Hashtacj - I'm Hashtag

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.

She was, important to her, yes, but not in the sense that the other might realize. It was drilled into her head, more less violently, that she should avoid the past. It would help diminish any hope that those who loved her mirrored appearance and not just that, but any questions of memories that may or may not of been her own. "You are," Arie mumbled, eyes flickering to look anywhere else than the woman who looked at her as if she held the key for not world peace, but a peace of mind for the woman herself. WHY HAD THEY SENT HER HERE OF ALL PLACES? The only answer that registered in her mind was unfathomable. It only followed with another that seemed less but still concerning never the less. Destroy the part of her that wasn't her, or destroy the part that was. She was able to adapt easily; she could very well become Aretha Hatzi. Was that the goal? Or the opposite... Her head swam.

Her fingers itched to type. Her legs shook with the need to flee. "Before then... All I could remember was Arie," But Aretha, it seemed, came later. "Sometimes, I think, I saw you when I dreamt but I never knew what it meant." It came out choked and true, even if she only learned later on. This was her other half, whether she willingly stole it or not. "I'm sorry I didn't remember completely."

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck ! They were going to blame this on her if it weren't some fucked up way of telling her what she wouldn't admit. There wasn't some small possibility in the void of existence that told her this was a good thing, much less unplanned thing. "I'm not much of a joker these days," came in a serious voice, which is more or less of a lie. There were only some she was close to in a town like this, listed under her broadcast engineering job as Aretha ... something. Hatzi would've been too on the nose. It didn't matter. They weren't names she grew attached to much less cared for. Hashtag, although given by the Dead Idol, was her chosen nickname. In some ways, it was a safety blanket at the end of the day. She liked Rita though, given to her by her boss. Meow, by Ziggy, that sounded peculiarly like MOM. "You know my name." Her voice is soft. Distant almost. As if she's searching memories, no matter how pretensive it was. "You're ---... You're important to me, right?" Or rather were, once upon a time, as if she hadn't suddenly thought to pretend I DON'T REMEMBER YOU. What else could she do?

"Did we know each other before the Daniels adopted me?" Random name, but hey, she couldn't very well call herself Aretha Hatzi. Someone might notice and not keep the assumption that the woman wasn't missing or declared dead after being missing for so long. "Or the Scaredy Cat? It was probably the Scaredy Cat."

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."

BOLD what applies.

PERSONAL ; homeless | poor | middle class | comfortable | rich | single | relationship | it's complicated | dating | engaged | married | divorced | widowed | parent | only child | middle child | youngest child | oldest child | glasses/contacts | hearing aid | braces | wheel chair | cane | service dog | cis-man | cis-woman | trans-man | trans-woman | non-binary | demigirl | agender | homosexual | heterosexual | bisexual | pansexual | asexual | demisexual | blind/visually impaired | mute | deaf | depression | anxiety | autism | PTSD or ASD | ASPD | personality disorder | panic disorder | OCD | other

BELONGINGS ; car | bike | scooter | motorcycle | truck | mansion | house | apartment | RV | trailer | phone | desktop | television | watch | business | life insurance | land | PETS ; cat | dog | rodent | bird | reptile | other

APPEARANCE ; hair - crew cut | pixie cut | wolf cut | bob | jaw length | shoulder length | elbow length | hip length or longer | massive wig collection | black | dark brown | brown | light brown | auburn | red | ginger | strawberry blonde | dirty blonde | blonde | platinum | gray | silver | white | other color | facial hair . eyes - dark brown | hazel | amber | blue | green | gray . body type - muscular | athletic | lean | average | scrawny | curvy | fat | chubby | piercing | tattoo

TYPE OF DRUNK ; happy | sad | risk-taker | angry | philosophical | doesn’t get drunk easily | doesn’t (usually) drink VICES ; smoking | drinking | illicit drugs | prescription drugs

OTHER ; broken a bone | gotten stitches | had a serious illness | had a near death experience | killed someone | tried and failed to kill someone | had an unrequited crush | had sex and regretted it | had a one-night stand | experimented with their sexuality | ran away from home | learned an instrument | gotten a noticeable scar | been bullied | bullied someone | saved someone’s life | cheated on someone | been cheated on | been betrayed | taken the fall to protect someone | been arrested | been wanted by police | goes by a nickname | been blackmailed | had an attempt on their life | gotten away with a crime | gone on a road trip

Americans and their need to join one thing with another ... but never mind the fact that she herself didn't have a specific citizenship, The one in Greece was sketchy at best considering Aretha Hatzi was presumed dead anyway. Pretty sure she'd be dead in absentia by this point; but Arie hadn't given much thought to look into the woman's life all that much in a few years. Ice cream and coffee? Two very opposite things and yet, she had to admit, the smell was nice at least. That didn't stop her from ordering a large coffee, black, two sugars.

Minding her business would be easier if people didn't randomly speak into existence a conversation, even if it wasn't really for her. "Depends, pal. How many cups have you had so far?" Arie wondered, doing some calculation of just how much caffiene would kill a man who looked as sleep deprived as he said. "I'm surprised quite frankly. Don't most brains shut off the need to sleep for awhile at some point? That's not to mention the fact that you'll start slipping into micro naps eventually." Which could suck, if he's driving.

LOCATION: THE CREAMERY ICE CREAM & COFFEE BAR @anchoragestarters ( no cap )

Getting arrested on suspicion of... something, was rather rare for Matevos, even if he led a life of crime on the side. He more often got off with a warning or he managed to avoid getting caught all together. This time was different, but he didn’t try to think about it too much. Because he did wonder what had happened to Fallon and Rei. He knew they weren’t responsible, that was such an out-of-this-world idea that even the fact that they had been accused was laughable. Still. 

Part of him felt like he hadn’t given his ruse his all, worried that he could’ve done more to make sure they were let go just like him.

He ordered another coffee and downed it like a man possessed, leaning his full body on the table and staring at the empty coffee cup. “At what time do you think caffeine stops working? I’ve been awake for 72 hours and I’m not sure this is doing what I want it anymore.”

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck ! They were going to blame this on her if it weren't some fucked up way of telling her what she wouldn't admit. There wasn't some small possibility in the void of existence that told her this was a good thing, much less unplanned thing. "I'm not much of a joker these days," came in a serious voice, which is more or less of a lie. There were only some she was close to in a town like this, listed under her broadcast engineering job as Aretha ... something. Hatzi would've been too on the nose. It didn't matter. They weren't names she grew attached to much less cared for. Hashtag, although given by the Dead Idol, was her chosen nickname. In some ways, it was a safety blanket at the end of the day. She liked Rita though, given to her by her boss. Meow, by Ziggy, that sounded peculiarly like MOM. "You know my name." Her voice is soft. Distant almost. As if she's searching memories, no matter how pretensive it was. "You're ---... You're important to me, right?" Or rather were, once upon a time, as if she hadn't suddenly thought to pretend I DON'T REMEMBER YOU. What else could she do?

"Did we know each other before the Daniels adopted me?" Random name, but hey, she couldn't very well call herself Aretha Hatzi. Someone might notice and not keep the assumption that the woman wasn't missing or declared dead after being missing for so long. "Or the Scaredy Cat? It was probably the Scaredy Cat."

ARISSA HAD FINALLY GOTTEN BACK INTO THE FULL swing of her content creation, now that some time had passed after the discovery of the missing girl's body. The hot topic of the internet seemed to pass quickly, and it didn't take long for most people, besides the ones that lived in the small town to move onto to something else grabbing their attention. Eyes were on her phone, scanning the analytics of her most recently posted video, as she brought the opening to her togo cup of caramel latte, trying not to feel any true disappointment in the lower than usual numbers. After taking a break like she had, it should have only been expected. Brown eyes flickered up from the screen momentarily to find a table she could take a seat at while finishing her beverage, gaze landing on a sight that made the food critic do a double take. The age progression images made from her missing sister were something Arissa had spent plenty of time memorizing throughout the years, even if by now she was pretty sure she was the only one in her family even taking note of the more recent ones, so much so that they started to feel like a person she would eventually see in real life. There was some kind of statistic floating around about each person in the world had a certain number of people in the world that looked similar to them. And there was also the fact that age progression wasn't a perfect science. But neither of those two thoughts were at the top of her mind as she stared at the familiar face that she was already convinced was the sister she had once been so close to. Even her voice didn't sound too different, just matured. "Is that a joke?" Arissa had always been hopeful when it came to the topic of her sister, foolishly so she had even been told once or twice, to still hold on so tightly after all these years. Maybe that was why she had this idea that the recognition of each other could be so simple. And accurate. "Aretha, it's me. I can't believe this."

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.

💐, 💘, ❣

💐 - 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 didn't pay much attention to the deaths around town; not in the same way that most would. Perks of not allowing anyone to truly get close to her, she'd suppose. Arie, or Hashtag rather, didn't have time to truly make friends with anyone. That only meant not only caring about people she'd never see again AND letting someone know the fucked up lifestyle she lived. The only evidence that she knew there might be some sort of wrong in her life was seeing just how damn boring the people of Anchorage were. Stepping into the flower shop wasn't a social call which in again might be a clue of her mindset. She wasn't looking for flowers to show mourning and grief, but rather looking for a type of flower she had happened upon in a flash of a dream and it left her brain with a certain itch or hankering --- but not to eat, no.

Her eyes scanned the selection before looking to the voice who spoke, giving a small sort of smile. Maybe a little shy? But Arie wasn't shy. No, Aretha Hatzi wasn't shy. She commanded attention and rubbed everyone wrong, if her missing person's case was any factor of her disappearance.

"Oh, don't worry about me," she replied with a haphazard shrug, "I'm not looking for those but rather, well, what are the chances you've got hyacinths? I'm not from around here, so I don't know if it makes any difference." Considering the flowers she was thinking of grew in much warmer climates; and in particular, possibly Greece. She hadn't done research before coming, not sure why, but having the sense that the flowers just might be HER favorite, if it hadn't been Aretha Hatzi's. @hercule-boisseau

Status: open @anchoragestarters

Where: the Flower Basket

Hercule hears the telltale sound of the bell at the door ringing, indicating that someone has entered the store. With the recent death, the flower shop had experienced more business than usual. Everyone in the town, it seemed, wanted to express their condolences for the death of Willow Amelia. The former dancer didn't mind the business, per se, but they did find it interesting that people seemed to band together when it came to death, even if they didn't know the person.

He hadn't been connected to the girl so he didn't feel the need to mourn, but his heart did go out to the family and friends of hers. They understood why people wanted to express sympathy and in a way, he found it endearing that people care enough to. He approaches the cashier station, taking in the array of flowers leftover from the past couple day's orders.

"I'm sorry to say that we're all out of lilies and orchids, we've had a large influx of orders recently. Haven't been able to keep them in stock, really. But, I can arrange a bouquet for you with any of the other flowers we have as of current." The two blossoms they listed were common when it came to grieving, lilies offering hope and orchids saying "I will always love you". Even though he hadn't worked at a flower shop for long, he had recently become keenly aware of the types of blooms used for funerals and mourning.