HOME | DD

Description

hi i like pineapples

"I'm a brand, babe."

name: jazzcat “Jazz”
age: 20
birthday: December 5th
breed: Belgian Hare
height: 5’10
weight: 172
profession: Information Broker
rank: F-rank Refugee
card of choice: Jack of Diamonds
weapons:
        main - Switchblade, generic and small enough to hide away, Jazz mainly uses it for self-defense if need be
Items:
-   jazzcat jacket - THE jazzcat swag to have, the jazzcat jacket is an essential part to what Jazz likes to call his “branding”. It’s obnoxiously red and has a few patches sloppily hand-sewn on. The pockets are very big and useful, but usually stuffed with receipts and wrappers.
-   chewing gum
PERSONALITY
charming | + sociable | + relaxed | enigmatic | distant | - resentful | - disingenuous | - self-absorbed
  Jazz wants to make people like him, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he wants people to like him. To him, there’s power in people liking you. After all, that’s how politics work, according to him. That attitude translates to a talent to talk and a winner’s smile. Jazz wants to talk to you, and he can convince you just how invested he is in your life. Tell him about your family and your pets and your life, Jazz can nod along and catch you into a conversation for hours. Every time he speaks, his words are greased up with charm and confidence, and he knows when to flash a smile. His youthful energy makes him approachable, but still, he keeps mostly everyone at an arm’s distance.
  jazzcat is a brand, Jazz insists. Jazzcat is a lifestyle and social brand that’s gonna be big someday. Jazz never really explains what he means by that, since whenever most people ask, he flashes his jazzcat patch and smiles as an answer. Who Jazz really is, though, is hard to understand. The enigmatic way he looks at you is playful and aloof, but there’s something in that look that makes you think, “God, that boy’s angry at something”. If it weren’t for his smile, he’d probably look angry at something all the time. But it’s true. Jazz holds resentment in him, and that resentment turns into distrust, bitterness, and a general disinterest in letting anyone genuinely near him. Jazz is the type of guy who never really means what he says, either his words have some other meaning hidden behind them or they’re empty promises to begin with. It would be a mistake to take anything he says at face value, and a risk to even trust him. But that’s a part of his charm.
HISTORY
  TL;DR: Jazz’s parents were murdered/something happened to them and jazz still doesn’t know what happened. He got placed in an orphanage and made some dumb friends and they bullied the rabbit orphans together. He and his friends thought the rabbit kids were the only ones being adopted, so they hated the rabbit kids even more. In reality, they were being kicked out of the orphanage or running away on their own. His ears grew when he turned 15 and it was painful and it sucked a lot. His friends kicked him out of their group and he was isolated. He ended up running away and met a few rabbits in the area that he recognized were from the orphanage, that he used to bully. They weren’t sympathetic and a few were resentful still, but there were plenty of others Jazz could use. He lived on the streets and eventually learned how to use people and learn information, honing his information broker talents early on. Eventually, he heard about BJBB opening to refugees, and Jazz wanted to use that to his own advantage and decided to join.
  jazzcat had a name once, a name that didn’t sound ridiculous and that wasn’t made to make people chuckle at the sound of it. It was a name that his mother gave him, that his father approved of, and that the nurse wrote down. His mother and father were incredibly normal, good souls that always wanted to help their neighbors, regardless of human or bunny status. They truly believed that they could make some change on the island by being good people, and who would fault them for thinking so? They had Jazz on the island, and lived relatively happily in District B. As humans, they enjoyed a certain degree of privilege, and their home was idyllic from what Jazz could remember.

  They died when he was 4, young enough that the orphanage workers hoped it wouldn’t impact him too harshly. The details of their deaths were a mystery to him, just as who they were was a mystery to him. He wasn’t there, he didn’t see any bodies, and how can you expect a three year old to remember details when he was just a child? He didn’t get to know his parents personally, but it’s not like there was anyone to ask, or rather, willing to answer his questions. The people who took him to the orphanage, according to the caretakers, were family friends of his, and among the caretakers, he could only remember a few words: “Gruesome what happened…So terrible...Bloodied.” To this day, Jazz’s parents are a mystery to him, but the few memories he had of them are what he clung to as a child. They’re hazy but there. He remembered that they were human, and that he had his mother’s eyes and his father’s smile. He almost remembered their voices, and the way their house smelled. These were his almost-memories, that he’s kept to this day.

  In the orphanage, Jazz wasn’t alone. There were other humans like him, kids who lost their parents or were given up for some reason or another. And then there were the rabbit kids. Jazz didn’t understand what made them different early on, but there were always a few at the orphanage. The older kids teased them for their ears and violent bullying was commonplace— the caretakers always knew when to look the other way. If Jazz’s parents were there, he would’ve learned to feel some compassion for them, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, he learned that humans were better than rabbits, that the older boys were right. That little seedling of superiority turned into a hatred for rabbits— Jazz knew he was better.

  The other boys became his friends, a close knit group of kids that didn’t let anyone they didn’t approve of in. They weren’t troublemakers by any means, at least in the eyes of the caretakers. The boys were perfect kids to them, with their charming nicknames: Poprat, foxfolk, rockdog...jazzcat. Jazz loved that name. He wore it like a rank and title, giving up his real name in a group pact. In hindsight, this was all silly kid’s stuff that sounds dumb when you say it out loud now, but at the time, Jazz found a family. It made the fact that no one was being adopted sting less. They were all as close as friends could be, and got special treatment from the caretakers because they were such “good boys”. In reality, they were violently aggressive towards any rabbit orphans, bullying them mercilessly. They thought that the rabbits were the only ones being adopted, since every rabbit orphan left eventually, but they were all still there, even after years. They didn’t know those rabbits were running away from the orphanage. From them.

  That all changed a few months after Jazz’s 14th birthday. He got ears. Jazz isolated himself when it happened. It was so, so painful and unbearable, and he tried asking his friends for help in any way they could. But they were gone. Jazz was in pain and alone. They could see what was happening to him, and they made a pact. They trusted no rabbit. Not even one of their own. After that, Jazz was alone again. He panicked. He knew what they did to rabbits, and he knew what was in store for him. They waited around corners for him to be caught unawares. Jazz learned what it was like to be on the other side of the beatings now. And then he also ran, far far away from the orphanage.

  The streets weren’t kind to him. There was no one opening their door to him and the streets didn’t care for some rabbit. This was also during the chaos of the riots and conflict between BJBB, POSRA, and the government. But none of that concerned Jazz. All he knew was that rabbits were a problem, and it seemed as if whenever he saw one, trouble seemed to follow soon after. There were a few rabbits he ran into, actually, that he recognized...from the orphanage. They remembered him too, and they always seemed to remember his face as cruel and mean, and they resented him for it. Jazz didn’t look to them for help, and for weeks, he barely scraped by living on the streets.

  But he got his bearings, eventually. They were shaky, but he found connections. That smile still worked for him, and he could charm his way into new groups of rabbits and a few rabbit-friendly human groups. Of course, he had to steer clear of any rabbits that knew who he was, but to completely new groups. He worked odd jobs and slept in alleyways, avoiding the conflicts and riots as best as he could. What he had was his charm. He knew how to be a good kid, and he knew how to make connections. Pearson was just like the orphanage, and he needed to be friends with the “other boys” if he wanted to survive. What did that mean? Odd jobs, errands, stealing and smooth-talking, learning new things from his new friends, and selling what he learned to other new friends — Jazz was determined to survive. He’s jazzcat after all. And cats always land on their feet.

  That was how he lived for a few years, and it worked...somewhat. But Jazz knew there was more out there for him. When the announcement came about the Brigade opening to refugees, Jazz saw an opportunity. Of course, he wouldn’t consider himself a victim of the civil war; he tried his best to stay out of it. Jazz wanted in. But this would be a new set of resources, a new door for opportunity...And Jazz wanted in.

MISCELLANEOUS

  - Tends to avoid violence because he doesn’t want to risk his jacket getting hurt
  - Unreasonable love of bright, gaudy fashion (To quote “What’s red and black and white all over? Not me!”)
  - He’s tried to keep a list of people that he’s aware of that hate him, kinda like a diary he keeps of people he doesn’t have as much pull with
  - Terrible at using any technology beyond his phone and laptop
  - Likes keeping the name jazzcat cause fuck it if his old friends didn’t like him, that was a cool as shit name
  - When asked about why he wears jazzcat on everything “I’m building my brand, shut up.”
  - Still knows his real name, but it doesn’t really matter to him and he doesn’t like sharing it with too many people.

Description

hi i like pineapples

"I'm a brand, babe."

name: jazzcat “Jazz”
age: 20
birthday: December 5th
breed: Belgian Hare
height: 5’10
weight: 172
profession: Information Broker
rank: F-rank Refugee
card of choice: Jack of Diamonds
weapons:
        main - Switchblade, generic and small enough to hide away, Jazz mainly uses it for self-defense if need be
Items:
-   jazzcat jacket - THE jazzcat swag to have, the jazzcat jacket is an essential part to what Jazz likes to call his “branding”. It’s obnoxiously red and has a few patches sloppily hand-sewn on. The pockets are very big and useful, but usually stuffed with receipts and wrappers.
-   chewing gum
PERSONALITY
charming | + sociable | + relaxed | enigmatic | distant | - resentful | - disingenuous | - self-absorbed
  Jazz wants to make people like him, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he wants people to like him. To him, there’s power in people liking you. After all, that’s how politics work, according to him. That attitude translates to a talent to talk and a winner’s smile. Jazz wants to talk to you, and he can convince you just how invested he is in your life. Tell him about your family and your pets and your life, Jazz can nod along and catch you into a conversation for hours. Every time he speaks, his words are greased up with charm and confidence, and he knows when to flash a smile. His youthful energy makes him approachable, but still, he keeps mostly everyone at an arm’s distance.
  jazzcat is a brand, Jazz insists. Jazzcat is a lifestyle and social brand that’s gonna be big someday. Jazz never really explains what he means by that, since whenever most people ask, he flashes his jazzcat patch and smiles as an answer. Who Jazz really is, though, is hard to understand. The enigmatic way he looks at you is playful and aloof, but there’s something in that look that makes you think, “God, that boy’s angry at something”. If it weren’t for his smile, he’d probably look angry at something all the time. But it’s true. Jazz holds resentment in him, and that resentment turns into distrust, bitterness, and a general disinterest in letting anyone genuinely near him. Jazz is the type of guy who never really means what he says, either his words have some other meaning hidden behind them or they’re empty promises to begin with. It would be a mistake to take anything he says at face value, and a risk to even trust him. But that’s a part of his charm.
HISTORY
  TL;DR: Jazz’s parents were murdered/something happened to them and jazz still doesn’t know what happened. He got placed in an orphanage and made some dumb friends and they bullied the rabbit orphans together. He and his friends thought the rabbit kids were the only ones being adopted, so they hated the rabbit kids even more. In reality, they were being kicked out of the orphanage or running away on their own. His ears grew when he turned 15 and it was painful and it sucked a lot. His friends kicked him out of their group and he was isolated. He ended up running away and met a few rabbits in the area that he recognized were from the orphanage, that he used to bully. They weren’t sympathetic and a few were resentful still, but there were plenty of others Jazz could use. He lived on the streets and eventually learned how to use people and learn information, honing his information broker talents early on. Eventually, he heard about BJBB opening to refugees, and Jazz wanted to use that to his own advantage and decided to join.
  jazzcat had a name once, a name that didn’t sound ridiculous and that wasn’t made to make people chuckle at the sound of it. It was a name that his mother gave him, that his father approved of, and that the nurse wrote down. His mother and father were incredibly normal, good souls that always wanted to help their neighbors, regardless of human or bunny status. They truly believed that they could make some change on the island by being good people, and who would fault them for thinking so? They had Jazz on the island, and lived relatively happily in District B. As humans, they enjoyed a certain degree of privilege, and their home was idyllic from what Jazz could remember.

  They died when he was 4, young enough that the orphanage workers hoped it wouldn’t impact him too harshly. The details of their deaths were a mystery to him, just as who they were was a mystery to him. He wasn’t there, he didn’t see any bodies, and how can you expect a three year old to remember details when he was just a child? He didn’t get to know his parents personally, but it’s not like there was anyone to ask, or rather, willing to answer his questions. The people who took him to the orphanage, according to the caretakers, were family friends of his, and among the caretakers, he could only remember a few words: “Gruesome what happened…So terrible...Bloodied.” To this day, Jazz’s parents are a mystery to him, but the few memories he had of them are what he clung to as a child. They’re hazy but there. He remembered that they were human, and that he had his mother’s eyes and his father’s smile. He almost remembered their voices, and the way their house smelled. These were his almost-memories, that he’s kept to this day.

  In the orphanage, Jazz wasn’t alone. There were other humans like him, kids who lost their parents or were given up for some reason or another. And then there were the rabbit kids. Jazz didn’t understand what made them different early on, but there were always a few at the orphanage. The older kids teased them for their ears and violent bullying was commonplace— the caretakers always knew when to look the other way. If Jazz’s parents were there, he would’ve learned to feel some compassion for them, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, he learned that humans were better than rabbits, that the older boys were right. That little seedling of superiority turned into a hatred for rabbits— Jazz knew he was better.

  The other boys became his friends, a close knit group of kids that didn’t let anyone they didn’t approve of in. They weren’t troublemakers by any means, at least in the eyes of the caretakers. The boys were perfect kids to them, with their charming nicknames: Poprat, foxfolk, rockdog...jazzcat. Jazz loved that name. He wore it like a rank and title, giving up his real name in a group pact. In hindsight, this was all silly kid’s stuff that sounds dumb when you say it out loud now, but at the time, Jazz found a family. It made the fact that no one was being adopted sting less. They were all as close as friends could be, and got special treatment from the caretakers because they were such “good boys”. In reality, they were violently aggressive towards any rabbit orphans, bullying them mercilessly. They thought that the rabbits were the only ones being adopted, since every rabbit orphan left eventually, but they were all still there, even after years. They didn’t know those rabbits were running away from the orphanage. From them.

  That all changed a few months after Jazz’s 14th birthday. He got ears. Jazz isolated himself when it happened. It was so, so painful and unbearable, and he tried asking his friends for help in any way they could. But they were gone. Jazz was in pain and alone. They could see what was happening to him, and they made a pact. They trusted no rabbit. Not even one of their own. After that, Jazz was alone again. He panicked. He knew what they did to rabbits, and he knew what was in store for him. They waited around corners for him to be caught unawares. Jazz learned what it was like to be on the other side of the beatings now. And then he also ran, far far away from the orphanage.

  The streets weren’t kind to him. There was no one opening their door to him and the streets didn’t care for some rabbit. This was also during the chaos of the riots and conflict between BJBB, POSRA, and the government. But none of that concerned Jazz. All he knew was that rabbits were a problem, and it seemed as if whenever he saw one, trouble seemed to follow soon after. There were a few rabbits he ran into, actually, that he recognized...from the orphanage. They remembered him too, and they always seemed to remember his face as cruel and mean, and they resented him for it. Jazz didn’t look to them for help, and for weeks, he barely scraped by living on the streets.

  But he got his bearings, eventually. They were shaky, but he found connections. That smile still worked for him, and he could charm his way into new groups of rabbits and a few rabbit-friendly human groups. Of course, he had to steer clear of any rabbits that knew who he was, but to completely new groups. He worked odd jobs and slept in alleyways, avoiding the conflicts and riots as best as he could. What he had was his charm. He knew how to be a good kid, and he knew how to make connections. Pearson was just like the orphanage, and he needed to be friends with the “other boys” if he wanted to survive. What did that mean? Odd jobs, errands, stealing and smooth-talking, learning new things from his new friends, and selling what he learned to other new friends — Jazz was determined to survive. He’s jazzcat after all. And cats always land on their feet.

  That was how he lived for a few years, and it worked...somewhat. But Jazz knew there was more out there for him. When the announcement came about the Brigade opening to refugees, Jazz saw an opportunity. Of course, he wouldn’t consider himself a victim of the civil war; he tried his best to stay out of it. Jazz wanted in. But this would be a new set of resources, a new door for opportunity...And Jazz wanted in.

MISCELLANEOUS

  - Tends to avoid violence because he doesn’t want to risk his jacket getting hurt
  - Unreasonable love of bright, gaudy fashion (To quote “What’s red and black and white all over? Not me!”)
  - He’s tried to keep a list of people that he’s aware of that hate him, kinda like a diary he keeps of people he doesn’t have as much pull with
  - Terrible at using any technology beyond his phone and laptop
  - Likes keeping the name jazzcat cause fuck it if his old friends didn’t like him, that was a cool as shit name
  - When asked about why he wears jazzcat on everything “I’m building my brand, shut up.”
  - Still knows his real name, but it doesn’t really matter to him and he doesn’t like sharing it with too many people.