Tongue Like a Tether

Hmmm.

What have we here?

A liar?

Well, then.

Tell me some lies, child.

o5oflies-moved

Now, now, that isn’t very nice to call someone you haven’t even met, now is it?

Child is a funny way of putting it, too. I was never a child. Or I was a child for too long. Your choice. I am certainly the youngest of my peers. I am certainly among the oldest here.

“Lie” is a strange word, isn’t it? It can mean so, o many different things, none of them quite the same. A fabrication? A bent truth? An omission? Is it a lie if someone believes it? What if that someone is neither the speaker nor the listener?

I wouldn’t call myself a liar, very little I do is complete fabrication. Much of what I do contains many granules of what you would call the truth. I simply offer options. A multiple choice reality. All and none are true. I know everything, nothing, exactly what I need to. Is it a lie if I don’t know which option is true, or how much truth is in any of them?

And who might you be, anyway? Stumbling across me like this.

A multiple choice reality?

I can respect that.

Heaven knows I’ve employed similar tactics on occasion.

You might call me Chassit.

I like to know things.

Or at the very least, I like to watch and glean what I can.

And I humbly request that you indulge me. Things have been quite boring as of late, and you looked interesting enough.

Probably.

#o5oflies

headlines

chassitpunk:

Chassit chuckled, low and dark, and sent off a tiny blue arrow which pierced the alert Katia had received about a later meeting.

The man was unsavory, it typed, lazily. He had many enemies. Many.

Chassit chuckled, and wandered off to procure more “Blood of the Harpy” coffee. Dmitri tutted but didn’t stop its partner leaving, if only because the resulting temper tantrum would be utterly awful.

What will become of his slaves? Chassit snatched the keyboard away from Dmitri to complain. Will they be auctioned off? sold to some other sadistic old man?

Of course, Chassit would not be able to afford more than a single servant from the deceased’s records. But, to be honest, Chassit was not prepared to care for orphaned pleasure slaves. And those blank, hopeful faces–

No. Chassit did not want to deal with any of the sex slaves in need of reassignment. The very idea churned its stomach something awful.

Will you take care of them? Chassit asks in a cold, dark moment of anguish.

Katia bit her lip. She knew this consideration was coming, and she had been thinking on it ever since the incident came to light, and before then.

They’ll stay with us for a while, I’ll give my men and my brothers the option of mentoring them, and hold off any talks of reassignment as long as I can. Better they be more mature and worldly before someone else wants them.

If anything, they would at least be taught they have some agency, even if they were conditioned from birth to love their master or mistress. Once again she considered the standards she held herself to, and if they were good enough. She now had to work within the system for change, and she had to start with the young and impressionable. It freaked her out a little, if she were honest with herself.

But, it had to be done.

They have important skills to learn, too, like reading and writing. Handling of weapons, if one of my brothers has his way.

#43versionsbetter #wow hi it's a late reply

Chassit gave a small, grudging nod. Not that Katia could see it, but Chassit did still have to acknowledge decency when others displayed it.

They are children, it reminded Katia. Their bodies may be mature, but they will need careful guidance and protection for some time.

Ideally, the clones would be de-conditioned to the point where they would not feel the need to serve a master in order to feel content, but Chassit would take what it could get.

Hmmm.

What have we here?

A liar?

Well, then.

Tell me some lies, child.

#o5oflies

OOC: character inspirations

in an attempt to revive my muse(s) for this blog, i’m gonna divulge the origins of these two cyberpunk bastards. but if nothing else, at least it’ll be a useful bit of background for them.

anyway.

chassit is pretty heavily influenced by the following:

frieza from DBZ. specifically, the one from the FUNimation english dub (and even more specifically, in the scene where trunks kills cyborg!frieza (warning for lots of yelling)). partially informed the appearance of chassit in terms of stature, but mostly informed chassit’s voice and personality.

zim from invader zim. also partially informed the voice of chassit, the stature, and general sense of disdain for humanity and pride for its origins/calling. i also used zim’s regular flat magenta eyes as inspiration for chassit’s white cybernetic ones.

artemis fowl, from the book series bearing his name. mostly informed chassit’s personality and the whole “bored genius” trope.

and dmitri? well, sadly, his inspirations aren’t quite as interesting:

at first, he was just your generic soviet mad scientist. no specific inspirations, just that general vibe of “we must make scientific breakthroughs for the good of the motherland” or whatever.

then, butler (of the “artemis fowl” books) started to make more of an imprint on the character. chassit needed protecting, and dmitri was both stoic as all fuck and also quietly hilarious.

later, as i learned more about the collapse of the soviet union and more recent crackdowns on non-cishet identities, dmitri morphed into a disillusioned prodigy who had to flee the newly-emerging russia in the early 90s because of his bisexuality. this wasn’t based on any specific character, really, but it pulled from a lot of real-world ideas.

you can still see traces of butler in dmitri, though. he’s very calm and practical, and he’s also very skilled in hand-to-hand combat. he does kind of function as a bodyguard to chassit, except the two of them are lovers. it’s all very complicated.

anyway. yes. this is to get my thoughts in order and maybe make writing these two easier in the near future. hope you folks enjoyed my babbling.

#ooc post #character background #ooc

headlines

chassitpunk:

Chassit received the form. Paused. A flurry of typing. Submit.

Submitted the hold form. And you should be thanking me. The chef will swear up and down that you had nothing to do with it.

Which she hadn’t, so the insistence would be easy on his part. Most people didn’t know who Chassit was, let along how intimately it was entangled in the affairs of the elite. So yes, the suspicion would fall on Katia for awhile. But eventually, everything would be neatly proven an accident.

Katia just had to remain steadfast and appropriately melancholy until the inevitable investigation finished.

Pufferfish is a dangerous delicacy, it reminded her. He signed a release form before he ate it, as is common practice with any establishment which serves pufferfish. He was simply….unlucky,

She considered the messages.

“You can do it,” Brian whispered encouragingly in her ear. Katia nodded.

I’m sure everything will eventually work itself out, but it’s no secret how I felt about Antoine. Frankly, it’s not much of a secret how my father felt about him, though it’s more of a secret than my feelings.

She paused, wondering how much to share with him.

Even though they’re good friends, my father views Antoine as childish and impulsive, and frankly not a great scientist, in my father’s estimation. He doesn’t have an original mind, to the point of copying my father’s methods down to the letter. Kind of a no-no in polite scientific society. To say nothing of his…preferences and fondness of wild parties.

She thought for a moment, and realized this left John Smith Prime in charge, temporarily. That was too much of a wildcard for her tastes.

Chassit smirked at the reply.

I doubt he will be mourned by many, it insisted blandly. Childish, brash, unoriginal, copycat….He had money, but his scientific contributions will not be missed.

Dmitri, armed with a large Thermos of coffee, ambled over to the cluttered desk where Chassit had set a battered (but still very much functional) laptop. He scanned the email chain, sighed heavily, handed Chassit the coffee. And without a word, he retrieved his own Thermos, sighed again, and tipped a dented metal flask into it. He took a sip, grimaced, and added more from the flask.

“I know, I know,” Chassit moaned theatrically. “I’ll be the death of you.”

Dmitri snorted.

“If you want to be the death of me, you can kill me in my sleep,” he said, laughing. “But you like me too much for that.”

“That I do,” Chassit admitted, and watched the computer screen for a response.

Sadly money can go a long way, as well as who you get into bed with, literally and metaphorically.

Katia frowned slightly, closing her eyes and leaning her head against Brian’s. She thought about firing off a message to her designer about appropriate mourning attire to wear until the whole thing dies down, but she wasn’t sure where to put all that in her closet or what to do with it when she didn’t need it anymore.

My father is surely aware by now.

Something pinged on her screen, an alert for a meeting later that night. Litvenko did know, and was probably preparing to give a statement as she spoke with Chassit. She wrote that message to her designer anyway, and in the meantime she was sure she had something.

Chassit chuckled, low and dark, and sent off a tiny blue arrow which pierced the alert Katia had received about a later meeting.

The man was unsavory, it typed, lazily. He had many enemies. Many.

Chassit chuckled, and wandered off to procure more “Blood of the Harpy” coffee. Dmitri tutted but didn’t stop its partner leaving, if only because the resulting temper tantrum would be utterly awful.

What will become of his slaves? Chassit snatched the keyboard away from Dmitri to complain. Will they be auctioned off? sold to some other sadistic old man?

Of course, Chassit would not be able to afford more than a single servant from the deceased’s records. But, to be honest, Chassit was not prepared to care for orphaned pleasure slaves. And those blank, hopeful faces--

No. Chassit did not want to deal with any of the sex slaves in need of reassignment. The very idea churned its stomach something awful.

Will you take care of them? Chassit asks in a cold, dark moment of anguish.

headlines

43versionsbetter:

chassitpunk:

43versionsbetter:

chassitpunk:

Chassit received the form. Paused. A flurry of typing. Submit.

Submitted the hold form. And you should be thanking me. The chef will swear up and down that you had nothing to do with it.

Which she hadn’t, so the insistence would be easy on his part. Most people didn’t know who Chassit was, let along how intimately it was entangled in the affairs of the elite. So yes, the suspicion would fall on Katia for awhile. But eventually, everything would be neatly proven an accident.

Katia just had to remain steadfast and appropriately melancholy until the inevitable investigation finished.

Pufferfish is a dangerous delicacy, it reminded her. He signed a release form before he ate it, as is common practice with any establishment which serves pufferfish. He was simply….unlucky,

She considered the messages.

“You can do it,” Brian whispered encouragingly in her ear. Katia nodded.

I’m sure everything will eventually work itself out, but it’s no secret how I felt about Antoine. Frankly, it’s not much of a secret how my father felt about him, though it’s more of a secret than my feelings.

She paused, wondering how much to share with him.

Even though they’re good friends, my father views Antoine as childish and impulsive, and frankly not a great scientist, in my father’s estimation. He doesn’t have an original mind, to the point of copying my father’s methods down to the letter. Kind of a no-no in polite scientific society. To say nothing of his…preferences and fondness of wild parties.

She thought for a moment, and realized this left John Smith Prime in charge, temporarily. That was too much of a wildcard for her tastes.

Chassit smirked at the reply.

I doubt he will be mourned by many, it insisted blandly. Childish, brash, unoriginal, copycat….He had money, but his scientific contributions will not be missed.

Dmitri, armed with a large Thermos of coffee, ambled over to the cluttered desk where Chassit had set a battered (but still very much functional) laptop. He scanned the email chain, sighed heavily, handed Chassit the coffee. And without a word, he retrieved his own Thermos, sighed again, and tipped a dented metal flask into it. He took a sip, grimaced, and added more from the flask.

“I know, I know,” Chassit moaned theatrically. “I’ll be the death of you.”

Dmitri snorted.

“If you want to be the death of me, you can kill me in my sleep,” he said, laughing. “But you like me too much for that.”

“That I do,” Chassit admitted, and watched the computer screen for a response.

Sadly money can go a long way, as well as who you get into bed with, literally and metaphorically.

Katia frowned slightly, closing her eyes and leaning her head against Brian’s. She thought about firing off a message to her designer about appropriate mourning attire to wear until the whole thing dies down, but she wasn’t sure where to put all that in her closet or what to do with it when she didn’t need it anymore.

My father is surely aware by now.

Something pinged on her screen, an alert for a meeting later that night. Litvenko did know, and was probably preparing to give a statement as she spoke with Chassit. She wrote that message to her designer anyway, and in the meantime she was sure she had something.

Chassit made a small, dry sound of amusement. Dmitri cast a disapproving look, to which Chassit scoffed and temporarily blocked him from viewing or altering any of its code.

“Your father knows,” drawled Chassit, expression blandly smug. “I have a message for him.”

Chassit forwarded a tiny, unassuming file to Litvenko.

Once opened, it would read, in whatever default font he used for his system, a simple: “Two heads are better than one.”

valmunmemes

Getting characters to meet and interact for the first time can be tough to play out.

Lots of people find the first meetings between strangers to be difficult to plan, or boring to play.

Reblog this if you don’t mind skipping the intro RP and instead jump-starting interactions by plotting out what relationship your characters might have, be they friends, enemies, lovers, antagonists, etc.

#ooc post

headlines

chassitpunk:

Chassit received the form. Paused. A flurry of typing. Submit.

Submitted the hold form. And you should be thanking me. The chef will swear up and down that you had nothing to do with it.

Which she hadn’t, so the insistence would be easy on his part. Most people didn’t know who Chassit was, let along how intimately it was entangled in the affairs of the elite. So yes, the suspicion would fall on Katia for awhile. But eventually, everything would be neatly proven an accident.

Katia just had to remain steadfast and appropriately melancholy until the inevitable investigation finished.

Pufferfish is a dangerous delicacy, it reminded her. He signed a release form before he ate it, as is common practice with any establishment which serves pufferfish. He was simply….unlucky,

She considered the messages.

“You can do it,” Brian whispered encouragingly in her ear. Katia nodded.

I’m sure everything will eventually work itself out, but it’s no secret how I felt about Antoine. Frankly, it’s not much of a secret how my father felt about him, though it’s more of a secret than my feelings.

She paused, wondering how much to share with him.

Even though they’re good friends, my father views Antoine as childish and impulsive, and frankly not a great scientist, in my father’s estimation. He doesn’t have an original mind, to the point of copying my father’s methods down to the letter. Kind of a no-no in polite scientific society. To say nothing of his…preferences and fondness of wild parties.

She thought for a moment, and realized this left John Smith Prime in charge, temporarily. That was too much of a wildcard for her tastes.

Chassit smirked at the reply.

I doubt he will be mourned by many, it insisted blandly. Childish, brash, unoriginal, copycat....He had money, but his scientific contributions will not be missed.

Dmitri, armed with a large Thermos of coffee, ambled over to the cluttered desk where Chassit had set a battered (but still very much functional) laptop. He scanned the email chain, sighed heavily, handed Chassit the coffee. And without a word, he retrieved his own Thermos, sighed again, and tipped a dented metal flask into it. He took a sip, grimaced, and added more from the flask.

“I know, I know,” Chassit moaned theatrically. “I’ll be the death of you.”

Dmitri snorted.

“If you want to be the death of me, you can kill me in my sleep,” he said, laughing. “But you like me too much for that.”

“That I do,” Chassit admitted, and watched the computer screen for a response.

headlines

Chassit could not quite suppress a smile as it sent Katia the link to a breaking news article–a link that would destroy itself as soon as she clicked on it,

“Local Renowned Scientist Dead From Misadventure”

“Antoine LeClerq, famed associate of Peter Litvenko, was pronounced dead at an area hospital Friday night of apparent heart failure. LeClerq had dined at an upscale restaurant earlier that evening, and it was reported that he insisted on ordering the Pufferfish.

“Pufferfish, when prepared incorrectly, can emit a potent neurotoxin. It is theorized that improper pufferfish butchering may have led do LeClerq’s death.

“When asked about the death, distraught head chef Yamaoka replied ‘I told him not to order it. He threatened to have us shut down. I am so sorry. I should have refused. I will never touch pufferfish again.’“

A few minutes later, Chassit sent a follow-up message:

If his clones go up for auction, tell me. I won’t have some pervert purchasing the youngest ones.

Katia considered the article, as well as a dozen others that were popping up on her feed at the same time, on the same subject matter. The tabloids were already starting to go nuts, alleging that she had something to do with the death. She made a mental note to tone herself down for the next several weeks, and sighed heavily. Brian leaned on her in response, balancing his head on her shoulder.

She considered Chassit’s message for a moment, before replying.

They won’t go for another six weeks, but here’s a hold form. Submit as soon as possible.

Her hand reached up to stroke Brian’s hair. He closed his eyes, sighing a little. Such a gentle one…

She sent another message to Chassit:

I hope you realize the trouble you’ve gotten me in.

Chassit received the form. Paused. A flurry of typing. Submit.

Submitted the hold form. And you should be thanking me. The chef will swear up and down that you had nothing to do with it.

Which she hadn’t, so the insistence would be easy on his part. Most people didn’t know who Chassit was, let along how intimately it was entangled in the affairs of the elite. So yes, the suspicion would fall on Katia for awhile. But eventually, everything would be neatly proven an accident.

Katia just had to remain steadfast and appropriately melancholy until the inevitable investigation finished.

Pufferfish is a dangerous delicacy, it reminded her. He signed a release form before he ate it, as is common practice with any establishment which serves pufferfish. He was simply....unlucky,

headlines

Chassit could not quite suppress a smile as it sent Katia the link to a breaking news article--a link that would destroy itself as soon as she clicked on it,

“Local Renowned Scientist Dead From Misadventure”

“Antoine LeClerq, famed associate of Peter Litvenko, was pronounced dead at an area hospital Friday night of apparent heart failure. LeClerq had dined at an upscale restaurant earlier that evening, and it was reported that he insisted on ordering the Pufferfish.

“Pufferfish, when prepared incorrectly, can emit a potent neurotoxin. It is theorized that improper pufferfish butchering may have led do LeClerq’s death.

“When asked about the death, distraught head chef Yamaoka replied ‘I told him not to order it. He threatened to have us shut down. I am so sorry. I should have refused. I will never touch pufferfish again.’“

A few minutes later, Chassit sent a follow-up message:

If his clones go up for auction, tell me. I won’t have some pervert purchasing the youngest ones.

43versionsbetter:

Katia frowned, but considered Chassit’s opinion nonetheless. “I’m sure that can be arranged, as well,” she said after a moment. That was, after all, how the game of high society was sometimes played. “With the right poison, no one will ever know.” It didn’t have to be fatal, it didn’t have to be much of anything more than capable of inducing a serious illness and letting the rumor mill swirl from there.

“He’s been in my sights for a long time, and I’m not about to let go now,” Katia assured Chassit.

“Good,” Chassit said curtly, and fell silent.

Dmitri, as always, felt the need to smooth his companion’s words a bit.

“You know that Chassit has strong feelings on this matter,” he said quietly. “And it has been…many, many years since my partner was first subjected to high society. This sense of urgency springs from decades of helplessness.”

Chassit scoffed but didn’t comment.

Dmitri rolled his eyes, paused, and cleared his throat.

“Chassit is quite good with poisons, however,” he admitted. “The more deadly branches of chemistry have long been an interest for my partner. Perhaps as much as computer hacking.”

“You flatter me,” Chassit grumbled, but it couldn’t hide its smile.

Katia considered this for a long moment before shaking her head. “I’ll table that for now,” she said. “In circles like mine, reputation is everything. I embrace mine and that’s my survival. But to completely ruin someone else’s is not only functionally murder, it’s got to be done carefully. I know the intricacies of a bad reputation, so I’ll be able to avoid getting caught. The poison would be superfluous.”

Brian watched him, listening to them talk like this was all a matter of course, and the truth of the matter was that he had no idea what was going on between them at all. He leaned toward Katia and whispered in her ear, “What’s going on?”

“I’m settling a problem I have,” Katia replied in a soft voice.

#43versionsbetter #whoops i wandered into random shit #let me know where you want me to adjust that bullshit.#i just got bored and my brain went whoa.

Chassit, ever the interloper, chuckled at Katia’s explanation.

“She’s deciding how best to eliminate a problem, Dearheart,” it offered, as Dmitri bristled.

“I apologize,” he uttered immediately, but the brown-sugar poison was already out.

There wasn’t much more but to wait for other reckless members of the nobility take advantage of Chassit’s highly-unique position of influence.....

and the nobles die, just so unexpectedly that one couldn’t fathom a power grab. And indeed, the jumps are not significant enough to be made public.

Because Chassit, an exquisite and lethargic poison, will only show itself when it has wormed its way into the nobility enough to destroy the house that created chassit.

but things are not that simple.

43versionsbetter:

Katia frowned, but considered Chassit’s opinion nonetheless. “I’m sure that can be arranged, as well,” she said after a moment. That was, after all, how the game of high society was sometimes played. “With the right poison, no one will ever know.” It didn’t have to be fatal, it didn’t have to be much of anything more than capable of inducing a serious illness and letting the rumor mill swirl from there.

“He’s been in my sights for a long time, and I’m not about to let go now,” Katia assured Chassit.

“Good,” Chassit said curtly, and fell silent.

Dmitri, as always, felt the need to smooth his companion’s words a bit.

“You know that Chassit has strong feelings on this matter,” he said quietly. “And it has been...many, many years since my partner was first subjected to high society. This sense of urgency springs from decades of helplessness.”

Chassit scoffed but didn’t comment.

Dmitri rolled his eyes, paused, and cleared his throat.

“Chassit is quite good with poisons, however,” he admitted. “The more deadly branches of chemistry have long been an interest for my partner. Perhaps as much as computer hacking.”

“You flatter me,” Chassit grumbled, but it couldn’t hide its smile.