like god's vagina [syrus asher]

[Santino Morrison-Novak]

VALKYRIE,
CALIFORNIA

[/color]
the ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in?




you had all of them on your side, didn't you? you believe in all your lies, didn't you? the ruiner's got a lot to prove he's got nothing to lose and now he made you believe. the ruiner's your only friend well he's the living end to the cattle he deceives. the raping of the innocent you know the ruiner ruins everything he sees now the only pure thing left in my fucking world is wearing your disease[/font][/center]


WHEN THE OCEAN MET THE SKY ,[/color]
CHARACTER BASICS ,
you missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye[/color]

FULL NAME: syrus venedict asher
NICKNAMES:

"sy, asher. I've heard "the executioner" once or twice in the media coverage."

GENDER:

"i have a penis"

AGE: 25
PAST EDUCATION:

"We dont need no education, We dont need no thought control. I went to high school but that was it. "

JOB:
Meat Packer (serial killer)
PLAYBY: Zachary Quinto

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YOUR BODY MAY BE GONE ,[/color]
CHARACTER APPEARANCE ,
i'm gonna carry you in my head, in my heart, in my soul[/color]

ETHNICITY:

""I'm something like 60% percent Irish....the rest is just shit"

HAIR COLOR:

"My hair is....hair. Dark brown, semi-long, kind of has a wave to it. You could run your fingers through it, but then I would have to cut them off"

EYE COLOR:

"My eyes are brown. Not like shit, they're a little richer than that...so is chocolate a good enough word? I don't know why people feel the need to describe eye color by referencing food."

HEIGHT:

"6 foot 4 inches"

WEIGHT:

"Somewhere around 170 pounds."

BODY TYPE:

"Tall, not lanky or Lurch-like, but not extremely fit. I'm not ever going to be obese either, its completely disgusting."

DISTINGUISHED FEATURES:

"I have a tattoo of a scalpel down the side of my right hand and wrist."

PERSONAL STYLE:

"I dress how I want to dress, end of story. If something appeals to me, I wear it. Do I look like one of those people who keep up to date on the current fashion trends? I don't like to draw attention to myself, so obviously that's out of the question, even if I cared what the latest issue of Vogue said. I usually stick to jeans and t-shirts, and when I'm working its this gargantuan heavy plastic cover-all with equally large plastic gloves. I feel like an astronaut when I wear it."

OTHER:

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IN YOUR MOUTH, IN YOUR SOUL ,[/color]
CHARACTER PERSONALITY ,
the more we move ahead the more we're stuck in rewind[/color]

STRENGTHS:

"Anything that requires actual intelligence, sarcasm, faking charm"

WEAKNESSES:

"I'm incredibly paranoid about being caught, even though I have come to terms with the fact that it will happen eventually. I'm also lactose intolerant. My lack of social skills kind of inhibit my full assimilation into society, but I get around that by just not existing in the public eye."

LIKES:

order, bleach, showers, outsmarting people, being superior, learning things, reading, opera music, hardcore metal music, rough sex, foreplay, listening in on other peoples conversations, cell phones with cameras in them, money, technology, planning things out, black ink pens, aviator sunglasses, note pads, white out, chemistry, chloroform, #10 blades, good literature, red bull, captioned television, art, big cities, dark colors, debating, hacking into things, tying people up, making people bleed, electricity, thinking, silence, rohypnol, the element of surprise, attention, driving fast, poppers, LSD

DISLIKES:

chaos, uncooperative people, people who don't appreciate what I do for society, nay-sayers, being called crazy, prison, cell mates, talking to people, public restrooms, the smell of sulfur, pop music, country music, lycra fabric, polyester fabric, stick shifts, rye bread, red wine, bologna (wtf is that shit anyway?), light beer, clingy people, hospitals, ambulances, EMTs, police officers, parole officers, the month of February, George Bush masks, political affiliations, crying, drivers license photos, DMV offices, rush hour traffic, traffic stops, search warrants, hard boiled eggs, bacon made in a microwave, Taco Bell, the outdoors, snow, cold weather, gossip magazines, strippers, prostitutes, nancy boys, trashy novels, emotions

FLAWS:

"I'm one of the messiest person on the planet, but I'm extremely meticulous about my killing. Everything has to be clean and perfect and precise. The unruly people who like to think putting up a grandeur fight is brave just piss me off."

HABITS:

"I love reading surgical text books; new techniques fascinate me. Crime tv is addictive."

SECRETS:

"I would like to keep my extra curricular activities to myself"

BEST MEMORY:

"My first kill. I remember it fondly because it was the first time that I felt a fire inside of me. Like I wasn't just walking around the world without a purpose. It was messy, and incredibly exhausting, but the feeling was just intoxicating"

WORST MEMORY:

"The death of my son. Dont ant to talk about it, so stop asking"

OVERALL PERSONALITY:

"I have an extremely addictive personality. No, not like people are attracted to me--if that happened I'd probably have an anxiety attack. I mean I get addicted to things easily. Things interest me, and then I just become obsessed with them. It helps that I'm smart, if I was an idiot, I probably wouldn't be as consumed with learning how things operate. Especially, humans....human nature fascinate me. Nothing else in the animal kingdom is so arrogant about its place in the food chain, and yet operates on such an incredibly basic level. Speaking of arrogance....I'm not afraid to admit that I succumb to it as well, but can you blame me? Look at this society, this whole collection of humans we call a race. Singularly, there are bright individuals, but collectively it gets lost in the huge seeping hole of idiocy we call the United States. Republican, Democrat, Independent, bi-partisan, liberal, conservative....its all crap. I don't vote, because it doesn't matter. Individuals don't matter....that's why I get away with what I do. Have you ever seen a whole nation up in arms about one persons death, just a Joe off the street? Of course not, but kill one hundred thousand Joe's off the street in one fell swoop, and people go nuts. As you can tell, I'm also pretty sarcastic. Oddly enough, people consider it part of my charm, as if because I don't care what other people think about the words coming out of my mouth, I won't lie. I lie compulsively, sometimes just to observe people's reactions. At some points it was necessary to lie to my parole officer, but he didn't care enough about me to really look into it.

"Arrogant, sarcastic, intelligent.....what else? I'm also somewhat of an introvert. Okay, not somewhat, completely. I hate all forms of social interaction, it just makes me feel gross. I'm not big on common niceties, I don't make small talk with my cashiers or smile because its the right thing to do. That's more effort than I'm willing to exert for someone I don't even know, or care to know. I guess you could say that I'm introverted because I'm intelligent, or maybe I'm intelligent because I'm introverted? Although to be honest, I couldn't imagine myself being anything but how I am--as if being four inches taller than the social norm wasn't enough, I tend to just say whatever I think. good or bad. My stare can be kind of intimidating when I want it to be, which isn't really a good quality to have for frequent social interactions, either. There was a time when I cared about possibly fitting in, and then that just slowly gave away to complete apathy for everything. It hate all emotion, to be honest, they just make everything messy. The only emotion I truly enjoy is anger. Its honest, unyielding, and basic. All of these other things, affection, sadness, happiness, they all come and go with the day of the week but if you are truly angry it doesn't go away just because you close your eyes.

"I think my anger lends itself to my real lust for killing. I can go months without thinking about it, and then I'll turn around and see someone crossing the street and just get an itch, a gnawing in my brain. Something that just compels me to do it, and the rush is indescribable. I'm not a big drug user, but the rush can only be compared to narcotics. Its my addiction. I don't do it for the money that these people have, or because some made up entity told me to. Sure, everyone dies sooner or later, and most of these probably have something in their past that they've done to deserve their fate, but I don't consider myself an angel of mercy to society. Society can take care of itself or crash and burn, its of no consequence to me. If anything, I do it for the pure thrill, the heat pounding, pulsating excitement that comes with each death. No two people are alike, not when it comes down to that level of connection. I think it was in that movie the Dark Knight that Heath Ledger said something to the effect of "you see who the person really was before they die".

"Some might consider me to be psychotic, based on the above admission. Why? That's no better than a person admitting they enjoy sex on a regular basis. Both are instinctual acts between two people that exude high levels of chemicals in the brain....The two have even been scientifically linked, based on the old standby of taking a girl to see a horror movie before getting in her pants. It is the simplest of connections, but all humans realize it subconsciously or otherwise. I may have an issue with authority, but who doesn't? I just don't think that anyone should be able to tell anyone else what they can and cannot do. We managed to last a considerably long time without any form of formal government, and now that humans are nice and "civilized" we have things like chemical warfare and genocide and children who blow themselves up for a God that doesn't even exist. Civilized? That's a matter of opinion."

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AND WE'LL BOTH GROW OLD ,[/color]
CHARACTER HISTORY ,
well i don't know, i don't know, i don't know, i hope so[/color]

HOMETOWN: Dublin, Ireland
PARENTS: Abigail Foster, Nathaniel Asher
SIBLINGS: Maddox Asher
OTHER: none
LIVING SITUATION: shaks
HISTORY:

The Early Years
"My life started off just like everyone else's....I was a little sea-monkey looking thing in my mothers womb. Most people over look this when they describe their history, but its important....the perfect combination of hormones came together at just the right time and BAM, I'm a boy. So many things would be different if I were a female. What would have happened if my testosterone levels were slightly raised or lowered, what would I look like? Would I have the same personality? But I digress; I was a sea monkey, and life was simple, the simplest it could be, everything in my life was done for me. Eating, sleeping, even the formation of my limbs was done not on my own accord, but by how many horse pills the doctors told her to take. They say that birth is the closest women ever get to death, but what about the baby being born? What a difference a minute in the birth canal can make in a persons life course. I am told that I was deprived of oxygen for a whole three minutes, one of the complications of having the umbilical cord wrapped around your neck. It was the 80's, medicine wasn't nearly as advanced as it is today and cesarean sections weren't something that a mother could just request. So I was dead for the first three minutes of my life, and who knows what kind of havoc that wreaked on my little infant brain. There are no scars that one can see, but who knows what I would be doing if I had come out a screaming banshee. My toddler hood wasn't much more interesting....I caught the chicken pox, went to a Christian preschool and sang songs about Jesus, and experimented with dressing myself. My father was not around, and my mother was always to drugged up to care. The person who had the most profound affect on my life in fact wasn't related to me at all....she was my preschool teachers aide. She was young, nineteen or twenty, and had absolutely gorgeous copper red hair. She was loving and smelled like cookies, and one day she stopped coming to help with school. I didn't find out until years later that she had gotten into a car accident and died. Her hair always reminded me of fire, something I've always been fascinated with, and I can say she was of the few people in my life I have ever been truly attached too."

School Life
"The special treatment of pre-k ended of course when I was matriculated into public school. Everyone is subjected to a certain amount of hazing in school; just like any other group of animals that's how you separate the weak from the strong. My dose was particularly pungent. Maybe it was because I didn't care enough to stroke anyone's proverbial ego, even at six years old. I was much more fascinated with watching then with interacting, and children sensed that. While teachers aimed to either coddle and protect me or try their hardest to teach me how to swim with sharks, the sharks themselves went for the throat, the lowest blows to eliminate me from any social circle I might form. I wasn't just an outcast, I was the outcast. The friends in high school are the ones that last forever, but they're also the same ones you met when you still wore diapers. My school years were particularly hellish, not from an intellectual point because teachers loved my genuine interest and my natural charisma, but from a social standpoint, I was a pariah. I was in the smart kid classes, of course, and as if that wasn't bad enough, I didn't hide the fact that in my pre-pubescent opinion, humans were shit. Forget the typical milestones of driving with your friends to homecoming or your first house party, mine were the first time I actually fought back being jumped in the bathroom or when I actually had a genuine conversation with someone that wasn't ten years older than me. I figured out I was bisexual when I was fifteen. No matter how many times I had my head slammed up against the wall in the shower or had my shoes pissed in, I couldn't deny that the boys doing it weren't incredibly attractive. I don't see any shame in admitting that it was more sexually satisfying to beat the shit out of them than to masturbate to them, either. I lost my virginity during my senior year at a party that I snuck in to, it was also the first night that I had ever gotten drunk (and the only time, thank you), and the first night I pretended like I was normal. The sex was awkward and completely forgettable, undoubtedly the worst twenty minutes of my life, not counting the sad excuse for foreplay that only two drunk kids could have. I still maintain that the adrenaline and the high that violence produces surpasses the euphoria of an orgasm."

As An Adult
"My first encounter with the law was through a minor traffic accident....some asshole wouldn't go on a green light, so in anger I stomped my foot and it landed on the gas. I was fined, points went on my license, and that was the end of that. I had been working mostly odd jobs, temp work, mundane and useless work for barely above minimum wage. I never considered college, not seriously anyway. You can't dictate what a person needs to know in order to survive in the world, and certainly a text book can't cover it all. As much as I value intellectualism, my hands are just as valuable. All of those pointless jobs must have done something to me, maybe just made me restless.My second run in with the law was a much more violent crime...It was early evening and I was walking home from work....I have to go through a few blocks of clubs and things like that. It doesn't bother me, although large public crowds tend to make me uncomfortable. I just hate the thought of genuine human interaction. Well, some guys decided that they were going to give me a hard time, granted they were completely wasted, but somehow they knew just the right things to say to piss me off. Long story short, one of the three guys ended up with two broken ribs and a messed up face, and I ended up going to jail for aggravated battery for a year. Needless to say, temp agencies don't hire felons, but manual labor is perfectly acceptable. Working at a meat packing plant certainly isn't the most glorious of occupations, but it definitely satisfies my urge to get physical with things. Of course, slitting cows throats isn't quite on the same level. I guess you could say that this job got me into trouble and essentially put me where I am today...maybe it just gave me too much of a taste. Killing my first human was intensely terrifying, completely random, and amazingly satisfying. To this day I don't know what drove me to do it, I just saw the man, and decided to kill him. It was horribly messy and not at all pre-meditated, which still bothers me, but you can't change the past right? If I could explain it, I would. Something just switches on in my head, and I'm a totally different person, in a different place....it's simple and quiet and beautiful."

Now
"To date, there have been six mysterious and horrific deaths that I have had a hand in. There is no connective agent between any of them, no similarities in age, race, sex, or socioeconomic status. The only thing that holds them together is the fact that they resided right here in Valkyrie, California. I'm sure the police force, shining examples of higher intelligence that they are, have at least realized that the same person is committing these crimes, after all in one city you can only have so many random killers who prefer the fine and precise art of slow torture to the quick and instant gratification of a gun shot or a knife wound. I live in one of those shitty loft apartments, in the buildings that look like factories, because at one point that's exactly what they were. Working in a freezer all day doesn't exactly allow you to live at the Ritz. I don't go out too often, but I have a few people here and there. My brother is staying with me. He's a good kid, not too bright though. Im sure there is something wrong with him, like there is in all of us. Even when you almost refuse to talk to people, its incredibly easy to get laid without paying for it. I'm not particularly attached to any of them, but for one reason or another it wouldn't be in my best interest to see them go, either. I doubt any of them know their occasional fuck buddy is a serial murderer, but if they did that would be a real problem for me. Killing people you know is always a messy business."

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COLLECTED MY BELONGINGS ,[/color]
ABOUT YOU AND FOR THE ADMINS ,
and i left the jail, well thanks for the time[/color]

YOUR NAME: gabby
GENDER: female
AGE: 20
RP EXPERIENCE: over 5 years
OTHER CHARACTERS: soon to be maddox asher
ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE:

-----when syrus Asher woke up that particular morning, he never fathom the possibility of ending up here in this situation, with Coco Lehoux's legs locked around his lower torso and rolling around naked on the sand. This, was the last place he expected to be. Mostly because he had avoided being in this scenario, just as he was certain that the blonde herself had avoided it too. This was obviously a cruel joke of destiny. God had a very fucked up sense of humor. One second they were sitting on the beach at each others throats, spitting sarcastic and vulgar comments and the next, they were enveloped in a very passionate kiss. Syrus never stopped to consider her reasons for doing this. Sure, it was possible that she realized that it was going to happen one way or the other and she might as well just be on board and pretend like she wanted it too, instead of being another pathetic victim of circumstances. Still, she had told him several times how much she despised him. Coco had made it perfectly clear that Syrus was nothing to her, insignificant. And now, here she was allowing him to penetrate her the way he did. Perhaps this, was her way of punishing herself. This was Coco hitting rock bottom. Fucking beautiful.

-----The moment he felt her lips pressed against his, Syrus threw all logic and thought out the window and succumbed himself in the moment, returning her kiss with an equal amount of fervor. Such feelings were born out of hatred and disgust from one another, and serious amount of self loathing. They were both so pissed off at the world, so fed up with the other person's existence that this seemed to be a perfect way of getting even. It doesn't make sense, right? To a normal individual this might sound like a bunch of crap, but in Syrus head, this made perfect sense and that was all that really mattered. Sure, there was some attraction there, because no matter how much their negative feelings got in the way, there was no way that they could do this without having some sort of lust for the other person. No matter how much control Coco would want to gain over the situation, she would never find herself in the position she was in if she didn't have that sort of feelings and Syrus would never had mounted her the way he did if he himself lacked any form of attraction for her. In the end, he could come up with any excuse he wanted and blamed this on the drugs or his condition. Honestly, the guy just wanted to fuck her, end of story

-----syrus didn't notice the moment when his hands released her arms from his grip, not until he felt her hands playfully massaging the back of his neck. She had the perfect opportunity to get away, to push him aside and run for cover, but she didn't. She stayed and kissed him, lifted his shirt up and over his head and helped him unzip his fly and remove his pants from his body. Soon enough, they were both naked and vulnerable, with their frames intertwined, fitting together perfectly like some beautiful and tragic puzzle. As the sun died down, both Syrus and Coco melted into one another, surrendering to that passion he had spent so much time trying to run from. His palms pressed flat against the sand on each side of her body as he gave that last push, the push that sent them both over the edge. There was no turning back after this, nothing was going to erase what had just happened. Even if he pretended this moment was just a delusion, deep down he knew better. Syrus didn't stay long on top of her once he was done. He didn't look deep into her eyes and saw heaven. There was no room for cuddling when it came to this two. This had not been an act of love and devotion. Far fucking from it


-----immediately after, he removed himself from over her and plummeted on his back, feeling the grains of sand sticking to the sweat on his back. "Impressive, Asher. Maybe you did prove me wrong. Just next time, try not to be a desperate asshole." He grinned and turned to face her. "Only if you promise not to be such an insufferable cunt". With that, he took a deep breath. His eyes were fixed on the moon that now hovered above glistering a nice silvery glow all around them. It was so peaceful, not a soul in sight. How convenient, that the moment Syrus and Coco had decided to have a nice little fuck fest, no one was there to bare witness. Good thing too, because this was not something either one of them wanted to brag about. Coco stood perfectly and made her way towards the water leaving the tall Irish native there as he attempted to catch his breath.

-----a cool breeze caressed his skin as he felt himself sinking deeper in the sand. So, so peaceful. But it couldn't last, that was just too much to ask. She had to open her mouth and ruin it. Her voice was like a thousand needles jamming inside his ears. "Joining me? Or are you afraid to be as clean as you are.. well, I'll just subside on the sexual cliches." Syrus rolled his eyes and sat back up to watch her dancing on the shore. The waves splashing on her delicate figure, washing away the mark his touch had left behind. Asher stood to his feet and slowly walked over to where she was standing. His skin felt hot still, burning, so the water felt nice and soothing, incredibly refreshing. Once the water level had reached his waist, Syrus crunched down burying his head under the salty liquid, washing his body clean. He stood moments later, pushing his hair back and turned to the petite blonde who stood beside him. "Is that clean enough for you Lehoux?" Syrus gazed upon her with an arched brow waiting for her to say something, one of her acerbic comments perhaps? She could be so god damn predictable

credit: format by lainey, lyrics by modest mouse

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[Violetta Giovanni]

glad to have you back, gabs!

ACCEPTED!