UNDER A KILLING MOON / OPEN, VISITOR
#1
[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: auto; font-size: 9.4pt; font-family:arial; line-height: 125%; text-align:justify; width: 75%"]/ aaa this is a bad mobile post but oh well

His plan is simple: get in and out before it gets too hot. It isn't that he's wearing many layers (though the jacket he carries may prove to be an issue later on), but what he does wear is black and skintight, and the problems presented there are pretty easy to understand. If he's not careful, he could die of heatstroke, and although he has enough water in his supply bag, he doesn't want to risk using an inordinate amount just to survive in this small stretch of land. Of course, if these people just kill him, then he won't have to worry about that, but he's hoping that they let him live this once, remarkably enough. Despite the barrenness of the land and this place's ugly reputation, on the surface, the buildings themselves could be worse; the cheerful colours are offset by the boards he can spot, admittedly, and the uneasy atmosphere about, but it isn't too bad. Tim could see himself settling here, providing the people themselves don't gut him first. (Of course, his ideal home would be Northstar District, but that's not because of the territory itself. If he can't stay there, this looks to be an okay backup plan, so far.)

The early morning sun isn't far enough off the horizon to cause him any real discomfort; it's fairly cool, actually, enough for him to keep the too-big leather jacket pulled tightly around him. (He'd much rather its owner be here instead, but that's a thought for another day. He can't afford to dwell on things that he can't control.) Wariness consumes him, fingers clenching and unclenching and seeking out his hidden weapons, quietly reminding himself of their whereabouts in the event that they make him remove the ones they can see, and he keeps quiet, eyes roaming the unfamiliar territory in search of somebody he can maybe speak to.

[spoiler=ALONE WITH ALL THE GHOSTS OF LESSER HUMANS / INFORMATION, UPDATED 20TH SEPT.]GENERAL INFORMATION / PAINT THE TARGET; WE DON'T NEED NO EVIDENCE
⋆ Timothy Jackson Haywood / Introduced as "Tim" / DFAB Male / He/They Pronouns
⋆ 19 Years Old / DOB: July 19th / NPC x NPC; Both Parents Deceased / No Siblings
⋆ Bisexual/romantic / Male Pref / Formerly[?] ½ Robinhood & Formerly ⅓ Daredona
⋆ A Wanderer / Drifts between the various settlements at will / Looking for his friends

APPEARANCE / FLOOD THE MARKET; WE DO IT ALL IN SELF DEFENCE
⋆ 5'5 & 120lbs / Reference 1 + Reference 2 + Current Outfit Reference [ft. Jason]
⋆ Small and too-skinny, but still lithe and somewhat muscular. Lean and acrobatic.
⋆ Has unkempt, startlingly soft black hair that falls between his ears and shoulders.
⋆ Super pale skin and bright blue-silver eyes. Soft, doe-like features. Kinda gentle.
⋆ Has this branded onto his right hip. Wears a leather jacket [Jason's] over his outfit.
⋆ Body's littered with all kinds of scars. Centred mainly round his back, torso + limbs.
Carries several knives/daggers of varying sizes around with him at all times.

INJURIES & STATUS / YOU'RE A SMART KID; NEVER WORK
⋆ General bruising and scrapes. A nasty, semi-healed gash on his inner thigh.
⋆ Kinda malnourished due to not caring for himself. Will eat the bare minimum.

PERSONALITY / WITHOUT YOUR GLOVES; IF YOU'RE A
⋆ Calm, controlled, steady. Good at thinking on his feet, though a habitual planner.
⋆ Tends to prefer being at least three steps ahead of other people. Quietly intelligent.
⋆ Far more accepting of his emotions now. Still kinda withdrawn around strangers.
⋆ Sharp, witty, driven. Methodical and meticulous, though a little less uptight now.
⋆ Wary and alert. Kinda paranoid and on-edge due to recent events. Sorta nervous.
⋆ Still believes in good people. Will always sacrifice self to help those in need.

INTERACTION / SMART KID, YOU'LL STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM LOVE
⋆ Assassin training [2½ish years] / Otherwise self trained [5ish years] / Highly Skilled
⋆ Somewhat weaker at the moment due to malnourishment / Still a tough opponent
⋆ Will kill, but tries not to / Never above crippling / Immensely high pain tolerance
⋆ Attack/interact with in underlined or another visible format / Get attention with [member=3889]TIMOTHY H.[/member]
Nonviolent actions can be powerplayed / Reaction may vary depending on person/action[/spoiler]


[align=center]james drachen / julian devorak / damian holloway / timothy haywood
new subs being made // old ones merged
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#2
[div style="background:transparent; width: 450px; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 100%; text-align: justify; color: black; font-family: arial"]leave this here when the days are cold and the cards all fold margaux was used to strangers at the boarder at this point. she sighed and moved over, moving her slowly healing, burnt fingers. "who are you, what do you want?" she asked calmly.

[color=transparent]created by acrylic


[align=center]
AND NOW I SEE THE SUNLIGHT
I FEEL GLORIOUS, GLORIOUS
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#3
[align=center]
DON'T MISTAKE MY CHARITY — INFORMATION
clover isn't yet sure what to make of the boy as she sidles up to margaux. he's young, like dylan, but he has this look in his eyes that reminds her so much of rose, she has a metaphorical whiplash. she waits for him to answer margaux, though her eyes slide away every now and then to peer at timothy curiously.

"ah, i'm clover." she finally spoke, glancing at margaux. she didn't want to introduce the girl, since she seemed to want to get straight to business; clover always tried to make conversation, which might have been a downfall.

[spoiler=✨ TAGS | AUGUST EIGHTEENTH]GENERAL ·゚★
— clover neraida maryam / cis female / she/her pronouns / prefers to be called clover; won't object to any nicknames used by friends
— created may 27th  / twenty-three years old / mentally and physically an adult
— the badlands / chamber

MISC INFO ·゚★
— never takes off the silver ring engraved with roses and vines on her middle finger as it was given to her by her best friend.
— a lover of fashion and a passionate seamstress. will reassemble her clothing to create new outfits, and despite how impractical it may be she'll pay money for new fabric and cloth for her clothing.
— loves horror and romantic literature.
— enjoys gardening and creates gardens whenever she goes.
— speaks in a very articulate and verbose manner.

PHYSICAL ·゚★ x.
— physical health: 100% / mental health: 95%
— upright posture / walks with a graceful gait  / smells of dyes and cloth
— she is 5'9'', which is considerably taller than most woman so she tends to tower over many others. she has short and sleek black hair that sweeps onto her forehead, olive black eyes, and caramel brown skin that is typically covered with long sleeved clothing but from time-to-time she can be seen with a t-shirt. often, she is wearing a black hijab and lipstick. clover's ears are pierced, and she wears silver studs. a scar stretches across her stomach. she has swirling tattoos over her back, shoulders, and upper arms but they are never seen due to her outfits, which she conveniently cuts to cover herself.

PERSONALITY ·゚★
— positive traits: motherly, patient, humble, worrier, friendly
— neutral traits: perceptive, natural peacemaker, serious, mature
— negative traits:[/color] literal, high self-expectations, judgmental, awkward
— ravenclaw / amity / mbti type
— clover is an amiable and patient person, born with mother-like instincts. she is prone to keeping tabs on people, but she means no harm by it; if she cares about you, she does it to be sure that you're alright. at times, it's difficult for clover to relax, and her serious attitude can sometimes put people off.

[b]RELATIONSHIPS ·゚★

— bisexual / single / not necessarily looking or interested
— virginia maryam x unnamed father
— older biological sister is priscilla (npc)
— pm to mentor / prev trained by her sister

INTERACTION ·゚★
— hard physically / hard mentally / knows self defense
— usually doesnt start fights / shows mercy (often) / will kill; will maim
— has no issues with the necessity of violent bloodshed / the type to execute decisions for the greater good regardless of their personally unsavory nature
— attack in bold underline
— powerplaying nonviolent/healing actions is allowed
— in a fight, clover is accustomed to fighting with her fists and will not hesitate to hurt anyone who threatens her. she is familiar with how to fight with daggers and blades, and conceals one on the inside of her thigh as well as in her sleeves or pocket. her secondary weapon, as strange as it may be, is a chainsaw. it had once been used to help with her landscaping but when she decided to leave, she knew that a simple dagger wasn't going to be enough. along with that, she'll typically carry an automatic pistol on her hip.

OTHER ·゚★
— heartchart / pinterest / bio / pm this account for plots
— lowkey based off of kanaya maryam from homestuck[/spoiler]


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*:・゚✧ I'M NOT A WRECK BUT I'M FAR FROM FULLY HEALED
I'VE FOUND THESE GHOSTS IN ME, MEMORIES I CAN'T KEEP[div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color:#161922; margin-top: -3px"][sup][b]INFORMATION / CLOVER NERAIDA MARYAM, TWENTY-THREE
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#4
[align=center][div style="text-align: justify; width:425px;font-size:9.3pt; line-height:15px; color:black;"]It appeared the raid against Northstar had given their name a boost because the joiners had been steady while the visitors had been through the roof. While it wasn't necessarily a good thing since it was Northstar bitches sniffing at their garage bins like crazy homeless people, their name was out there more than ever. The next Badlander to approach was Dylan, walking on foot for the first time in days, with his hands hidden in his hoodie's front pocket. His face was unreadable as he studied the stranger, the hazel gaze resting heavily on Timothy's appearance. He seemed... Well, Dylan didn't have a word to describe him. Despite the lack of aggression from the stranger, the Councilman knew to remain alert and to stand on edge. The gun in the waistband of his guns was burning a hole into his skin, whispering to be used.


[align=center][div style="font-size:14.4pt;line-height:.9;color:#000;font-family:arial black;padding:4px"]HEART MADE OF GLASS, MY MIND OF STONE
TEAR ME TO PIECES, SKIN AND BONE [color=transparent]— ——-

HELLO, WELCOME HOME [color=transparent]— ———-—-————--
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#5
[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: auto; font-size: 9.4pt; font-family:arial; line-height: 125%; text-align:justify; width: 75%"]Tim shifts, keeping his hands where she can see them, eyes trained on Margaux like she's some sort of feral dog and he's a weakening deer. Her fingers look damaged (weakness), but that doesn't mean she isn't hiding something else up her sleeve, and the longer he waits, the more people approach, until this fight shifts slowly in their favour. He could take one— hell, he could take two— but he bets at least one of these people have a gun, and regardless of how nimble or powerful or well-trained he is, he can't exactly just shrug off a well-placed bullet. (Not that he wants to; he'd rather stay alive, and... well, he's hardly in a good condition right now, but he doesn't want it to get worse.)

"These are the Badlands, right?" His eyes jump from Margaux (not a threat?) to Clover (friendly, but maybe a threat) to Dylan (hands in front pocket— definitely a threat), but he doesn't curl in on himself just yet. "I'm— Tim." He swallows, smoothes his hands over his front, drumming his fingers against his hipbone. "I don't mean any harm, I— wanted to pass by. Might be coming back to stay soon, if— that's okay."

[spoiler=FIGHTING ON MY OWN IN A WAR THAT’S ALREADY BEEN WON / INFORMATION, 20TH SEPT.]GENERAL INFORMATION / I'LL BE LOST UNTIL YOU COME AND FIND ME HERE
⋆ Timothy Jackson Haywood / Introduced as "Tim" / DFAB Male / He/They Pronouns
⋆ 19 Years Old / DOB: July 19th / NPC x NPC; Both Parents Deceased / No Siblings
⋆ Bisexual/romantic / Male Pref / Formerly[?] ½ Robinhood & Formerly ⅓ Daredona
⋆ A Wanderer / Drifts between the various settlements at will / Looking for his friends

APPEARANCE / OH, GLORY; LIKE THE MOON, WE BORROW OUR LIGHT
⋆ 5'5 & 120lbs / Reference 1 + Reference 2 + Current Outfit Reference [ft. Jason]
⋆ Small and too-skinny, but still lithe and somewhat muscular. Lean and acrobatic.
⋆ Has unkempt, startlingly soft black hair that falls between his ears and shoulders.
⋆ Super pale skin and bright blue-silver eyes. Soft, doe-like features. Kinda gentle.
⋆ Has this branded onto his right hip. Wears a leather jacket [Jason's] over his outfit.
⋆ Body's littered with all kinds of scars. Centred mainly round his back, torso + limbs.
Carries several knives/daggers of varying sizes around with him at all times.

INJURIES & STATUS / I AM NOTHING BUT A SHADOW IN THE NIGHT
⋆ General bruising and scrapes. A nasty, semi-healed gash on his inner thigh.
⋆ Kinda malnourished due to not caring for himself. Will eat the bare minimum.

PERSONALITY / SO IF YOU LET ME, I WILL CATCH FIRE
⋆ Calm, controlled, steady. Good at thinking on his feet, though a habitual planner.
⋆ Tends to prefer being at least three steps ahead of other people. Quietly intelligent.
⋆ Far more accepting of his emotions now. Still kinda withdrawn around strangers.
⋆ Sharp, witty, driven. Methodical and meticulous, though a little less uptight now.
⋆ Wary and alert. Kinda paranoid and on-edge due to recent events. Sorta nervous.
⋆ Still believes in good people. Will always sacrifice self to help those in need.

INTERACTION / TO LET YOUR GLORY AND MERCY SHINE
⋆ Assassin training [2½ish years] / Otherwise self trained [5ish years] / Highly Skilled
⋆ Somewhat weaker at the moment due to malnourishment / Still a tough opponent
⋆ Will kill, but tries not to / Never above crippling / Immensely high pain tolerance
⋆ Attack/interact with in underlined or another visible format / Get attention with [member=3889]TIMOTHY H.[/member]
Nonviolent actions can be powerplayed / Reaction may vary depending on person/action[/spoiler]


[align=center]james drachen / julian devorak / damian holloway / timothy haywood
new subs being made // old ones merged
Reply
#6
/no fancy oops

this poor guy seemed so.. nervous. not scared, just afraid they may attack. margaux blinked and smiled softly. "i'm sure no one would mind you staying." she explained, gently touching one of her burnt fingers. "but i'm not exactly sure if i'm allowed to actually accept joiners or let someone in."


[align=center]
AND NOW I SEE THE SUNLIGHT
I FEEL GLORIOUS, GLORIOUS
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#7
[align=center]
CHARLIE "LUCKY" LUCIANO
face to face with the man who sold the world
space
Charlie chose to remain quiet until the questions that Margaux asked were addressed by the stranger. He knew when to keep his mouth shut for the sake of dignity and professionalism (though that didn't mean that he was afraid to stand up for himself when he needed to). He felt that the necessary questions were already asked, name and business, though there was something missing. Charlie's sharp gaze fixated upon the younger boy, his stare already saying enough about his suspicions. The raid on the Northstar District had been weeks ago, though that didn't mean that there wasn't obvious tension between the two groups. They were newly-made enemies, and that meant that nobody could be trusted. Nobody from the outside. He was shocked that the other Badlanders were so trusting. How could they be? Had they forgotten that the Northerners might want their heads? Especially his? He had been the one to lead the raid, after all. He had shot that Wolf-Fucker and made off with some of their supplies. He had been the one to abduct one of their little pawns from their territory and beat him around like a bag of sand to extract information from him. Charlie thought that they were playing it safe, but they had been exposed. And now, thanks to that British twat, everything was ruined.

This person, luckily, wasn't one of the Northerners he was looking for. In fact, he didn't exactly say what group he hailed from, if any at all. This aroused suspicion from Charlie. The Council Member, unlike the others gathered, took extra precautions to ensure the safety of the city. This could be an ambush for all they knew. They could all be lying face down in the street with their own blood pooling around their heads in a matter of seconds.

Charlie stepped forward slowly, holding his head up high as he observed "Tim". He appeared neutral, though a slight furrow in his brows made him appear suspicious (which he was). "Where are you from?" The New Yorker questioned him, moving his idle hands so that they rested over each other. He awaited a response from the visitor, his brown and burning stare searching his facial features for any signs of hesitation or any twitches that might give him away.
space
BIOGRAPHY — JOIN THE BOARDWALK EMPIRE


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THERE'S NO RETURN FROM WHERE I'VE BEEN
❝ TRIED TO PRETEND THAT I'M AROUND . . .
————————— BIOGRAPHY / FORMER BOSS OF THE BADLANDS
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