t want Rina staring back at it.

Then it was their sister, younger than her, full of life that was cut too shortโ€”dimmed by a pesky illness they thought was gone forever. Until she was the one gone. Or maybe their mother had lied to them, the fact that having to lie to Rina only showed how disconnected they were from one another. Rina was only 13, a teen who only wanted a shot at the world, chasing the stars like no tomorrow; and in the blink of an eye, that ambition had almost dwindled. Almost. WIPWIP

WIPWIP









g

allery.
































โ™กcoded by uxieโ™ก
 
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XI.
007
scroll.















dancing in the moonlight
King Harvest


SYNOPSIS: He stands at the cusp of a storm, the blinding warmth of the sun beaming on a pallor figure. The memories are fading, the scent of lilacs and sand falling through the cracks like feathers through his hands. A crippling cavern of loneliness is breached only by blue skies and the warmth of innocence. Tight embraces pull them together with chains, heavy and damning. Only the midnight caress of metal satisfies a weakened soul, a cage that has lost its bird. Secrets drown in the juice of a lamb, eyes skywards and waiting. He is here but he will never be ready.



VISAGE
NAME: ezra caldwell
NICKNAMES: the retiree, that bastard, dad, ez
AGE: 32 years old
GENDER: transgender male; (he/him)
ORIENTATION: pansexual
JOB: spy [former], private investigator [current], arms dealer [current]
CALL NAME: 007
DOSSIER: Mother Goose knows his exit was not as smooth, the horde of weapons not simply a hobby. Oh what a father wouldn't do to keep this from an innocent mind.


specialty

weapon smuggling, espionage, blackmail, weapon trading, weapon modification

APPEARANCE
APPEARANCE: Ezra stands at a reasonable height of 5'7", the typical insoles of his shoes raising his height upwards about another inch and kept as a closely guarded secret. Moss-colored eyes are kept at a distance from the world behind a pair of circular frames, the exhaustive dark circles below his eyes only peering out below the lenses. A gentle smattering of freckles covers lightly tanned skin, the marks of watches and an empty ring slot on his left hand being his only tan lines. A mop of dirty blonde hair is barely maintained after morning fatherly duties, a quick run through of a hand revealing the occasional remnants of food left behind by an eager child.

Ezra dresses smartly with each day, a habit picked up from his previous job and one he maintains now with high expectations from an eight-year-old driving him to hide funky-designed socks and the Legos in his pockets away from the world. Hidden beneath the layers of clothing a silver chain holding the remnants of a tarnished ring is closely tucked away, rare for even the intimate eye to catch sight of without explicit permission. Roman numerals of three separate dates are tattooed underneath his left ribcage in ochre ink, small in size and bold in font. Scars line faintly along his chest as the result of gender reassignment surgery. He has a single piercing on his left lobe, a space usually held by a singular golden band.




PSYCHE
Personality: Ezra has lived the life of a million souls as he will claim, a weary expression permanently sunken onto his face as the times of heartache and life have finally caught up to his dangerous lifestyle. Once a vain man of the night he worries more about the remnants of clementine peels ending up in his coat pocket than glossing a final curl into place. Deep within the hunger for perfection remains, a vice grip upon his life bringing out a strict control upon the life of himself and the child once shared with his partner in crime and life. Not the perfect father there is no denying his efforts, stacks of self-help and parenting books snuggled closely to care guides for sniper rifles. Toys and applesauce packets sit calmly next to the medications needed to keep the paranoia away, the miniscule twitching of fingers only settled by the counting of pills.

He wasn't always like this, a confident and suave man with the smile of the sun that rang laughter like bells at the dumbest of jokes. Years of sneaking around, questioning every comment and friend led to a shell forming, the personality inside withering slowly away with time. Perhaps it was a reason that led to the breaking of a marital bond, a child the only escape he could see from the world of sneaking around. With the rise of responsibility, however, came the rise of fear, the arguments rising with each day held clutching innocence. Ezra knew his time had come to an end and dissolved a love behind him, leaving with his last flame and settling into the lifestyle of your average dad.

Now he maintains the personality of a tired man, a father with too many hours at work and not enough time spent watching Disney films. Smiling but weak he will raise a hand to the new neighbor and just barely manage to keep from checking their background online.

virtues

fatherly, protective, fearless, loyal, friendliness

vices

control freak, stinginess, vanity, vulgarity, shame

fears

loneliness, losing everything, becoming scarred, emotional intimacy, betrayal

likes

caramel popcorn, old 80's pop music, murder mystery games, teaching Blue how to play piano, building and cleaning his guns, cooking for the ones he loves, rainy days spent doing puzzles in a pillow fort, large blankets tied like capes and socks that slide on the hardwood floor, peanut butter banana french toast

dislikes

the nights after his ex spouse leaves them again, nosey neighbors, the smell of fire, scratchy sweaters, the emptiness of his bed, the moon.





ailments

with the introduction of a child into the world, the vices that plagued someone constantly caught between a rock and a hard place were forcibly removed and replaced over time. amber liquid was dumped down the sink and replaced with an equally disgusting amount of high pulp orange juice and green smoothies. Tobacco is replaced with the herbal scent of family-friendly herbal cigarettes and a horde of Yankee candles.

the only thing ezra has maintained is a hidden obsession with the possession of weapons, a private room in his tiny house dedicated to the storage and maintenance of his collection. the key is always on hand and never left within the hands of a grabby child but still he worries if the habit is too dangerous to keep around.

he is terrified of losing control and being betrayed, the need to protect and cling onto the reminder of his past love and last happiness coming only stronger with the birth of his child. to ease the sensation of paranoia he takes a variety of prescription medication every morning.

TIME MACHINE
HISTORY: A man of many skills and many talents Ezra has fallen into the role of a dedicated father figure for the past five years. Going from the fast-paced life of a high-level spy to 'Dad of the Year', he has taken the initiative to bring a happy and safe world to the child tottering around his feet. From knives to puzzles and gambling with life to selling chocolate bars to the next-door neighbors for the school fundraiser he has done it all. Gone are the days of spinning himself into the golden weaves of high societies secrets, acts of espionage and other crimes bleeding a stack of manila with red. Even with the intimate companionship of another it could not take away from the secrets and growing shame.

A scorched life is now left behind him with the divorce from his spouse and partner, the shattered glasses and venomous words enough to tear apart the relationship and years of camaraderie. Faced now with regular activities like imaginary tea parties and a constant threat of a Nerf war, he has mostly forgotten the world he left behind. Late nights are no longer given to grand events and lengthy stakeouts, spent now only doing childish homework amid the casual investigations into the private lives of his clients. A single family home has welcomed him and his child fondly, the drawn-on walls hiding the secrets of their origins and the work done in the back office. Protective until the end, Ezra is determined to continue his life as a woeful single father until the ripe ailment of age catches up to his body. [wip]

Post-Divorce:
he fled to the outskirts of the suburbs, a two-story home painted in the color of canaries. a doormat spoke 'welcome' but the new owner wasn't fond of guests. music would ringly clunkily through the rooms, a cacophonous sound that aged with interests and hobbies. birthdays and holidays passed on with arguments to commiserate them.

secrets began building up and the daily pills increased. Shaking is the hand that continues to deny the drink and smoke, a pizza ordered on the bad days and pasta made for the good. Every second, every moment in time is spent focusing on remembering to breathe lest the crippling anxiety, the forsaken ego come crashing down.

Someone had to be the one to read books at night.

he finds himself staring at the gaudily painted door, sitting in a remnant of the past and waiting. The moon trickles through the stained glass and for a moment he remembers the nights of galavanting around, the sun-kissed skin so eager to accompany his own. the biting creature no longer echoes in his mind, a smile almost peacefully on his face.

for another night he takes an extra pill to sleep.



weakness

The child and โ€Šher.



GALLERY
โ€ŠPinterest: to the one i called bird










ezra caldwell.


designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.แƒฆ
 
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full name: Elliette Vermine Rask
nickname: The Irishman, The Viper, previously Gutter-Rat or Vermine, Elle if you are a friend, Elly only if you are one of her nieces or nephews, or very brave. Nobody calls her Vera, yet.
age: 27, estimated.
call name: The Irishman

gender: Female
sexuality: Fighting. Less humorously, she hasnโ€™t really had or made time to find out. More precisely, demisexual, homoromantic.
faceclaim: She is a creature visually defined by her role. Plainly put she is pale with short brown hair, brown eyes, a sharp jaw, and a neutral resting expression. Run into her on an average day and she is an unimposing, mild-mannered woman. Calm, polite, kind, with an unimposing stature. By no means a motherly figure, but she has strong aunt energy. She is habitually clad in baggy sweaters and loose jeans, always accompanied by a massive purse known to contain sweets and all sorts of things. Meet her in a professional context, and she offers a rather sharply different impression. It becomes clear that she is a solid six foot one, and her body is extremely well-trained, underneath a well-tailored suit. In a meeting that difference in stature might be all. If she is working however the contacts are removed along with the wig and much of the makeup. Her natural hair is buzzed short, her natural eye color is a very light blue, and her face along with most of her body is marked with scars. She moves with a fighterโ€™s grace.

synopsis: The loving aunt and sister, always ready to help with money, food, advice and care. Single, but a devoted family-woman. The Hitter, vicious, ruthless, mercenary, the solver of problems, whether that requires a bit of light intimidation or a grave-digger's shovel, and everything in-between. Which is she, or is she both or even neither? Only she knows, and really, maybe nobody does.
speciality: Direct high impact problem solving. (Murder, aggravated assault, breaking and entering, extortion, blackmail, grand theft auto, assault with a deadly weapon(gun, knife, car, halberd, bat, explosive, bow, axe), redacted juvenile record)
dossier: Optimistically? She owes her a debt, for picking her up out of the gutter as a child. One might also note that the old woman knows who Elleโ€™s family is, and where they are, along with where a lot of her bodies and history is buried. The carrot or the stick as it were.

visage: Her stature and unassuming manner when acting as a civilian can make her seem shorter and less imposing than she is, but she is six foot one with the sharply defined muscles of a dedicated fighter. She is strong enough to carry you and all your problems, but is better at just solving them. Under a brown wig, brown contacts, and quite a bit of makeup, her hair is buzzed short and her body is replete with scars. However much her demeanor can change its affect, her face is sharply bony and marked with a subtle history of gauntness, and her eyes hold death.

personality: In her civilian life she is kind, soft-spoken and sweet. She isnโ€™t the best with socializing, or children, but she tries her best. With children she gets by with bribery and cool aunt factor, and she mostly only socializes with her family. In her professional capacity she is just that, professional. Quiet, firm, direct and business-like.
fears: She fears losing her edge, losing her body, and above all losing her family.
vices: Violence. Above all else, she lives for the thrill of it. She is an adrenaline junky through and through, and fighting is her source of choice. Additionally she is ruthless, vicious, brutally efficient, distant, and professionally judgemental. Wrath.
virtues: Diligent, disciplined, caring, kind, loyal, patient.
weaknesses: Social skills, generally. She functions well in professional, blunt contexts, but doesnโ€™t deal well with ambiguity and more personal situations. She is also terrible with children, has been ever since she was one, and has absolutely no romantic experience. Professionally she works well with direct, blunt jobs. Force her to deal with interpersonal and family politics and complexities and she doesnโ€™t do well, which is why she is no longer involved with the mob. Personally she has a lot of walls and defenses, but get past them and she is more vulnerable than she seems. Lastly, while she is very good at what she does, it is basically all she knows, and she has a lot of function gaps.
strengths: If it calls for muscles or some level of expertise with most any modern weapon, sheโ€™s your gal. As an assassin she is professional, quiet, and fast, with a certain set of standards. Within a crew, she embodies the hitter and she is very good at it. Additionally she is a skilled survivalist. Initially she learned how to survive and be a ghost in cities, but after she got older and richer she made sure she could survive just about anywhere.
headcanons: She only actually got her current names around when her family moved into a more criminal role. She simply didnโ€™t really have one before, and figured if she was going to be a figurehead she should get a cool one. She stole the first name from a character she looked up to on a tv show and feminized it. The middle name is one she shares with all her family, although mostly none of them have it on official documentation. Her last name she just picked because she thought it sounded cool. Related to official documentation, she does actually have a legal name and identity or two, but she doesnโ€™t use them for anything but taxes. Even the property deeds are through a shell company.

history: She was orphaned shortly after birth, with the exact circumstances being somewhat shrouded in mystery. The official story she offers is that she bounced around various places before getting early emancipation. With a few lucky helping hands she made it onto her feet. The truth is a little different. See, while she doesnโ€™t know exactly why, she knows she wasnโ€™t supposed to outlive her family. She wasnโ€™t entered into the legal system because it could have easily been a death sentence for the first few years. By the time the dust settled a good few years later she was already in the wind.

For a while she was taken care of by the person that saved her initially. Unfortunately one day they didnโ€™t come home from a job. She doesnโ€™t really know whether they abandoned her, got thrown in jail, got backstabbed, or the job just went south. One day they were just gone. They left her with a little training, a little knowledge, and very sparse funds, that being why they had gone out on the job in the first place. With nobody to go to and no trust in the system she quickly wound up on the streets.

In one of the few sparks of real luck in her life she soon found her family, a collection of other orphans and feral children. They all had their own routes there, but they wound up together, and they survived together. The older ones found odd-jobs, legal and otherwise, and the younger ones stole and scavenged. This is where she first got her start in her current job. Even at the lowest rung, there is always somebody that wants to muscle in on weak-looking targets. With the little training she had received earlier in life, and plenty of practice earned the hard way, she accidentally became the enforcer of their little gang.

It was mostly low level stuff, no real movers and shakers cared about some kids doing some low level crime, and carving out their own little nook. Unfortunately there's always a bottom-feeder willing to go after smaller fish, and that's where things took a turn. The first time she killed a man wasnโ€™t particularly special or interesting. It was a grim, nasty little alleyway, and a man had gotten in a fight with one of her brothers. His knife had gotten knocked out of his hands, but he had wrestled her brother to the ground and was strangling him. She picked up the knife and sunk it into his back, and when he tried to attack her she kept stabbing him. When she came back to herself her brother was shaking her desperately and she was kneeling over a body and a lake of blood.

Unfortunately that wasnโ€™t where it ended. That marked the point at which their little family became a gang. The man wasnโ€™t anybody terribly important, but he wasnโ€™t alone either. By the time the dust had settled their little family had a territory of their own, and she had a growing reputation as a vicious enforcer. They were small fry, but they were determined to survive and stay together. These times were not without loss, but their family made it through, carving out a life. She wasnโ€™t the technical leader, as that was never a role she much cared for, but she was the face and backbone. None of the other small-fry wanted to tangle with a known killer and skilled fighter, and while she wasnโ€™t much to big-timers, she also wasnโ€™t on their radar.

When that changed was when everything was changed. She was essentially scouted in her late teens as a hitter and enforcer with potential by an affiliate of Mother Goose. At the same time she started moving into a bigger pond and among bigger fish, her family started to go legit. As money started to come in from jobs, she helped them out. Eventually she graduated from entry-level work, and with a finders fee to Mother Goose, she was hired as a long-term fixer for a big time group. With the money she made from that her family finally went fully legit and left the life, by and large becoming normal tax-paying legitimately employed citizens.

She worked in that field for a good few years, gaining renown and fear in equal measure. Things likely would have continued on unchanged, but there was a changing of the guard in the new organization. The new leadership wanted their own people in place, and for a brief time it seemed like hostilities might erupt. Ultimately though it wasnโ€™t a hostile takeover, and out of respect and healthy caution they simply parted ways.

That was a few years back. She briefly tried to live a completely civilian life, but ultimately she couldnโ€™t walk away from the one thing she was really good at. Nowadays she at least has an unassuming civilian identity. She owns an old pawn shop. Itโ€™s in an empty part of town, never advertises, and is rarely open, and yet it makes good money from collectors with an appreciation for a certain craft. She visits her family and their children often, still providing for them in small and large ways. She has thus far benefited from not being a big enough loose end for anyone to make it worth trying to eliminate someone of her caliber. Things did even stay quiet for a while, but nothing stays buried forever, and ah, there was that one outstanding debt.
 
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Visage
Harlan has a lanky stature, standing at 5โ€™11โ€.
He has the appetite of a tiger and the
metabolism of a hummingbird, but his
deceptively lean silhouette disguises a
good amount of muscle. He has short and
messy dirty blonde hair, and a pair of
intense, downturned blue eyes that seem
to pierce right through you. His skin is fair
yet riddled with scars and callouses from
his years as an enforcer.

FACECLAIM: Damon Albarn


full name
Harlan Kingfisher

age
26

gender
male

sexuality
Bisexual

specialty
Hitman/Gun-for-hire/Sniper
Callname
The Irishman
The Irishman








Personality
SYNOPSIS:
Heโ€™s always running, a white rabbit bounding
aimlessly, erratically through the reeds and
rushes, never even knowing what it is that
stalks him through the tall grass. Blood red
eyes flicker madly back-and-forth, looking for
any sign of anything that could offer him comfort.
Warmth. Somebody. But when heโ€™s alone, he
thinks. He thinks and thinks and thinks until
his knuckles are sore and bloody and bruised.
Heโ€™s not in control. He wishes he could
convince himself that the beauty of a rose lies
within its thorns, not in spite of them. Heโ€™d grow
miles upon miles of rose gardens if he could.

PERSONALITY:
Harlan is surprisingly soft-spoken and withdrawn,
but carries himself with an air of confidence so
that no-one seems to notice or pay any mind.
Although he is somewhat strange, those who
get to know him describe him as effortlessly kind,
almost to a fault, with an instinct to care for and
cater to others. None would guess that he would
be considered by many as the sharpest shot in the
tri-state area, much less an ex-mafia enforcer with
the knowledge and capability to beat someone to
near-death. He keeps close to his chest the part of
him that has learned to shoot between the eyes,
wanting more than anything to keep his personal life
as in-tact as possible. That being said, thereโ€™s an
inescapable part of him that lives for the adrenaline
rush associated with his life of crime, though he wishes
he could live without it.

FEARS: Failure, Instability, Abandonment,
being considered โ€˜useless,โ€™ Dense Crowds

VICES: Withdrawn, Aloof, Emotionally Volatile,
Apathetic, Possessive

VIRTUES: Highly Considerate, Empathetic,
Organized, Modest, Optimistic

STRENGTHS: Impeccable Aim, Surprisingly Strong,
Focused, Tactful, Insightful

WEAKNESSES: Is firmly tethered by his non-criminal
life, cares more for others than for his own wellbeing.
He wants everything to go smoothly and be without
conflict, and because of this he can tend to be
complacent, simplifying problems and minimizing
anything that might upset the order. Furthermore
he demonstrates the tendency to run away from
the paradox of his life by attempting to deal with
these problems through simple and (quite ironically)
sometimes violent means.

HEADCANONS:
  • Is perpetually tired and known for his frequent 4-hour naps.
  • Type 9 Enneagram, INFP, Cancer Sun
  • He loves to write, and is vigilant about writing in his journal every day.
  • Loves flowers, hopes to grow a garden some day.
  • Was born in Ontario, Canada
  • Pinterest Moodboard

History
For nearly seven years Harlan has lived the
epitome of a double life. To most who know
him, heโ€™s the honor student, the teacherโ€™s pet,
the mamaโ€™s boy whoโ€™s never done any wrong.
He graduated university with a degree in
English, nearly top of his class, and went on to
become a humble librarian, a job that he
adores with all his heart. And thatโ€™s all he was
for a while. However, one day as he was
walking home from the library, he was
attacked by a group of aggressive men; a
criminal organization that had mistaken him
for someone else. His hands were bound and
he was thrown in the back of a non-descript
van. With great effort, he got his hands free.
Something within him snapped, and he
became more focused on causing his captor
pain than escaping. Without realizing it, he
had killed the man with him in the back of
the van with his bare hands. Panic flooded
Harlanโ€™s mind and body as he realized what
he had done, gazing at his trembling hands
covered with blood. He shut his eyes tightly,
assuming he would be killed on the spot, but
was instead offered a job by the impressed
mobsters. He was told that they would spare
his life if he worked for them, and had no
choice but to accept.

He would be in charge of โ€œhandlingโ€ those
who do not go along with organization
policies, rules, or deals, but mostly just people
who owe the mafia money. His newfound
employers would engage in anything from
gambling, loan sharking, drug-trafficking, and
fraud, though Harlan himself didnโ€™t indulge or
stray too far from what required his โ€œexpertise.โ€
He still had a life outside of this, and he
wanted to keep it that way.

And so, he was trained in the fine art of beating
someone to a pulp. He learned how to shoot a
gun, something which he proved to be quite
good at. He was good with knives, too. He
learned just where to push the blade to cause
the most pain and bring out the most answers.
When he hurts others, itโ€™s almost as if he leaves
his head and becomes another person entirely.
He gets lost in the feeling, in the release, and
has to fight hard to keep from losing control.
He describes it himself in his journal as his
โ€œMr. Hydeโ€ complex.

He lived like this for seven years, until one
particularly dangerous client that had learned
a bit too much about him. He had flown far
too close to the sun, too close to losing the
perfect life outside of the mafia that he had
worked so hard to uphold. Because of this, he
ultimately escaped the crime group. However,
he had cracked open something within him
that he could not close, so he kept killing for
money. Until Mother Goose, he had this
paradoxical life of his in perfect balance.

ยฉ pasta


*preferred character
 
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Ambrose Saetang
















#The Irishman










โ™กcoded by uxieโ™ก









FULL NAME: Kino Saetang
NICKNAME: Ambrose
AGE: 31
CALL NAME: The Irishman


GENDER: Cis.male
SEXUALITY: Bisexual

FACECLAIM: Apo Nattawin

SYNOPSIS
Body turned canvas, body turned crime-scene.

He is, in his essence, a most terrible tragedy. Cursed with the very hands of Midas, with fingers capable of mending just as they are for breaking, he knows that in order to be kind, you must be cruel first. And the taste of blood, however rich it is, was never his to bear. He, who is brothers with sentiment, he who is the son of passion, suffers greatly; calamities cascading over taut flesh, draping over each crevice, each blemish and swallowing him whole as he cries out: โ€˜โ€™why me?โ€™โ€™ tender as a cub in the skin of a lion. Grieving past lovers, mourning every misfortune and all of the suns heโ€™s absorbed, he is left enveloped both by the pain heโ€™s caused and the pain that heโ€™s endured. Dying every night only to wake the next morning, this is the story of life and death incarnated, the very soul of a man who cannot be what he should- who is drawn to violence like a sailor towards a siren, if only for the sake of living the truth of what he is. A human being.

DOSSIER

The world is cruel, this heโ€™s known ever since heโ€™d first met it; since heโ€™d learned that if you donโ€™t succumb to its commands, bow to its graces, that you too will become it, just as it becomes you. And my god has Ambrose been cruel. So cruel in fact, that it may as well defeat any opportunity to escape the life heโ€™s been living, to rid the skins of tragedy, to make his return to goodness. Not everyone is made righteous, he knows this, but in his heart that is all he wants to be. All he desires. A second chance and a new beginning.

SPECIALTIES: Premeditated murder, drug trafficking


VISAGE

HEIGHT: 6โ€1
BUILD: Tall and muscular, although not upfront. His physical prowess remains concealed under clothing, unsuspecting in a way thatโ€™s deadly.
HAIR C: Black.

EYE C: Brown.
STYLE: Mostly casual during the day, but in gear at night. Two separate identities for two very different jobs.

PERSONALITY

Ambrose leads the lives of two distinct figures, both who would- at the very best- seem rather dislikable to one another. A gruelling killer when the night falls and a happy-go-lucky neighbour when the sun rises, he is all of this and yet, nothing at once. For ignorance clouds his mind and he does not know who he is or what heโ€™s meant to do, but he does know what he should be and what he should be doing. And for that he tries very hard, almost endearingly so, to become the one person he needed when he was younger. Deeply sensitive and with a penchant to persist; Ambrose, despite the comfort of the kill and the torment of his past, is more than ready to move on. To make himself proud even if it hurts. For better or for worse.

FEARS: Being stuck in immorality. Ambrose knows heโ€™s not the best person but what he fears most is being such a man forever, having people fear him, never to face nor look him in the eyes. In the end, beyond the riches and the glory, itโ€™s only a guilty, lonely world.
VICES: hot-headed, loud, sarcastic, clumsy, reckless.
VIRTUES: sensitive, thoughtful, friendly, skilled, perseverant.


WEAKNESSES: Prone to frustration, when Ambrose is mad, everyone else feels it too. Desperate to make things right, he, who is still learning to maneuver the non underworld world, often returns to the man he doesnโ€™t want to be when he cannot, for the life of him, get the results he wants.
STRENGTHS: Genuine and deeply curious in a way thatโ€™s almost child-like, the Irishman has a way of making others feel important because, for the many lives heโ€™s taken, never has he seen any reality that is unfeeling of the loss.

HEAD CANNONS:
โ€ข Works at a bar that serves as a front for many criminals such as himself.
โ€ข Literally the hulk when heโ€™s mad.
โ€ข Extremely gifted in the delicate art of pool.
โ€ข Is friends with a stray cat that comes around his neighbourhood.

HISTORY

A boy born into nothing; Kino Saetang was once someone who, despite having very little, was blessed to have all the love of his mother. Their world was small and he liked it that way, filled with laughter, loving gazes and warm embraces, it took him a long time to realize that they were suffering simply because then, to him, heโ€™d had everything he needed. Heโ€™d never noticed the hushed murmurs, the frantic looks thrown about, his motherโ€™s hurried footsteps. The missing people. The men with armed in fury.

And for awhile, life was easier this way, in blissful ignorance. But even ignorance is fleeting and even the fastest boys cannot match its current; hand outstretched, grasping at the lightness that once was. Even he, who was told that he could be anything, could do anything, who was drowned in a motherโ€™s love, became swallowed by a motherโ€™s sickness. He didnโ€™t know when the coughs started, when her breathing had grown slower, her body frailer but what he did know was that he needed to work. To provide when she no longer could. But who, in a neighbourhood as poor as theirs, would take the hand of a 12 year old boy? The short answer is no one. The long answer however is that he, under the determination to save his dying mother, began thinking of new and unlikely ways to buy her medicine.

It all began with a faultless crime. A few bahts at most. Hardly an American dollar that had fallen out of a gentlemanโ€™s pocket. That was his beginning. And everyday since then heโ€™d scour the streets, the storm drains for more before he realized that luck like that isnโ€™t given, itโ€™s taken. Soon those boyish pursuits grew more and more dangerous and Kino- Ambrose fondly recalls a time in which heโ€™d been beaten; simply for dipping his hands into the wrong wallet. His wallet. The phantom man behind all of that fury, he who wives whispered about and whose husbands were careful not to cross. He went by many names, but the first heโ€™d introduced himself as was Boss. It was Boss who, after getting a good look at the boyโ€™s battered face and the unrelenting anger behind his swollen eyes, decided to pass his teachings onto the next generation. It was with him that Ambrose had earned his namesake, from Greek origins meaning immortal, he certainly has surpassed death on countless upon countless occasions.





 
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XI.
MATTHIEU HOUDINI




MAGIC MIKE


coded by xayah.แƒฆ



does pain make you feel closer to god?





๐’๐˜๐๐Ž๐๐’๐ˆ๐’: There is a warning sign braided into his ribs, and itโ€™s brutal, noir itโ€™s in monstrosity, where no one can tell the difference between blood or ink. He was once an angel, or at least that's what heโ€™ll tell you. There is tact in his scathing presence, which is all thin, razor sharp lines that cut you if you look for too long. His smile is like chewed glass, which is just as glittering as it is bloody. There is something at the back of your mind that looks into his blank eyes and screams to get away, but the urge to curl into the cavern of his empty chest and steal the last of his warmth is too strong. Itโ€™s any easy release, in his presence, even if he leaves you haunted and needy. A ghost lies in bed next to you, and even when panic fills your head and heart, you do not move. Itโ€™s easy to stay, he makes it easy, and you love him, even if he kills you.

You realize that he is the devil.

(But even the devil was once an angel.)

๐…๐”๐‹๐‹ ๐๐€๐Œ๐„: Matthieu Cillian Houdini
๐๐ˆ๐‚๐Š๐๐€๐Œ๐„: Matty/Mikey
๐€๐‹๐ˆ๐€๐’๐„๐’: Matthew Mangrave, Hart Hartman, Jacob Amspoker, Robert Armstrong. Theodore/Teddy Epsen.
๐€๐†๐„: 29 years old
๐‚๐€๐‹๐‹ ๐๐€๐Œ๐„: Magic Mike
๐’๐๐„๐‚๐ˆ๐€๐‹๐ˆ๐“๐˜: Forgery, Impersonation of the following: medical practitioners, police officers/government officials, military personnel. Robbery/Accessory to Robbery. Identity theft. Theft. [All current.]

๐†๐„๐๐ƒ๐„๐‘: cisgender man (he/him)
๐’๐„๐—๐”๐€๐‹๐ˆ๐“๐˜: Bisexual
๐…๐€๐‚๐„๐‚๐‹๐€๐ˆ๐Œ: Bill Skarsgรฅrd

 
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0c49715e6aafcccffcfeb9ba40739668.jpg
Edith Magdalena
The Mentalist



๐…๐”๐‹๐‹ ๐๐€๐Œ๐„: Edith Magdalena

๐๐ˆ๐‚๐Š๐๐€๐Œ๐„(๐’): "The Magnificent Magdalena"

๐€๐†๐„: 40

๐‚๐€๐‹๐‹ ๐๐€๐Œ๐„: The Mentalist


๐†๐„๐๐ƒ๐„๐‘: Cis Woman

๐’๐„๐—๐”๐€๐‹๐ˆ๐“๐˜: Bisexual

๐…๐€๐‚๐„๐‚๐‹๐€๐ˆ๐Œ: Tilda Swinton


๐’๐˜๐๐Ž๐๐’๐ˆ๐’: There is something untelling about her, this spirit of a woman, so incorporeal that you can see right through her. She drifts in with the wind and out with the rise of the sun. Like the tides, there is this permanent pushing and pulling; a primeval chill that will never cease. Her constant ebb and flow is nearly graceful as a dancerโ€™s fearful pirouette. She bares it all on the stage, doubled over with the hunger of lions. What is she without the rapturous applause? Devoid of the lights and glamor, is she anything at all? Was it truly all an act? Her gloved fingers tremble on the edge of the deck as she draws the ace of hearts. Maybe they were right. Maybe her magic is gone.


๐’๐๐„๐‚๐ˆ๐€๐‹๐ˆ๐“๐˜: Pickpocket, Master of Sleight-of-Hand and Acute Observation, Diversions

๐ƒ๐Ž๐’๐’๐ˆ๐„๐‘: Edith owns several pick-pocketed items, and over the years has amassed a great amount of stolen wealth.

๐•๐ˆ๐’๐€๐†๐„: A tall, willowy woman. She is soft; slender, but her frame holds few sharp angles. Her face, though creased with age, holds a strange, hypnotic beauty. She has large, ice blue eyes and a light shade of fiery red hair, featuring hints of strands of gray. Her hair is thick and coils into wild, barely manageable curls that she often spends a good amount of time taming with a straightener. Her skin is fair and gently sprinkled with light freckles from head-to-toe.


๐๐„๐‘๐’๐Ž๐๐€๐‹๐ˆ๐“๐˜: Edith is the textbook definition of a bitter old woman. In the eyes of herself and most others, she peaked long ago. She had so much passion and wanted so much, but when she achieved it all it wasn't what she expected. She took this personally, and adopted a sort of nihilism; a quiet anger at the world for somehow letting her down. She seems, to many, a carcass or husk of what she once was. Despite it all, she has a great sense of humor, dark as it may be, and has a certain otherworldly charm about her that many find irresistible. It would be wrong to say she's nothing but bitter, as she as a person is truly wily, exciting, and mystifying at her core. It's what caused her to become famous in the first place; a level of charisma and understated confidence that can rarely be rivaled. Deep underneath her melancholic exterior there is warmth and a yearning for deep connection with others that she often resists.

๐…๐„๐€๐‘๐’: The ambiguity of death, uncontrolled fire, uncleanliness, becoming obsolete.

๐•๐ˆ๐‚๐„๐’: Disdainful, Decadent, Bitter, Sensitive, Apathetic

๐•๐ˆ๐‘๐“๐”๐„๐’: Charismatic, Intelligent, Introspective, Wily, Graceful

๐–๐„๐€๐Š๐๐„๐’๐’๐„๐’: They typically have problems with bouts of melancholia, self-indulgence, and self-pity. A major pessimist. Lacks real purpose.

๐’๐“๐‘๐„๐๐†๐“๐‡๐’: Highly intuitive and introspective. Analytical. Can often tell when someone is lying to her face. Knows how to talk her way out of trouble.

๐‡๐„๐€๐ƒ๐‚๐€๐๐Ž๐๐’:
  • She loves tea, especially the chamomile variety, and always offers to brew some for others when they visit.
  • Type 4 Enneagram, INTJ
  • She loves to sing, and though her voice is breathy and not classically trained by any means, it's lovely in it's own way.
  • Pinterest Moodboard

๐‡๐ˆ๐’๐“๐Ž๐‘๐˜:

For most of Edithโ€™s life, she was a drifter. She was a runaway, a psych student dropout, a carnie, and then a celebrity. She never quite knew what she wanted, and had no true motivation other than money, and just went on a whim anywhere the wind took her.

Edith was a master at reading body language, an art also known as โ€œcold-readingโ€ in her industry. Even amongst her fellow psychology students, she had remarkably high levels of intuitive abilities. When a 20-year-old Edith drifted into the carnival scene, it was clear that she could profit off of this skill and she quickly developed and perfected her act; it was to be a stunning display of intuitive ability under the guise of psychic magic. Unbeknownst to her, she was made for the stage. Her presence was mystifying, wild, and exhilarating, and she commanded the audience with such ease that even the most cynical of viewers could believe that she was truly gifted with clairvoyance. She was an instant hit amongst the carnival-goers, and over time she was invited to bigger and better gigs that paid more and more money. Before she knew it, she was a celebrity; a Vegas regular.

With age, however, she became disillusioned with the big, shiny life of a celebrity. Of course, this could simply have been a reaction to her declining popularity. Regardless, her act grew stale and so did her passion for it. Before her very eyes, she was offered less and less pay, and her gig slots soon got overtaken by younger singer-songwriters and comedians. In the eyes of the public, her magic was gone, and there was no place in Hollywood for old women. Nowadays, she entertains herself by working her magic on the streets, flashy card tricks and displays of โ€œmind-reading,โ€ all diversions to allow her to pickpocket her customers.

 
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hello everyone !

Reminder that auditions are due by the end of TODAY. We wonโ€™t split hairs on time zones, so as long as itโ€™s in by the end of Tuesday, youโ€™re fine !
 

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