#aka: oh hi. thanks for checking in- i'm still a piece of garbage.

[anhedcnias]

*     ◟    :    〔   mackenyu arata  ,      cisgender man    +   he/him    〕bitto   mori ,      some say you’re a  twenty-eight   year   old  lost soul among the neon lights.      known for being both  unsentimental  and  insouciant,  one can’t help but think of  code   mistake   by   corpse  when you walk by.    are you still a    motorcycle mechanic at  lower eastside choppers motorcycle shop & assassin for the dead hand,     even with your reputation as the bitter aftertaste?     i think we’ll be seeing more of you and    chance   occurrences   of   slicked   back   hair from a switchblade comb,   fever   dreams   of   ceaseless   running   into   scraped   knees   and   coming   to   with   bloody knuckles,  a   ferric   heart   beating   stubbornly   and   hard as   iron,    although we can’t help but think of dallas winston ( the outsiders ), john bender ( the breakfast club ), kenickie murdoch ( grease )     whenever we see you down these rainy streets. 

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

ALL THREADS

ALL STARTERS

ALL MEME DAY PROMPTS

CHARACTER STUDY

AESTHETICS & VISAGE

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

general aesthetics. cyberpunk & crust punk meets biker “The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely.” the scent of. playful cardamom and leather musk as it exudes an initial air of arrogance bitter aftertaste. the lingering emotions left behind after a particular event or decision that create a sense of regret, sorrow, or disappointment. parallells. dallas winston ( the outsiders ), john bender ( the breakfast club ), kenickie murdoch ( grease ) here is his pinterest here is a playlist 

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒

full name.  bitto mori - call him bit

current age.  twenty eight

date of birth.  december 2

place of birth.  new york

nationality.  japanese american

ethnicity. japanese

hair color. jet black

eye color. brown

height.  5′ 10″

occupation. motorcycle mechanic

known languages. english & japanese

𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 & 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒

hobbies. working with his hands, collecting weapons- knives and firearms, paintball, shooting ranges, camera photography (anything with a scope) drinking, shooting video games, tinkering with old bikes, fixing/restoring pinball machines, motorcycling, boxing, shadow boxing, and lifting.

habits. not minding his own business, having youngest child syndrome, holding onto over-worn clothes and not letting go of possessions, speaking over people or disregarding their opinions if he doesn’t agree with them, complains a lot, pessimistic, atheistic, and skeptical of people who smile too much, smokes a lot, falls asleep with the television on,  skipping meals (on accident) and spends most of his time in his work garage.

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

THROUGH THE EYES OF A LEGACY MEMBER OF THE DEAD HAND, YOUR FATHER

the dominion of your name leaves an indelible mark on those who cross your path. your fealty transcends all other allegiances, as you genuflect before the sovereign, destined to shield him at every conceivable opportunity. as a legacy member, you epitomize the embodiment of what every leader aspires to have—a paragon of loyalty and unswerving dedication. the vast and profound shadow cast by your influence extends across the tainted realm, serving as an inspiration to those beneath you in the ranks. your loyalty is not a one-sided covenant; it reciprocates, fostering an unbreakable bond with those who stand steadfastly at your side. in the intricate dance of alliances, you comprehend the sanctity of blood, a visceral understanding that transcends mere kinship. pound by pound, blood for blood, the familial bond is sacrosanct, and you are cognizant of the irreplaceable importance of family ties. the extent of your commitment is epitomized in your willingness to sacrifice, symbolized by an unwavering devotion to your chosen brother—the kingpin whose dominion is intertwined with the very ichor coursing through your veins. for him, you wield the cudgel against competitors, and your commitment goes beyond words; you are prepared to spill your own blood in defense of his legacy. your dominion is characterized by a mastery of control and an unwavering allegiance that transcends the commonplace. renowned for your astute stratagems and strategic brilliance, you navigate the labyrinth of the underworld with a demeanor as cold as it is calculating. in the realm of execution, you stand as the grim reaper—an arbiter of destinies. together, an indomitable force, nothing stands impervious to your collective prowess. upon this earthly plane, you assume the stature of deities, wielding power that eclipses the mortal realm. you are unstoppable, you and your ward.

THROUGH THE EYES OF A CONCUBINE, YOUR MOTHER

existence as a concubine metamorphoses into an intricately nuanced balancing act. you, a woman caught in a web of allegiances, find yourself delineated by a shroud of secrecy and the surrendering ache of love. your affairs become a rich wine that tastes of both peril and longing, where survival is paramount and anything you see or hear must not be repeated outside of THE DEAD HAND. love, a sentiment that defied the foreboding aura surrounding him, had taken root within the chambers of your soul. your tale unfolds not amidst the clamor of power but in the muted cadence of quiet moments, where the silent tenacity you exude resonates with an underboss. your love affair was a scandal, as your womb bore the secret fruit of a son. your journey takes an unanticipated turn, obscured by the veils of secrecy that cloak your maternal voyage. the ephemeral joy of childbirth becomes a juxtaposition against the backdrop of the clandestine world you inhabit—a world that unwittingly traps you in its embrace. the echoes of maternal lullabies and the tender moments of nurturing life exist in perpetual fear. despite your valiant efforts to save the life of your child, the inexorable hand of fate intervenes, shattering the semblance of control you sought. captured and coerced, you find yourself compelled to relinquish your son into the clutches of THE DEAD HAND. the rationale presented to you is cloaked in the deceptive guise of being “for the best.” the indelible imprint of that haunting memory still rocks your core. the face of the father of your child, a lodestar in the labyrinth of your heart, betrayed you in the highest form. he took your son, and you would never see either of them again. the memories, tinged with both despair and an incongruous love, form an indomitable echo—a spectral reminder of a heart-wrenching choice that reverberates through the corridors of time.

THROUGH THE EYES OF MASARU, YOUR SON

your temper tantrums, though less frequent, remind your mother of your father. but you are not THE DEAD HAND—that is not your destiny, or so you’ve been told. at the tender age of three, you inhabit a world vast and intricate, with comprehension eluding your grasp. unbeknownst to you, you stand on the cusp of a burgeoning existence, shouldering the weight of your father’s name, much as he did at your tender age. the intricacies of your journey will unfurl in the interplay between tradition and individuality, a delicate dance that will soon unfold at the fork in the road—a narrative that will evolve with the passage of time. in your innocence, you remain blissfully oblivious to the inevitable complexities that await. your father, seen only on weekends and occasional holidays, assumes the role of a seemingly good parent. the secrets he harbors are adeptly concealed from your discerning gaze, and the intricacies of the clandestine world in which he treads remain veiled from your understanding. despite the fact that you can only stack 10 toy blocks, the looming expectation upon your miniature shoulders is that you will eventually transform into a soldier embroiled in a conflict wholly unrelated to your youthful comprehension. the expectation to pick sides in a war you know nothing of is an unfair burden laid upon you by your parents. as you traverse this uncharted path, the choices you make will transcend the contours of your individual journey, extending to shape not only your legacy but also those that follow. the road ahead is fraught with challenges and the decisions yet to come. the unfolding chapters of your existence, painted with the brushstrokes of loyalty and ambition, herald a narrative that will define the course of your life and the lives intertwined with your own.

THROUGH THE EYES OF BITTO MORI, AN ASSASSIN FOR THE DEAD HAND

your odyssey commenced as a stubborn foot soldier within the clandestine ranks of the dead hand, a misfit amidst the shadows, a tempest of defiance and arrogance. you were a veritable mischief, a cocksure renegade whose insolence earned more than a few bruises in lieu of the lessons intended to mend your lack of decorum and etiquette. your mentors, seasoned purveyors of death, viewed your audacious demeanor as a glaring weakness, doubting whether you'd ever rise beyond the rank of a mere foot soldier. you were notorious for your disdain of authority, an insubordinate force that made collaboration a test of endurance rather than a display of synergy. yet, amidst the cacophony of your flaws, there burned a fervent passion for violence that commanded respect. it was an undeniable truth, witnessed in the chilling precision with which you dispatched your targets. behind the facade of your shit-eating grin lay a meticulous dedication to honing your craft, a commitment that eventually earned you begrudging acceptance within the ranks. you learned the invaluable lesson of restraint, channeling your rebellious spirit into mastering an arsenal of weaponry and refining techniques with unparalleled sophistication. through rigorous discipline and relentless determination, you silenced the doubts that once shrouded your potential. under the stringent tutelage of your mentors, you metamorphosed, shedding the veneer of impudence to reveal a warrior tempered by experience and wisdom. each mission became a testament to your newfound patience and strategic acumen, as you penetrated fortified strongholds, eliminated high-profile targets, and meticulously erased all traces of your presence. you embraced the intricacies of strategy, understanding that the path to success was paved with meticulous planning and unwavering focus. with each successful operation, you carved a path towards self-respect and recognition within the ranks, no longer a liability but a formidable asset to the dead hand's ambitions. your mettle faces its ultimate test amidst the labyrinthine alleys and clandestine dens of soho. through calculated maneuvering, you bolstered the dead hand's influence, fortifying THE LOWER EASTSIDE CHOPPERS and orchestrating covert operations with surgical precision. each ambush, each strike, bears a testament to your growth and newfound maturity. yet, amidst the crescendo of power and dominion, a weight of a different nature burdens you—the mantle of fatherhood. now, amidst the shadows of your past, there exists something precious to lose, a tether to humanity amidst the abyss of violence. with each mission undertaken, the specter of jeopardy looms larger, a reminder of the delicate balance between duty and familial responsibility.

𝐓𝐋𝐃𝐑; 

The story unfolds through the perspectives of key characters in Bit’s Life:

Through the Eyes of a LEGACY MEMBER of the DEAD HAND, Your Father: Viewed through the lens of a legacy member of the Dead Hand, your father epitomizes unwavering loyalty and dedication to the sovereign. His commitment reciprocates, cultivating an unbreakable bond with those who stand beside him. Through the Eyes of a Concubine, Your Mother: Within the intricate web of allegiances and secrecy, your mother, a concubine, experiences a nuanced existence. Her clandestine love affair results in the birth of a son, BIT, leading to unforeseen twists and sacrifices. Through the Eyes of Masaru, Your Son: Inhabiting a world of complexities at the tender age of three, Masaru, your son, remains oblivious to the clandestine realm enveloping his father. Unaware of the shadows that surround him, he unwittingly bears the weight of a legacy. Through the Eyes of Bit Mori, an ASSASSIN for THE DEAD HAND: Overcoming arrogance and insubordination, Bit wields unparalleled skill, navigating a treacherous landscape while balancing the ruthless demands of his profession with the weight of fatherhood.

[quixillet]

((time to see what will's been up to in the big city!))

First things first. Here is "my" downtown, it's @/criquette-was-here's Feverfew but (mostly) empty and renamed to Black Bridge.

I'm going for a "formerly upscale but now rundown and industrial" vibe. The hood deco buildings are fancy victorian/artdeco, but are surrounded by heavy industry. I'm still in the process of tweaking and building atm, so hopefully it won't look so empty one day! Also, I made that curvy road by the water all by myself! So proud.

On the other side of the river you can see the power plant and military base, aka, the only reason I had Will uproot and move here. tbh, I think it suits his personality better. A small town could never contain him.

Well, the first thing he did after signing his lease was to eat chips on the bench outside next to the community car. Because why not.

((also yay for me cropping my screenshots so you are not burdened with ugly watermarks!)

Once the bare necessities are bought with his meager remaining funds (I really splurged on this apartment) Will picks up right were he left off: making out with vampire hottie,

going to work (along with all the other sims in uniform in Black Bridge, apparently),

Police Lady: Mornin'

Police Guy: Mornin'

Mr. Soldierman Will: Mornin'

and checking out the local hot-spots. This is a beach/lakefront area I built for the sims in this apartment dense area to hang out and meet each other aka a place for Will to scope some hotties on the cheap.

Will: There's sand in my ear :(

Quit your bitching and get out there! There's a whole new subhood FULL of sims for you to meet!

oooo like this hottie! Will!! Quick!! Get over here and greet her!!!!

Teen girl: Oh wow! What's that thing up there?

GAH. NOTHING. STOPPP.

(yes. I will reuse this joke several times.)

It's getting close to fall and, as someone who used to live next to the water, I know it's already getting windy and cold so I sent Will to the Thrift Shop to buy a new outfit.

Will: Hey, I see it now too! Neat!

STOP IT

How about you ask that nice townie girl on a date?

Will: On it. heyyyy girl, wyn? Here to pick up a new sweater . . . or just me? 😏

Agnes: *giggles so hard she can't talk*

Blonde townie: wow. boy got game.

Their date goes well, so Will invites her out to diner.

And then everything goes tits up! The second they walk in the restaurant Amanda, aka blonde dormie aka one of Will's MANY flings, stomps up to him and gives him a piece of her mind for "cheating" on her.

Agnes, bless her, doesn't even seem to notice.

Amanda: YOU HUSSY *slap* YOU TOLD ME YOU LOVED ME

*meanwhile, in the background*

Champagne Dress Townie: omg girl, red looks SO good on you!

Agnes: *blushes* omg thank you so much! 😊 you're so nice!

They swap out of their formal wear and skedaddle on home ASAP.

Will: Uhhhh, yeah hey I need a taxi from that one Thai restaurant on the waterfront-

Evil Witch: *summons a miasma of green sparkles*

Agnes: Umm, Will, baby? I hate to interrupt but-

Evil Witch: Oh don't mind me! The green stuff doesn't hurt none. Gotta warm up before I do the REAL spells, you know? Hail is a real bitch to get right if you aren't "in the zone" as you kids say!

Agnes: WILL!!!

I guess some bad ju-ju followed Will home, because guess who was waiting to kick his ass outside his apartment?

Kicked his ass and won.

If looks could kill. 😬

Amanda: Damn right, bitch.

After all that excitement, life goes on.

I really wish Will would roll a want for a rug or SOMETHING but he is such a man. He wants nothing but the basics.

I don't micromanage Will to make him clean, so sometimes his little apartment gets . . . gross. Believe me, this is not half as bad as it will get.

Amanda makes her presence known by occasionally sneaking by in the night to knock over the garbage cans. Thankfully, the land-lady is there to take care of the pests when I don't notice.

The smaller pests attract lager pests, though.

Will: Hey there little kitty. What are you doing out here?

Will: Oh YUCK! BLEH! *cough cough cough* How could my terrible vision have led me astray???

-

That's all for now! Next time: the college kids FINALLY graduate and hot boy summer continues for Will!

[esmeriandreamer]

I will abuse the heck out of this poll feature for my fic owo