bootleg-killer

[bootleg-killer]

Updates

I made a minor update to Alexei’s bio, because I decided to change Mia’s race for my own comfort level and the comfort level of those around me. I simply do not possess the knowledge needed to know what someone like her (a black sex worker from the 1920s) might’ve gone through, and it’s my goal to have fun while RPing and not (possibly) upset anyone if I say something inaccurate or offensive (not that I’d ever mean to). 

Thankfully I made this change before I got too far into Mia’s character, and it doesn’t really change much of anything about her backstory. Regardless, I hope this doesn’t upset anyone too much. Please just know that I meant no offense by it! It’s intention is quite the opposite. 

Anyways, I’m also accepting writing partners right now! So if anyone is interested in RPing, please let me know! I’ve been busy and haven’t really been writing cause I don’t have much to respond to, so I just need more of an excuse to get on! Message me here or ask for my discord! <3

[bootleg-killer]

Alexei Yahontov Biography

G E N E R A L   I N F O

name: Alexei Yahontov aliases: Lexi, Alex faceclaim: Aneurin Barnard nationality: Russian age: Twenty-Six gender: Male sexuality: Openly Pansexual height: 6'1"

B A C K G R O U N D   &   P E R S O N A L I T Y

personality

Alexei was always the wide-eyed dreamer of the family. From a young age, he recognized how miserable everyone around him was and made an effort to go against the flow. When his family would complain, he’d try to see the bright side. His family blamed it on his books and proclivity for fantasizing. Among his fellow soldiers in war, he was given names such as ‘Naive Lexi’ and ‘Kind Alex’.

He prefers to cut tensions with jokes, but is never the type to talk down to someone seriously. He’s an extrovert who thrives in social settings, especially parties, where he likes to be the center of attention (usually by showing off his dance skills). He maintains a motto of giving everyone a chance and keeping an open mind.

But even though he doesn’t appear very affected by his darker upbringings, he’s not adverse to make a switch into seriousness. Growing up a farmer and a soldier taught him how to kill when need be. When he killed, in or out of war, the people around him would site a strange switch in his expression; people came to find that there was a different side to him, hidden beneath layers of blind optimism and blind friendliness.

background

Alexei was the youngest brother of five siblings, but one of only two to survive to adulthood. The gruelling Russian winters claimed two sisters and one brother, leaving only him and his older brother, Viktor. They spent their formative years tending to the farm, potatoes being the primary source of income for his family. On the side, however, they produced bootleg vodka behind the Government’s back. Initially, they only sold to close family and friends, but when alcohol was outlawed in 1914, they began to sell to more and more people.

It wasn’t far into WWI that Viktor was sent off to fight, giving his life for his country soon after. In late 1916, after just barely turning 18, Alexei followed suit at his strict father’s behest, fighting on the frontlines and barely making it back alive in 1917. Though his time in the war was short, it wasn’t long before he was forced to fight in the Russian Civil War as part of the White Army.

He realized a couple of years into the Civil War that he needed an out, and after hearing tall tales of the American Dream and what can be achieved in the USA, he snuck onto the first cargo ship he could, leaving Russia behind forever at the ripe age of 21.

His start in America was rocky. Achieving the dream was harder than he thought, especially for an illegal immigrant. But he kept his spirits high, always being the optimistic but naive type, and made due with what he could. He spent most of his days finding odd jobs, anyone that would take him, and making just enough money to get by. It wasn’t until he entered the Speakeasy scene that things began changing for the better.

He thrived in the partying market. Years of physical fitness in the war and a knack for rhythm made him a natural dancer, and his open and friendly attitude attracted many new friends. The only issue was the legality of it all; by this point, alcohol in America was outlawed, so his presence in America became even more illegal by proxy.

Not long after entering the party scene, Alexei met and fell in love with professional dancer, Mia Walker. As it seemed, she liked him, too, and soon a romance blossomed. There was one major issue, though; Mia was being kept under control by a close ‘friend’ of hers, Xander Smith. Xander told Mia when and where to perform, and pushed her closer and closer to escorting, threatening her with police-intervention if she were to defy him.

Not long into their relationship, things came to a head when Mia convinced Alexei to kill Xander for her. Alexei, being the hopeless romantic that he was and already harboring hatred for his target, did it almost without question. This wasn’t his first murder, but it was the most personal and illegal thus far. After the deed was done, the pair ran off together, escaping from Los Angeles to Chicago.

Life got far more rocky for the lovers, but Mia’s survival instinct soon kicked in with a great idea; using Alexei’s knack for making bootleg liquor. After months of scrounging up any money they could, they managed to get an old farm and begin planting potatoes. Everything about buying the land felt barely legal, but it was a well-needed fresh start for them. An isolated farm where they could hide from authorities and produce alcohol to make money on the side.

The business venture was slow coming at first, but when word got around that there was some decent vodka on the market, money began flowing in. At first, they mostly dealt with Speakeasies in the area, but as demand grew, so did their customer base. Their business caught the eye of the budding Mob in the area, and soon they were selling to them and only them.

The pair made due, though, staying as disconnected from the Mob’s criminal activity as they could. Alexei would occasionally be asked to participate in some more violent activity, being the strong arm that he was, but they were set up quite nicely thanks to their gang affiliations. Their measly farm was upgraded, and more equipment was bought to streamline the vodka making process. After a couple years of business, they were sitting pretty on their own (illegal) fortune.

But an innocent business decision meant disaster. When they were asked to also sell to a different district in Chicago, they agreed without much thought. Mob tensions were at an all time peak and their original buyers saw this as a betrayal. A hit was ordered on them–they were going to be made an example for other bootleggers in the area.

Alexei and Mia caught wind of the kill order just in time to fight back. Alexei was attacked at one of his typical hangouts first, getting shot just below his right ribs, but managing to fight off his attackers with a lead pipe and escape. He rushed back to the farmhouse, bleeding out but barely making it. He was expecting Mia to already be packing their essentials for a quick getaway. He was sure he’d get healed up and they’d start a new life somewhere else, just as they had done years prior.

But when he got home, he found she was gone, along with her suitcase and all of their savings. In their time of greatest tribulation, she had left him to die. With the mob closing in on his farm fast, he collapsed on the porch, too exhausted and sorrowful to escape on his own.

With the sound of racing tires in the distance and his body losing heat by the minute, he watched as a thick evening fog rolled over the house. When the Mob got there, all they found was a pool of blood where Alexei used to be.

K I L L E R   I N F O

MORE INFO COMING SOON

weapon: A two and a half foot lead pipe with a turn at the end. It looks as if it was torn directly from a wall to be used as a makeshift weapon.

ability:

killer stats:

base walking speed: 115%

size: Medium

perks

[bootleg-killer]

Aneurin Barnard in The Facility (2012)

[bootleg-killer]

EVERY POST BELOW THIS ONE IS ARCHIVE

From here on out, I will be posting as Alexei Yahontov and Mia Walker and not David King!

[bootleg-killer]

What is this?

This is a roleplaying event set up as a gala. Everyone in the realm will be given new fancy cosmetics and set out to mingle, dance, and generally have a good time at an Entity organized gala.

When will this event run for? 

It will run from the 11th of September to the 25th of September. 

How do I participate?

A post will be made at the event’s start and after that you can make rp starters, post art, or send ask that have to do with the gala. Please tag all these things with #Blood Gala 2020

Can I participate? 

If you are within the Dead by Daylight roleplaying community you can participate. Just be sure you have reblogged this post so that I can follow you.

I have further questions.

If you have other questions that were not answered here feel free to send me an ask.

[bootleg-killer]

I don't think wrestling is a great idea because I'd say I’m more than a bit below your weight class but maybe we could do something else? -midnight-radio-host

@midnight-radio-host

“Awe, c’mon, y’don’t even wanna try?” He grins and crosses his arms, clearly trying to make himself look larger. “Whatcha got in mind, shorty?” 

[bootleg-killer]

Hello! I found this cool rock, do you want it? *she presents the dark red stone in front of her* - @brinnygetsstabbed (he deserves a small friend, she has gifts)

David looks at the rock first, then the small girl holding it. He blinks confusedly, cocking his head slightly to the side. Was she being serious? Did he seem like the type to like cool rocks? 

Then again, it was a very cool rock. 

“Uhm, lemme hold it.” He’s actually considering it, a small smile coming to his lips as he reaches out and grabs it. It’s tiny in his hands compared to her’s, but he lets his finger gently rub over it’s smooth edges, treating it far too gently for a stone. “Thank you, but ya should keep it, darlin’. Finders keepers!” He holds it back out to her. The gesture was nice, a pleasant surprise coming from a survivor. 

[bootleg-killer]

Where'd you go?

“Been doin’ a lot of thinking lately. Not much to do ‘round this place. I came with my favorite pub, but the bar isn’t stocked with anythin’.” He huffs and crosses his arms, “Who’s askin’? Ya lookin’ to ‘ave a good time? Maybe wrestle, or somethin’?”

[bootleg-killer]

►"PIGGY BACK RIDE, PIGGY BACK RIDE PIGGY BA-" - shyandnaivelegionnaire

Send my character a ► and a command. They must obey.

David immediately puts his hands in the air in mock surrender when she starts yelling the command at him, and another grin comes to his features. Yet another command he would’ve been happy to oblige without the pretext of being forced to do it. 

“’Course, darlin’!” As he speaks, he takes a knee and dips his head, holding his arms out at either side. Even at this lowered height, she might have difficulty climbing up to get into position. “You’re small enough to be my backpack, so let’s do this. Where do you wanna go?” 

[bootleg-killer]

Great um.. *gives the top of your head a kiss* Thank you.

David feels lips instead of hands on top of his head and lets out a small, drawn out ‘hey’ in response. When he looks back up, he has a large, goofy grin on his face. “That wasn’t a pet, but I guess its your choice. Can I stand up now?” 

[bootleg-killer]

►Can you get on your knees? I want to pet your hair but youre too tall.

Send my character a ► and a command. They must obey.

David immediately recognizes the strangeness of them asking after having just put a commandment forward. He probably would’ve done this for free, anyways. He snickers at it, rolling his eyes and shrugging his shoulders. Was that all these people had to offer? He could’ve been challenged more than making a cup of tea and asking to be pet. 

David lowered himself to one knee and put his head out and a bit forward, leaving his hair free for rubs. “S’all yours. Just be warned that there isn’t much there at the moment.” 

[bootleg-killer]

David is a little perplexed when she doesn’t answer his question as quickly as socially accepted. He raises a brow, even parts his lips to ask if something was wrong when she finally speaks up again. He nearly laughs aloud at her sudden epiphany, but manages to stifle it into a snicker. She wasn’t the brightest, it seemed, but she was cute nonetheless.

“Uhm, no—“ he hates to disappoint her, but he can’t quite keep a lie like that going. Besides, that was a bit of a... generalization, right? Just because he was British? It didn’t bother him too much, though. In fact, he finds it amusing. He wants to assume that was her intention, but part of him knows she’s being genuine. “Never got quite that famous. Less bodies, too.” He takes another look at his overly familiar surroundings, “I s’ppose my street hasn’t changed much since those days, huh?” It’s an interesting perspective he hasn’t thought about in awhile. “Nah, I prefer a more... fist first approach. Good guess, though.”

"Oh no... this isn't Ormond..." Susie hugged herself and tried not to sound as scared as she was, "E-excuse me... you're a killer, right? Is this your place? I'm lost." - shyandnaiveleagionnaire

@shyandnaivelegionnaire

The area David was assigned to was... familiar, to say the least. It smelled of cheap pints, cigarettes, and whatever filth lined the streets. The old lighting barely illuminated ruined cobblestone sidewalks and dingy back alleys. He can even hear the typical ruckus from the pub, his pub, shouts of shallow threats for violence and outbursts of hardy laughter. 

But this wasn’t his street. It was a crude mockery of a life he once lived, not too long ago. His knuckles hurt and his heart raced just thinking about it. He spent most of his time between trials just roaming the area, finding new details and studying things he might’ve missed in the real world. Was that brick always missing from the building? There was usually more foot traffic than this... right? One things for sure, those hooks weren’t there before, but that doesn’t seem to matter much anyways. He had been blinded by complacency before, and that was becoming more and more evident as he was given all the time in the world. 

He had never felt so... introspective before. He never gave himself the chance. It was lonely, but he wasn’t depressed. Not yet, at least. He just missed the companionship he always had coming here, even if it usually ended in brawls and having to replace friends. 

David is nearly shocked out of his skin when he catches someone roaming around. He sees them from a far distance away and begins approaching. She’s small, but definitely not a survivor, at least not from the pickings he’s seen so far. He approaches cautiously, only to find her... lost? How had she found her way here?

You’re a killer, right? The words feel strange, sending him into another rapid cycle of existentialism, but he recovers quickly. 

“Yeah, I am.” It’s more a confirmation for himself than it is for her. “It is.” His hands are in his pockets as he takes another look around, trying to see it through an outsider’s eyes. “How’d ya get here, darlin’?” She’s cute, and he’s breaking into his habits already; the times he’d be half sloshed and find a scared bunny of a woman roaming the streets looking for some guidance but praying nothing bad happens. He wasn’t a predator, at least not of a sexual sort, and always took time to earn their trust and help them find their way. And if he happened to get laid once or twice because of it? That was fantastic, but not his end goal.

“C’mon, I’ll show you the way out.” He speaks too seriously, even making himself a bit uncomfortable. When had he become such a stick in the mud? She had just caught him off guard, is all. Then again, he had a feeling he was gonna be in this strange grace period for awhile. 

[bootleg-killer]

► "Make me a cuppa. That's what you people call tea, right?" - shyandnaivelegionnaire

Send my character a ► and a command. They must obey.

@shyandnaivelegionnaire

David snickers and rolls his eyes, “I mean, I’m not much of a tea drinker, so it’ll probably taste like shit.” But he felt a sense of pride in being asked anyways, and went about making it to the best of his abilities with the materials he did have. Where had she even got the tea and milk to make this with? Whatever. 

The process, which should’ve taken about ten minutes max, was stretched close to forty, as he had to painstakingly heat the water in a dingy pan over one of the barrels of fire. From there, it was relatively easy. Seep the tea for at least five more minutes. Then, pour into a crude metal cup and add a splash of milk. When it was done, the regular sized mug looked tiny in his hands, especially danty as he carefully handed it to her. “Here ya go, darlin’. Hopefully it’s too your liking.” 

[bootleg-killer]

Send my character a ► and a command. They must obey.

[bootleg-killer]

“I’ve never wanted anything so fucking badly.” Bernhardt mumbled, staring through the glass window and into the vending machine. Lery's had a few scattered about, surprisingly they were actually stocked too. With /Pepsi/ products of all things. "You think you can like shake it around or something? I'd rather not give 'The Good Doc' any money."

David has taken to exploring the other realms in his abundance of free time. He’d quickly grown overly familiar with his own streets and decided he wouldn’t look at them any longer than he had to. This map was... interesting. Like some fucked up hospital from a horror movie. A little on the nose, if you asked him, but who was he to judge?

When he hears a ruckus coming from around the corner, he moves to investigate without much thought. What was gonna happen to him? He was already a killer, and a big one at that. He was sure he could take on whatever threat it might pose. Luckily enough, it was just some short guy fussing with one of the delapidated vending machines. He watches with his hands casually in his pockets for a few moments, figuring this guy didn’t belong on this map either. He just didn’t quite match the decor.

When his presence is acknowledged, he grins wide and takes a step closer. “Thought you’d never ask, pipsqueak.” He wasn’t sure about the Doctor—he could probably take him—but he was more than willing to show off his strength. “I used t’get free shit from vendin’ machines all the time. I got ya, mate.”

His hand moves to gently usher the other out of the way, touch a bit strong but surprisingly gentle for a man of his size. He was still getting a hang of his new body, and wasn’t quite ready to accidentally start a fight with someone he could easily just show off to first.

“Ya gotta grab it at both sides and give it a bit of a shake.” He does as he instructs, bracing his large arms on either side of the machine and hoisting it up just a few inches off the ground and jerking it up and down. The whole action was... a hell of a lot easier than it used to be. He never actually picked up the machines before, let alone with this much ease. Soon enough, after a few shakes, the distinct sound of a few cans clanking to the bottom of the dispenser can be heard, and he sets the machine back down. “See? It’s easy if ya just use those things you call muscles!” He laughs aloud at his own joke and reaches down to fetch the sodas.

[bootleg-killer]

[bootleg-killer]

David snickers at her immediate insistence on paying him back somehow. The slight amusement it brings him is grounding, and distracts him from the underlining existential dread. “You shouldn’t go ‘round tellin’ people that you’re good at sneakin’, y’know? Makes it easier for you t’get caught.” He’s amused, already more relaxed, which makes his accent just that much thicker. 

“Really, you don’t gotta do anythin’ in return. I don’t have whole lot else goin’ on right now.” He shrugs his large shoulders and gestures grandly, “I just got here, so there ain’t much for me to do ‘cept wait for the next trial.” It felt dirty, just waiting to kill again. Then again, this isn’t far off from how he felt when he first started fighting. “How’d you end up here, darlin’?” He’s already meandering in the direction of the exit, hoping she’ll get the hint and walk along with him. 

"Oh no... this isn't Ormond..." Susie hugged herself and tried not to sound as scared as she was, "E-excuse me... you're a killer, right? Is this your place? I'm lost." - shyandnaiveleagionnaire

@shyandnaivelegionnaire

The area David was assigned to was... familiar, to say the least. It smelled of cheap pints, cigarettes, and whatever filth lined the streets. The old lighting barely illuminated ruined cobblestone sidewalks and dingy back alleys. He can even hear the typical ruckus from the pub, his pub, shouts of shallow threats for violence and outbursts of hardy laughter. 

But this wasn’t his street. It was a crude mockery of a life he once lived, not too long ago. His knuckles hurt and his heart raced just thinking about it. He spent most of his time between trials just roaming the area, finding new details and studying things he might’ve missed in the real world. Was that brick always missing from the building? There was usually more foot traffic than this... right? One things for sure, those hooks weren’t there before, but that doesn’t seem to matter much anyways. He had been blinded by complacency before, and that was becoming more and more evident as he was given all the time in the world. 

He had never felt so... introspective before. He never gave himself the chance. It was lonely, but he wasn’t depressed. Not yet, at least. He just missed the companionship he always had coming here, even if it usually ended in brawls and having to replace friends. 

David is nearly shocked out of his skin when he catches someone roaming around. He sees them from a far distance away and begins approaching. She’s small, but definitely not a survivor, at least not from the pickings he’s seen so far. He approaches cautiously, only to find her... lost? How had she found her way here?

You’re a killer, right? The words feel strange, sending him into another rapid cycle of existentialism, but he recovers quickly. 

“Yeah, I am.” It’s more a confirmation for himself than it is for her. “It is.” His hands are in his pockets as he takes another look around, trying to see it through an outsider’s eyes. “How’d ya get here, darlin’?” She’s cute, and he’s breaking into his habits already; the times he’d be half sloshed and find a scared bunny of a woman roaming the streets looking for some guidance but praying nothing bad happens. He wasn’t a predator, at least not of a sexual sort, and always took time to earn their trust and help them find their way. And if he happened to get laid once or twice because of it? That was fantastic, but not his end goal.

“C’mon, I’ll show you the way out.” He speaks too seriously, even making himself a bit uncomfortable. When had he become such a stick in the mud? She had just caught him off guard, is all. Then again, he had a feeling he was gonna be in this strange grace period for awhile.