Rex is a highly skilled tattoo artist with a distinctly dark side. He's heavily invested in the criminal underworld, using his tattoo shop as a front for his high-level criminal organization dubbed 'Skin Deep'. A sadistic and mentally unstable individual with a cold and calculating demeanor, there is very little he hasn't or wouldn't do to protect his reputation, his empire and satisfy his desires.

Example post Rex was focused on his work, his skilled hands moving deftly as he inked the greyscale design covering the entirety of the womans back hip and outer thigh. She had skin that was a tattooists dream, smooth, even-toned and unblemished. Admittedly the transfer hadn't sat particularly well over the previous two sessions but he used his freestyle skills to improvise, and the result he felt was better than the original. Rex enjoyed battle royale tattoo's, he charged a premium on them but they consisted of an eagle, a dragon and a serpent all somehow at war with one another. The design process had been more difficult in this case because the masculine themed tattoo needed to be softened with more feminine touches. Opting for filling the spaces with chrysanthemums, lotuses and wild flowers, as well as the thick japanese lettering, and removing the ferocity from the expressions Rex was most pleased with how it was going. The depth of tones brought it to life and having been so invested in the process, he almost didn't hear the familiar knock on the door. He didn't get up and likewise they didn't enter, knowing better and when Tori spoke, his annoyance turned a little less sharp, Tori knew better to disturb him, and so the fact she was, meant it must've been important. 'Hey, Rex, there's a girl in here called Miko to see you, it seems urgent' she said, her voice soft and slightly hesitant. Rex looked up from his immersion, brow furrowing in confusion 'Miko? Red and blue hair?' he asked through the closed door. 'That's the one, she seems a little off, jittery.' His heart rate increased ever so slightly, though he didn't let it show and his breathing became a fraction deeper. 'Thank you Tori, she can wait.' Three more hours passed as he layered one tone of grey over another, gentle increments that graduated into one another creating the forms of the scales, petals and feathers overlapping one another. He finished the final touches adding highlights to the eyes, the edges of the scales, and the raised edges his hands steady as he worked, despite the thoughts swirling in his mind. 'With the pain, your hands all over me working their magic, and laying half naked here on your table it's no surprise to me that i am incredibly turned on right now' the lithe woman expressed in sultry tones looking over her shoulder at Rex, gauging his reaction. Rex smirked, his mind still on the task at hand, but also at the flirtatious comment. He sensed an opportunity formulating, what with Miko waiting outside, his curious thoughts turned to 'what if?' statements, and with calculation he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. 'Well, you're not the first one to feel that way,' he said, his voice low and suggestive. The woman let out a soft giggle, and Rex knew he had her hooked, 'Stupid naive bitch might be useful yet.' he thought, the day becoming interesting. He traced the outline of her tattoo with a finger, admiring his own handiwork. 'You know, I think this might be my best work yet,' he continued. It was good, but all his work was, it was just something she would want to hear. 'And It helps that it's drawn on that sexy body of yours.' The woman arched her back, pushing her hips up towards Rex. 'Why don't you do something about it then?' she whispered. Rex leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against her ear. 'Oh, I intend to,' he said, his voice husky. 'But first, let me finish up here. Perfection can't be rushed.' The woman pouted, but Rex could see the desire burning in her eyes. He grinned to himself, it was far too easy, and he took a fair bit longer than normal to wipe down the tattoo whilst keeping up the flirtatious back and forth, teasing her with suggestive comments and playful touches. Finally, he stood back, admiring his work. 'All done,' he said, turning to the woman and gesturing to a mirror. 'What do you think?' She twisted around, craning her neck to get a better look at the tattoo. 'Holy shit Rex, it's amazing,' she breathed, her fingers tracing over the scales and feathers. 'Its miles better than I thought it would be. I love how you wrapped the tail over here, and the flowers look so real! I love it, thank you so much.' Rex smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him. 'Glad to hear it,' he said, gesturing to the large adjacent changing room. 'Now, how about we head out to the reception area, get us all square then I could use a drink after all that hard work.'The woman grinned excitedly, slipping off the table and into the room to dress. As they made their way out to the front of the shop, Rex could feel the tension building between them. He was cultivating it. making every effort to play the part and as they entered the reception area, he spotted Miko sitting in one of the chairs, her hair the familiar riot of red and blue.

History (W.I.P) TRIGGER WARNING
The walk home was familiar to the boy with dark hair as he made his way home from the glorified shitheap that was Hollowhaven Academy. At thirteen years of age he was in the awkward stage of adolescence where some parts of his body had already started filling out and extending, while others waited patiently for the hormonal triggers to fire, giving him a lean, gangly look. He passed the tilted lamppost, a product undoubtedly of drink-driving. as he moved his feet shuffled tentatively over the cracked and dilapidated pavement. He flinched looking over one shoulder as a car alarm sounded back up the narrow road. It was not his business. Years living on the streets of HollowHaven gave you a certain knowing that this was the way of things. He passed the wrought iron bars that stood in front of a heavy door that stood ajar and Leopold, the man he begrudgingly recognised as one of his mother's friends, stood arm on the door frame as the drawn face of an older woman frantically attempting to suck him off. 'Stupid junkie bitch, Take your shit and go.' Leopold finished, zipping his trousers up and tossing a small brown packet to the street. Rex's steps quickened, the disgust and downturned expression on his face betraying the fact that he had no fond thoughts at all for the man. Leopold simply sneered at him and spat in his direction 'Don’t you worry about my business boy, it's your mothers turn in half an hour.' The way his mother Dreya had deteriorated in the past eighteen months had been nothing short of frightening and Rex found himself doubled over and gagging into a drain, whether the hunger pains or the despicable images Leopold was taunting him with Rex wasn't sure. He kept walking, head down, paying the man no heed, other than a clenched jaw. He hated him with every fiber of his being, however there was one man he loathed more, and as he turned down the high towering blocks of his street he could hear the roar of his fathers voice from down the street. Rex stopped and slumped and sank against the wall,looking off in the direction of his home before wiping desperately at his face, the fear of knowing what he was about to walk into haunting him. It had been this way long enough for any recollection of alternatives to begin to fade from his memory. Taking a deep breath, Rex mustered the little strength he had left and pushed himself away from the wall, the longer he lingered outside, the worse things would become and with each step he took towards his home, his heart pounded harder, anticipating the confrontation that awaited him. Opening the creaking gate, Rex entered the small yard in the back of the building, shared amongst all residents of this block, the leaves looked as dull and lifeless as he felt, as his father's voice grew louder. The sound filled him with dread, the familiar echo of anger and disappointment, mixed with something new, a panic. He hesitated, his hand trembling as he reached for the doorknob. Turning it slowly, he entered the dimly lit kitchen, where the stench of stale alcohol and cigarette smoke lingered, the remnants of the past month's meals littered over the surfaces. He despised the helplessness that consumed him in these moments, he knew what to expect but the tension, the anticipation for it to begin always got to him. Taking a deep breath, Rex pushed the door, revealing a scene of chaos. His father sat forward in his chair, his bulky frame fidgety as the thick hands Rex had grown used to squeezed at the arm of the chair. The knuckles were red and sore, it hadn't been a good day, and as he pushed the door further, Dreya sat on the floor, knees tucked into her arms, her face purple with bruises. Rex wasn't a doctor but the entirety of the right side of her face was a thick acrid purple,blood mingling with the white of her eyes, he was fairly sure her cheekbone and perhaps her eye socket had broken. Rex's fist clenched instinctually and he forgot to breathe for a moment as he took in the sight before him. His pounding heart sank as he approached his mother, her distant gaze fixed on some faraway place that no one here could see. He tried desperately to pull her attention back to him, waving his hand in front of her face slowly, hoping to break through the walls that seemed to separate them. 'Mum, can you hear me? Hey it's okay, You aren't alone now.' he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of concern and desperation. Yet, Dreya remained unresponsive, lost in her own world of pain and addiction. A surge of conflicting emotions welled up within him as his father continued bellowing, in fear, in rage, his words incoherent and fluctuating unpredictably. Rex felt a deep sense of love for his mother, a yearning for her to be the person he knew she was capable of being, loving, attentive and present. If only he could reach past the shallow tides of her mind into the deeper well beyond and rescue her from the sea of troubles she and Collam had built together and pull her back. The rage within Rex intensified, fuelled not only by the sight of his mother's disrepair but also by the droning words he was so accustomed to tuning out, the primary source of their family's misery and suffering. With a hateful expression and a fire in his eyes, Rex turned his attention to the man still bellowing on the couch. 'Enough! You've done enough!' he shouted, his words filled with the pain and emotion of years of suffering 'You arent my fucking dad, all you care about is yourself! You pushed mum away, look at her! You are a disgusting, vile-' The noise of Callon's fist against his cheek cut through the sound of his words, and Rex clattered harshly into the wall, before slumping down to the ground, the force dizzying him, eyes blurred, ears ringing unable to balance himself. His father's rage erupted like a volcano, Thick powerful fists and dark boots raining blow after blow upon him. Pain seared through every fiber of his being, his body absorbing the physical blows while his mind thought fast on how to act. In that moment, as he lay battered and broken on the floor, Rex’s gaze shifted to his mother who stirred. Her lips moved and the weight of pride and relief that was washing over him quickly subsided as he processed the words. 'It’s time for me to- I-I have to go to the shops.' Her numbness and lack of intervention cut far deeper than any physical blow, and a profound sense of betrayal washed over him. Rex grew visibly red in frustration and disgust, not even an acknowledgement of the situation or of him. She was lost, his mother would have fought for him and Rex knew what ‘going to the shops’ actually meant, she never returned with food, or clothes, nothing but another small hole in her arm and herself and half lidded eyes. He couldn't fathom how she could give herself so cheaply and frivolously to someone like Leopold, just to satisfy her addiction and at the expense of her family. He had hoped for a way to help, a glimmer of something that his mother could follow to fight back against the darkness consuming her, but as he looked into her vacant eyes as she moved, he realized that time had passed, and had been for a while. She was no longer capable of protecting him or herself and it was at that moment, he made a silent decision. He would have to fend for himself, to forge his own path, people, no matter how close, couldn’t be trusted or depended upon. Rex, pulled from the floor by the scruff of the neck refocused on the moment at hand, the blows having stopped 'You think you're so high and mighty, don't you, you little shit? Its your fucking fault! Ever since you arrived it’s been one shitstorm after the next.' his father spat, the smell of cheap booze oozing to the space between them and his voice dripping with venom. 'Look at you, you think you are better than me? With your smug little fucking face. Lets get one thing straight, you are nothing to me, me and your mother never wanted you, Let me give you something to remind you of your place boy.' As Rex was dragged haphazardly into the kitchen, his body aching and battered, his mind raced with a mix of fear and determination. He knew that his father's rage had ventured beyond a precipice, having seen it so many times before. He knew what was coming. “Dont… fucking… move. This is going to be a lesson you won't ever forget.' His father, still seething with anger, but with a cruel smile on his face stepped out of the room into the garden momentarily, in search of something Rex instantly knew would be bad. It was a fleeting moment of opportunity for Rex, the overbearing well of fear seared within him and his survival instincts kicked into overdrive, eyes darting frantically around the room, spotting a large knife in the piles of dirty dishes. Lifting himself painfully to his feet shuddering both out of pain and anxiety, he seized it with both hands, his knuckles white around the wooden handle with how tightly he clutched it knowing that his life may well depend on his next moves. He strategized quickly, realizing that he needed to lure his father back, pull his attention back to the house before he could retrieve something much bigger, heavier or sharper. He stood by the door and slammed it shut watching as Callon's muscular frame turned, shocked by the noise, having almost reached the precipice of the shed. 'You little fuck, dont you dare lock the door .' Callon bellowed once more in gruff angry tones as he bounded towards the entryway with little grace nor agility, his inebriated state doing very little to help. The sight of Callon staggering towards the house, ignited a surge of conflicting emotions within Rex. A scream erupted from deep within him as the moments following jumped around with no linearity. He squeezed his eyes shut, succumbing to an intoxicating mix of fear, pain, anger and desperation, the blade in his hand becoming an unconscious extension of him, ready to play out the scenario he had secretly imagined many times in laying curled up beaten and broken. Callon had forced himself through the doorway and instantly fell to his knees clutching his stomach in sheer disbelief as the point of the knife found its mark and Rex, his gaze fixated upon the swell of blood splaying from the rip in the fabric before him, felt a twisted catharsis wash over his being,’ he can bleed.’ The small boy, driven by the fear of the repercussions, drove the blade towards him once more, only to have it deflected by the protection of his father's ribs. Callon's futile attempt to grasp the blade only led to his loss of balance, sending him crashing to the kitchen floor, the stifled, cruel words he muttered, drowned out by Rex's growing detachment, 'Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!' Rex’s voice rang out, each word punctuated by the knife's relentless pursuit for vital organs. It was a long time before the incident came to an end, and the young man knelt there, his chest heaving with exertion and body starting to work off the adrenaline that still pumped through his veins. ‘I did it,’ he thought numbly, ‘He can’t hurt us anymore.’ Layer upon layer of blood splatter covered him, transforming him into a macabre tableau, as he just stared at the mess of ripped skin, puncture wounds and growing crimson pools around his fathers body. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders, a long sought sense of control, as if he had finally found his voice in the world, and with that a tender blanket of relief draped over him. He certainly did not cry, instead his face resembled that of his mothers earlier, distant and disassociated, whilst his mind was painted as red as his trembling shock-stricken frame. His mind focused to a singular point as he explored and questioned the morbid fascination with the unfamiliar power he had just wielded. As Rex knelt there, time passed his mind shrouded in a dark haze, and his gaze fixated down on the lifeless body of his father, a disturbing sense of tranquility settling over him. He found the state both intoxicating and terrifying, unsure if he had lost himself within the depths of madness. The blood, the looks of pain on the twisted face as he slipped away, the feelings of retribution all cycled through his mind, once, twice, twenty times. Rex remained unaware of his mothers return some hours later, even her scream as she witnessed the horiffic scene was lost to him. The eerie silence of the house was interrupted only by the distant sounds of the city outside, a stark contrast to the chaos and violence that had unfolded just hours before. He felt a strange detachment from reality, as if he were an observer in someone else's nightmare. It was the sound of approaching footsteps that finally shattered the stillness. Rex became suddenly aware of his heart pounding in his chest, how his body shuddered and jolted involuntarily, how he was frozen as he realized the sequence of events and that the police had arrived. Two Hollowhaven police detectives cautiously entered the kitchen, their eyes scanning the scene, taking in the blood-soaked teenager and the lifeless body sprawled on the floor. Rex's grip tightened, his fingers trembling, reluctant to release the object that had given him a profound sense of control. “Martinez, you better call for back-up. Ma’am im going to have to ask you to step out of the kitchen, is this how you found him?” The detectives moved tentatively, acknowledging Dreya’s nods and their hands moving to their weapons, unholstering them as the uniformed man spoke quietly into his radio, their eyes solely fixed on him. They recognized the dangerous situation they were stepping into and approached with caution. Their voices were calm and measured, their words intended to calm any frayed nerves. 'Son, we're here to help,' the first detective said, his voice carrying a hint of empathy. 'We understand a lot is happening, but for our safety I need you to put down the weapon and push it to your side.' Rex’s mind raced with conflicting thoughts. Should he let go and surrender himself to their authority? Could he trust them to understand the pain and desperation that had led him to this point? The knife had quickly become a comfort, the only thing that had given him power over his own life and letting go meant surrendering that power, exposing himself to the unknown and the harsh brutality of the people he had witnessed within it. Torn between the desire to maintain some semblance of this new feeling and the overwhelming fear of the repercussions, Rex's hands quivered as the detectives stood patiently guns pointed on his back. The weight of the knife grew heavier in his hand. In that moment, Rex felt a resurgence of the helplessness he had known all too well. He was just a boy, caught in the grips of a world he never asked to be a part of, and the blade, once a source of strength, suddenly shifted to become a haunting reminder of the circumstances that had driven him to this point. As the detectives quietly approached having not seen any sort of response they gently but firmly reached for the object, prying it from Rex's clenched fists, a profound sense of vulnerability washed through his thoughts. He felt exposed, stripped of his armor, facing the uncertain consequences of his actions and at this point the fear returned in full force, consuming him completely once more. Tears welled up in Rex's eyes, a mixture of relief, fear, and apprehension streaming down his bloodstained face which remained unmoving. He had taken a life, but even now, he still lacked regret as the body that lay on the floor still taunted him, remaining, even now, the sole cause of his anxiety and fear.

001. TRIGGER WARNING. Sensitive, dark or gritty topics are used that some writers might find sensitive or uncomfortable.

002. I am not my characters, the topics they may or may not delve into are there because of THEIR preferences, not my own.

003. I generally only room post, Having 500 different versions of the same character isn't something I aspire to.

004. I love being approached in character, it is not necessary but it is a preference. If you see me writing then join in, no matter what is going on. The fluidity/spontinaeity it offers is why I write in the first place.

005. I write large posts, that's just a fact. Please dont use this to get intimidated or avoid writing with me, I have written a long time.

006. Discord is available on request, where it feels appropriate.