Avatar of Bartimaeus

Status

Recent Statuses

1 mo ago
Current It's been three years since we lost Polymorpheus, a dear friend. It's felt like a lot longer, that time. I still think about Poly every so often, and how I miss them so very much. I won't forget them.
8 likes
2 mos ago
I like attention.
4 likes
6 mos ago
Tomorrow is post day. How unfortunate.
6 mos ago
I lost.
4 likes
6 mos ago
@LongSwordMain I can fix that, if you wish.
7 likes

Bio

uhhhh, hi there

I am here and I sorta exist so yes this is my ‘bio’ and it will probably be rather brief and suck and be sloppy, just like me.
So, without further ado..

stuff about me

Most people call me Barti or Bart as well as a few other things since it’s just easier or meaner than the actual thing - I invite you to do so as well.

I’m a 23-year-old (bday June 20th!) Texan who enjoys thunderstorms and rain far too much, and likes anime, running, metal music, and copious amounts of DRUGS candy, among many other cool things - like DnD and MTG.

I enjoy group rps as well as 1x1s. For groups I have what I think is a decent array of interests, most of it being profusely weeb-y. I like Fantasystuffs (Modern especially), supernatural themes, pretty much all Japanese stuff - including historically accurate settings - as well as general dark/grim themes, comedic slice of life trash, academy rps, unique plots, etc. etc. As for 1x1s I pretty much do romance, but I can do non-romantic stuff too if you give me something to work with xP
The only genre I find myself not entirely comfortable with is really sci-fi stuff, but, if the plot/idea catches me enough it can hold my interest. Oh, and my writing level is high casual to low advanced.

I’m a sarcastic, snarky, bipolar-depressed, degenerate garbage can, but generally people seem to like me (I don’t know why in the hot hell you would) - but if you would also like to be my friendo lemme know.
I don’t bite.
Usually owo xd rawr

welppp...I guess that’s okay for now
thanks for reading, you potatoes

Discord: ...

Most Recent Posts

I am much happier with this sheet than I expected, so here we go!
Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta go hibernate to get all my writing energy back.

<Snipped quote by Bartimaeus>

What; are you making a Gowi expy?


Listen. I didn't do it first, but I do it better, aight >:P
Here it is! Thank you so much!



Hm, well, aha, there's no pupil(unless that white ring is a pupil I guess??) so it's pretty hard to attribute it to any particular animal. If I had to pick an eye-to-animal closeness though I suppose I'd probably pick some type of gecko. They've got a pretty wide spectrum when it comes to pupils and colors.
If I share a picture that I found and really like could someone help me identify what type of animal the eyes belong to? Please and Thank You!

I could try, no promises tho! e.e
<Snipped quote by Bartimaeus>
Less sass, more CS


Less sass? Damn.. guess I need a new character uwu
typical
Sable



Soon enough, the rest of who Nadia assumed would be her coworkers began to trickle in. The first of the four that arrived shortly after her was pretty clearly a blonde bombshell if you'd ever seen one. Tall, with lush blonde hair, and also being dressed to impress, it was pretty evident from The Senior's description that this was Baranov- or, as they would know her most of the time, Baroness. Nadia wasn't into all the dress-up herself, but she had to put some respect on the effort. It paid off.

What didn't sit as well with her though was the accented remark about her being a cop. She scoffed as if in disgust, and waved the remark off like a fly. Sure it was probably a joke, but the thought of being compared to a police officer left a bad taste in her mouth.
"No. The rest will probably be here soon." She replied in her own accent, though much more dryly.

The silence afterwards was a bit awkward but luckily very short, as the rest of the members found their way to the base of operations in turn. Nadia opted to ignore the rest of the attempted small talk. Not to be rude, but because she wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation quite yet. The only criminal organization she'd ever been close to was The Mob and that was more of a tight-knit-family deal. Looking over each of the people in front of her, she couldn't quite bring herself to trust the group of bright-haired women yet.

They mingled lightly amongst themselves, each of them offering their alias. Nadia took note of which names went to which faces and offered her own simple response, "Sable". She sat in what looked like a pretty comfortable leather lounge chair, which she had drug over to a more advantageous spot before the others had arrived, but she was clearly not relaxed yet. She was preparing to make a remark of her own when her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an electronic zip from one of the dozens of monitors sitting above an elaborate control console situated against one of the walls of the room.

A particularly large monitor hesitated for a moment before the screen came to life, swapping rapidly between several different channels with various service codes and surveillance imaging on them, before reaching its intended target. The screen held its display once it reached the visage of a man. The room on the screen was lit relatively well, but the part which should've held a face was entirely shrouded in shadow. The outline of slicked-back hair and broad shoulders led down to the rest of a dark, tweed suit and leather-gloved hands. The hands tapped at a keyboard every few seconds, and the head shrouded in obscurity shifted from side to side occasionally, clearly inspecting monitors that were out of view. The area behind the man looked very much similar to the area the women were currently residing in, devoid of people but buzzing with life and little lights scattered about.

There was a moment of silence before the figure turned its gaze directly to the camera, the gloved hands retreating from the keyboard to lay against the desk folded over one another.

"Hello, ladies." Came the voice of The Senior. That same collected tone that once came from the recorders now permeated the room around them. The voice was hard to describe- it sounded smooth but not intentionally so, and it was once again oddly un-sharp. It sounded as if he were speaking into a radio through another radio. "I'm glad you all managed to uphold some punctuality. I do appreciate that in my business partners." He continued, afterwards pausing to reach out of view, retrieving a wine glass and refreshing himself before turning his attention back to them. One of his gloved hands gestured towards the far opposite end of the lair, towards an unlabeled set of double doors, as he spoke, "Don't be shy about helping yourself to anything you find around our little base here -- there's the kitchen just over there if any of you are particularly parched."

There was a short, silent pause as his hands returned to the desk in front of him, a couple papers seemingly shifting around on the desk. His face shifted to the side slightly, his attention focused on a hidden screen for a moment, before he turned back to the group. He cleared his throat. "So, here we are. Quite possibly the six most capable criminals this country has never seen. That changes from this base right here. If it hasn't quite hit you yet, we're about to change history, ladies."
Extracriminal



-you'll each have to get very used to working with one another if we're going to keep me honest. Your skills may complement one another, but your personalities may take some adjustments. Or not, I don't fucking know, I'm no psychic. Anyways, the paint shop on 48th Croach-

The modulated voice of The Senior emanated from the small, very archaic tape recorder that rested in her hand. He'd sent each of them one, and on it he detailed the skillsets of each of the Crew's members, providing only the necessities out of respect for their privacy, of course. He also provided details on travel plans to reach their base of operations - located in New York, NY. These details came from a voice that sounded collected yet somehow dulcet, in spite of the radio-esque transmission.

Nadia listened to the tape intently, despite finding the device a bit unwieldy due to its age. She'd only been a few hours out of the way when she'd received the instructions laid out on the tape. The Senior had given them a few days to finish up their prior engagements before scheduling the meetup, but Nadia didn't exactly have her hands full, considering she was still in hiding. To mention it, she wasn't exactly sure how The Senior had found her. She covered her tracks well - or at least she thought she had. In any case, the ride to NYC was the furthest she'd traveled since arriving to America and going into hiding, and it was honestly slightly nerve-racking. The Romanian Mob didn't hold much power in The States, but it only took one man to pull a trigger. She had to admit though that what little she'd seen of the Americas so far was pretty impressive - not the least of the reasons being that there seemed to be quite a bit more wealthy establishments than back home.

But that would come later. For now she found herself slowing to a stop in front of a two-story building with a large, triangular digital sign that read "Cheng's Paint". Nadia raised a hand to her mouth and plucked the short remnant of a cigarette from her lips before she flicked it onto the sidewalk and ground it out with a heavy leather boot. The shopfront was mostly opaque, the windows slathered in paint merchandise of both Chinese and American make, with only a couple gaps available to see inside. At the center of the shopfront though were a set of glass double doors devoid of most obstruction, allowing Nadia to see inside easily as she pushed one of them open and stepped inside.

The shop didn't seem particularly popular, though not void of activity either. It appeared well-stocked, though some shelves were more sparse than others. It did look a bit raggedy at first glance, but those interested in art or painting could tell the products weren't knock offs or low-quality. For the most part.

Nadia paused as the door closed behind her, her eyes shifting to the man standing behind the counter on the back left side of the room, which was no larger than a small gas station. The man was a bit short, around 5'8" or so, and his black hair was balding. His slightly wrinkled hands absent-mindedly tapped the magazine he was looking down at as he stood behind the counter, but eventually his eyes drifted up slowly to the new entrant.

-Mr. Cheng, the shop runner, is an associate of mine. He's in the know about our business ventures, but we need spare him the details.

Came the voice of The Senior from the recorder, oddly well timed for her entrance into the shop.

The back room is where you'll head. There's a panel at the back of the freezer - leads to a basement.

Nadia wasted no time in following the instructions, walking towards the door at the back of the room situated almost behind Cheng's counter. The man, of obvious Asian decent, spoke something under his breath as he nodded to her. She couldn't quite catch what it was but it sounded like Mandarin.

Also - Mr. Cheng's English isn't the best, so unless one of you plans on learning Mandarin any time soon, I'll translate.

The door closed behind her as Senior finished, and she found herself in a room overflowing almost with paint products. Boxes on boxes of backup merchandise. She stepped around a few cans sprawled across the floor, punting some to the side as she stepped to the freezer and opened it up. It was mostly empty aside from a few large boxes.

She listened to the instructions on the tape, removing a panel from the back of the wall and punching in a few numbers on the revealed keypad which, similar to the tape recorder, seemed oddly archaic. Despite that though it seemed to work fine as a portion of the wall shifted to the side, letting in a short wave of warm air and revealing a downward-leading staircase. It was a short walk to the bottom where Nadia placed her hand on a more modern print-scanner, which granted her access to...

"Damn.."

..their base of operations. It was a basement filled to the brim with equipment. Computers of many, many varying sizes - some larger than Nadia even knew existed - cables running across the floor, the ceiling, the walls, monitors all over the place. Just the first room looked hard at work even as unmanned as it was. She'd been around quite a few techies and their own base of operations - but even if she wasn't a techie this gear looked impressive.

Welcome home.

Nadia shifted the hefty duffel bag from her shoulder and let it drop to the floor as her eyes scanned the place. This guy really meant business.

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It wasn't long before Nadia found herself reclining in one of the lair's comfy armchairs, waiting for the rest of the crew to show up. It'd been a bit of a hot minute since she last went on a job, and apparently he had something laid out for the lot of them. A warm-up of sorts, he said.
Hopefully this 'crew' was reliable. She herself'd been put in danger enough times by the incompetence of others to not bet money on it - but The Senior didn't seem like the type of guy to make easy mistakes.. so far. They'd see.
@Yam I Am She looks good! Move 'er on over at your leisure.
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