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Jackson Wilkins

{Personality WIP}"You Either Win Or You Die."

0 · 742 views · located in New York City

a character in “Time is Running Out”, as played by Dumisa

Description



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β€œThere is no need to boast of your accomplishments and what you can do. A great man is known, he needs no introduction.”
― CherLisa Biles




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ImageN A M E
Jackson Matthew Wilkins.

N I C K N A M E
Jackson doesn't really like nicknames. In fact, he cannot stand them. Though, he has some people that calls him Jack, which he truly hates. The only person allowed to call him Matt is the leader, FC: Ian Somerhalder.

G E N D E R
Male.

A G E
26.

N A T I O N A L I T Y
Was born and raised in Canada but is full blooded American.

A L L I A N C E
The Youngbloods.

S E X U A L I T Y
Bisexual.

β€œI don't mind making jokes, but I don't want to look like one.”
― Marilyn Monroe


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H E I G H T
6'0.

W E I G H T
145 lbs of muscle.

H A I R C O L O U R
Dirty Blonde.

E Y E C O L O U R
Sky Blue.

S K I N T O N E
Sun Kissed.

G E N E R A L__A P P E A R A N C E
Jackson stands at about six foot flat and weighing well over one hundred and forty-five pounds of pure muscle. Jackson has an athletic build to his body, along with the abs and muscles. His eyes are a sky blue but in right amount of light, they may seem simply blue to some. His hair is a dirty blonde color, which he keeps trimmed down a little bit but will sometime comb it and make it look presentable or will spike it up sightly. Jackson is really a fashion type of guy, since he really likes to wear blue jeans, any t-shirt and a leather jacket to go over the t-shirt. He has more of a rocker type of style than anything. Jackson's skin is slightly tanned due to him being in the sun almost all day from running around or just hanging out with his fellow youngbloods or FC: Ian Somerhalder. He also has a tattoo upon the far right side of his chest. He has a series of scars over his body from fighting when he was a kid and some of them are fresh scars.


"Natural Charm Comes From Natural Personality."


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ImageP E R S O N A L I T Y
Answer.

"You Fall In Love With Personality But You Live With Character."


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L I K E S
β–²Sex || Drugs & Alcohol || FC: Ian Somerhalder || Thunderstorms || Being Apart Of The Youngbloods || Flirting || Positive Minds || Meaningful Conversations || Men & Women

D I S L I K E S
β–ΌCrybabies || Arguing || Raising His Voice || People Who Make Threats || The Maniacs || War || Negativity ||

Q U I R K S
β–ͺProtective of FC: Ian Somerhalder β–ͺ Gets A Little Paranoid At Times β–ͺ Hums When There Is Awkward Silence Or When It Is Silent β–ͺ Hates Sleeping β–ͺ Is A Bit Of A Prankster At Times β–ͺ Is Mildly Competitive.

S K I L L S
✀ Is Very Advising When It Comes To The Youngbloods ✀ Is Creative ✀ Quick Thinker ✀ Organization ✀ Predictions ✀ Planning ✀.


"Forget about likes and dislikes. They are of no consequence. Just do what must be done. This may not be happiness but it is greatness." -George Bernard Shaw


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Face Claim
Stephen Amell.

Writer
Dumisa.


So begins...

Jackson Wilkins's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Caleb Smith Character Portrait: James Williams Character Portrait: Stella Markum Character Portrait: Eliza Dallen Character Portrait: Winston Fields Character Portrait: Hazel Luden Character Portrait: Jackson Wilkins Character Portrait: Edmund Lucian Character Portrait: Gert ThaddΓ€us Character Portrait: Ares Bennett Character Portrait: Arabella Fields Character Portrait: Katrina Lyons Character Portrait: Spencer Hunter Hughes
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New York, New York


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As the city taken apart by the third world war progresses, factions build, relationships crumble, and being silenced is a constant fear. Each faction vies for the chance to be in charge, to be heard. In order to do so, the highest ups are put into situations where they must make decisions that can change themselves and the world. The people of New York City know something is coming and they know if they aren't careful, they can be caught in the crossfire.

The city's electricity is scarce, found only by the wealthiest who can afford the gasoline needed to run their generators. Everyone else is forced to use precious batteries and candles in order to see at night. Radios are a common form of communication because of the ability to use batteries, clothing and needed items are scavenged in the abandoned stores that occasionally line side streets of NYC. Money is hard to come by unless one has a job. Clothing stores no longer receive shipments as all gasoline for cars/trucks has been forbidden by most factions in order to save it for the electricity provides though of course, there are the few who bend the rules.

Though WW3 ravages the outside world, New York City has it's own problems to fear as it works out a dangerous battle of power, done by the three most prominent factions, the Youngbloods, Maniacs, and Phoenixes. Those who are extremely dedicated risk everything and in the end, blood can't help but be spilled.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eliza Dallen Character Portrait: Winston Fields Character Portrait: Hazel Luden Character Portrait: Jackson Wilkins Character Portrait: Ares Bennett
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Outfit || Theme Song
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’This is fucking stupid.’ Hazel Luden thought to herself, kicking one of boots across the floor. It’s not like she actually needed to wear them right now. She was stuck in this stupid prison. As far as she could tell, she was never getting out. Why did they even want her here? Sure, she wasn’t on their side but she didn’t do anything against them. It’s not her fault that the Maniacs were… not the most easy going group. She wasn’t even a part of their β€˜inner circle’; unless you count sleeping with one of the leader’s on the inside. They didn’t exactly pillow talk. Most of the time she either fell asleep afterwards of he got up to go do something.

She sighed, walking to the opposite side of the room from the cot, towards the huge window. Was she on the top floor? She was high; she could tell that much as she pressed herself up against the window and tried to peek at the ground. That was an impossibility. She loved heights but she preferred to be outside, somewhere up high. Not caged like a bird. Rolling her eyes, she slid to the ground, scooting over to rest her back against the wall. The room was basically empty except for a glass of water and a half eaten tray of food. The only other thing in there was the cot that was anything but comfortable. She didn’t get much sleep on it.

’How long have I been here?’ She wondered silently. She tried to remember but everything blurred together. She slipped off her leather jacket and tossed it onto the bed. The chill she had felt that morning was gone. She took a quick sniff of her underarms and groaned. She wanted a shower- no a bubble bath Jacuzzi. Now that would feel amazing. She would love some new clothes besides her uncomfortable leather pants that were starting to chafe her. That wasn’t to say that she didn’t love her clothes, she really did. She was just used to fresh clothes, that she could launder. Well, if they wanted to keep her prisoner the least she could do was give them a headache.

Hazel stood up and stomped over to the door. ”I know you’re out there!” She shouted, beating her tiny fist against the door. ”I want to speak to the leader or someone important right now!” She continued, not backing down. Ares always said she looked so nice and innocent, even dressing in a punkish manor. But he had never seen anyone go from a sweet little pixie to a little hellion so fast.

”You took me because you wanna know something about me right? Well, fucking ask! Don’t just sit there and make me wait! You’re just fucking cowardly pussies!” She shouted, giving the door another pound. She stood back, her hands on her hips, glaring at the door. Oh they were there. She knew it. They could hear. She didn’t doubt that there was some sort of camera in this room watching her every move.

Holding up her hand, the pink haired girl flipped off the camera she knew was there. ”Come and get me! Either do something about me or kill me! I’m tired of this shit!”
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Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eliza Dallen Character Portrait: Winston Fields Character Portrait: Hazel Luden Character Portrait: Jackson Wilkins
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He liked the way his car disrupted the silence in the eerily quiet city. New York had once been bustling with life, activity, but the turmoil that the city now lay in was easily reflected by the very few people who populated the streets. Most were either working or hiding from the public eye. He hoped, one day, to bring them out into the open, perhaps by imitating the telescreens of an Orwellian novel. To see those who watched his car go by follow his car with hollow eyes was, in its own, sick way, rewarding. No, he hadn't planned to oppress the people when he took it upon himself to take over New York. It had just happened. He could have taken precautions, he could have offered aid. But he didn't. He certainly didn't regret it either. To a certain extent, oppression kept them in line like well-behaved children. Still, there were exceptions to this stereotype.

His chauffeur, a man who had been his bodyguard since before World War III, slowed the car as they approached the massive Empire State Building. Once, it had been a symbol of America, a tribute to commerce, but now it was a symbol of control, the center of government in one of the only functioning portions of America. "I'll see you up there,"
Winston said, nodding to the man as he gathered up his briefcase in one hand. With the other, he popped open the door of the armored SUV. He had wasted no money on making that car, more or less, a tank.

Winston had a short walk from the door of the car to the doors of the building, and he took it quickly, a bit of a spring in his step to propel him forward. He was an optimist, yes, but he was not blind, and he knew many men and women would take it upon themselves to do anyway with him. Still, he had the peacekeepers milling about outside and inside. This was the only time he allowed himself to be vulnerable. It would take little effort to do any with him as he covered the few yards between doors.

As quickly as he had left his car, Winston entered the building. Now, without the walk to consume his mind, he could focus on the business at hand. The Empire State Building was easily one of the only buildings with a decent amount of electricity still surging through it. Winston was instantly met by a gaggle of flunkies, obviously vying to ask him questions due to the gleam in their eyes. The first two had simplistic questions that needed answering, but the third had a message.

"The prisoner from the Maniacs wants to speak with you, Mayor Fields," he said nervously, scuffing a shoe against the floor as Winston stepped into the elevator and beckoned with a swift flick of the finger for him to follow. "She's growing more violent, and the psychologists watching her said it would be best to act now. Her anger will cloud her judgement."

"I see." Winston replied simply, but within, he was thinking deeply. He did not often question any prisoners they received. Instead, the prisoners were recorded, and that footage was then shown to psychologists. Only then, if no breakthroughs could be made, would a specialist be sent in. Hazel, since day one, had been a difficult case. She was an exception to this policy. "I shall see to her. In the mean time, I want you to gather the Inner Party for a meeting in my office. Understood?" The younger man nodded quickly, a lock of hair falling in front of his eyes.

When the elevator reached the floor dedicated to holding prisoners, Winston got off and walked down the hall with his briefcase still in hand. He heard Hazel before he came upon her. Two guards stood at her door, and one of them accepted his briefcase before the other unlocked the door and allowed Winston in.

The pink-haired, punkish girl continued to shout, and he couldn't help but smirk to himself. "What a set of lungs you have," he teased, placing his hands into the pockets of his custom-fit trousers. "Rumor has it you were calling for me. What can I do for you?" He knew exactly what she would want, but he simply couldn't help toying with her like a cat might with a mouse.