Shakir Nazari | Law ●

[Shakir Nazari]

Name: Shakir Husani Nazari Age: 25 Gender: Male Sexuality: Repressed Faction: Law Occupation: Electrical Engineer Playby: Touken Ranbu, ookurikara Traits Positive Strong Intelligent Polite Thoughtful Athletic Hard Working Self-Assured Negative Prideful Close Minded Confused Bitter Manipulative Judgemental Lonely Born the first son to a traditional Egyptian family, Shakir never had the problems that his siblings had growing up. He was always strong, he was always willing to lead and protect. From the moment he could walk and talk, everything he did was encouraged by his father and mother. It was as though he could do no wrong, and Shakir grew to crave these praises. If he ever did anything that didn’t earn praise from his father, he was quick to stamp out that desire or interest. His entire personality warped around what made his parents happy, and he always told himself it would make him happy as well. They knew what was best, if he followed their words, he would surely end up fulfilled and happy. The truth of the matter is, Shakir is neither of these things. He is everything his father ever wanted in a son, but he has never truly been happy. Surely these personality traits have helped him through life, there can be no doubt of that. He knows what to say and when to say it, he can protect and defend himself and others both mentally and physically. He isn’t afraid to put in work for what he wants, in fact, he enjoys it. And yet, under the surface, he doesn’t know what he wants anymore. His wife didn’t make him happy, his degree didn’t make him happy, and his job never made him happy. The only thing that ever made him happy was his daughter, and it’s not like he has her anymore either. The birth of his daughter was a catalyst for his confusion, as well, and the separation from his father has only caused this feeling to rise in intensity. And yet, Shakir has done nothing to change his ways or his beliefs. Now would be the perfect time, would it not? He thinks about it sometimes. It eats away at him. He always told himself he did what he did because of his father, but his father isn’t around anymore, and he continues to cling to the archaic values of a man whom he can’t reach. He doesn’t understand. He always did what he was told, it was supposed to make him happy. He gave up entire parts of his identity for this, and he doesn’t even know if it’s worth anymore. But if it isn’t, what is? And more importantly, who is he? History Before Shakir ever even made a conscious thought, he fell into the role that his parents had in mind for him. They had spent the entire pregnancy praying for a healthy son to be born, and it would seem that their new squalling baby answered all of their prayers. Even his name means ‘grateful’, as a tribute to their prayers having been answered. Altogether, Shakir would go on to continue to answer their prayers. He met all of the appropriate milestones typically before his peers did, and he was always active and tough even as a toddler. Wobbly legs carried him confidently all over the house, and he didn’t seem to shy away from anything. There was nothing too scary, nothing too daunting. He wanted to be into everything, he wanted to learn everything. And these things were encouraged. He didn’t realize how unhealthy his culture was to people who didn’t fit into their boxes, because he naturally fit into his. When he was four, his first sibling would be born. A little baby girl by the name of Sagira. Shakir was curious about her, as most children are around babies. He had never had any exposure to them, and he was often asking his mother questions about her. “What does she eat if she doesn’t have teeth?” “Why can’t she talk yet?” “When I can hold her?” Truthfully, he was very excited by her existence. While a normal family might have encouraged his interest in his sister, his father was quick to express his disapproval over it. It was the first, and the harshest, taste of his father’s disapproval that he ever got. Despite still being curious overall, he more or less started to ignore her completely. His father, and even his mother, seemed to be relieved when his interest supposedly waned. A little bit over a year later, he was starting school. Always a brave and outgoing child, Shakir wasn’t afraid of leaving his parents behind and starting a new adventure. He made friends, he made enemies, but mostly he just enjoyed himself. He liked being around kids his age, and while his father insisted that he should only befriend boys, he was always nice and rather chivalrous toward the girls as well. In later years this would garner their interest, but as a child neither he nor they cared about anything like that. His younger brother, and last sibling, would be born when he was in the first grade, and he would ignore his existence all together, terrified of getting his father’s disapproval once again. As his younger siblings aged, it became clear that neither of them were perfectly happy in the roles they had been assigned like he was. Already conditioned to never question his father, he accepted that they would get used to it and everything would be fine. It didn’t hurt Sagira to do housework, after all, any more than it hurt Sudi to do men’s work and help he and his father out around the house. Either way, Shakir wasn’t blind to the fact that his younger siblings shared a bond with one another that they didn’t share with him. It was natural, in a way. He was four years older than Sagira, and six years older than Sudi. Somewhere deep down, though, he didn’t like it. He felt left out, and yet, he did nothing to change this. Too terrified of his father’s reproach, he allowed them to bond and do what they were doing, offering neither help nor advice to either of them. Things would only get worse as they aged, though. Chidings turned into screaming fights, and screaming fights turned into beatings. And it made him sick. It made him sick at everything. Why couldn’t they just be normal? Why was his father beating helpless children? Why couldn’t his mother do anything about it? Why? Why? Why? Why didn’t he do anything about it? At the very least he could have comforted them, but more often than not he turned his back on the situation. He locked himself in his bedroom, put on a pair of headphones, and pretended like everything wasn’t spiraling out of control around him. He did his best not to draw any attention to himself in those times. He didn’t – he couldn’t – “correct” his siblings in his father’s absence, even when he was told to. His memories of high school are only peppered with a few high and low points. He did his very best to be perfect, to make good grades, to make up for the fact that neither of his siblings were what his father wanted. Maybe if he did better he could take some of the pressure and attention away from them, but unfortunately the only thing that plan did was ensure the fact that he was even more under his father’s heel. He didn’t mind, truly. Most of the things that were expected of him came naturally anyway, but in any case he ensured that he moved further away from his siblings and closer to the man who was causing all of the problems. He was engaged at sixteen, and he accepted it numbly. He went on a couple of awkward, chaste dates with his bride to be, and it couldn’t have been more obvious that she was terrified of the entire situation. At eighteen he would graduate from high school. His grades and results on all of his college placement tests ensured he could go anywhere he wanted, and good lord did he want to go somewhere far away. He wanted to pretend that everything at his house wasn’t entirely fucked up, he wanted to get out. He was so bitter at everything and everyone, he needed some space. And yet, he almost didn’t get it. His father was insistent that he get married and start a family right away. His obvious distress at this request had the man backtracking a bit, though. Both of his siblings were already causing problems, and perhaps his father didn’t want a third problematic child on his hands. In the end, a compromise would be reached. Shakir and his bride would marry, and she would live with her parents until he graduated from college. Relieved and almost happy, he went through with the wedding. The only part of his wedding he remembers is the bedroom part. Perhaps it should have been a good memory, but it wasn’t. It was awkward. Neither of them really knew what to do with themselves, and Shakir had repressed his sexuality so much that he didn’t even feel overly attracted to his wife. Aesthetically speaking she was beautiful, but… it just wasn’t there. He could see how scared she was, and in the end they both just ended up awkwardly going to sleep beside one another. In the months before he started college, he tried to get to know her a bit. She gave him short answers, perhaps terrified of saying the wrong thing, and he gave up. Before things started to spiral in earnest at home, Shakir was already in a dorm and working on his electrical engineering degree. To say that he didn’t know what was going on at home, though, would be a lie. He still returned during the holidays, after all. He knew about Sagira’s fiancé, and he knew how she felt about it. But he didn’t care. Distance had made him colder, and his own awkward and failing marriage only added to that. Both of them, Sagira and Sudi, they could both just suck it up. No one was happy, and the sooner they accepted that, the easier it would be on everyone. Still, no matter how much he repressed it, no matter how much he tried to hate his siblings for attempting to get what they wanted in life, his stomach twisted sickeningly at every beating he was at home for. He was a man. It was his job to protect people who were weaker than him. His father was a man, too. But he was the one causing the suffering. Sick and disgusted with everything around him, Shakir repressed and ignored. He was nearing completion on his degree when his sister ran away, and he ignored that to. Good for her, whatever. He told himself he didn’t care, and he told himself that he was most certainly not jealous. He was definitely not jealous of the fact that she was off doing god knows what, and he was stuck closer to his family than he wanted to be and his wife was getting bombarded with questions about why she wasn’t pregnant yet. Excuses were made, distance, bad timing, whatever. The fact of the matter was that the marriage had never even been consummated. Even though he spent a lot of time at her parents’ house with her, it never happened. She started talking to him a little more, at least, but neither tried to initiate anything. He would graduate at the age of twenty-two, never having failed any of his courses and taking several more hours a semester than the minimum. He and his wife’s families would help them get a house, and he would find a job fairly easily. His wife kept the house clean, she fed him dinner, and they went to sleep in the same bed. He got depressed rather quickly. He was finally out of his house for good, but this new house was nearly the same thing – just without the violence. He grew despondent, and while his wife surely noticed, it wasn’t her place to say anything, so she didn’t. At some point during all of this, he remembers her clearly telling him she wanted a baby. Perhaps she was lonely in the house all day by herself, perhaps she was finally tired of getting shit about it, but a year later Shakir was holding a newborn baby girl in his arms. Things seemed fine at the hospital, but when they returned home, it became quickly apparent that things were not fine. His wife was suffering from postpartum depression, and within two days she was refusing to even touch their daughter. Shakir was confused and shaken. It wasn’t his job to take care of the baby, but no amount of pleading, screaming, or insistence on his part would make his wife hold an interest in her for more than a few minutes. It fell on his shoulders to wiggle out of his box for the first time in his life. Unable to ask for help, he stumbled a lot. He didn’t know how to change a diaper, he didn’t know how to hold a bottle, hell, he barely knew how to properly hold her. But holy hell did he love her. So much. He wasn’t bitter about staying up all night with her and then going to work the next day, he found he didn’t mind at all. Nothing was too much for her, and nothing was good enough for her, either. Looking into his daughter’s eyes, he knew. Even if he didn’t fully acknowledge it, he knew he would never treat her the way Sagira had been treated, the way his mother had been treated, the way his wife had been treated. She was his daughter. She did not belong to his father, she did not belong to his family. She could be anything she wanted, she could do anything she wanted, even if what she wanted didn’t fit into the box she was supposed to have been born in. She would not be forced to wed at eighteen, and if she wanted to live by herself and work in a “man’s” field, she could do that. The thoughts were confusing and jarring, not fully formed, but they were there, budding in a mind that had been previously closed up tight. Even after his wife seemed to get better, Shakir continued to care for their daughter. His wife was confused, and he was unable to explain himself, but in the end she didn’t question him too much – she never had, after all. It would be sometime during all of this that Sudi would run away as well. His father was even angrier with it happening a second time around, and he insisted that Shakir go down to Georgia and bring him back. Never having been able to tell his father no, Shakir agreed that he would try. He didn’t want to leave his daughter, but it would only be for a couple of weeks at the most. He didn’t expect his brother to speak to him, but if he tried he knew his father couldn’t say anything else about it. He traveled down to Georgia and got comfortable in a hotel. Before his first week was even up, however, the event would occur. The approach of a supposed god would definitely take him off guard. He laughed, not believing a word of it, and said his only wish would be for the god to go away. The god left alright, but Shakir obviously couldn’t anymore. Trapped in Georgia and separated from his daughter, he became distressed first and then depressed rather quickly thereafter. Thoughts of what her life would be like without him around to protect her continued to eat away at him, and while he eventually got a job out of necessity, he’s still living in that hotel, unwilling to allow himself to settle. Insignia Level 1 Natural Weaponry – Level One – A big part of Shakir’s power, for it to even be useful, is learning just how to use it. He is able to manipulate certain parts of his body so that they are more dangerous and almost animalistic. So far, he can grow his fingernails out into claws and he grow his teeth into fangs. It is a painful process, and it takes a lot of concentration and time. It takes even more time to get them back to normal, and his teeth are permanently slightly pointy now where he has failed to get them back exactly like they were before. Obviously to effectively use his power he is going to need to learn a fighting style that involves biting and clawing, which he is working on. His insignia takes the form of some sort of dragon/serpent wrapping around his arm. Bangles – Passive – Shakir’s passive takes the form of three golden bangles on his left bicep. The bangles have a scaly pattern, and his insignia actually seems to begin under them. He’s not exactly sure what they’re there for, but he has noticed that when he’s judging the fuck out of someone or when his thoughts stray in more bigoted territory they begin to tighten just a bit, and it can get quite uncomfortable after a while. He cannot remove them, even when they aren’t squeezing the fuck out of his arm. Extra Literally anything extra. If you want to go into more detail about anything above, add trivia/etc to the character, then please do so. Likes/Dislikes- anything that you wish to go into, you can put it here. OOC OOC Name: Ellie How did you find us?: Nai <3 Other Characters: Hell's fine.

[Neko]

Accepted!! Great job, put your profile link in your mini profile and put your claims in the Face Claims and the Directory!