“Thank you but I think charming is putting it a little too nicely,” Sabryna half laughs as it was the sad reality of the Liberty Glens branch of N.E.S.T. For the building really had seen better days when it was standing tall and proud, though that was a time before Sabryna had even considered spending her time giving back to the community."She's actually one of the very few N.E.S.T that is actually still standing!" She had seen pictures in other branches of heritage museums to show how lively this place used to be. How powerful the community used to be. It was sad to see how empty the N.E.S.T was in comparison. How sad to think how far the community had fallen in this shift of media and heroism. Rather ironic though when media would be one of the ways assisting the funding for changes to the building, even if it was something Sabryna still found herself on the fence about.
Still, that wasn’t important now. She had made Sami wait long enough while she disappeared into her own thoughts. The firm grip of his handshake finally loosened, and as her hand slipped free, Sabryna clasped both of hers together in front of her. With a small clearing of her throat, she motioned towards the rest of the room.
"Oh you are interested in knowing some of the history too? Well you are in for a treat as I do tend to give the regular tours around her," Sabryna nods with enthusiasm, "Well, I'm second best to our number one volunteer Mercedes because she really knows herself, so apologies but you will have to be settling for me." Not that Sabryna was putting herself down, it was just the truth that Mercedes just had a way with words and knowing how to bring stories alive. That time to time when she was leading the tours, Sabryna coulnd't help but find herself enthralled with the way she delivered the tours. She took mental notes to ensure that her delivery could be on par.
Sabryna started leading him into one of the main communal hall where most would gather to converse or collaborate depending on how the room had been arranged for the day. In busier times it was filled with seats and not a dry eye in the house for meetings and discussions like. Now, well it was lucky to have any seat filled even from anyone who wanted to get a rest. "So the flooring is kinda not the greatest," Sabryna chews on her cheek, "And you can kinda see that some of the wiring is starting to become a little too exposed and maybe not up to code..." she could feel herself becoming all that much more flustered as she pointed them out.
She paces around a little giving him a moment to look and make the observations that were needed. Though she didn't like it being silent for too long. "Before I start dropping all the Lore on the N.E.S.T I gotta know how much you already know about us?" Really not wanting to bore or repeat somethings that he might already know.
He follows behind Sabryna as she leads him through the entrance to the N.E.S.T., taking slow, measured steps to properly observe the place. The main hall is larger than he'd expected for a building of this size and age, and he's already noticed some of the issues she mentions.
The floor creaks as they step over it. The HVAC system whirs quietly in the background, making a sound that he's learned to associate with being wrong, and while he can't tell his guide, he can feel the faulty wires flickering as he passes through the entry hall. He hasn't even tested any systems, but he knows that this place will definitely need some work.
"Very little about the organization itself, if I'm honest," He admits with an earnest smile, "I know what you sent over in the e-mails, saw a little online while looking into the building, and I'm sure I had some old pamphlets and whatnot from when my children were younger."
He'd been... aware of the organization, always worrying what the hell he'd do if either of his kids had manifested a permutation while under his roof, especially after they'd started going to schools and clubs where they'd be tested- and the best solution he'd come to was to get them involved in their nearest N.E.S.T. branch. The place has probably shut down by now, but... he's glad some still exist.
Peering up, Sami inspects a few exposed wires near a light fixture in the ceiling before he glances back at Sabryna. "But I'm sure you're a wonderful guide, so I appreciate your patience."
The place will definitely need sizable work, he can determine that already; rewire some of the electrical, probably pull up a few sections of the floor where it dips or creaks badly, and he'll test the other systems to see if they, too, need adjustment or replacement. It's nothing he hasn't seen before, the building is nowhere near the oldest he's been called in to, but it's still a lot.
"When was the last time any work was done on this building?" He asks, "Have you been having issues with any systems- electricity, water, any of that?"
THE TIGHT, SUFFOCATING SHUFFLE OF BODIES PUSHES HIKARU FORWARD LIKE A RUSHING DOWNWARD STREAM WHERE HE’S LEFT WITH NO OPTION EXCEPT LET HIMSELF BE DRAGGED ONCE HE’S CAUGHT IN IT. His few, gentle attempts at resistance don’t last long by the time the crowd disperses in all directions. He heaves a sigh through the wrap of bandages around his head, looking around wildly to determine the sudden cause of upheaval. It seems that it ends as soon and abruptly as it began, though. A few people are helping each other up after being knocked over, and quickly Hikaru lifts one of the stragglers by the forearm before he tears off the sidewalk and rushes near an alleyway.
He reaches a verdict from this viewpoint when he spots a B.Y.O.H freelancer peeling themselves off the sidewalk and groaning about missing keys and a wallet as they look around in dismay.
The Cleaner.
Hikaru's lips twist into a tight, resentful frown.
How did he miss it?
Beside him, a man in a familiar disguise speaks up. Buzzkill had been the only person he recognized among the crowd. Hikaru takes a hint from him and feels around to make sure his possessions weren’t 'cleaned out'. His shoulders rise and fall as a heavy, relieved sigh leaves his lips—his journal wasn’t taken. Thank goodness. His phone is still on him, and so is his wallet, though if the Cleaner had gone after that, he would've been a total loser. Or rather, he would've mugged a born loser, because Hikaru only has enough loose change to cover his bus fare.
He stares at Buzzkill for a few seconds while he gathers his bearings. The bandages wrapped around his head have become so familiar that he forgets what he looks like, so for an extended, silent pause, the other man is stared at in utter stillness by a blank and impersonal face.
Hikaru puts a finger up. One moment!
He pulls out his pocket journal and flips to a blank page near the end. He spends a minute scribbling on it before he tears off the page and hands it over. On the missive, it reads:
Not rumors. I intercepted him before he closed in on someone two nights ago. Couldn’t determine his identity besides a few details :(
A few of us are planning to stop him, wanna join up?
Sami takes the note from Fuli163 and reads it once, twice, and then three times just to be sure.
Intercepted him. Intercepted- something could be done. And, apparently, he was one of the last to know, if others were planning to stop him already. For a moment, his thoughts rush with possibility, ideas of a stand off and a defeat and a city safe-
And then the note nearly slips out of his hand, with just a small movement of a few fingers allowing the piece of paper to escape his grip. He recaptures it with a quick motion, but he'd felt it- the instantaneous release of electricity in his hand where there shouldn't have been, and he takes a small step back.
"I shouldn't." Is the first response, automatic, with a small shake of the head- it's safer if he doesn't, a bunch of more experienced freelancers, younger with more reliable powers would be better off without him, he's sure of it.
But he also knows things. Saw the thief with his own two eyes, knows things that no one other than him could know, and... what if that would be of use?
And, more importantly, what if that saved someone from harm?
After a moment's hesitation, Sami looks back up, meeting his gaze. "But... yes. Yes, I'd like to join and help."
It's not a rumor. He knows that now, and Fuli seems just as sure. And even if he doesn't like it, he has to do something. Sami offers the piece of paper back to him, flipped to the blank side so it could be reused. "Are there many others? What have you heard?"
By the time Anna pushes her way through the outer ring of people, the thief is already gone and swallowed up by the crowd. She ends up at the edge of the commotion, trying to catch sight of the source.
Anna was on her way home from work when she'd heard the few shouts, someone behind her yelling, "Hey! Watch it!" as the freelancer at the intersection hit the pavement.
Someone beside her speaks -- an older man in a dark jacket, masked up with a baseball cap pulled low -- the official uniform of 'I don't have a talent agent or a sewing machine.' He's vaguely familiar in the way that most BYOH freelancers are: a figure at the edge of a job accepted too slowly. Familiar, but forgettable.
"Yeah, I saw it, a whole crowd of people just saw it," she replies shortly, sizing him up. Something about the words hit her wrong. Very quick or very blind, huh? Her shoulders stiffen as she bristles at his words. If you didn't... For a split second, she's back on the train with the Cleaner, empty handed. "Thanks for the assessment, though."
The crowd loses interest fast, already going about their evening. The freelancer, after a frantic pat down and a resigned groan, is hauled away by a friend.
Rumors, he remarks. That's what the Levy siblings keep calling it. Rumors, despite the bruises. Rumors, despite the missing wallets.
"Management loves rumors," she murmurs, trying to scan what's left of the foot traffic while keeping the man in her peripheral vision. She could split her vision, but it honestly isn't worth the headache with nothing to be seen. "Funny how rumors keep knocking people over and stealing wallets."
She's not looking around for the Cleaner -- they're long gone -- she's looking for the pattern. The angle. The gap they slipped through. She turns to the man again, maintaining the professional courtesy of not asking for his name. "You were here before me. Did you see anything? Hear any other 'Rumors'?" She does exaggerated air quotes to make sure he understands just how much she doesn't care for the label.
Sami glances at the figure beside him and lets out a small breath in relief. Finally, someone who seems to know what the hell is going on. He steps closer to the main road, glancing around among the stragglers beside the woman.
He can understand the questions, he had a very similar list in his head before she had started firing them off, what he doesn't understand (or enjoy) is the tone. But events like these aren't supposed to be calm.
The distrust, he concedes to himself, is warranted. It's not like he'd do any different.
"See anything? I barely saw them fall, it was so crowded." He says, trying to avoid falling into the same short tone as the woman, adjusting his hood before looking directly at her. "I saw the crowd. And I've learned that crowds are not very good at knowing what they've seen."
It's not entirely true; he felt something- or, really, he didn't, and that was the notable thing.
But he's not ready to explain all of this to her, some steward (not Valerian, he can tell that easily- he knows how those people act, how they look, how they look at men like him) who he doesn't recognize and has no reason to trust, even if she may know something he doesn't.
The crowd is dispersing and the thief has already disappeared- if she wants to talk, he'll talk. But he won't stick around if he doesn't need to.
"I only hear things by the notifications. You seem to know more than I do about these rumors." He replies, "So if you have some information you'd like to share, please, be my guest."
Bas very much lives and breathes a life on the down-low. Kibba yuh mout, Antie Kimona has told Bas countless times, and it's a lesson Bas has taken to heart. He wants no spotlight, no bangarang, just enough to cover for rent and keep for a rainy day. Conditioned to move within the safety of the crowd, or what was left of it, Bas knew better than to stand out. Someone fell, people screamed, and they had to find a place where they wouldn't end up like Mufasa in The Lion King.
Standing beside an older man, Bas winces and gives a slight nod at the stranger's question. They scan the scene. Since everyone pressed the panic button and fled, only a few people remain on the Brooklyn streets, including the BYOH worker who took the dive.
Bas answers, "That person who fell? They just got back up, but should we call an ambulans, or one of those hero—uh—stewards on the way?" They scrunch up their face at the man's comment. Quick? Blind? Well, Bas is neither, but at least he can piece together the happenings.
He remembers a sub-alt from brooklyn cryptid, one of his favorite AlterEgo accounts to follow on account of her being absolutely ramps, and she had mentioned a rawtid Santa that someone else graciously explained was the badman stalking indie heroes.
"Was that Mistah Clean? Why hasn't a steward stopped him?" Bas asks, crossing his arms. Then panic strikes them too, enough for them to slip their accent. "Shit, mi stuff!" Fingers fly into jean pockets. Thank Jah, they've got their things. Composing themselves, they check in with their conversational partner. "Yours there too, sir?"
With every word the younger man says, Sami becomes a little more on-edge.
Call a steward. Stewards should've stopped him. And here he stands, looking like some criminal or a vigilante, or a sixteen-year old trying to be brave, in his mask and hood, doing nothing.
"They look like they'll be fine." He says, glancing back out onto the street. The less any authorities need to be involved, the better- he's not ranked, he's not going to assume that the steward who was just attacked is. "And if they need medical attention, it doesn't seem urgent."
The younger man's accent doesn't slip by Sami's notice, but he doesn't remark on it. He's used to hearing plenty of different ones in his line of work, and his used to be significantly more noticeable when he was younger.
If anything, it makes him a little bit more trusting towards the man.
"Yes, I've got everything. You're alright?" He asks, even if he taps pockets one more time to check, and steps out toward the street. The Cleaner is long gone, now, but... he can't get that moment out of his mind; waiting for a spark that wouldn't come, and then his senses being totally overwhelmed by the rush of the crowd.
"Why hasn't a steward stopped them? You saw," Sami says finally, readjusting his hood, "That happens. It's not worth the risk. Leave that business to the people who are in the business."
Still, he can't help his own curiosity- or, really, a desire to keep himself safe working a job he'd always resented. If this... Cleaner- a term he'd only seen in half-read AlterEgo notifications and emails from the B.Y.O.H. higher-ups.
"Did you see anything?" He asks after a long moment of hesitation. "About any of it?"
₊˚｡ ❆who: sabryna & sami [ @thebuzzkills ]
₊˚｡ ❆where: n.e.s.t branch, liberty glenn
₊˚｡ ❆when: 4th may 2022
It was no secret by now that the N.E.S.T had seen better days. Things were falling apart in ways that Sabyna could easily name. Some of the cracks running deeper than plaster, wiring that clearly needed redoing and support systems that were no longer held the way that they were suppose to. This wasn't a simple fix-it-up job that a lick of paint and new rugs could mask. It was bigger than that. Something structural and intricate. Something that had been left too long without proper care, now showing every consequence a once.
Sabryna couldn't help but sympathies with the state of the N.E.S.T. As she too was rather familiar of what it was like for something to reach its breaking point but to keep on standing any way. And it was in the moments like these she found herself thinking deeply. If the N.E.S.T had a chance to be remade to it's former glory...no for it to be reshaped into something something stronger, something new. Then maybe, just maybe Sabryna could consider that for herself too.
Well not much so much herself as Sabryna but her alter ego Swizzle. Ever since her conversation with Vaimiti about applying for Super♡Hearts her head had been in a bit of a spin. Was she ready to bring herself back into the spotlight? Could do handle it? Or would the old memories come to surface and the stage fright get the better of her.
Only you could compare a falling building to your own issue, huh Sabryna. She thought to herself. Her conflict for entering the show could be put on the bottom of her to do list! As mother had given her a more demanding task at hand, getting quotes from contractors. And it wasn't just any contractor but one that she had given her specifically to get a quote from. At least Sabryna could handle one of mother's tasks without failing or disappointing.
She walked to the entrance to greet Sami who had been patiently waiting in the main entrance. Rather sure that the entrance would be a bit of a foreshadow that hides in the depths of the nest. "Sorry to keep you waiting Sami," she spoke in her upbeat yet professional tone. "Hope you haven't been waiting too long," Sabryna extends out her hand for him to shake,"I'm Sabryna one of the volunteers and on behalf of the organization, welcome to the N.E.S.T."
The slightly decrepit entrance of the N.E.S.T. is nothing out of the normal for Samir.
He scans the room with a detached familiarity, the symptoms of an organization plagued with a lack of funding and an abundance of care making themselves obvious around him; paint chipping at the edge of posters put up in order to hide it; a floor that creaks with every other step, a slight buzzing that prickles when he searches for it, signalling old wires that probably hadn't been redone for as long as he'd been alive.
It's all a normal (if depressing) part of this line of work. Watching well-loved homes and organizations that build a community around them fall into a state like this, even when efforts are made to disguise it.
Those are always his favorite things to see- attempts to cover up the inevitable until he's called in. He's found it here, already, the water stain in the corner barely visible behind a plastic plant, the dip in the floor behind one of the many chairs in the lobby. For him, it's charming.
The whole place is, even the idea of it- normally, he'd avoid spending too much time around stewards who may exist in the circles that he lingered in, in fear of a potential recognition and the questions that may bring. But the idea of the N.E.S.T., a safe place without the F.B.A.I.'s scrutiny or the pressure of an agency... he took the call and agreed to take a look around.
A part of him wonders how differently he would have turned out had a place like this existed when he'd been growing up.
Sami's jolted out of his thoughts and his look around the lobby by the voice of a woman- Sabryna, she introduces herself, and he meets her extended hand with a firm shake.
"It's a pleasure, and the wait was no trouble," He assures her, "Your organization has a very charming place here, Ms. Sabryna."
He steps back, clasping his hands behind him as he takes a final glance around the lobby. "While you show me around, I'd like to hear anything you know about the history of the building, as well as anything specific you would like looked into. This place looks as if it has... quite a story."
˗ˏˋ⚡︎ˎˊ — status: public open starter for @invictushq ft. byoh muses for the cleaner event
˗ˏˋ⚡︎ˎˊ — setting: 4pm ; april 28, 2022 ; a street corner in brooklyn, nkc // set directly after sami witnesses a cleaner attack
˗ˏˋ⚡︎ˎˊ — cws: mentions/very gen. description of a cleaner attack, otherwise :>
Sami's head is still buzzing. Well, all of him is.
Most people can feel their heart thudding in their chest when the pace jumps too quick. Sami, however, can feel the sharp, quick way the current transmitted by his heart flows faster than it should. He's just glad that the unsteadiness in his hands is anxiety, and not the firing of nerves that he never intended to activate.
Tilting his head back against the brick building behind him, he lets out a long, tired sigh and closes his eyes. As much as he's happy to be safe- he wishes safety wasn't something to be relieved about.
A current- familiar, if only vaguely- pulses at his fingertips without him having to reach for it. Maybe someone from the crowd? His senses are still on edge, the already loud and rushing crowd filling with panic- every heartbeat jumping up in tempo as some figure caused a b.y.o.h. freelancer to topple to the ground, every current speeding up as the crowd pushed and shoved, sparking until his fingers twitched and he could feel it thudding in his ears- had overwhelmed him. Even minutes later, the feeling hasn't quite subsided.
He opens his eyes.
The light returns first, then-
Sami schools his expression from some sort of strained exhaustion into something closer to a weary smile. "You saw that, yes? Not just me?"
He gestures back out to the street- the few stragglers of the crowd that remained, the freelancer reorienting themselves as they got to their feet- before pushing himself off of the wall.
"Because if you didn't, well... You are either very quick or very blind." After tapping a hand against the pocket of his jeans, just to check that everything was still there, he glances back up.
He realizes how it looks all at once- cap still down, mask still up as a precaution from the initial panic, speaking as if he was Samir and not this. Buzzkill.
His hands raise in a placating gesture as he further away from the street corner. "No bother. Still, ah-" He glances back down the street. "I suppose I was hoping the rumors would stay as rumors, no?"
{ waleed zuaiter. male, he/him. } psst! hey, don’t look now but isn’t that [ samir "sami" osman ] ? i said don’t look, geez! doesn’t it remind you of the clip with that unidentified permuted person [ stopping a runaway car by short-circuiting the wiring and then ducking back into the crowd ] ? people in the comments are calling them [ buzzkill ], and saying their permutation is probably [ electrokinesis ]. i guess it sort of looks like them, if you squint. but i'm not sure, internet sleuths don’t exactly have a high success rate when it comes to identifying people from [ cctv ] footage. and the person on the video doesn’t look like a [ 58 ] year old who would list [ steel-toed boots, scuffed and bloodstained; flexing hands to try and get the nerves to stop firing; wrapping wounds with bruised knuckles and a beer; sighing heavily before running to help ] as their interests on alterego. what? don't look at me like that — i got curious! besides, if that even is them in the video, it probably means they don't want to go viral.
001. general ˗ˏˋ⚡︎ˎˊ ˗
name: samir "sami" osman
nickname/hero alias if applicable: buzzkill
faceclaim: waleed zuaiter
age/date of birth: 58 / mar. 4, 1968
gender & pronouns: male / he & him
orientation/marital status: straight / divorced
distinguishing features: dark- but graying- curly hair, stubble at the edges of his jaw, calloused and scarred fingertips from permutation use.
occupation: electrical contractor / freelancer for b.y.o.h.
power: electrokinesis
height: 6'0"
place of birth: chicago, illinois
family: yusuf osman (father), sana osman (mother), ex-wife, elder child, younger child [adults - tbd.]
current residence: the bronx, new everwick city.
002. iconography ˗ˏˋ⚡︎ˎˊ ˗
character inspirations: ethan hunt (mission: impossible), batman: the dark knight returns (dc comics), jack abbot (the pitt), clint barton (marvel)
character tropes: the reluctant hero, afraid of their own strength, can't stay normal, resigned to the call
zodiac sign: pisces
mbti: istj
positive traits: hardworking, strategic, respectful, resilient, reliable, practical.
negative traits: stubborn, reserved, judgmental, reluctant
likes: stability, keeping his loved ones safe, early morning coffee, spending time with his kids, autumn weather, disappearing after a byoh request, being perceived as normal, being praised as "buzzkill" (secretly)
dislikes: pain from using his permutation, being asked to take a natl. stress reflex test, overly publicized stewards, recovering from a fight, publicity in general, being alone.
fears: his family/friends finding out that he's permuted, getting ranked by the f.b.a.i., the pain of his permutation becoming disabling, accidentally misusing his permutation.
habits: having tea in the morning, passing out on his couch, listening to old music as he walks to work, smokes casually after a long day.
hobbies: working out at a nearby boxing gym, reading, cooking meals he remembers his family making, walking around the city after a workday.
pets: none, doesn't want any, but would probably enjoy having a cat.
003. extras ˗ˏˋ⚡︎ˎˊ ˗
bio:
samir osman had never wanted to become a steward.
born march 4, 1968, mere days before the violet sun radiation event, his early life was shaped by the new relationship stewards had with the public and the government. he'd manifested his permutation at only a few months old- flickering the lights of their small apartment when he cried as a baby- and his parents, arab immigrants who had come to the us only a decade or so prior, had little faith that the government would treat their son with any sort of humanity after seeing the world's reactions to older permuted people- and to themselves.
his childhood is spent trying to understand and control his permutation, practicing and honing his skill just so he could keep his head down. by the time national stress reflex tests become common at schools and workplaces, he's already gotten a decent handle on his permutation. he'd mostly used it to make sure the lights stayed on at home, maybe play a few tricks, but had no intentions of using it for anything remotely heroic- it was a secret kept between him and his parents, and had it instilled within him that it would always be better that way. his family's beliefs became instilled within him: the government isn't trustworthy, they don't like people like us, and they certainly won't like someone like you.
sami was twenty when people stopped seeing those affected as "permuted" and began seeing "superheroes". as any twenty-year old boy would, a part of him yearned to take advantage of his potential, get tested, and see how fame could treat him. the man his parents raised was more fearful of the risks; of how a mistake could cut power to a hospital or stop the current from reaching someone's heart; of how letting them make him into figure could make him less of a person.
so he keeps his head down.
sami goes into a trade, meets a girl at a friend's party, and settles down. he gets married, keeps steady work, and has two kids by thirty. normalcy is easier to maintain like this, with a wife who has no idea about the permutation in his dna, a steady job that has nothing to do with what he could do, and kids who he'd hope will see him as a hero, even without knowing about the permutation.
he'd expected to live life like any other person his age after that- work normal hours, put his kids through school, retire with his wife and never use his permutation for anything more than flicking on a light without stepping over to the switch.
but things never really tend to go as planned.
he and his wife separate when his kids are in their late teens- mostly mutual, even if he's still holding out some hope of a reconciliation- and then his kids move out for college. he's proud of them, he is, but college isn't as cheap as it used to be, and with alimony payments on top of that...
sami started out on bring your own hero at fifty-two, intending to keep it as small and quick as possible- he's middle aged, was planning to retire, and has spent his whole life avoiding heroism- he doesn't trust the f.b.a.i., doesn't want to become famous, and had only joined to avoid picking up a second job that'd be more demanding than this.
it was supposed to stay small- registered with a basic name related to his permutation like volt or lightning, kept his eyes hidden under a hat, hood, and half of his face covered behind a mask, and planned to delete the app once his kids’ tuition was paid off. but six years later, he finds that he's still doing it, still responding to requests even if a part of him dreads opening the app every morning.
"buzzkill" was the invention of some user online two years in, disappointed at his lack of spectacle; it makes him smile a little every time he sees it.
that type of career, though, at his age, isn’t without its consequences. sami has always been aware that his permutation can affect the human body, but he never imagined that it’d affect him. if he overuses the current, that energy stays in his system. his nerves misfire when there's too much electricity left over; a sharp shock of pain that’s practically random and enough to make him physically flinch. after straining the current, his muscles might twitch or spasm. and even without all that, he knows he doesn’t heal the way he used to.
heroism doesn't come naturally to him, and he'd rather stick to small favors rather than being a savior, but after six years of standing on the first step to public stewardship, he’s become less able to stand by when he knows he's got the ability to help. but as people start taking more notice, and his permutations begin taking a toll, he's starting to really consider just giving the whole thing up.
and yet, he still hasn't.
wanted connections:
open to all types of connections but mainly looking to explore platonic dynamics! also really excited to plot sami's relationships with other, more public-facing stewards, considering his opinions on the whole thing- but here are some ideas I had in mind:
the mentee? sami's a father, and seeing younger stewards working on the streets is fundamentally against everything he's believed all his life. so he tries to be mentor to this person. the problem? he's fifty-eight and has very little experience in real stewardship. more often than not, he's the one getting advice from them, and not the other way around
the double lifer sami still works a day job as a contractor outside of his freelance work for b.y.o.h. this person saw him or hired him to do work for them, maybe at a workplace like valerian or soma or a common area. then, they saw him when he was doing work for b.y.o.h., and started connecting dots. whether they use that information to try and support or destroy him is up for plotting ;>
the (almost) friend sami hadn't intended to stay at b.y.o.h. long, and mostly avoided making friends because of that. but as he's spent longer doing work on the platform, he's started seeing and speaking to this person more. still, he hasn't really let himself get close- he's not willing to really open up with them, but they're trying to change that.
the kids sami's kids! i'm gonna keep this very loose because it would vary a lot per muse, but sami cares a lot about his children and wants nothing more for them to succeed (i mean, he joined b.y.o.h. to pay for them to go to college). would love to explore the dynamic between him and a kid who wants to go into/has gone into professional stewardship, or just him and a kid with a permutation (esp if it manifests later in their life!)
tangentwithtanner
izzy806
dailybridgerton
vaporwave
turnnoffyourmind
2087
titsay
gummygunk
