[align=center]
[div style=" width: 460px; text-align: justify; line-height: 110%; font-family: verdana;"][color=black]Sometimes, he remembers the quiet days. When he could hear the cicadas chirp, the wind rustle against leaves, windows rattle, those rare times when Alice would sing while washing the dishes; when he could actually hear himself think. Those were the good days. The days lived in his classy home with his close friends and even closer frequently exchanging lovers. In the back of his mind, he knew that he’d never get that same comfortable silence. Not unless he put the metal to his temple. He wasn’t weak. He would go out fighting, spitting blood from his mouth instead of bullets. Laughing instead of crying.
Now it was all chaos. Not even death could shut the mouths of some of these fiends. Throughout days and nights there was constant screaming, crying, howling, you name it. He met a guy named Sam who use to shout when things got too quiet--said the voices got too loud when it was. Of course he continued on to kill Sam. Ripping out his throat with the back of a sharpened wooden spoon one night when he was sleeping. It wasn’t his provoking. Sam was just too trusting. Who also had a double barrel shotgun. The same hunk of metal that was hooked over Fenrir’s left shoulder.
He had liked Sam, there had been a lot of people Fenrir has liked. There was one he liked now. Particularly, one that was on his mind currently as he dug at the glitter scattering across the denim of his clothes. He groaned aloud in vexation, tersely swiping his large palms down his shirt. Trying to brush off the sparkly plastic that only seemed to increase the more he tried to clean. ’’This is fucking bullshit--Fuck, what the hell--’’ he growled out. Rolling his eyes so hard they could probably fall right out of the sockets.
As much as he adored the kid, he could strangle Mettaton right about now
Standing up from the log he was steadfast on, Fen clapped his hands together. Another failed attempt at escaping Mettatons sparkly rath. Looking around at the sparse members of the badlands around, he grimaced. ’’Does anyone know how to get glitter off of fabric?’’
[align=center][color=black]IMORALITY'S A THRILL
[i] weapons expert - pet rott - ic opinions
[align=center][div style="width: 430px; font-size: 8pt;text-align: justify;color:#363636;line-height:115%"] jamison got the two ends of the knife when it came to trusting others. he was easy to trust those who gave him things that helped him survive this place, but he was also far from trusting those he didn't think was friendly. and the worst part is, he was never in the middle. it was one or the two; always a mix of black and white that did more harm than help when it came to jamie's mental state.
he was sitting nearby on the grimy road, tinkering with some small metal scraps. he had an issue when it came to trading useful things for scrap, especially when the scrap metal wasn't rusted or old. hell, he could remember trading some of the only food he had one time for a screw driver. maybe that was a problem when it came to surviving, but he wasn't dead yet, right?
his bright amber visuals would flick upwards when he heard the other, his rat-like face filled with curiosity when he saw the glitter. "oi, mate!" the worm would squeal, standing up clumsily on his peg and foot and limping over, still tinkering and seemingly building a smoke bomb out of some gunpowder and scrap metal even when he wasn't looking. "ya need help with that? got some other pants ya can use. if you got some scrap i can give it to ya."
PUNCH YOUR LIGHT'S OUT, HIT THE PAVEMENT
THAT'S WHAT I CALL ENTERTAINMENT !
text
![[Image: 9d5abbbfdbe5f60875725f019abf9cf4.png]](http://fontmeme.com/permalink/170125/9d5abbbfdbe5f60875725f019abf9cf4.png)
[sub]badlands ♡ 24 ♡ tags below[/sub]
It had been a beautiful prank. Beautiful in the aesthetic sense, at least--Mettaton knew it wouldn't actually be that hilarious to anyone but himself. Which in the end was all that mattered, right? Seeing Fen's beautiful features sparkling--he'd gotten some on his cheeks, which made the newly promoted man snort--was just great. He wasn't planning on getting too near, but he'd happened to pass by, and was now trying to see what his friend was up to. He was...with the worm? What?
Forgetting himself, he strode out, still smirking. "What'cha up to, Jamie, dear?" Not even the worm escaped his pet names, but it was often clear Mettaton didn't mean him too much friendliness--though he wasn't exactly prone to torturing the man, either.
coded by junkers
[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 350px; font-size: 8pt; font-family:arial; text-transform:lowercase; text-align:justify"]
dexter had always observed glitter as a material that only metta possessed, after all he was the only member with such shiny confidence that he knew. however, when the young man approached the small group of men, he knew that he had been wrong. or had he? it appeared that metta had pranked the man - fenrir, was it?
shit, dexter wanted - no, needed - to flirt with fenrir, but metta was there. the darkhaired man tricked himself to fall in love more times than he could count, and often with multiple people. but when two interests were there at the same time, shit went down.
"something sticky would probably work.." he commented with a shrug, offering a pearly white and an (attempted) charming smile.
[spoiler=info  updated 1/28/17]
[size=8pt]GENERAL:
★ DEXTER MOREAU | DEX | CISGENDER MALE
★ panromantic | pansexual
★ 22 years of age | august 12th | ages one per year, on birthday
★ the badlands | grunt
IMPORTANT FACTS:
★ speaks both french and english and isn't afraid to show off.
★ is slightly obsessed with fireworks, sparklers and other explosive pyrotechnics.
★ at night, you can find him looking at the stars although he doesn't often invite others.
PHYSICAL:
★ HUMAN [8.12 / main] | health: 100%
 a sharp jaw and high cheekbones line this young man's face, tracing defined bones on his sunkissed face. dark brows and chocolate-colored locks frame his face, forcing his honeybrown eyes to pop. his frame can be described as muscular but slightly lithe as well. he's worked hard to avoid beinng beaten up in the badlands, and doesn't take kindly to offense. his outfit usually conists of a white shirt and dark jeans, occasinally paired with a leather jacket.
 [i]major injuries: none
PERSONALITY:
dexter is, well, easygoing. he takes life with stride, savoring it and trying every single aspect of it. he's extremely loyal, without a doubt and would die for friends and family. he is ambitious and pursues his dreams without a second thought, although this may come back to haunt him in the future. at first, most people label him as the 'flirty player' or the 'lazy pervert' of the badlands, but once people get to know him they realize that that's not true (okay, maybe a little bit true). he's a dreamer inside, one who will look at the stars all night long and not even realize that it's morning until the galaxies above fade into a new day. he may seem completely self-confident, but he's afraid. he feels as if he can't trust anyone in the badlands, and the stars are his only escape. if people really knew him, they'd know that he wasn't either of the above titles; he's an 'easygoing loser'.
RELATIONSHIPS:
★ single
★ NPC x NPC | generation 2
★ No Romantic Interest
★ No Sexual Interest
INTERACTION:
★ easily interacts + cautiously friendly
★ difficulty: 8/10 in battle | + strength & speed | - stamina & agility
★ begins battles, even if attempts to avoid
★ speech in bold #d3ac78
★ attack in bold #78a6d3
★ can powerplay nonviolent actions
★ all IC opinions
[/spoiler]
(02-15-2017, 02:58 AM)aporia. link Wrote:[align=center][div style="background: white;
[div style="bgcolor=; border: none; width: 375px; padding: 0px; line-height: 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11.5px; color: #262626; font-family: arial; text-transform:lowercase; margin-top:0px; padding-bottom:20px; margin-top:-2px;"]this is so cute im gonna pee
[div style=" width: 420px; text-align: justify; line-height: 105%; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; margin:auto; color: black;"]i was currently in the grip of a crisis called everyone and everything is boring, and it had had me in its clutches for quite some time. maybe, if i had no common sense, i'd be pointing guns at things and firing just for the sake of seeking something break, but i wasn't fucking stupid. ammo was low, and i couldn't go wasting it on breaking windows or whatever. no, i had to find someone to screw with, or some poor bloody animal to wring the neck of, or something like that. but the badlands was full of people who were either: a) bigger than i was (which wasn't hard, come down to it) or b) higher up than me, and i'd seen enough of the worms to know that challenging authority was a godawful decision. c'mon, if i wanted to end up like old guy fawkes (was that his name? no, jamison, that was it), i could go and hack off my limbs and get ready to die of tetanus. nah, fuck that.
still, i was bored. i was wandering through the abandoned streets, trailing my bat behind me, mildly irritated by the knocking noise the metal made against the sidewalk, but not annoyed enough to stop doing it. which was the general state of affairs with me. i was an irritating little shit, bouncing around the place and getting on everyone's nerves, but i was also hella cute, with my button nose and big eyes and habit of smiling all the time. even if it was a little bit maniacal, people couldn't resist me. but sometimes, people wouldn't see me for days on end, and then i'd reemerge, turning up again like a bad penny, to harass the poor inhabitants of the badlands. suckers deserved it though. this place was for the worst of the worst, so i never felt too bad about bugging them. i never felt too bad about anything.
i was just wandering if i should go back to my tumbledown residence (which was some dark, dusty apartment with rats all over the place and roaches in every nook and cranny of it. it was so gross that most people wouldn't have even bothered with it, and the place was a fucking labyrinth, with walls and ceilings fallen in left, right, and center, so i was mostly left alone) and scavenge through my food supplies when i heard a loud voice.
"...anyone know how to get glitter off of fabric?" my ears pricked up and i glanced up, as my gaze had been previously directed at the toes of my scuffed combat boots, to look around for the source of the noise. i recognised the voice; it belonged to fenrir, who could be fun. everyone could be fun, if you messed around with them right.
noting the direction the voice was coming from, i began to walk, more purpose in my gait this time, slinging my baseball bat over my shoulder as i continued on. pretty soon, i caught sight of the man, and approached with interest, watching as scrap metal freak bounded (limped) up to him, eager for some deal. i'd once given the poor fucker a tin can that used to hold baked beans in exchange for something or other. god knows what he did with it – maybe he fucked it. maybe his dick was as sliced up as the rest of him. i snickered slightly to myself as i got closer, raising my eyebrows at the scene of squalor. this was the kind of chaos where i thrived. mettaton appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and i quickly made the assumption that he was the source of the glitter covering fenrir's clothes. i smirked, lolling against a nearby pole and twirling a strand of my hair, swinging my bat by my side.
"damn, fenrir," i drawled lazily, my eyes glittering with petty malice. "i didn't take ya for the type."
i looked up from my casual mocking as dexter approached, with his usual charming response.
"something sticky would probably work." laughing shortly, i turned back to fenrir and nodded smartly, running my tongue over my lips.
"yeah, fen. maybe you should..." dropping my hand from my hair, i pumped it in the air a couple times, grinning at my own vulgar joke. "might get it off. the glitter, i mean. not you." this was what happened when i got bored. i got nasty. there was no telling how fen would react, however, so i took a step back, gripping my bat tighter so that if he made any moves, i could just swing it at him, hard. break a rib or two.
[color=black][spoiler=tags  updated jan 29]
GENERAL
– dolores 'lola' candida lancaster
– apathetic about her gender | she / her, its / it, they / them
– sixteen years old
– unrestricted sexuality
– borderline personality disorder | hypersexuality and sex addiction
– badlands | grunt
BACKGROUND
– was sexually, physically, emotionally and verbally abused by her father for much of her childhood
– her mother regularly neglected her, refusing lola food and shelter in her own home
– grew up half–wild and having to fend for herself
– eventually beat her father to death with a baseball bat and ran away aged thirteen
– has been with the badlands for a year and a half
PHYSICAL
– stands at only five foot tall
– skinny, bony and underweight due to malnutrition as a child
– very naturally pretty but rarely invested in her appearance
– small facial features that make her appear pixie–like; upturned nose, pointed chin, high cheekbones and strong eyebrows
– her golden–blonde hair is always messy and tangled
– her clothes are mostly several sizes too big for her and often torn in various places
PERSONALITY
– selfish, meddling, arrogant, crude, loud-mouthed, dirty-minded, messy, animalistic, frequent liar, difficult, violent, obnoxious, bossy, mocking, insulting, angry, cruel, mean, delirious, delusional, savage, tease, sexual, threatening, fucked up, self-loathing, traumatised, erratic, compulsive, instinctive, attention-seeking, unstable, brutal
– enfj – the protagonist
RELATIONSHIPS
– npc x npc, both dead
– single | not a romantic person at all
INVENTORY
– 1 x metal baseball bat
– 1 x semi–automatic handgun
– 4 x penknives
– 1 x lighter
– 2 x pack of cigarettes
– 1 x water canteen
– 1 x hip flask, empty
– 2 x packs of bubblegum
INTERACTIONS
– physically very aggressive and lacking in inhibition, despite her small size
– fights very dirty and is squirmy and difficult to catch
– will probably hurt you a lot before you get a chance to hurt her
– fairly precise shot with a gun
YOU'VE GOT A PRETTY
KIND OF DIRTY FACE
[align=center] sel
After seeing Mettaton ignore the rather glittery Fenir, Sel came to the conclusion that he was behind this somehow. Metta was the only one (that she knew of) with an interest in glitter, thus he was probably the best person to ask about getting it out. The best, but not the only one. "Yes, sticky." She agreed, tilting her head to the side. "Like a lint roller or tape. I haven't tried Lola's suggestion, but one shouldn't be afraid of experimenting." The young woman rolled her eyes. "Hairspray might do it too."
[spoiler=Tags - Updated 1/29/17] General:
▪ Selena Felix | Sel or Lena depending on situation
▪ Biological female | Identifies as female | She/Her
▪ 23 years | Birthday is 12/18 | Real Time Aging
▪ Warchief of the Badlands
Relationships:
▪ Biromantic | Bisexual | Poly
▪ Single | Flirty
▪ Crushing on Blake and likes Dexter
▪ Would hook up with almost anyone in Flirtlands
▪ NPC x NPC | No adopted kin
▪ Generally very friendly but not easy to become close with; flirty and defiant; loyalty is hard-earned and easily betrayed
Important Facts:
▪ Trained medic but prefers the war and/or social branches.
▪ Usually untrustworthy, everything is calculated, ambitious as f**k, nefarious motivations.
▪ Opinions, motivations and ambition are Sel's and Sel's alone and are not shared by her roleplayer.
Physical:
★ HUMAN | health: 100%
 She's small, but not too small, about 5'4" or so. Slender and always moving, pretty blue-green eyes with a mischievous glint in them and you know she's gonna get you into trouble. Dark hair, no doubt dark thoughts as well. Red lips curve into a lazy grin that reveals white teeth - they won't stay pearly for much longer, though, as she's often seen smoking.
 major injuries: none
 minor injuries: none
Personality:
 Sel is a very bold, competitive and stubborn person, with a wild side that is shown frequently as well as flirtatious tendencies. She is easily bored and is always on the lookout for adventure, with a spark of curiosity that she hopes will lead to what she seeks: adventure and romance. She seems to not be a very serious person and would rather have fun than be productive, and failing entertainment she can be quite productive and get quite a bit done. She's loud and lacks discipline. While Sel is irresponsible (and oddly bossy) and wild, she is very family-oriented and loves her family dearly. She is usually a cheerful, friendly person but she definitely has a passion for the weird, dark and creepy. She is somewhat vain and egotistical. She has her secrets and one of them is her intelligence and ability to collect information; most dismiss her as a dumb party girl (or something like that) and that's part of her cover, she has her fair share of sins and has to have a way of hiding them, and because she is a good liar and good actress, she succeeds.
 curious; friendly; bold; friendly; intelligent; brave; stubborn; competitive; flirty; sly and cunning; ambitious; wild; irresponsible; bossy; vain; arrogant/egotistical; cruel/sadistic; dark; deceptive
Interaction:
▪ Trained with knives and poisons | Medium physically | Hard mentally
▪ No kill/capture/maim without permission | Will kill/capture/maim with permission
▪ Prefers to fight with poisoned daggers | Relies largely on speed and agility
▪ To attack, [member=183]Sel[/member] and attack in underlined #440349
Links:
 Bio v.1
 Wip[/spoiler]
[align=center] DARLING, DARLING, DOESN'T HAVE A PROBLEM
LYING TO HERSELF 'CAUSE HER LIQUOR'S TOP SHELF
IT'S ALARMING HONESTLY HOW CHARMING SHE CAN BE
FOOLING EVERYONE, TELLING HOW SHE'S HAVING FUN
[align=center]
[div style=" width: 460px; text-align: justify; line-height: 110%; font-family: verdana;"][color=black]First to show was a man everyone seemed to relate to an insect. Small, dirty, irrelevant--and while he fit two of those, standing next to Jamison was an irritable reminder of their height difference. Not that it made him any less capable than the dirty blonde (or was he just that grimy), no, not at all; he was definitely more capable. His voice was loud and made a nerve pinch somewhere in Fenrir's body, making him want to wring that skinny neck, yet--his options were somewhat promising.
"What kind of...scrap?" he proclaimed cautiously, eyeing the bomb wiz for a beat longer before the next person came into view; particularly the one he had a bone to pick with.
"Mettaton, darling." he started off, usual rough baritone replaced with a sweet lilt an obvious mock if they knew of who. "You should take a hop skip and a jump out of my face before I blow some holes in that sleek frame of yours." his facade ended at his last words, small smile dropping into a grimace, amber eyes burning into the glam freaks crushable skull.
Huffing out a sigh, he rolled his eyes once more. The action coming too inherent to him these days. The next two to show up weren't all that helpful either. He was starting to like grub boy more and more. "Thanks kid--" he commented, eyes gracing Dexter with sarcasm. "I don't know about you--but I don't have any of that." he was already so tired.
Fixating his gaze next on Lola, he had a brief, short lived countenance of amusement.
"You're fucking disgusting, could you even handle seeing me doing that? I thought your job was the local cum dumpster." he let out a disapproving tsk, grinning momentarily. "You can't even do that right, Lo'."
Alright, little bitch chick and fish chow were his new favorites of the pack. Most helpful options and least annoying ways of putting it. "You got any of that?"
/mobile excuse typos
[align=center][color=black]IMORALITY'S A THRILL
[i] weapons expert - pet rott - ic opinions
[align=center] sel
"Of course I've got that stuff, just not on me." Perhaps some girls carried lint rollers with them everywhere, but that was before the apocalypse. If she was going to carry something everywhere, it ought to lend to her survival. With a few exceptions, like her cigarettes. "It'll just take me a few minutes to fetch them, though, if you got somethin' to trade." It had been drilled into her brain, "if you're giving something up, get something in return". She didn't have a great need for resources like hairspray and lint rollers, so it wouldn't be some great price, but she wasn't giving it out free.
[spoiler=Tags - Updated 1/29/17] General:
▪ Selena Felix | Sel or Lena depending on situation
▪ Biological female | Identifies as female | She/Her
▪ 23 years | Birthday is 12/18 | Real Time Aging
▪ Warchief of the Badlands
Relationships:
▪ Biromantic | Bisexual | Poly
▪ Single | Flirty
▪ Crushing on Blake
▪ Would hook up with almost anyone in Flirtlands
▪ Lives with Mettaton | Hired John as her manservant
▪ NPC x NPC | No adopted kin
▪ Generally very friendly but not easy to become close with; flirty and defiant; loyalty is hard-earned and easily betrayed
Important Facts:
▪ Trained medic but prefers the war and/or social branches.
▪ Usually untrustworthy, everything is calculated, ambitious as f**k, nefarious motivations.
▪ Opinions, motivations and ambition are Sel's and Sel's alone and are not shared by her roleplayer.
Physical:
★ HUMAN | health: 100%
 She's small, but not too small, about 5'4" or so. Slender and always moving, pretty blue-green eyes with a mischievous glint in them and you know she's gonna get you into trouble. Dark hair, no doubt dark thoughts as well. Red lips curve into a lazy grin that reveals white teeth - they won't stay pearly for much longer, though, as she's often seen smoking.
 major injuries: none
 minor injuries: none
Personality:
 Sel is a very bold, competitive and stubborn person, with a wild side that is shown frequently as well as flirtatious tendencies. She is easily bored and is always on the lookout for adventure, with a spark of curiosity that she hopes will lead to what she seeks: adventure and romance. She seems to not be a very serious person and would rather have fun than be productive, and failing entertainment she can be quite productive and get quite a bit done. She's loud and lacks discipline. While Sel is irresponsible (and oddly bossy) and wild, she is very family-oriented and loves her family dearly. She is usually a cheerful, friendly person but she definitely has a passion for the weird, dark and creepy. She is somewhat vain and egotistical. She has her secrets and one of them is her intelligence and ability to collect information; most dismiss her as a dumb party girl (or something like that) and that's part of her cover, she has her fair share of sins and has to have a way of hiding them, and because she is a good liar and good actress, she succeeds.
 curious; friendly; bold; friendly; intelligent; brave; stubborn; competitive; flirty; sly and cunning; ambitious; wild; irresponsible; bossy; vain; arrogant/egotistical; cruel/sadistic; dark; deceptive
Interaction:
▪ Trained with knives and poisons | Medium physically | Hard mentally
▪ No kill/capture/maim without permission | Will kill/capture/maim with permission
▪ Prefers to fight with poisoned daggers | Relies largely on speed and agility
▪ To attack, [member=183]Sel[/member] and attack in underlined #440349
Links:
 Bio v.1
 Plot v.1
 Storage v.1[/spoiler]
[align=center] DARLING, DARLING, DOESN'T HAVE A PROBLEM
LYING TO HERSELF 'CAUSE HER LIQUOR'S TOP SHELF
IT'S ALARMING HONESTLY HOW CHARMING SHE CAN BE
FOOLING EVERYONE, TELLING HOW SHE'S HAVING FUN
text
[sub]badlands ♡ 24 ♡ tags below[/sub]
Fenrir's words directed at him were, at first, quite pleasant, and Metta looked over to him, a bit confused. Was he not mad? He even took a step closer before blanching at what Fen said next. He laughed a bit nervously, spreading his hands. "Ah, now, I know you don't mean that, Fenny, honey--but anyway, I've got some--headhunter business, to attend to. Quite important. Ta!" And with that, he hurried the fuck off. No need to incite him anymore.
coded by junkers
|
