rcdlights.

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬.

full name: akasma ( ah-KASS-ma ) asli nadir

nickname(s): kas

age & birthday: 30 ; november 6th, 1995

star sign: scorpio sun, cancer moon, leo rising

gender & pronouns: cis woman ; she/her

sexuality: bisexual heteroromantic

hometown: rift valley, ca

nationality: turkish american

time in residence: entire life (her family immigrated to the states four years before she was born)

occupation: exotic dancer at the peach pit; occasionally takes over at her father's pawn shop when he's too inebriated (or plain not around) to do it himself

distinguishing characteristics: resilient, fiercely loyal (to those she chooses), protective, perceptive, self-destructive, grief stricken, emotionally volatile, practical, independent to a fault, adaptable, quietly nurturing, distrustful of affection, exhausted, honest when it matters most

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.

face claim: pinar deniz 

hair color: dark brunette 

eye color: green

ethnicity: of lebanese-arab descent

height: 5’6”

signature scent: whatever body wash was on sale whenever she last went shopping, though she does have a bottle of juliette (by juliette has a gun) that another dancer abandoned at the peach pit and kas subsequently claimed for herself. she only wears it sparingly because she's reluctant to let it run out.

body modifications: no tattoos ; pierced earlobes, double helix and auricle on right ear

scars: ... yes.

𝐭𝐥𝐝𝐫.

tw: brief mentions of abandonment / absent parent(s), parental negligence and imlpied abuse, death of a sibling, sex work

kas is a rift valley lifer, born to a mother who abandoned the family and a father who'd rather raise bottles and raise fists than raise his kids. her older brother, kerem, was pretty much the only person she could ever depend on, but, when he was 16 and she was 10, he passed away when an attempt to get good in the rift rider's eyes went wrong.

after that, kas was pretty much well and truly on her own... except for dear old dad.

five years ago, unbeknownst to her at the time, he borrowed a large amount of money from the santoro's in order to take over a local business in town. then he spent it all on his vices instead. despite decades of his negligence and cruelty, once the truth of it all came to light and the mob came looking for debts owed, kas started dancing at the peach pit because, unsurprisingly, it's up to her to clean up her dad's messes and make sure he doesn't get himself dead.

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.

tw: abandonment / absent parent(s), parental negligence and abuse, alcohol and drug abuse, gambling, death of a sibling, intimidation and threat of life, sex work

it could be said that kas was born to a life of bad luck and loss. the kind that starts so young she wasn't even old enough to understand what she should've had rather than what she got—a mom who left to grab a pack of smokes and never came back. a dad who could never hold a job as well as he held onto his vices. who preferred raising a bottle or his fists more than he preferred raising his kids.

she was born to very little and learned to make do with even less, but the one—perhaps only—thing she did have was her brother. kerem. older by six years, kerem was half parent, half best friend, and, usually, the lone person in kas' life who actually cared if she'd eaten that night or got safely tucked into bed.

her entire world revolved around her brother. then it grew to include his best friend, zahir. she followed the pair around relentlessly—idolizing their every step—but whatever limited concept of affection and safety she found while chasing their towering shadows disappeared the day they laid kerem to rest.

at only ten, kas couldn't fully grasp where he'd been that night. what happened, let alone why. she knew loss, knew the universe rarely played fair, yet still couldn't comprehend how such a seemingly random roll of the dice sent one friend home and another to his early grave.

in a perfect world she wouldn't have blamed zahir for the outcome of a doomed plan, but the world wasn't perfect and neither was she. at first, kas blamed him for surviving when kerem did not. she blamed him for coming up with the idea to impress the rift riders and prove their worth to the club in the first place. then, as time wore on and the reality of truly being alone sank in, she mostly blamed zahir for his escape.

because he got out, got to run away from the wreckage wrought, but kas was stuck. not just in rift valley, or with the memories of what they'd both lost, but a third even worse thing: she was stuck with her dad.

he was a charming man when sober, a cruel one when drunk... and yusef nadir was almost always drunk. everything might have changed in the wake of losing kerem but that certainty remained. if anything, the passing of his son only made him worse.

she had no more buffer standing between his blows, nobody else to figure out where bill money was coming from when he inevitably spent it at the bar. the only one coming to save kas was herself.

so she started working multiple jobs. on the books, off the books, at any and every odd opportunity she happened to cross. she scrimped and saved and stashed each pay down to the last penny—not just to survive, but to hopefully get out.

it never lasted long. inevitably, the electric would be shut off (again) or her father would find her new hiding place (again). still, she kept trying. kept saving. kept harboring a single sliver of hope that that time would be the last time. she should've known better. she should've known that, for girls like her, wishes rarely came true.

there was always a string of disaster and disappointment trailing her father, and time hadn't really seen that improve, but five years ago he managed to surprise her. he almost got his act together. almost proved he could be even a fraction of the father she'd always deserved. he wasn't sober, and he wasn't entirely kind, but he was working. for himself, no less.

she had two years—two years of relative peace and an ability to actually think of her own life, and her own future—before she learned every part of yusef's turnaround was a lie. the money he came into? the money that helped him buy out the previous owner of the local pawn shop? it was a loan from the santoro family, not luck at the slots. it was also gone. as in gone gone. he'd spent it all on his vices, not investing in the success of the shop, and now he had nothing to show for it, let alone the means to pay them back, when came their knock.

at first, kas refused to help him out of the bed he'd made. she was too tired, too defeated, too angry to care. then, yusef disappeared. it was only for a few days—a week, tops—but unlike all the other times he'd fucked off to get wasted there was enough to reason to believe he hadn't gone by choice. that's when kas caved. it was also when, after years of refuting his attempts to keep in touch and check in, she called zahir.

she's not sure why. she's not sure what she hoped he could do. in the moment it was the only thing she could think of. the fact that he answered, that he actually packed up in new york and came back home, mattered little, though. so convinced that he wouldn't (or couldn't) help, she'd already made up her mind by the time he stepped foot in town.

kas took an old offer to bartend at the peach pit and turned it into a spot on their stage. her time on the pole became her father's payments. not because she loved him—not really—but because he was her dad. the only "family" she had left.

it was only meant to be temporary. it was only meant to get yusef free of the santoro's so that she could get free of him with a clear conscience. instead, three years later, she's still dancing for eager gazes and paying off a debt that only seems to grow by the day.

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

the one who survived — taken by Zahir Cole her older brother's best friend, and the one kerem was with the night he died. though it goes without saying kas adored him as a kid, whatever sentiment she once held for him twisted and turned into resentment in the wake of that night's disaster. even now she still blames him for the loss of kerem, despite the fact that he packed up his life and came when she called.

the peach pit: backstage — taken by Sav Greco and Valentina de Leon this is kind of a two parter, because i'd love to find someone working at the peach pit who's almost a big sister/mother figure to kas (even if she doesn't trust it, or them, most of the time) annnnnd someone at the peach pit who she looks after and is protective of in turn.

the peach pit: front of the house — open gimme regulars that kas sees at work every night, only to turn around and act normal the next day when they run into each other in the cereal aisle. gimme someone who comes in and pays stupid money for her time purely because they don't want to see her on the lap of anyone else. gimme someone protective of her who skulks around the club like they're on the payroll, all crossed arms and lethal eyes whenever she's asked for a dance, all because over their dead body will things get out of line. gimme someone who pays for a private dance because they actually want to get information, an agreement to work with them, etc. out of her. gimme all the things, really.

old ties (rift riders) — open her older brother, kerem, was hellbent on joining the rift riders before he died. as his and zahir's little shadow, that means kas was often trailing behind them. where they went she followed. while they'd likely know each other regardless from growing up in the same town, this would be anyone else within the circle of the MC that she would've met through that dream kerem and zahir shared of one day wearing the patch.

new shackles (santoro mob) — open anyone connected to the santoro's, really, but especially anyone kas would have met or started to deal with in the more recent years now that she's paying off her father's debt to them.

inner circle —open admittedly kas keeps this small, but, despite feeling so alone in the world, the girl does have friends. this could be someone she grew up with, or someone who eventually moved to town, but either way they're the select few she loves and trusts and actually lets all the way (or at least most of the way) in.

entanglements — open honestly, this is just a catchall category for anything even remotely romantic/physical. an ex, a fling, a ONS or FWB's... this includes all of that.