THIS IS LITTLE KING TRASHMOUTH HE'S GAY | open, joining

[J. HOLLOWAY]

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/ lmao i was given permission to powerplay this, etc etc

"Not so fast, tiny." Leaning quickly towards the smaller guy from where he had been standing and watching the conversation, Jason's hand catches onto his clothing firmly and without much fear in terms of what Praxis could do in return. While it would be a better situation if he didn't have to touch him, the faint and unfamiliar discomfort is well worth the far greater discomfort Praxis will experience by being forced to stay here and interact a little bit more. With a sharp jerk, Jason hopes to spin him back around to face the child that he also wants to tell to piss off, but that's not nice. "Apologize for being an asshole." Maybe he gets it. Maybe he's a bit of an asshole too, and he doesn't have the excuse of drunk parents, or their recent deaths. He'd been four, just barely able to remember it when he tried. Did growing up with only your big brother watching your back change the way you saw the world? Well yeah, probably. Did he care enough to explain that? Fuck no. That wasn't his job. (It was, but so what?)

"And as for you, kid, watch your fucking mouth." He doesn't look like much — Jason easily towers over both of them, and he's sure that he could kick both their their asses at the same time — but you never know. "You got any weapons on you? You know you're supposed to wait for permission before getting around the fence, right? Common fucking sense, you'd think you'd need it to survive out here."

[align=center][div style="width: 527px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"][spoiler=YOU GOT HELL TO PAY, BUT YOU ALREADY SOLD YOUR SOUL / INFORMATION, 9/19]‣ Jason Matthias Holloway / Introduced as "Arkham" outside of ND / Cis Male / He + Him
‣ 20 Years Old / Born July 7 / NPC x NPC; Both Deceased / Older Brother: Bruce Holloway
‣ Birom. Bisexual / 68% Monogamous / Single? / Formerly? ½ Robinhood &  ⅓ Daredona
‣ Member (The Crew): Northstar District / Will wander at times on his own personal missions.

‣ 6'1 & 170-210 lbs. & HEALTH: 90% | Muscular, solid build, stocky and incredibly imposing.
‣ Messy emo hair; charcoal black and usually kind of messy. Typical Style & Messy Style Ref.
‣ Cold gray eyes. | Expresses a lot while saying nothing. Lots of smug smirking and grinning.
‣ Warm, moderately tanned skin. Some light freckles on shoulders from exposure to the sun.

‣ Confused hot mess. | Lots of issues that he hides with intense sarcasm. Be careful with him.
‣ Adaptable and weirdly charming, able to convince people of a lot with just a smile or a threat.
‣ Hardworking and focused, but also incredibly snarky and emotionally distant. Plays favorites.
‣ Has a terrible temper & doesn't balk from doing some immoral things, but sticks to his code.
‣ Would die for a stranger, but mostly just because he doesn't give a damn about his own life.
‣ Secretly quiet and a bit of a bookworm. Currently going through a lot of emotional heartache.

‣ Strength: 8 / Perception: 6 / Endurance: 7 / Charisma: 7 / Intelligence: 8 / Agility: 6 / Luck: 1
‣ 90/100 Physical Defense; 40/100 Psychological Defense; 70/100 Short-Term Recovery
‣ Nonviolent actions may be powerplayed, as long as they cause physical discomfort at most.

[RICHIE T.]

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WE'RE THE LOSERS — TAGS

When the first male showed up, Richie's smile faltered for only a moment before returning, this time with a bit of a crookedness about it. He laughed and said quietly to Praxis' retreating back, feeling like he'd just been shunned, "Hah, you sure are one hell of a fucking welcome party aren't'cha? But yeah, I can let myself in. Not like I can't see the huge damn bui-" He was cut off from saying 'building' by the arrival of Jason, and he almost balked at the large man in front of him, but not for very long. Maybe he just didn't have the common sense that Jason was talking about, but he just couldn't focus on the fact that this new arrival could easily deck him and make him forget just about two years of his life.

Watching Praxis get chewed out made the child's heart warm, and he stuck his tongue out, mumbling softly, "Ya, don't be an asshole." But when the attention was turned back to him, he tilted his head. He said plainly, shrugging his shoulders a bit, "Do I look like I've got any weapons me? I can't fight for shit, so they'd be pretty useless." Throwing a glance back at the barrier, he shook his head and muttered, seeming amused by the whole situation, "Obviously you don't, since I've been surviving for the past two weeks all on my own. Besides, you guys should make it more difficult to get past your barriers if you don't want people getting in. No one stopped me until now, now did they?"

/i'm sorry he's so terrible lmao all ic stuff

[babyface]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 415px; color: black; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;"]Man, this kid had spunk. She liked that. Of course, she hated children -- teens, whatever. They were gross. Still, this one had a certain charm that she could respect. If you used the word 'respect' loosely. Taking a drag of her cigarette (she'd searched through hell and back to find this pack, mind you), she rocked back on her heels. "So, like, are we supposed to be giant fucking assholes to joiners?" She asked. She was half being honest, considering they were all dicks to her when she joined. In fact, she wasn't really sure if she was ever really accepted... Oh, well. "Cause I'm down for that." Jen shrugged.

[spoiler=NO CULTURE | tags][size=8pt]NAME: jen ophelia harris
NICKNAME: none
AGE: 21 years
GENDER: trans woman
PRONOUNS: she/her/herself
SEXUALITY: hypersexual pansexual panromantic
DATE OF BIRTH: may 31st (21 years)
NATIONALITY: middle easter
RELIGION: atheist
ALLIANCE: northstar district
OCCUPATION: soldier

HEIGHT AND WEIGHT: 6'5", 180lbs
PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES: bronze skin, freckles, frizzy swamp green hair, brown eyes, high, prominent features, lanky build
HEALTH: physically very healthy
FACECLAIM: none

LEVEL OF INELEGANCE: decently smart
MBTI TYPE: EFSP
POSITIVE TRAITS: easy going, relaxed, decisive
NEUTRAL TRAITS: brash, brazen, loud
NEGATIVE TRAITS: deeply troubled, rude, arrogant, addict
MENTAL ILLNESSES: no diagnoses
GOALS AND BELIEFS: believes in soulmates, goal is to be accepted
TV TROPES: wip

HISTORY: wip
FEARS: being alone, people rejecting her, not being accepted
MOTIVES: to be wanted and accepted

[RICHIE T.]

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WE'RE THE LOSERS — TAGS

It was sort of a miracle that a little 14 year old boy had managed to survive this long out on his own in what was basically the electrical apocalypse, but it wasn't exactly like he'd been on his own very long. Just a week, maybe two at most, but he wasn't quite sure. His watch no longer worked, and it wasn't exactly like he was keeping close track of the rising and falling of the sun, so his sense of time was completely fucked. He didn't really care though. He actually, now that he thought about it, didn't care about many things these days. Never had really. He was always the smart ass kid who caused trouble wherever he went, and it wasn't as if anybody ever noticed anything he did anyways, so why even care?

Anyways, the reason the skinny but tall boy had ended up all on his own was because he had run away. He wondered if his parents even cared. Probably not. His Mother had been almost constantly drunk, and when she wasn't, she was yelling at him and hitting him and calling him useless. As for his Father, the man didn't even care about him at all. Half the time the man wasn't even around, and the other half of the time he didn't even acknowledge that Richie existed, instead focusing on his own 'problems'. He supposed somebody less awesome than him would probably be wallowing in their own self pity and sobbing their eyes out because they didn't have anybody in the world, but, lucky for him, he was awesome. The only thing he had to worry about was not dying, and he had a feeling his luck had just turned.

In front of him sat the barricades that marked the border of the Northstar District's territory, and the small boy could feel a smirk stretching over his face as he saw the Costco in the distance. Perfect. He'd heard rumors about this place, but he had never been sure if they were true. This would be the perfect place for him to spread his charm and cheer.

The bespeckled male gently clambered his way between the barricades, his thick glasses reflecting the light of the middle of the day. Pulling his somewhat ugly Hawaiian shirt tighter around the t-shirt underneath it, he called out in an intentionally high-pitched - and honestly a little bit obnoxious - voice, grinning, "Hey, douchebags! Is anybody actually here? I need a place to stay!

[WOLF BITE]

REALLY QUICK TRACK

[ALLOY]

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"Nope. Nobody's home. Piss off." Were they getting younger and younger people now? Praxis wasn't considered old by anyone's standards, but the guy before this one had to have been at least a year younger, and now this one looked like he'd barely hit puberty, if that. His voice only intensified Praxis' urge to leave him here for someone else to take care of, whether that someone was on this side of the barriers or on the other. Pursing his lips, he crossed his arms, expression wholly unimpressed, but he hadn't been too much better, coming here. It wasn't like he was blind to how he probably couldn't have survived if he were alone at this kid's age- he barely managed now, and that was after a year of beginner's luck keeping him afloat. "If you want to stay, I don't get to tell you no." Where did people even get classes for their specific eyesight anymore? He didn't know if the prescription matched the kid's vision, but he didn't look to be squinting. "You can show yourself in, I'm assuming." That being said, Praxis turned on his heel and started walking away.
[spoiler=I RAN SO FAR AWAY (INFO; 9/14)][size=8pt]GENERAL
-Praxis Terzi | Cisgender male, male pronouns | 18 years old | Born June 13
-Unknown sexuality | Single; not looking to grow close with anyone like that
-Resident of NorthStar District (for now; may choose to wander off later)

PHYSICALITY
-Shaggy, curly black hair; perpetually messy | Sharp, vivid green eyes; almond-rectangular shape
-Willowy and slender | Weighs in around 105 pounds, so he's a bit underweight, but not greatly
-Stands at 5'6 | Gains a few inches from the heels of his combat boots (5'8 while worn)
-Unblemished for the most part, but has faint scars all along the knuckles of both hands
-Tends to wear baggier clothing in layers, to seem both more muscular and larger than he is
-Owns a Smith & Wesson Model 642 kept in his pocket | Also owns a small combat knife

PERSONALITY
-Convinced he needs to be the "bad guy" to survive, so many traits are faked/forced
-Sharp-tongued and typically hostile | Keeps to himself and rarely socializes willingly
-More timid than he reveals | Self-serving, though with his own strain of sympathy
-Honestly just a mess with a shit-ton of guilt and confusion (with morality, especially)