#lawlessintro | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rhapsodiq · 2 months

Text

* ◟ : 〔 KEANU REEVES , CISMALE + HE / HIM 〕 KANE IONA , some say you’re a FIFTY - SEVEN YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both AMBITIOUS and CRUEL, one can’t help but think of SINNERMAN by NINA SIMONE when you walk by. are you still an CEO / UNDERBOSS at ANUNNAKI PHARMACEUTICALS / BURNING GODS , even with your reputation as THE ALMIGHTY ? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and FLASHING LIGHTS, A CHARISMATIC, CONTAINED SMILE, HAVING LEARNED THE BEST OF THE BEST FROM EXECUTIVE COACHES, PR REPRESENTATIVES, ALMOST EVERY NEWS OUTLET IN YOUR POCKET; CHILDREN THAT YOU DO NOT CARE OR SEE VERY MUCH EXCEPT A STREAM OF INCOME COMING FROM YOUR ACCOUNT TO THEIRS EVERY MONTH, GOING UNNOTICED; THE PURE DEVOTION FOR THE RELIGION THAT YOU HAVE CREATED, ANYONE WHO GOES AGAINST IT MUST CRUMBLE UNDER THE FULL EXTENT OF YOUR POWER. although we can’t help but think of JOSEPH SEED ( FAR CRY 5 ), ELIJAH KAMSKI ( DETROIT BECOME HUMAN ) , BERTRAND ZOBRIST ( INFERNO, DAN BROWN ) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

INTERVIEW ( live televised )

speaker: please welcome, the lead news reporter of our channel, michael smith, here to interview the ceo of annunnaki pharmaceuticals and philanthropist, doctor kane iona!

michael smith: good morning everyone, thank you for being with us today, either in the studio or at home, watching us live on your screens. i couldn't be more pleased to sit with doctor kane iona today. i suppose he does not need much of an introduction, as he is one of the most influential people in the world today —

kane iona, laughing: as kind as always, michael. it is my pleasure to be here with you all.

michael: i forget, is this our sixth interview? i must say, it was hardly a surprise to see you take the mantle as the ceo, as you have been in the board for how many years now- twenty... thirty?

kane: that makes me seem even more of an old man, michael! who knows, time passes quickly for sure.

michael: you're right, a life devoted to the company, as we all know. so tell us, how has it been going? it has been a over year now with you as the ceo, do tell us your plans? how do you feel now that you are no longer the cfo?

kane: you know, as cliche as it sounds, it does not feel that much different. this company has been my and malvina's arduous work for the past few decades, and while she did such a tremendous job being the face of the company, me being appointed as the face is the only thing that has changed in terms of what goes behind the scenes. she has decided to take some time to focus on her health, and she has my and our team's full support on that.

michael: are you saying the key values will remain the same? can you tell us a bit about them?

kane: of course, as always, the wellness of our consumers is our first priority. we have been and always will be the pioneers of innovation going forward, both with our current line of products, as well as the ones in the upcoming cycles. we have a very devoted team behind the scenes, the best in their respective fields, and i am very proud of every single one of them. furthermore, we are committed to do all of our business with integrity and full transparency — but i will stop here, my children say i tend to talk too much when given the stage.

michael, laughing: we would love to listen more, i am sure, but since we have limited time, i will move on. tell us about your personal life a bit more — children, you mentioned, how are they doing?

kane: i have an older son, and two twin daughters, they are so grown up now that i can hardly believe my eyes. very bright and smart, you know the type of youth you like to see that makes you more optimistic for the future.

michael: how wonderful! now, i have a private question that i know all of our viewers would learn to more about. tell us a bit about your upbringing? how does a man become so influential? what were your parents like? what's your secret?

kane: oh, i wish my answer was more exciting, michael. before you all start sighing, it really does boil to hard work. i was a med student just like many of you out there, and graduated with a crazy amount of student debt. with the hours i put into my passion of medicine and wellbeing , malvina and i became partners in showing the full potential of what annunnaki could be to the whole world. we knew how much we could do — and we worked days and nights to make it happen. of course, it does not happen without a powerful team of scientists who are our miracle workers, as well as the shareholders who have put their trust in us from the beginning.

michael: and we are all very much looking forward to the new — or perhaps should i say the future era of annunnaki? thank you for being with us here dr. iona, hoping for another interview again soon?

kane, laughing: of course michael, as long as you have us, we are more than grateful to share the great work we do, and we thank you for believing in us. there's a lot more to come, so keep your eyes peeled!

— end of broadcast —

#lawlessintro #take a shot every time i use a corporate buzzword #— c: kane iona.#— about: kane iona.#this is a weird format for bio i know i might try a more traditional approach later but i wanted to try this out

8 notes · View notes

darkvoiids · 2 months

Text

* ◟ : 〔 GEMMA ARTERTON , CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER 〕 BURNADINE LEIGH , some say you’re a THIRTY EIGHT YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both LOYAL and RUTHLESS, one can’t help but think of WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE by POWERMAN 5000 when you walk by. are you still a BLADE RUNNER for STONEAGE INDUSTRIES, even with your reputation as THE HUNTER? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and THE MEANS TO THE END, THE ARGUMENT SCOFFED AT, THE ULTERIOR MOTIVE; THE RUBY IN THE STORIES, THE POEMS, THE RED LIPS, THE SHOCK OF CRIMSON IN A HANDSHAKE; A CAT'S INSCRUTABLE STARE, THE EYES ON AN ANGEL'S WINGS, GIVEN FOR GREAT DISCERNMENT, AND THE SUBSEQUENT TERROR OF THE ONE THAT BEHOLDS, although we can’t help but think of RIZA HAWKEYE ( FMA:B ) + LEVI ACKERMAN ( ATTACK ON TITAN ) + NATASHA ROMANOFF ( MARVEL ) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

— NAVIGATION.

#lawlessintro #if u saw my attempt before this no u didnt #tumblr wasnt letting me ctrl v... in this day and age #also only her bio is up! hcs + connections are under co <3

8 notes · View notes

devilsons · 3 months

Text

TO DO: BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS ME

PERSONAL DETAILS

NAME... archibald adams

NICKNAMES / OTHER NOTABLE... leech, archie, canis, bloodhound, hanging man's cannon fodder, fucked up little freak ( by enemies and friends alike )

PRONOUNS... he / him / his

AGE... twenty-eight

BIRTHDAY... july 2nd

STAR SIGN... cancer

SEXUALITY... bisexual / greyromantic

ALIGNMENT... chaotic neutral

PERSONALITY TYPE... enfp-t, the campaigner

ENNEAGRAM... type six, the loyalist

FAMILY... diane adams ( mother ), douglas redacted ( father, estranged / possibly deceased )

INFLUENCES... tyler durden ( fight club ), jesse pinkman ( breaking bad ), the priest ( fleabag ), denji ( chainsaw man ), stu macher ( scream ), luke crain ( the haunting of hill house ), b-rabbit ( 8 mile ), steve-o ( real person but essential to his makeup, also jackass )

SUBSTANCE

a turbulent jester; wicked smile, swinging switchblade, obedient dog. he thrashes wildly between carefully collected chaos and teetering over into the deep end. substance abuse paired with bipolar disorder make him hard to gauge and even harder to communicate with. he is one of two things at all times; trapped somewhere between mischievously playing the fool and a poorly restrained bloodhound, snarling and drooling, red ichor spilled wet between fangs.

APPEARANCE DETAILS

HAIR... kept short, dyed a yellowish blonde often with grown out dark brown roots

EYES... deep brown, almost black, swallow light whole

BUILD... lean and lanky but packed with power, akin to a stray dog.

HEIGHT... 6'3"

NOTABLE MARKS... heavily tattooed from the neck down, arms and hands peppered with small scars. heavier scarring on his back and torso in long slashes, bullet hole in his right shoulder. foul play. always bringing a knife to a gun fight.

USUAL COUNTENANCE... grey / purple tinted under eye bags, prone to a bloody nose, sallow skin, surprisingly pretty straight, white smile

BIOGRAPHY( tw : // drug abuse, drug use, violence, neglect )

he was unleashed into a single bedroom apartment in queens; dingy furniture and a smoke screen, walls stained yellow and black, the air toxic in the form of mold and second-hand inhalation. he was just a child, his mother passing her sickness onto him and a father he'd never met, a name he'd never heard. he were raised on ruthlessness, survival, and necessity. he was never the most important thing to his poor mother, her illness always drawing her attention to other places, but even still, she’d always loved him. he wasn’t given the right to an easy life, primarily taking care of himself since he'd learned to walk and talk, and then by age ten taking care of their mother too at times. in the early years of his life he was a prodigy, infatuated with math and science and all things technology. the rise of the android had scarcely begun in those days, and he had no way of telling the technological advancements the city would soon make, or the dangers that would come with it. but this wouldn’t happen for years, by the time the first android walks among the city without the repulsion of the uncanny valley he would have long abandoned such passions, blood stained under his fingernails as he disguises himself as a goon.

first, he was a boy. thick-framed glasses and baggy clothes, a wide, child-like stare hardened into stone long before it began to soften once again. by fifteen he’d drawn blood for the first time with intention and brutality, a street scuffle between children verging on adulthood, the endless abyss between life forms, the open wound of youth taking over the rage of hormones; stand tall, defend what is yours. he walked away with shaking hands and hurried breath, footsteps pounding as he ran from the scene. it was just one slice of skin, a thin trickle of blood, not his first sight of its smear but the beginning of a new era. it took time before he grew a taste for violence, the initial promise of it making him sick, then in turn making him cold. he lost the passions he had, the innocence, for a time, becoming a machine built only for waking to see the next day. it took time to learn how to cope with this lifestyle, picked off the streets to run petty work by seventeen, no longer a boy but not yet a man; drops, pick ups, simple work ( illegal work ) to make the money to feed himself and his mother, to clean her off the floor a couple times a week. frailty turned into muscle and hardened stature, fear turned to mirth, mirth turned to humor.

soon small jobs became a full initiation, then they put a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. it was around this time he fell victim to the family habits, the drugs helping the mix of violence and hilarity, stoking it’s flames, creating a new persona out of the ashes of his history. he was a wild card; he was the one sent to do the things nobody else wanted to do, a butcher with a complete detachment from humanity, delivered with a fools wide grin and a quip readied at the back of his tongue. the hanging man destroyed him, but gave him a purpose, a twisted found family with the bitter nickname slipping past everyone’s lips, one he’d gained from days gone of pickpocketing and sucking the blood, so to speak, from businessmen and gangsters, “leech.” he embodied this, if nothing else to feel a sense of purpose, to feel needed. he was at best a glorified henchman, but his immense loyalty and perfectly grey morality made him essential, irreplaceable. he would do anything they asked between bouts of debauchery and recklessness, detriment balanced perfectly with chaos, unbridled destruction.

now he stays in his own apartment after having taken ownership of the bad monkey bar, visiting his mother every so often if only to check her pulse. he spends days outside of business indulging in drugs, alcohol, and other means of hedonism, his phone always close by. he’s most often found in clubs and bars, shrouded in smoke with an easy posture and a wide smile, bruised knuckles holding a drink in one and a cigarette in the other. don’t be nervous, his bark as loud as his bite is lethal, remains usually silent; a trained doberman with its tongue lolling out of its mouth, head cocked and lips pulled back in the image of a grin; only dangerous when his owner dangles a treat and says ‘devastate.’

pinterest playlist

#lawlessintro #about #tw // drug mention

11 notes · View notes

playsgods · 4 months

Text

* ◟ : 〔 KIOWA GORDON , CIS MAN + HE / HIM 〕 HUGHBERT ' HUGHIE ' HARDINGS , some say you’re a THIRTY YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both INDOMITABLE and OBSTINATE , one can’t help but think of SCAREDY CAT by DPR IAN when you walk by. are you still a FBI AGENT ( ACTIVELY UNDERCOVER) , SOLDIER for THE GOVERNMENT , THE BURNING GODS , even with your reputation as THE ICARUS? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and LIVING IN A CONSTANT STATE OF RECOVERY ( YOU BOY WITH TOO MANY WAR WOUNDS , AND NEVER ENOUGH WARS ) / WATCHING THE SAME THREE SHOWS OVER AND OVER AGAIN BECAUSE THERE'S COMFORT IN KNOWING HOW THINGS END / A MULTITUDE OF MASKED BEHAVIOURS ( SERENITY ON YOUR FEATURES AS YOU SCREAM IN PUBLIC BATHROOMS ALONGSIDE THE SOUND OF XLERATOR HAND DRYERS ), although we can’t help but think of JAKE PERALTA ( B99 ) + SASUKE UCHIHA ( NARUTO ) + BELLAMY BLAKE ( THE 100 ) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

*　　　　&　　◞　　　　𝐢　　　　.　　　　𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒　　　　.

　full　name　:　hughbert henry hardings. 　nickname(s)　:　hughie , hugh , hugo. 　age　+　bday　:　30 + oct 25th. 　gender　+　pronouns　:　cis man + he / him. 　sexuality　:　pansexual + panromantic. 　birthplace　:　brooklyn , new york. 　languages　:　english , spanish + conversational levels of french , mandarin & russian. 　accent　:　has a bit of brooklyn in him when he gets angry or excited. 　current　location　:　harlem , new york. 　occupation　:　fbi agent ( currently undercover ) , soldier for burning gods. 　loyalty　:　himself. 　family　:　howard hardings — father ( † ) , catherine hardings — mother ( † ).

*　　　　&　　◞　　　　𝐢𝐢　　　　.　　　　𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃　　　　.

　 —　linked here bc tumblr said stfu bee </3

*　　　　&　　◞　　　　𝐢𝐢𝐢　　　　.　　　　𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒　　　　.

　 —　 is deep undercover with the burning gods gang as we speak !! it's got him feeling a million and ten different ways , most of them bad bad BAD , but he's damn good at his job , and dedicated to eradicating gang life ( or at least one gang in particular ) !! considering his emotions , however , that are usually hovering slightly above shaky , at best , he probably Is and will be emotionally compromised at a single gentle touch <3 will he betray the fbi , or will he actually stick to his guns for once and see his assignment thru ?? #chooseyourownhughieadventure begins now ! 　 —　 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒔 include : burning gods members , especially someone who's suspicious of him , perhaps ? but also someone who's taken him under their wing , someone he's latched onto like a leach ... fbi agent(s) / gov't workers , his mission handler , perhaps ? someone who he considers a parental figure bc he has so many mommy - daddy issues. friends , neither related to his job or revenge mission , just pls give him some silly goofy pals for him to drive up the wall <33 who accept him for who he is , in all his painfully messy glory. enemies , either related to gang stuff or maybe hughie just accidentally spilled an iced americano on them and he ended up being the one to yell at them for being in his way. fwb(s) , except there are no benefits to either sleeping w or being friends w hughie </3 how did you end up in this situation beloved ? pls let me show you the quickest way out.

#lawlessintro #pls do not tap on his enclosure #he will bite <3

14 notes · View notes

paradiserots · 3 months

Text

— INTRODUCING , 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐍 .

* ◟ : 〔 MADS MIKKELSEN, CIS MAN + HE / HIM 〕 SØREN URSIN , some say you’re a FIFTY EIGHT YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both INGENIOUS and DISHONORABLE, one can’t help but think of NEW PERSON, SAME OLD MISTAKES by TAME IMPALA when you walk by. are you still a KILLER, ASSASSIN, ( BABA YAGA ) for THE TERRORS, even with your reputation as THE PLAGUE DOCTOR? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and NEARLY DRIVING YOURSELF MAD IN THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE, CALLOUSED HANDS CLAD IN BLACK GLOVES— OVERDUE FOR RETIREMENT , A LIGHT THAT ESCAPED YOUR EYES DECADES AGO, although we can’t help but think of VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN ( FRANKENSTEIN ) + MAGNETO ( X-MEN ) + ROBERT FORD ( WESTWORLD ) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

— STATS .

FULL NAME . søren ursin NICKNAMES . ren BIRTHDAY . february 12th AGE . fifty-eight GENDER . cis-man PRONOUNS . he/him ORIENTATION .bisexual romantic FAMILY . unamed (ex-wife), __ ursin (child), __ (child) OCCUPATION . asassin MARKINGS/TATTOOS . baba yaga tattoo PIERCINGS . none HEIGHT . 6'0

— PERSONALITY .

POSITIVE TRAITS . clever, curious, innovative, knowledgeable, shrewd, meticulous NEGATIVE TRAITS . unethical, selfish, scheming, apathetic, aloof, cynical LANGUAGES . english, danish, german EDUCATION . medical school and all that jazz MBTI . istj (the logistician) MORAL ALIGNMENT . true neutral DEADLY SIN . gluttony HEAVENLY VIRTUE . patience ZODIAC . aqaurius sun, capricorn rising

— BIOGRAPHY.

YOU HAVE NO GOD BUT YOURSELF.

YOU ARE THE CHILD OF TWO SURGEONS, ONE BRAIN AND ONE HEART. Precociousness is encouraged, if not expected entirely. You are their only son, and carry the weight of their every expectation. Legacy is a frequent topic of conversation in the Ursin household. The world becomes your eternal mystery, a thread meant for unraveling.

You explore its various facets, eventually following in your parents’ footsteps and pursuing a career in medicine. Your studies to take you unexpectedly to Columbia Medical School, where you specialize in plastic surgery. Reconstructive surgery becomes what you’re known for. You pursue the most challenging of cases, ones refused by the top doctors in your field.

You advance as far as you can, and your interest gradually wanes. Somewhere along the way, you get married and have two children. Eventually, the stakes of your profession no longer excite you. There were other mysteries to uncover elsewhere, this much you know when Stoneage is eventually put on your radar. It is the replicants that capture your attention.

You are immediately enticed by the near perfect imitation of humanity. By the fact that on the surface, they’re indistinguishable from you and those you surround yourself with. You begin to pursue certifications in coding, doing what you can to get your foot in the door with the company. The resignation of your position comes to a shock for many— to make such a pivot at the height of your career is unheard of.

Still, you haven’t a single regret. Your rise through the company ranks comes with the same ease as it does in medicine. It eventually allows you unfettered access to replicant technology, something you eventually begin exploiting for your own gains. You begin secretly syphoning tech, occasionally selling it to black market dealers, occasionally using it for your own personal projects. What would happen if replicant technology is fused with a human being? This becomes your primary inquiry over the years.

Your fall from grace comes swiftly. The discovery of your secret illegal endeavors is enough to land you in jail, with a revoked medical license, unearthing your stellar reputation as you know it. Your wife divorces you with swiftness, in order to retain what was left of your familial public image. You do not protest when the divorce proceedings leave you nearly penniless.

As your sentence nears its end, you eventually receive correspondence from a NIKO ORTEGA, a professed admirer of your lesser-known work— the ones that managed to escape the attention of the general public— cemented through rumor alone. It is thought that several of your botched surgeries, specifically those resulting in death, were done on purpose, something that was ultimately unable to be proven.

Your skill set could be of potential use to THE TERRORS, and in return, you’d be handsomely compensated. It was the sort of pay you never imagined you’d touch again in this lifetime— something you were more than grateful for, considering your newfound felonies. You become dubbed BABA YAGA, your kiss of death delivered with surgical precision.

— WANTED CONNECTIONS .

ex-wife and children ofc

ex-patients

jail buddies

someone who exposed his crimes

maybe he messed up your surgery or someone close to your character whomp whomp

I'll think more i promise

#lawlessintro #— introduction : soren .#if this doesn't make sense yes it does

8 notes · View notes

bclletragedie · 3 months

Text

* ◟ : 〔 monica bellucci , cisfemale + she/her 〕 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀 , some say you’re a fifty-six year old lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both charming and short-tempered, one can’t help but think of breakin’ dishes by rhianna when you walk by. are you still a underboss / socialite at the hanging man, even with your reputation as the tigress? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and all the money in the world at one’s fingertips, smokey eyeshadow and smudged lipstick to give that effortless look, cigarettes in alleyways, although we can’t help but think of catwoman (batman universe), villanelle (killing eve), veronica sawyer (heathers) whenever we see you down these rainy streets. ( mel , 23 , any pronouns , est + none . )

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . .

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒.

name: helene ophelia coppola. nicknames/alias: none, and make no attempt to give her one.

faceclaim: monica bellucci.

age: fifty-six. gender: cisfemale. sexuality: pansexual. date/place of birth: november 23rd / florence, italy. currently: queens, nyc.

positive traits: charming, negative traits: short-tempered, vengeful, astrological sign: scorpio. archetype: the femme fatale.

𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 . . .

#𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙴 | about.#lawlessintro

9 notes · View notes

amendehonorable · 3 months

Text

* ◟ : 〔 riz ahmed , non binary + any pronouns 〕 TAJ KHAN , some say you’re a FORTY YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both HEADSTRONG and OVERZEALOUS, one can’t help but think of DUMBEST GIRL ALIVE by 100 GECS when you walk by. are you still THE LOCUST at NEON PARIAHS, even with your reputation as the WRETCH? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and old books on meditation, dog eared and coffee stained; buzzed hair bleached blond with peroxide; a foreboding cheshire grin, blood sneaking from their gums, although we can’t help but think of CHIP (68 kill), MIA (talk to me), BRIGITTE FITZGERALD (ginger snaps) whenever we see you down these rainy streets. TW: allusions to alcoholism

taj khan plays the part of THE LOCUST. a biblical plague, a sign of pestilence, bringer of famine and unrest. it begins its life as a solitary creature—the grasshopper. orphaned at age twelve, taj had grown all too familiar with that concept. their adolescence blurs together into a shapeless mass that can only be described as cold, rugged survival; characterized by sleepless nights warmed only by the bottle and run-ins with bad men hardened by the world around them. the grasshopper had to grow up quickly to come to terms with one simple fact: there was nothing left for them there. all that remained was homes abandoned and frozen in time, wildlife reclaiming all signs of human resilience, a wide expanse of land like a scar in the shape of what the world used to be. what taj had spent their entire life aching for.

the grasshopper molts five times, shedding old skin weekly until one day, wings emerge. flight extends the creature’s reach across miles of land, across seas, across cityscapes, but it cannot do this without undergoing a specific and unique chemical change. this change began when taj stepped into new york city for the first time. bustling and bright, big but at the same time, so small. they knew nobody, hell, they were nobody. they walked around the crowds with the energy of a man with a target painted on their back. to make a living and support themself in this new world they found themselves in, they forged information that would convince the city’s government that they were local. taj took up dozens of different odd jobs, everything from digging graves to cleaning apartments, just to afford housing and a bite to eat. housing that they were once able to build, food they were once able to hunt. this neon city that they once imagined to be salvation turned into something more akin to damnation. the grasshopper slowly became resentful, not of their fellow citizens, but of the pigs that exist at the top of the totem pole. while they knew they hadn’t been the only one to find flaws in the nation's dogma, outwardly admitting to their allegiances (and lack thereof) was a risky act. but there was something funny about folks from behind the walls—they had a bad habit of bumping into each other.

it was among this group of outsiders that this grasshopper underwent their final transformation into that big, dark, swarming thing we call a locust when the other wastelanders took them under their wing. they informed taj of the ghouls in the business of replacing flesh and blood with wires and silicone, of the bloodsuckers that make those pretty little pills, of the gangs that infest the streets with crime and bloodshed. it lit a fire inside of them that refused to be extinguished. the life they knew before coming to the city wasn’t perfect either; the world they were raised in was completely lawless, access to medicine was severely limited, and disease and famine ravaged what remains of once thriving communities. despite this, humanity continued to persist. little enclaves of survivors gave evidence to the theory that survival was a numbers game. these groups nursed their sick and nurtured their young, life was simple and bloody but god was it beautiful. the grasshopper the locust believes that maybe, with the right amount of elbow grease, new york will free itself from the false notion of rugged individualism. the sun will rise above neon signs and ever growing superstructures and cradle us in its hands once more but before the night is over, ichor from this modern pantheon of false gods demands to be spilled. it wouldn’t be the first time taj would curl their fingers around the handle of a knife. the leader of the neon pariahs demands patience in execution, a slow and silent death. yet, as time passes and the economic divide continues to expand exponentially, they can’t help but feel that lack of action will one day be the group’s downfall. they bite their tongue, they stay in their place, but every second spent not preparing for all out war is another life lost to overwork, to experimentation, to innovation at the cost of everything that makes us human. the locust is hungry for battle and despite how hard it may try, it cannot strip cities bare by its lonesome—it takes an army to turn the world onto its head.

#lawlessintro #* TAJ K / intro !#alcoholism tw #ur favorite neighborhood commie. hes gonna quote marx at you

9 notes · View notes

deif1ed · 2 months

Text

* ◟ : 〔 devery jacobs , gender - fluid + they / them . 〕 RONAN "RONNIE" BONSPILLE , some say you’re a TWENTY - NINE YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both SELFLESS and OBSTINATE , one can’t help but think of JUNE ( FROM THE SEASONS ) by PYOTR ILYICH TCHAIKOVSKY when you walk by. are you still a PRINCIPAL BALLERINA at the NEW YORK BALLET COMPANY , even with your reputation as THE BLACK SHEEP ? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and A RUN - DOWN SHACK WITH A WHIRRING , RETRO DESKTOP COMPUTER , FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH LINES OF CODED NAMES FOR YOU TO HELP ; THE DIZZYING KALEIDOSCOPE FORMING IN YOUR EYES AS YOU CONTINUE TO SPIN CLOSER & CLOSER TO THE GLASS IN A SHRINKING ROOM ; THE SENSATION OF TULLE IN YOUR FINGERTIPS BEFORE IT IS TORN , USED FOR BANDAGES , FOR SOMETHING MORE USEFUL THAN WHAT IT STANDS FOR , although we can’t help but think of CHEZA ( WOLF'S RAIN ) ; HOTARU TOMOE ( SAILOR MOON ) ; VICTORIA PAGE ( THE RED SHOES ) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙲𝚂.

full name: ronan bonspille sawatis.

nickname: ronnie ; $black_sheep02

age: 29.

birthday: october 1st.

zodiac sun sign: libra.

gender + pronouns: gender - fluid + they / them.

orientation: bisexual.

birthplace: akwesnasne, franklin county, new york.

languages: english, mohawk, spanish, italian.

accent: some often comment that they are accent-less compared to others.

occupation: principal ballerina @ the new york ballet company; freelance activist.

loyalty: defective replicants, runaways, strays, etc.

family: birth mother + second mother ( couple , living ).

𝙳𝙴𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙻𝚂.

hair: short, jet - black, razored in an undercut with asymmetrical bangs. shoulder-length, able to be pinned back in buns or braided tightly.

eyes: hazel-brown.

piercings: ( right ear ) ; ( lip ) ; right nipple.

tattoos: ( hands ) ; ( face ).

mbti: infj — the advocate.

moral alignment: chaotic good.

+ selfless , empathetic , amicable.

- obstinate , martyr , outspoken.

𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺𝙶𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳. ( cw implications of classism )

you were born on the rez to two mothers who loved you & nurtured your spirit. she wanted the best for you, she meaning both, & they pooled their savings for you to be able to chase after whatever dream you sought between your teeth. you saw the beauty of maria tallchief, crackling in white static over the television; you, small & stocky & full of fire, determined to stand upon your toes as she did. & then you saw a face that looked like your own, acting in a major movie. you decided you could be both, you could be anything — so long, your mothers warned, as you did not ruin the lives of those around you to get it. that creates bad medicine, makes you apt to have terrible, lurking shadows snapping at your ankles. you had dreams of bats, hiding their knowledge; dreams of beavers, building dams to protect you. you knew that whatever path you took, your ancestors would follow after. on your path, you found your best friend, with whom you took into thick & thin. running on the streets after school, bounding back to the house your mothers rented.

then, the dream of dancing & acting took you far away from home. you were tired of the white snow, the blaring neon, the glistening petrichor. you wanted to taste a different kind of path, & so you paved it to the west coast, hoping, dreaming that you would walk into an office and get the same leading part. but you were used to hard work; these things were never handed over to you. regardless of this, still it was a shock to your senses when you realised: everyone has an ulterior motive. all looked at you like a wolf to devour or a snake to poison. competition, not friends. a phone call here and there back home, & you knew if you kept that up, you would miss everyone too much. not nostalgia, but homesickness. these sandy beaches in your fingertips had no persuasion over you; the lewd glances over casting couches only served to make you cry. you consider yourself fortunate nothing ever truly did hurt you whilst out there, studying, frothing. your purpose came in the form of an ex, introducing you to his throwaway laptop. he wanted to break in. when you saw the names of those trapped — you wanted to break them out.

even after your relationship with him ended, your relationship with that computer did not. black sheep formed from your fingertips, names of replicants back in, none other than, new york. the stars seemed to be aligning. at twenty-one, with a degree in the arts tucked into your pocket, you made the cross-country climb to return home to your land, your ancestors calling you back. along the way, you met others who had escaped. others who spoke of life with a new light. you yourself, living out of your car, scraping by on gas money, being kind & getting kindness in return — this was no faerie tale, but gritty reality in a different point of view. even if there were ulterior motives, that didn't mean you needed one. by the time you were back, you had a new purpose. you took the position after gruelling auditions, becoming a soloist, then getting promoted to principal within three years. you're spending your nights in that shack out back, outfitted from that same basic little laptop. whomever needs your help will get it. you keep yourself anonymous; any time you show up to something black sheep is needed for, you are masked & shift your voice downwards into another ancestor's tone.

in addition to this, you are also an activist. quite outspoken in both digital & physical spaces, though always attempting to remain as anonymous as possible. you don't want to compromise your position in the company, which pays your way to these secondary objectives. your mothers are proud of you, though they do not say so in as many words. you are back with your best friend, though you are not all too sure how he'll receive you. you are not struggling, but you are clawing. there is blood & grit beneath your nails because you refuse to be taken down, taken out. just by being born, there were places you felt silenced: school, rehearsals, amongst your more privileged peers. not now. you want to get to know everyone as you'd like to be known. you want to be in love. you want it to be soft. you want to stay soft, however loud your voice might proclaim its opinions. the world attempts to reap the food from the starving; it succeeds. that does not mean you will cry.

& despite this, you live quietly. you search out replicants. they search you out by hearing about your sheltering, your willingness to foster or assist, your outstretched hand inviting them to crash on your couch. you shield anybody who defects from their government or gang if they ask. no payment required except a new life carved for themself. you operate on promises & keeping them. however short, however long, your integrity will remain intact. even if it kills you.

𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂.

some basics: replicants / stoneage defectors, any defectors from any government establishment really because they are staunchly anti-establishment ; other friends / exes that they lost contact with / the ex that introduced them to this long ago ; fellow dancers + those at the new york ballet company ; anybody at godfather house of blues or gravity ( where they frequent ) ; fellow hackers / activists / freelancers who are anti-establishment ; officials or gang heads who want to employ them for their useful information ; anything else we can think of!

#𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐍. / intro.#lawlessintro #yeehaw fellas

7 notes · View notes

tendrflesh · 4 months

Text

* ◟ : 〔 derek luh , demi-man + they/he 〕 otis gao , some say you’re a twenty-nine lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both responsible and foolish, one can’t help but think of got shocked by wednesday when you walk by. are you still a blade runner at stoneage industries even with your reputation as the achilles heel? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and dark circles under eyes, frayed hems on slightly too long pants, damp hair in the morning. although we can’t help but think of carl grimes (the walking dead), landry clarke (friday night lights), joseph cooper (inerstellar). whenever we see you down these rainy streets. ’

BASICS

NAME: otis carlson gao NICKNAMES: oti JOB: bladerunner, stoneage industries BIRTHDAY: march 10 ZODIAC: pisces sun SEXUALITY: pansexual GENDER: demi-man, they/he RELIGION: none THREE POSITIVE TRAITS: responsible, trusting, empathetic, loyal THREE NEGATIVE TRAITS: foolish, obedient, distraught ENNEAGRAM: 6w5 MYERS-BRIGGS: isfj AESTHETIC: dark circles under eyes, frayed hems on slightly too long pants, damp hair in the morning CHARACTER INSPO: carl grimes (the walking dead), landry clarke (friday night lights), joseph cooper (inerstellar) LIKES: DISLIKES:

pinterest | playlist

WANTED CONNECTIONS

twin sister (london thur)

flings

sibling type relationship

someone who makes them question everything

someone who wants to manipulate him

current connections

dealer: bash owens

siblings type: rafferty o'shea, raven kowalski

nerds: silas clarke

enemy/grude: frankie levin

FAST FACTS

otis has been a blade runner for over six years now

he's very good at his job - yet there is something poking at him

curious, wanting stability but knows there can be more

has a strong moral code, but can be persuaded if you adhere to that code

protective instinct

shy and unassuming at first

secret drug addiction that few know about

frankie killed his aunt & uncle and has been holding a grudge against her for years now - he's not quite vengeful but he's almost there

more to come...

#gonna be updated but here is the beginning!#otis | intro #lawlessintro

10 notes · View notes

rhapsodiq · 2 months

Text

* ◟ : 〔 JUSTIN CHIEN, CIS MAN + HE / HIM 〕 XIANG ‘SEAN’ LIU , some say you’re a TWENTY-SIX-YEAR-OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both DRIVEN and VICIOUS, one can’t help but think of EXIT MUSIC ( FOR A FILM ) by RADIOHEAD when you walk by. are you still the ENFORCER for THE TERRORS, even with your reputation as THE DEMON? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and YOUR KNUCKLES COVERED IN BLOOD , STICKY YET FAMILIAR IN A DISTURBINGLY COMFORTABLE WAY . STEPPING OUTSIDE TO CUTTING MIDNIGHT AIR , THE NYLON OF A NEW PACK OF CIGARETTES THROWN TO THE GROUND , INHALING THE FIRST DRAG AS IF REACHING THE SURFACE FOR FRESH AIR, WATCHING THE SMOKE THAT SWIRLS AROUND, DISAPPEARING AMIDST THE DIRT THAT IS THIS DAMNED CITY. CALLOUSED PALMS RUNNING ACROSS SMOOTH SKIN, HEART SHUT TIGHT TO THE WORLD, LOOKING FOR A WORLDLY THRILL IN ONE BED THEN ANOTHER, NEVER FOR TOO LONG, although we can’t help but think of THANATOS ( GREEK MYTHOLOGY ) + JACK REACHER ( JACK REACHER ) + GORO MAJIMA ( YAKUZA ) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

BIOGRAPHY (might change around post-plotting)

general tws: violence, blood, drug use, death, asphyxiation,child neglect

xiang is born into violence , just like many others in the city . death surrounds him with every step , and he has made it into who he is now , all that he knows . — and honestly ? he is damn good at it .

born to a good-for-nothing father who'd do anything to get high and a woman who was way too young for any kind of responsibility , it's a doomed story from the start . he's an unplanned child , and for some reason that he no longer tries to figure out , his mother decides to carry him to full term . complications arise ( again, doomed, doomed, doomed ) — and she dies at the age of 20. and while his father attempts - no, fails to raise a child , xiang is put into the system not long after .

he learns kindness does not come without a cost early in his life . the system is not kind , nor is the first nor the second or the third foster family . he does not give them a chance to try again after that , running away when he's eight - and that's how he finds himself growing off of scraps , curled on street corners with a permanent scowl on his face , flittering from one place to another , lowest of the low, but— free for the first time.

time on the streets is not easy , nothing really is , but that's how xiang learns to survive in this " eat or be eaten " world . he learns how to move , how to bite , how to fight -- underground fighting rings is how he usually gets fed on most days , knuckles open and bleeding , an out-of-place grin on his face in a place that harbors scum of the city - those who don't really care how old the fighter is , only how violent they can be . and oh xiang can be violent - he revels in it . if not for how damn good he is on the ring , he wouldn't be getting most of the bets in his favor . most find it uneasy to watch him fight , how the corners of his lips curl as the fists match their target , breaking open the skin , again and again , and again , until he physically has to be pulled away .

he survives off fighting underground for a good few years , but it's not enough to feed the itch under his skin - which is why he starts doing things he shouldn't ( though again, who's to decide what's right or wrong ) - picking pockets , listening into conversations , doing drops here and there . no one assumes much of a street kid hunched over himself , hoodie pulled over his head . unassuming , he is for most of the time , never lingering in a place too long , without any attachments or strings .

it does not take him too long to be in over his head . at sixteen years of age - he eavesdrops into a conversation that is certainly not for his ears . actions have consequences , it's the first time xiang briefly fears death , a hand curled around his windpipe , the smell of sweat and cigar filling his chest . then , luck finds him for the first time - when someone from the terrors actually walks into the room and gives him a shot - protection against what he heard , and whom he has crossed .

at first , gratitude is unfamiliar ... foreign , over-consuming in ways xiang hasn't experienced before . it curls up in his chest , takes over his lungs , squeezes and breaks the skin into a sort of stout devotion he has never felt before . it's not easy to say the least - to be part of something bigger than him - it's against everything he has learned on the streets . being alone is no longer what's keeping him alive , and the whole is bigger than its parts — it's hard but , all of that slowly seeps into his skin , into who he is , and what he can do .

after eight years in the terrors , xiang lives up to his name as " the demon " in ways their enemies cannot imagine . as the enforcer of the group , all he needs is what he deems a bad look towards his people , and the rest is history . he is cruel in ways that are creative yet disturbing , his devotion to the terrors unparalled , which he has proved again and again over the years .

death surrounds , and xiang makes his home in it .

CONNECTION IDEAS

people from the foster home: he lives in the orphanage between the ages of six - twelve , he was not consistently for the entirety of six years , but connections when he was that young would be v interesting ! again, they could have lost contact and just bumped into each other or have been friends for the past few years etc.

street kings: he lived on the streets or hopped houses between the ages of twelve and sixteen. this connection could be something positive or negative ! either they survived together or were territorial over sth, we can decide together

underground fighting ring: either people he fought with, or fought as part of their "team", the bookie, or anything revolving around this would be very interesting!

first & final strike: i am v much to exploring as to what xiang heard (or maybe did) to incur the wrath of an organization when he was sixteen that someone from the terrors helped him from! this would be a very fun connection

he enforces...: these would probably be antagonistic connections! maybe he killed or beat up someone really badly that ur muse knew? or again maybe that person is your muse? again very up for discussion!

ride or die (terrors locked? another organization probably would not work): take xiangs whole devotion and crank it up to x1000, he'd go full feral mode for ur muse and vice versa, up for exploration

fwbs, exes, romantic: messy!! again up for exploration & plotting, for most, he'd just disappear and act like nothing happened.... emotionally constipated in many ways. i am sorry in advance ;;

#lawlessintro #he's here !!#— c: xiang liu.#— about: xiang liu.

8 notes · View notes

darkvoiids · 2 months

Text

* ◟ : 〔 kentaro sakaguchi , cis man + he/him 〕 kenji nakamura, some say you’re a thirty year old lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both charismatic and hedonistic, one can’t help but think of nausea by jeff rosenstock when you walk by. are you still a soldier at dead hand, even with your reputation as the opportunist? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and a lazy upward gaze, a slap upside the head, the lonely creature of contradiction; hung on the family tree, dangling as you question why the saying goes 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree', where else would it fall? you are the fallen fruit, premature and always in some kind of need, although we can’t help but think of dennis reynolds (it's always sunny in philadelphia), richie (the bear) and hasegawa taizo (gintama) whenever we see you down these rainy streets. ( luca , 25 , she/they , mdt . )

— NAVIGATION.

#lawlessintro #finally!#i have yet to write his hcs but theyre coming soon! as soon as i finally get some sleep!

8 notes · View notes

warystares · 4 months

Text

FULL NAME lindsay amos buchanan NICKNAME(S) agent buchanan / uncle linds ( only by his niece ) GENDER / PRONOUNS cis man / he + him AGE/ BIRTHDAY thirty-seven / may 1 ZODIAC ☼ taurus ☽ cancer ↑ virgo HOMETOWN elderslie, scotland OCCUPATION bodyguard AFFILIATION / ROLE unaffiliated ORIENTATION / STATUS homosexual + kinsey scale 5 / single STRENGTHS steadfast + observant + astute + loyal WEAKNESSES guarded + overbearing + distrustful

HISTORY.

TW implied homophobia / drug use / brief implied child abuse + domestic abuse / violence / home invasion / murder

from the outside looking in, the BUCHANAN household is almost picturesque ; with a modest but lovely two-story in the heart of elderslie and two children, a son and a daughter, it would appear that graeme & eilidh have it all ! graeme has a government job that provides well enough eilidh can stay home and mind the house and the children. lindsay amos buchanan is younger than his sister orla by two years, but the pair are incredibly CLOSE ; their father is strict ― they're mindful of their manners, their marks in school, for FEAR of his reaction if they don't ― and their mother is . . . well, lindsay suspects she hasn't been in her right mind in many years. the pills will do that, orla tells him. numb you right up. she tells him this is why their mother never says anything. lindsay expects ALL children must live like this. quiet, obedient. they protect each other, lindsay & orla ― best they can, at least. he walks her to class, she helps him with his coursework, and then they hide away in her bedroom and make up STORIES, elaborate tales of all the places they'll go once they only get out of elderslie.

to his credit, lindsay does well to appease his father and keep relative PEACE in the house for many years. he learns when to mind his tongue, how to behave. if he yearns for APPROVAL, he quickly learns what it feels like to go without. PRAISE comes in the form of a QUIET NIGHT ― no shouting, no dishes thrown. he is careful to make NO MISTAKE significant enough to not be forgotten after his father's spent a few long nights at the pub. not until he turns FIFTEEN. all his life, he's been keeping a secret ; from his parents, his sister . . . sometimes it almost felt like he was keeping it from HIMSELF. for a while, it isn't hard to keep it locked away ; between school, church, and chores, he doesn't have time for SINFUL thoughts. he can almost pretend . . .

his world ends on a brisk september afternoon at nearly three p.m. he's sitting on his bed with colin bigbie from trigonometry, trying desperately to figure out how to CALCULATE ANGLES and colin's tutoring him which should be helping. it should, but colin's sitting so close lindsay can smell his spearmint gum and he can't stop looking at his lips, the way he grins around the eraser of a pencil. he still remembers the way his mother SHRIEKS when she opens his bedroom door to find her son pinned under another boy in his own bed, a tangle of lips and limbs. ( how could he have let himself get carried away ? how could he have let himself get caught ? ) colin has the common sense to scramble out of the house long before his FATHER comes home. lindsay is not so lucky. he has nowhere else to go.

only a few months shy of his sixteenth birthday, lindsay enlists in the ROYAL REGIMENT OF SCOTLAND ; his mother nearly worries herself into an ULCER over the idea alone, but his father is SUPPORTIVE. thinks it's ❛ a wise move, ❜ in fact, that lindsay could use the structure ! she WEEPS over afternoon tea the day he brings home the forms, cannot even bear to look her husband in the eye as he fills them out. the more unpalatable TRUTH need not be said aloud, for lindsay knows it in his heart ― as far as graeme buchanan is concerned, he no longer has a SON, not in the eyes of GOD. perhaps if he leaves now . . . learns what it means to really be a MAN, to bring his family RESPECT in lieu of shame, of DISAPPOINTMENT . . . well, perhaps he might return home to more WELCOMING arms.

THIS, lindsay thinks as he packs a sparse duffel the night before he leaves for phase one training, that's what he WANTS out of enlisting. he wants to feel like he belongs again. ( has he ever ? has his father ever actually been PROUD ? ) ❛ no but for christ's sake, fuck 'em all, linds ! honestly ! it's all a bunch a' shite, and anyway, you'll always belong here with me, ❜ comes a tearful reassurance from his sister over a shared rooftop cigarette the very same night, a possible last ditch effort at convincing him to stay. IT DOESN'T WORK ! his mind is made up, and when she pinky swears that she gets it, that she UNDERSTANDS and could never hold it AGAINST him, lindsay believes her. he CRIES when she HUGS him goodbye the following morning. ( in spite of his best efforts he cannot hide red eyes & mottled cheeks from his father as he climbs into the car. he says NOTHING but lindsay can feel his gaze ; he cannot bring himself to meet it for the entirety of the SIX HOUR drive from elderslie to berkshire. )

the ROYAL MILITARY ACADEMY SANDHURST provides twelve months of intensive training to all prospective young officers ; lindsay is DESPERATE to succeed because, in his mind, there is no other option. he learns to operate on a STRICT schedule and quickly becomes regimented, disciplined. but lindsay does not socialize with the other young men in his barracks. many of them are quick to make friends ― he sees them being RAUCOUS in the mess hall, hears them SLAGGING OFF their superiors when they're out of earshot ― but lindsay always keeps to himself. he never joins in ! in his spare time, lindsay pens letters. they're mostly to orla ; he tells her of his SUCCESSES, embellishes his happiness in neat lines signed with love. the letters he receives back are the highlight of his time at the academy ― they keep him going. occasionally he'll write to his mother & father ; to those letters, he hears NOTHING in return. his mother takes his phone calls on HOLIDAYS ( he expects that's the only grace his father allows ) but beyond that, they make no effort toward significant contact.

at least not until he GRADUATES ; they show up for that, all three of them, but make no mistake it is not a GRAND AFFAIR. he knows from his sister's letters things have not grown better in his absence but WORSE ; his father's temper flares, and without lindsay there to take the HEAT, his mother & sister suffer in his place. at dinner that evening, orla announces her plans to move OVERSEAS ; she's nearly twenty now, after they've got relatives in AMERICA, distant cousins in the states, and she intends to relocate with their help. her news doesn't go over well ; their father SHOUTS, their mother WAILS and when they leave, it is with the assurance that the entire lot of them are banned from what was lindsay's favorite italian place in berkshire FOR LIFE. in the end, it doesn't actually matter though, does it ? he's LEAVING again anyway.

lindsay returns home for TWO WEEKS while he awaits his assignment ; he helps orla pack & does his best to avoid CONFLICT with their parents. when she leaves for new york, lindsay is the one who takes the family car to drive her to the airport. ( he finds out that day that maybe he doesn't know how to say goodbye to his sister without crying. once can be written off as a fluke, but twice ? ) he doesn't know what to expect when he receives the call specifying the location of his first tour, but lindsay can be certain that BELIZE does not even make the list. he didn't even know they had anyone stationed in belize. ( if he's being honest, before he knows he's going, lindsay couldn't have confidently pointed out the country on a MAP ! ) within seventy-two hours, he's on a plane. unlike with orla, when his parents leave him at the terminal, lindsay sheds not a single tear. on the flight, he thinks of his mother's OUTPOURING of emotion and wonders if it's sincere. does she mourn the loss of both her children ?

the STIFLING HEAT of the south american sun ― surely impossibly the same sun that casts clouds over his village back home ― FRIES pale, freckled skin within hours of landing, but lindsay learns quickly that he enjoys the PAIN ! it provides a welcome distraction. a lucky break, it would seem, because it is found here in no short supply. TROPICAL ENVIRONMENT TRAINING, it's called. how to FIGHT in the jungle ! from dawn to dusk, he and his battalion trudge through gnarled, swampy undergrowth ; they learn to camouflage themselves in the wild, how to use NATURE to their advantage. he learns to blink past the BURN of sweat in his eyes, to CLAW his way forward when his limbs threaten to give out. his limits ? clearly he's been underestimating them all his life ! out here in the HARSH WILD, nobody cares about his story, where he came from. nobody cares who he LOVES. they only care that he can perform. ENDURE. it matters not who he is, only what he is capable of.

belize teaches lindsay buchanan that he is a very capable man !

when he first enlisted, it was without a clear, intentional path in mind ; he'd known then that he wanted to SERVE HIS COUNTRY, but he hadn't the foggiest what he could even OFFER. would he be sent to KITCHEN DUTY or put on the FRONTLINES ? were there even front lines ? six months after arriving in belize, lindsay completes his training. he's ADAPTED extraordinarily well to the environment ; his superiors watch as he takes lead of his battalion, seizes CONTROL to lead his brothers & sisters-in-arms to safety. he watches his team with the FIERCENESS & PRECISION of a HAWK ! when his entire battalion completes the program with flying colors, lindsay is asked to remain in belize. for someone so young, he displays POTENTIAL. for the next five years, LADYVILLE becomes his new home ; he immerses himself in its CULTURE just as much as its jungles. his accent twists the words in a funny sort of way, but he learns to speak spanish & belizean creole ; he drinks belikin and shares panades with locals. he becomes familiar with the forestry, teaches it to HUNDREDS. and he writes to orla about all of it.

one day, when she writes back, lindsay learns he's an UNCLE. when his tour ends, he hops on the first plane he can catch to the states so he can meet his NIECE. her name is elspeth buchanan and lindsay is convinced he falls in LOVE the second he holds her in his arms. he spends several weeks in new york with orla ; he sleeps on her couch and spends day in and day out with her to make up for all the time they've LOST. she tells him ellie's father isn't in the picture, and lindsay makes her pinky swear that she's safe, that she's okay. he wishes he could STAY, but he's given another assignment far too quickly. he tells himself he won't CRY this time when orla & ellie leave him at the terminal, that he can keep it together ! he can't, and they're both LAUGHING through their tears as she makes him promise they'll meet here again in a few years and he relents on one condition : she sends him WEEKLY photos of elspeth in the meantime.

when he lands again, lindsay is in NIGERIA. he has been assigned to the UK's permanent outpost ABUJA to aid in the training of the nigerian military. what he lacks in knowledge about the country & terrain, he makes up for in a PASSION for the sharing of knowledge, of valuable, LIFE-SAVING SKILLS. hausa & yaruba are more difficult to learn than spanish, he'll admit, but he spends enough time there that he becomes at very least conversational in a few different languages. when he returns to ELDERSLIE after another five years, he does not sound the same & the streets no longer look like HOME. his country beckons him back before he can visit orla, but he promises SOON. he still writes every chance he gets ; she convinces him to start video calling because ellie is talking ! his parents don't see their only grandchild, don't get the PRIVILEGE. he visits them once while he's back on home soil. once in three years. it's TENSE. his mother doesn't recognize him. his father shakes his hand.

it takes fifteen years, but lindsay can finally feel the WEAKNESS in his grip !

time slips through his fingers FASTER than lindsay can stop it and before he knows it, the year is 2025. he's back in berkshire and, as it turns out, that little italian restaurant ? they don't even RECOGNIZE him now. lindsay is in his apartment when he receives a phone call from an unrecognized number. his cousin from new york, bearing news of his sister. GRAVE NEWS. he can barely make out the details over the RINGING in his ears the moment he realizes what they're trying to say. ❛ . . . it was a break in . . . she'd just gotten back from work . . . didn't even know she'd been struck . . . 'm so sorry . . . ❜ and just like that, LINDSAY BUCHANAN'S WORLD SHATTERS.

by some grace of god, elspeth isn't HOME when it happens ; their cousin had been watching her while orla was on shift, had just gone to take her back and opened the door when . . . ( she saw it, the poor girl SAW it ! ) lindsay requests IMMEDIATE DISCHARGE and his years of dedicated service allow him to catch the next flight out of heathrow to new york. he has to begin making arrangements. it takes SIX DAYS to find a flat in the city and get ellie moved into it ; with his cousin minding her for a few hours, he packs up his sister's apartment in a single night. delicately, he tucks away YEARS of memories into boxes ― some he's seen, many he's missed out on. he does this ALONE, and he realizes a truth he's known his entire life. HE WILL ALWAYS CRY WHEN HE SAYS GOODBYE TO HIS SISTER. this night is no different. he weeps openly on the floor at the center of her flat, surrounded by sweaters & pillows & photos ― he cries for every little piece of her that he is forced to say goodbye to. his grief echoes off the walls. he gives so much that by the time they BURY her, lindsay has no tears left to shed. he is exhausted. and for this, he is GRATEFUL. it allows him the ability to stay strong. for ellie. from this day forward, his needs will forever take the back burner to hers.

he is no father, but he will RAISE her best he can. he owes as much to orla.

to provide for them both, lindsay secures a position at SENTRY SOLUTIONS. his extensive military & combat training make him the perfect fit for private security, and he finds that he approaches his new career with an inherent ( and unhealthy ! ) sort of dedication. blame it on the GUILT ― he wasn't there to protect his sister. he couldn't save her ! but damn if he can't protect everyone else ! and if he can't, well, he thinks he might DIE trying. he installs state of the art security in his flat and still OFTEN takes ellie along on jobs with him to ensure he can keep an eye on her, too. she's polite and well-behaved ( sometimes at night, when he speaks aloud to his sister . . . he asks how she ever managed to come up with a child so UNLIKE her. ) and for the past five years, it's yet to prove a SIGNIFICANT problem. he knows when he can take her, after all ― assignments at the ballet, or when he's working with opal ― or when it's BEST he try to leave her with family. problem is, he doesn't have very MUCH of that left. it's just HIM & ELLIE for the most part.

against the world !

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

REGULAR CLIENTS ― these would be people lindsay has been assigned to bodyguard via sentry solutions. this could be someone he works with regularly, or a one-off assignment for an event or a public appearance. lindsay is among the best of the best that sentry has to offer, so you can rest assured that you and your assets will be protected. THE COUSINS ― when orla moved to new york, it was with the aid and support of distant cousins of theirs that had been overseas for generations. your muse helped her get set up and played a large role in helping her raise elspeth. they were likely the one watching her the night orla was attacked in her home and the first one to reach out to lindsay with the news after it happened. i imagine they're very close and lindsay still leans on them for support from time to time. FOUND FAMILY ― but family doesn't have to be blood, and your muse proves that ! whether they met through sentry solutions, a grief or support group ( he doesn't talk about it much, but he can't deny that they help ) or maybe they live on the same block, lindsay's found comfort and a sense of home in your muse. he might not be the most affectionate, but he is loyal, and if he's in your corner, chances are you've got him for life. THE ONE HE'S AFTER ― lindsay tries not to pay attention to rumors but he's heard through the grape vine that your muse might've had something to do with the home invasion that ultimately led to the death of his sister five years ago. is he misinformed ? were you sent to steal something from her ? was it a mistaken address ? it doesn't matter. lindsay is no vigilante but something about knowing that the hands that stole his his sister's life still scour the city makes his blood boil. he's got his eye on you. FRIENDS FROM ABROAD ― in all his years with the scottish royal regiment, lindsay traveled the globe. he spent most of his time in belize and nigera, but he made his rounds to several countries when he had the time, and for all that he lacked in social inclinations when he was young, he made up for as he began traveling to new places and experiencing new peoples and cultures. maybe your muse is also ex-military and trained with or under him ( the program in belize hosted many, not just the scots ) or maybe they met in one of a dozen different cities in south america or africa. whatever the cause, he's just grateful for a familiar face in the city. LITERALLY ANYTHING ― give me friends, enemies, lovers . . . he's a lil' guarded with his heart actually but like . . . i am honestly open to whatever, y'all ! just let me know if you wanna plot with him

#✘ lindsay buchanan | intro #lawlessintro #this is so obscenely long it isn't even funny and FOR WHAT #someone plot with me i've just poured my heart and soul into this it took me two days

13 notes · View notes

playsgods · 2 months

Text

❛ 𝗟𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗭𝗢 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗩𝗘𝗜𝗥𝗔 , the fourty six year old red eye head and gravity nightclub owner. born and raised on the gulf of mexico , home for lorenzo was a steady back and forth from naples , florida to merida , mexico , with constant stops to russia and nunavut , canada in between. ( and what he was doing there ? no one knows. no one but him and the blood and bones his family's empire was built upon. the creating of agents , and the selling of skill sets so far beyond reach. ) rumoured to have perished in a fire alongside the rest of his family , lorenzo silveira does most of his dealings from the shadows of the organization. with his identity shielded to all but the highest level of red eye , enzo silva takes the centre stage in his life sometime in his early thirties. a rather doting boss to his nightclub staff at gravity , enzo can usually be found working in his office before making the occasional rounds.

𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁 : //

stats + history. wanted connections. pinterest.

#lawlessintro #this is . criminally under co but

7 notes · View notes

sntsscrvbbles · 3 months

Text

* ◟ : 〕 enyo soren , some say you’re a twenty four years old lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both charming and troubled , one can’t help but think of laura palmer by bastille when you walk by. are you still a prima ballerina, associate at the new york ballet company, burning gods, even with your reputation as the prima? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and there's an anger inside of you; hidden beneath layers of carefully constructed patience, and unusually quiet voice. it builds with each breath you take, much like the ticking clock you carry in the pocket of your pants. it sits still between your ribcage and your lungs, making a home of the sore bones you call your own. the anger hungers like a wolf, yet you don't want to wear its skin. the sheep seems unfazed by the herding, but that's not who you want to be either. (you didn't like the shepard.) the anger builds and builds, an unpredictable black hole in your chest / pomegranate juice drips from your red stained fingers like the waterfall in your eyes, trembling hand placing the seeds carefully on your waiting tongue. you don’t seem to recognize the world anymore, unsure of the place you occupy in the darkness. the shackles binding you are undying. / your bruised feet ache as you spin and spin, in a never stopping dance to quiet the voices in your mind. your sweat damped clothes cling to your skin, but you’ve made it this far, and you can’t stop now , although we can’t help but think of persephone (greek mythology), percy jackson (percy jackson), malcom (french exit) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

TW: description of death, alluding to drowning, drugs mention, mention of blood, mention of bruises, depression

you had dirt underneath your nails when you died, bits of skin as your neck bled from shallow scratches you left behind on your hunt for air. the water in your lungs tasted thickly of blood from wounds you hardly felt. pov; then, you wake up. it is a natural reaction when presented with the bright rays streaming through rosé blinders, gentle breeze carrying the scent of saltwater caressing your reddened cheeks. there's a fog in your mind clearing tenderly like the love of a grieving mother coiled around your thoughts, the more you try to blink the haziness away, the less of the world you seem to understand. warm feet touch cold wood floors in a wobbly step, falling into mother's waiting warms like a toddler taking its first steps. mother holds you with the ferocity of a starving lioness, and you know she won't let go. you don't remember yesterday or the day before, but you remember the first fruit you ever tasted; pomegranates. you laugh at the strangeness of a brain brimming with vivid memories of a joyful childhood, knowing the eerie blankness you feel is nothing but the aftermath of bad dreams you can't recall. this body doesn't quite feel right, fingers clenching and unclenching in front of inquisitive eyes at the breakfast table. you can't help but wonder why there's only pictures of your younger years hanging on pristine white walls, but mother assures you simply doesn't like taking pictures nowadays; you know this to be true, as the feeling of discomfort is deeply programmed inside of you like a carving in your mind. you still feel like an imposter in your own house.

are you not aware, you are a wolf in sheep's clothing?

your feet bruises easily the more you dance with no breaks, brusque movements your body complains loudly every spin and turn you take. you enjoy the stretch of your muscles and skin, feeling free when lost in the dance like you've never felt before. you push, and push, and push yourself beyond whatever acceptable limits should prevent you from daring, craving the breathlessness of exhaustion weighing on your rib cage, where your heart feels constricted under the expectation of greatness. you are the prima, at such a young age with the heavy burden of talent upon your sore shoulders. you are atlas carrying the universe on your back, on your charcoal stained hands, a punishment many want you to see as a gift. your sharp sarcasm keeps most at the distance you prefer, your shoes hanging from your neck when you leave the studio late in the night, watching the neon city from the passenger seat of your mother's car. you are the perfect daughter, an exceptional dancer, a bright student . . . the drugs in your jacket pockets are like jewelry to you. they don't know you have it, you chase the thrill of unbecoming actions, and the world spins like it did yesterday, and the day before.

it seems the wolf is swimming with the sharks now

the gods burn and you rebel in the only way you can; for a gilded cage is still a cage and birds fly even in an uneven line. you are a decent hacker on a good day, and that's the contribution you bring to the table, a turned card only expecting your time to be drawn. you dream of gold and luxury achieved with your own talents, but you will never be seen as anything more than a nepo baby who attended an overseas boarding school for half of your life. a fact is a fact and it can't be denied. life is good. you are happy. you are happy. you … are … are you awake yet?

FACTS: enyo soren died on a rainy afternoon. enyo soren returned from a boarding school in France after nearly a decade away. who knows what lies underneath fabricated skin? the death and the life of enyo is a mystery many don't know, don't care about. there's nothing amiss with enyo.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

enyo's mother: a persephone needs a demeter, and a sad replicant needs her overprotective mother. this connection is complex, for the codependency would be strong, and enyo has been sheltered since the first time she opened her eyes. the original enyo died young, but her death is a secret kept by a grieving mother looking for ways of bringing her daughter back. enyo the replicant is what enyo could've been if given the chance of growing up, and her mother won't let this one out of sight. enyo's mother is a powerful rich woman, but her personality is entirely UTP. i would love to talk more about this, because sad family plots are my everything! some fc suggestions: rosamund pike, michelle pfeiffer, elizabeth mitchell, any blonde baddie

friends

enemies

possible lover - enyo is a lesbian!

burning gods connection

someone who suspects she is a replicant

someone who knows she is a replicant

#lawlessintro

9 notes · View notes

creophagos · 4 months

Text

[　𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 ...　]　FILES.　➔　MAJIMA,　RYUJI.

* ◟ : 〔 ryusei yokohama, cis man + he/him 〕 RYUJI MAJIMA, some say you’re a THIRTY YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both PRAGMATIC and BLUNT, one can’t help but think of DON'T GO INSANE by DPR IAN when you walk by. are you still a CAPO at DEAD HAND, even with your reputation as THE MINEFIELD? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and A SOFT YET COMMANDING VOICE, A SPLINTER OF YOUR SOUL CUTTING THROUGH YOUR SKIN, and THE JAGGED SIDE OF THE CLIFF’S EDGE. although we can’t help but think of TIANYOU ZHAO 〔 YAKUZA 7 〕, CHISHIYA 〔 ALICE IN BORDERLAND 〕, and BADTZ-MARU whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

[　𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 ...　]　STATS.　➔　MAJIMA,　RYUJI.

name:　ryuji majima (真島竜司, majima ryūji).

name meaning:　竜 (ryū) meaning "dragon", 司 (ji) meaning "officer, boss".

label:　the minefield. the coast looks clear, but be careful where you step.

age:　thirty years old.

date of birth:　december 31, 1993.

place of birth:　yokohama, japan.

role and affiliation:　capo, dead hand.

[　𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 ...　]　DOSSIER.　➔　MAJIMA,　RYUJI.

on new year's eve, ryuji was a newborn when he was left in a coin locker on the streets of yokohama, japan. his origins forever remain shrouded in mystery. growing up, he never dwelled on the circumstances of his abandonment, convincing himself that he was not abandoned—but rather protected.

the early days of ryuji's life were marked by the lasting effects of hypothermia, a consequence of being left in that coin locker. despite these health issues, he was taken in by a loving family who, unbeknownst to him, harbored a deep debt to the yakuza. the debt hung over their heads like a looming shadow, and ryuji felt a growing resentment towards the criminal organization.

driven by his anger and a desire to shield his family, ryuji made the life-altering decision to join the yakuza himself. he thought that by becoming one of them, he could protect his loved ones from them—however, the reality of the criminal world was far harsher than he anticipated.

as the years went by, ryuji grew disillusioned with the yakuza lifestyle. fearing for his own safety, he made the difficult choice to flee, severing ties with the yokohama criminal underworld. despite his departure, the scars of his association with the yakuza ran deep, and his adopted family chose to disassociate themselves from him, unable to forgive the path he had taken, even if it was for their protection.

finding himself alone in the world, ryuji sought refuge in new york, where he attempted to rebuild his life. however, the call of the yakuza proved too strong to resist, and he reluctantly returned to the scene, joining the dead hand to make a living. living in constant fear of reprisals against his estranged family, ryuji walks a dangerous tightrope, torn between the pursuit of survival and the haunting memories of his tumultuous past.

summary: abandoned coin locker baby. joined the yakuza in yokohama. left the yakuza in yokohama and fled. sought refuge in new york. joined dead hand to make a living.

[　𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 ...　]　PERSONALITY.　➔　MAJIMA,　RYUJI.

astrological sign:　capricorn.

lunar zodiac:　year of the rooster.

mbti:　entp.

alignment:　chaotic neutral.

temperament:　melancholic-choleric.

as a leader, ryuji puts up a front of cold indifference. he is logical, resourceful, deliberate, and calculating—but what had separated him from many yakuza was that he was a natural pacifist. any chance he could avoid instigating violent confrontations, he would. he disliked doing things the "traditional" way, but often needed to capitulate to save his own ass. for the sake of survival and getting shit done, he's become more lenient about it now.

at his core, he is soft, thoughtful, caring, nurturing. he has a heart of gold, but his circumstances make it easy for people to make negative assumptions about him. he's insecure about his softness; the way his brows draw in to meet at the middle when someone is begging to be spared, the way he feels bad about the harsh words that come out of his mouth. so, at his best, he presents indifference. as his adopted, now-estranged parents would say, he used to be such a good kid.

behaviorally, ryuji likes to wisecrack. more often than not, there's a teasing lilt in his voice when he speaks. but under the right circumstances, he's an agreeable, pragmatic person.

[　𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 ...　]　WANTED CONNECTIONS.　➔　MAJIMA,　RYUJI.

tbh i want everything and i'm open to whatever for him. i'm very flexible and will find some way to work any sort of connection into his life!

#lawlessintro #* . ⊹ 竜司 › intro.#* . ⊹ 竜司 › about.

9 notes · View notes