If There Was Anyone Who'd Understand The Itch And Pull To Do Something NEGATIVE In Town, It Would Be

If there was a more perfect person for Suraj to meet and pull out this side of them, she didn't know who that would be. She wasn't perfect by any means and she had done plenty of horrible things with the stroke of a few keys, but if you were looking for a good time, she'd give you one. Whether it be dancing or watching movies, she'd welcome in those who are a little bit different and a little bit more understanding. She was selfish and she had no excuse to give, but when she cared, she cared with all of her heart even if she couldn't admit it. Her heart could be set on fire with love and admiration of the people here and she couldn't imagine the possibility of herself being happy but she was the first to admit she was a lonely soul but the last to admit she was one who needed a hand to hold... truth was, she needed help but she couldn't imagine who she'd be if she were happy. Finding Arissa Hatzi? She needed a night like this, talking to and having fun with a kind soul.

"There it is!" Arie cheered, not with malice but pure excitement that they were dancing after all. "All in the hips, baby. Gimmie some, gimmie what you got." Whatever the song was, some form of grungy pop or some cover, it didn't matter when they were having fun. Even Lacey, someone she had also met by chance, danced with them. "You got this Suraj!"

Suraj smiled. They didn’t feel that important in the diner, but anyone who attempted to make another person feel better about themselves, was great in their eyes, and they tried really hard not to fight it. Though within the diner environment, they did their best because they feared the day they would be out of a job, and needed to find something else. After all, they had a working visa now. They nodded. “Far better circumstances, yes,” they agreed, though they didn’t elaborate. They felt more like a dormouse at work, and here at least… there was some confidence, some comfort. They felt less judged, less pulled down. 

Find their moves. Suraj wasn’t about to break down in the one dance routine they’d studied and remembered from one of their all-time favourite bollywood movies. It wasn’t a thing they were ever ready to share with anyone, but the way Arie pulled them along felt thrilling enough that the confidence wave continued. They felt less aware of everyone around them, less worried about their own decisions, moves, facial expressions. They laughed when Arie started dancing with a stranger by the name of Lacey, and joined them, trying to copy the movement, taking it a step further because they felt like Arie wouldn’t judge them for it.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍: Knowing you won't be in one place for too long so you don't care about the safety of possessions you have enough money to buy ten more times but you adopted a cat you worship so you install extra locks on your door to keep him safe. Yes, I'm talking about Ziggy the cat.

❀ *◦ keke palmer. female. she/her. bisexual. ⇝ hey, isn’t that aretha hatzi( hashtag )? i think that the twenty-seven year old from meteora, greece works as a hacker for the order of the dead idol, but outside of that people describe them as late nights spent staring at the computer, hanging out in shady diners, no care for which version of themselves is seen next. i hear they are secretive & distant, but they are also known to be warm & lyrical. consider giving them a visit at their home in the seal harbor apartments and get to know why they’re called the black sheep.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

FULL NAME: Arethra Mae Hatzi ALIAS | NICKNAMES: Hashtag (to those who know or come across her work), Arie, Aretha Daniels. BIRTHDAY | AGE: COMING SOON, 27. BIRTH LOCATION | CITIZENSHIP: Unknown, unknown. | Greek citizenship, in a way. CURRENT LOCATION: Anchorage, Alaska. SEXUALITY: Bisexual. SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English, Greek, Spanish, German, Chinese, Turkish and some other various languages. OCCUPATION | DEGREES: Hacker for the Dead Idol. | Broadcast Engineer for 107.5 BLACK DRAGON PEARL RADIO. | None. IQ | ETC: While not technically tested for IQ as a miroir, Hashtag is quick to learn technological things and thinks of her brain as a super computer. It's the reason she was able to become a hacker compared to any other skill sets -- and she believes the real Aretha must've been highly intelligent. PERSONALITY: She can be well spoken and almost lyrical -- but that's because in a way, she's speaking in code. While she might live in the world's shittiest apartment complex, she is warm despite how secretive she can be behind closed doors. If you ever need a meal, she'll cook you something, or invite you to her favorite dinky diner for a meal on her. Despite that, for every inch she gives someone, there's a few feet between the truth and reality. FAVORITE ANIMAL: Cats. All the cats. In fact, for the first time in Hashtag's existence, she finally has a cat.

𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Imagine opening your eyes, empty inside of emotion and memory. Now imagine being told you're someone, but you're really not. You're a mirrored image of someone who went missing -- you are them, on the surface. A clone of a life that would never be yours, or you. You're tested to find your skillset, settling on computers. In fact, it comes all too naturally to you when your fingers type. Your eyes can see the faults in codes most cannot and somewhere along the way, you create a super worm virus capable of bringing down governments IF SOMEONE REALLY WANTED YOU TO. So you keep that tucked away for a rainy day, going where you're told like the perfect technological solider they want you to be.

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Flash forward to now, stepping out of a car that dropped you outside of the shittiest set of apartments you've ever seen. There was an order to stay here, waiting in the shadows until your skillset comes in handy once more. Get a job, make friends, blend in with the masses. Yet you start to think you're crazy when you get flashes, however brief they are, of a life you know isn't yours; not aware that the life you've never lived is just around the corner. A meeting of chance, or a stroke of luck, but you've never been lucky. No, if anything you're screwed.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ⌿ 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃

Arissa Hatzi -- TO BE PLOTTED. It's gonna be angsty, don't worry. Grab a thing of popcorn and gather around for the shitshow.

Those involved with the radio station -- whether they work together or deal with each other in passing, these people probably look to her for help as a broadcast engineer, or there's a caller who happened upon her on a smoke break and asked her a question or two while they were sneaking around.

Someone she butts heads with often -- Most people don't ask too many questions. They certainly don't put much thought into certain actions, but from day one, these two have fought each other on everything. Maybe they've actually thrown hands? Whatever it is, it's like fire and gasoline.

Someone she helps with computers -- Did you use your school computer to look up spicy subjects, and now have a nasty virus on it? Did you find a code that's suspicious? Do you not know what technology is? Whatever the case is, this person always hits her up for computer help and she's always down to answer the call.

Someone she talks conspiracies with -- How these two met, no one really knows, but whenever they're together, they're always hush hush whispering in the corner or in a booth. In a way, this is as truthful as she'll allow herself to be with someone even if it's battling the idea of a giant moth man fighting a yeti.

Someone who is aware, or sort of aware, they both are miroirs -- Maybe they trained together or maybe they met along the way on some mission or attack. Maybe they aren't aware and Hashtag has to break the news. Whatever the case, I need semi-best friends trauma bonding.

hair, tongue, fingers

Hair: How many wigs do you own?

Arie has a collection of wigs in different colors but she prefers her red wigs the most. x, x.

Tongue: What was in your last meal?

What is in Shrimp Ramon noodles anyway? She'll have to look that up.

Fingers: Do you play an instrument?

She plays the piano. In fact, she likes playing modern music on the piano the most.

💐, 💘, ❣

💐 - What small things go a long way for your muse? What small favors can someone do to get on their good side?

Arie has never really had a genuine love romantically given her situation but if she could, she'd be drawn to someone who lingers even when she's being kind of mean and pushing everyone away. Someone who listens even when she doesn't know they're paying attention to her ramblings. Maybe someone who holds her (as touch is definitely a love language for her).

💘 - What traits personality-wise are attractive to your muse?

Let's be honest here. I can't tell you what personality she'd be attracted to other than it would be a surprise to her if she woke up one day and realized, "I'm attracted to / in love with this person." She'd think her type is the strong macho guy and end up being more drawn to the opposite, and even gender.

❣ - Are they secretive about their romantic relationships or do they not stop talking about it?

She's had flings that if weren't for work in some way, she kept secret. She has to. Anyone who is a mirroir knows you can't have personal relationships outside of whatever you were mirrored for.

She wasn't entirely sure she felt emotions like sadness, grief, loss or some days even true joy. No, the feeling she held in her chest was something of a gnawing sort of knot of chest muscles. Her life was meant to be nomadic in a sense, never putting down roots, always being disposable if she were lucky to be forgotten or not. Dropping her in this danky and not so quaint place? Maybe she felt like IT WAS HER TIME. They swore she had a job to do but she hadn't heard a fucking peep from them since before she got here six months before. There wouldn't be a mission, there wouldn't be an end. They sent her to her demise, destined to become a forgotten member, forced to pretend she was Aretha Hatzi, but denying it in the same motion. Negative emotions didn't have a name to her in the same way; but she knew that she could either blame the original for her addictive and dangerous tendencies, or embrace them as if no, that's just me.

This wharf, in this moment, seemed like a meeting place for the emotional. Something was in the air. Arie let out a chuckle, shoulders bobbing. "I'm not much of a runner but thanks for the warning," she replied as her fingers searched for a cigarette. Menthol, some off brand of Newports, but still satisfying the craving she held now. "I wouldn't blame them if they do. Staying here might just be, well, a dumb fuckin' thing to do."

@anchoragestarters ; anchorage harbor ; CAP ( 0/4 )

The squalling clang-clang-clang of a metal bell where the barges were entombed in a temporal watery grave was overlooked by a hill where Cyrek stood now, hands stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie loosely clinging to the bag of bones. As a teenager, he could recall weaving in and out of the shipment freights in the deadened wintry nights with his band of degenerates, including Fallon and Stella — as an adult, he'd stalled on the thought of sneaking to one of the shipments and hiding out until it took him somewhere else. His first instinct to crop problems was always to pack up and skip town. Unfortunately, that was an unviable option now, his lower lip sucked in an encumberment of crooked teeth and worrying away at the skin. Ginger curls splayed over his countenance, the musk of saltwater wafting to his corroded nose as it was carried by the wind, grey skies clouding out the consistent sunshine. Eventually, his head shied away from the inlet he was staring at pensively as the approach of another person alerted the right half of his senses to their presence. It was scenic enough and a stone's throw from the wharf — he could see why people milled around for more than feeling sorry for themselves. "Heard it's goin' to Seattle, could catch it if you run, mate," he jested, dipping his head in the direction of the barge shipment. Bringing the joint he had been clutching onto back to his lips, he inhaled. "Already saw the for sale signs goin' up around Delilah's Den and Campbell Park. Reckon they'll sell as fast as they wanna beat it outta dodge?"

She gave a small but mischievous smile. "I wasn't suggesting YOU, but I hear you." Chances are if she was having a bad day, you'd probably be able to convince her to smash someone's windows out. She'd be sneakier about it though -- as sneaky as someone who needed to stay hidden could be, anyway. "Kind of both? I'm not used to small towns where everybody knows everybody. It's definitely a change for me." Arie admitted, leaning back in her seat to point at the brilliant idea. "Me either, but I'll find someone. Just watch. It needs to happen." Hell, maybe she'd fund it. Just because she lived in a sketchy apartment didn't mean she didn't have money. Whether through the station, the Dead Idol or side gigs on the internet ... Mum's the word. "I keep the show going and up to date, computer and technical wise. Some days I set up the live broadcasts. Most nights, I'm making sure quality issues aren't just a cord issue or a software issue." she admitted, voice somewhat filled with pride. "I'm sure your job is much more fun though." As for her wants in an animal, she gave a small shrug. "I get that. I like cats because sometimes I'm not home for too long and I don't have to take them out every few hours for a walk. It seems I have less time these days." But to the question of the matter, she wasn't entirely sure. "Maybe. I have a tuxedo named Ziggy and I don't know, think maybe he needs a buddy but I also know some cats just don't mix well."

Matevos - who did not not enjoy violence - really had to think about the offer. Smashing things did sound like a fun thing to do, and he could use something to get his mind off of things, but then there was the fact that vandalism was against the law and he’d only just come out of police custody. “Mentally, I’d say, it definitely is the type of situation where I’d gladly take you up on that offer. But I promised to stay out of trouble, and I think smashing someone’s car windows is the exact opposite of that.” He looked thoughtful at the other when the ‘vaguely familiar’ was uttered, and then grinned. “You mean you think you know them? Or you think you know someone like them?” he asked, because he was always a little curious when people spoke in vague terms. Not just when they used the word ‘vaguely’. “Someone should, I would make it into a comic… sadly I don’t know how to draw.” Or write stories, or even how to come up with them. Though he would love to make a story about superhero dogs, had that been done already? “Aah engineer,” he said, as if he knew exactly what that meant, though confusion was clear on his face. “What does a broadcast engineer do?” He knew Dusty and Sera, though not as intimately as perhaps he should in a small town like this. “A few yes, I keep mostly dogs, since cats tend to find a home much quicker. People have different expectations for dogs. Are you looking for a cat?” 

Arie knew that was coming but hey, she was nothing if not prepared. "I'm from a tourist trap in Greece, though I've been traveling for a few years. I guess I found something I enjoy in the strange sense of familiarity if I decided to stay here, kourasménos ánthropos." What that was, Arie hadn't decided yet. Even if this was it, this was the last stop and she truly was abandoned here, she couldn't pinpoint the exact excuse that wasn't an excuse at all. "Spoken from experience? I don't remember much these days about home, but I think I enjoyed the possibility of never seeing someone again much less having all of my secrets known to everyone and their mother." This conversation was... normal? and erratic. "It helps that I see code in everything, even veterinarian medicine. There's a code in us." And the amount of possibilities it would take for two people to meet in a place like this. The probability of them liking each other enough to continue a conversation? Far more larger. "I can do tthat. I will also tell you, I live in those shitty apartments but I spoil Ziggy like crazy. I think he eats better than I do, actually. But if you ever want to check it out and approve it, you can. I don't mind -- I'll see if I can get a day off and make a day out of it if Ziggy wants to."

Matevos grinned, then frowned. He didn’t comment on it however, as much as he wanted to. He was certain he was going to coax her into doing it, and then he was going to regret it afterwards. Though the act sounded very nice. He nodded. “Where are you from?” he asked. “It is definitely a change, but… you know, they might know each other, but nobody really knows each other. That’s kind of the dangerous thing about small towns, everyone knows something about someone else they’d like to judge about.” He smiled, noting the pride in her voice, very much enjoying how she seemed to be enjoying what she was doing. He understood that, it was why he’d never give up his own job as a vet, even though it was definitely made more difficult by his life in crime. “Depends on who does it,” he suggested. “Your job also sounds like fun, but you’d probably have more fun doing it.” But, his job was definitely a lot of fun, though perhaps mostly after hours when he could cuddle the dogs and take them on walks. Not so much the diagnosing of animals, unless if it was things that could be easily healed. “Well, you can always bring Ziggy in and see if he takes to any of the cats, I wouldn’t really let these poor creatures stay over at anyone’s before meeting their present company… you know, kids, animals, other pets. I’ve had too many regrets over the years.”

She preferred the comfort of hiding behind a computer for two reasons, one of which might be easier for a trained eye to pick up on; 1. when it was discovered she had a skillset and quickness of computers, the Dead Idols spoke less and less to her face to face. They didn't need to be so heavy handed with her as they would someone who'd be trained in hands on tactile training such as fighting or toxicology. 2. being awkward meant that it weeded out certain people. Could you tolerate awkwardness? Yeah? Slide in, buckle down, and wait out the ride in which the end meant Arie actually gave a shit about someone. She wasn't sure about Sera persay and how the other felt, but Arie? Arie cared for the the little family so much that even if she couldn't say it, she showed it. Her skills with Dusty's allowed her to keep the station tightly locked down and at the end of the day, she was more than happy to play with little Crash and keep him entertained while they worked. In fact, anyone at the station was. If she didn't know this was a mission she was waiting for, she'd almost be glad to stay here forever. A side effect of six months of silence on the Dead Idol's end but they knew that, didn't they? They had to know that. Wasn't that the reason their mirroirs could eventually blend in so well?

Arie neared closer, seeing the man struggle. A small frown graced her lips as she saw him struggling. If anything, it was care that told her Dustin needed sleep, not more coffee. "I'd say yes but I think Sera might kick my ass if I take you on a late night adventure that voids you from sleep. In again, why not?" You could call it machoism if you wanted but it was something else. A joke, maybe. She admired his dedication to the station but she also wanted to reassure him that it would still be standing when they'd get back. Closing the distance between them now, she took the coffee pot from him and put it back on the burner. Flicking the machine off, she turned back, "I think I can handle that. No fire, got it." At the mention of Crash's godmother, Arie gave a little laugh. "I think you should warn her, not me. I'm pretty sure Boyd has a crush." Boyd, some normally faceless what.... janitor? Mic man? Sometimes it depended on the day. "No fires and definitely no alarming godmom, I promise."

The night was still, tranquil save for the pattering against the sills of the station's windows, and the tower above the building echoing an eerie howl of the plaintive winds as if it were a woeful virago. Dustin had always been a diligent pupil, at the expense of his own health, and it persisted into the summertime without the diluting of coursework — instead, he was battened by the self-imposed concerns of the time the pair would be spending away in the first half of August before classes resumed. His head craned aside when he heard the shuffling of feet entering the break room, his alertness of his surroundings making up for the shortcomings of Sera's ever-dwindling hearing ( a facet of which, he still did fret. ) He smiled warmly at Aretha, partial instinct thereby overridden out of compassion for his employee. As awkward as she seemed, at times, the empath had kept a studious eye on her — sometimes, it felt like an armor he was forced to don. The frigidity of his thoughts, especially given the news of Willow's demise, had an engine purring with chariness for his surroundings. However, he'd had a fluttering in his chest from the moment he showed the woman the reason for the Graves-Seongs' paucity of promptness to her application. Anyone who was so privy to a recluse who melted at the sight of Tyche Jungsoo was staunch, in his book ( and yes, he did keep track, hyperthymesia recording it for him. )

"Rita," he'd coined his own nickname — partially on account of correcting a mishap of Sera becoming lost in translation at first meeting, "I can come with if you can drive." A joke hung in the void that he couldn't, failing to bloom as he fumbled to grip the handle of the coffee pot with dystonic fingers. His palm pressed firmly against it, thumb gripping the top of the handle, whilst his recoiled digits were in rigor mortis against his palm, tendons of his wrist visibly tensing as he kept it outstretched long enough to pour out the mug in his other palm. Carefully balanced on the partially ( but significantly less ) stiff fingers of his opposite hand, he held it out to the engineer. His amblyopic eye shook nervously as his strength dwindled, mustering enough to empty the pot into a second mug. "I thought I'll stay and record stuff, get a headstart for the next couple weeks... Cohosts can take the live stuff, just —" A yawn intercepted, blearily sticking his hand into a hole of his distressed Gengar sweater to rub against his shoulder blade. "Don't let anybody burn down the studio. Dios mio." Sheepish when he splashed the coffee over the mug a bit, hands obstinately refusing to cooperate in full, he turned to face her. "Think you can handle it, kid?" Pausing, the two-toned metalhead pouted his lip, myriad of piercings protruding, and nodded vaguely down the hill outside. A branch was thumping against the pane. "I'm, uh, gonna have Crash's godmother stay while we're out. So don't be alarmed."