Post by wes on Jan 12, 2010 21:30:57 GMT -5
WESTON JACOB BROOKES
[/font]" I SAY THE DAMNEDEST THINGS WHEN YOU'RE ON TOP OF ME; I ALMOST TOLD YOU THAT I LOVED YOU. "[/font]
[/center]FULL NAME: Weston Jacob Brookes[/blockquote]
AGE: sixteen
MEMBER GROUP: cut throats
GRADE: freshman
BIRTH PLACE: Chicago, Illinois
RELIGION: Atheist
SEXUALITY: Heterosexual
PLAYBY: Lucas Klein
AND IF YOU SWEAR THAT
[/font]" THERE'S NO TRUTH AND WHO CARES, WHY DO YOU SAY IT LIKE YOU'RE RIGHT? "[/font][/center]
HEY THERE, WHAT"S YOUR NAME?[/b][/size][/color]
"Hey there, to you too. I'm Wes."
WELL THAT'S PRETTY FUCKING AMAZING. HOW OLD ARE YOU? WHEN'S YOUR BIRTHDAY? DO YOU LIKE YOUR AGE? WHAT GRADE ARE YOU IN?[/b][/size][/color]
"Glad you agree on that fucking amazing thing. You're a talker, aren't you? I'm sixteen, my birthday's May seventh, I don't particularly hate my age, but I'm not sobbing in joy over it either, and I'm a sophomore."
AWESOME. SO WHAT ABOUT YOU? WHAT ARE YOU LIKE, YOU KNOW, AS A "PERSON"?[/b][/size][/color]
"Yeah, fucking awesome, to follow up the fucking amazing. I thought it was fitting. Well, as for what I'm like as, I know, a person, I'm a lot of awesome and a lot of amazing. Remember? You were on about it first. Let's see, seriously? I'd say I'm a fun guy. Yeah, you're not gonna get much more fun than me. Now, not everyone understands my kind of fun. Sorta scares some people. But those kids are pussies, really, they need to grow pair, learn to live. That's the only way to hang out with someone as spectacular as I am. Yeah, I decided to roll with a new adjective, I thought it fit right in so well, I didn't wanna deprive you of it. Gimme a minute...well, I'd say I'm a stubborn guy. Some don't like that in a person, some pride themselves on being it, like I do. See, I get what I want when I want it, and that comes from my being stubborn, so what the fuck's wrong with that, right? I'm not sure what else you want from me, if you're looking for flaws, sorry, don't got any."
SWEET. SO HOW DID YOU GET HERE? HOW FUCKED UP ARE YOU? TELL ME ABOUT YOUR PAST. GO.[/b][/color]
"Well, let's set one thing straight, I'm not "fucked up". I am completely sane and logical and etc, etc. Obviously not everyone agrees, since I'm here, but I want you to understand, since here in this moment you're saying it. So stop saying it. Kay, now that we have that settled, I got here because some asshole from down the street seemed to think my shirt was funny. Yeah. I know, that's ridiculous to argue about, but he really kept pressing it. It's not like I cared, so what if he has something against tie-dye. He's clearly missing out. Or...was missing out. Whatever. Point is, the idiot had his friends and his stupid attitude and his persistence and finally it came down to a fight. Well. I lost. He's a chunky kid, you can't blame a guy for being small and not wasting his day getting tough by picking fights with people for no goddamn reason. So, you know, he won. And that just turned into something else. You'd think victory would shut someone up. Well, it didn't shut him up, and too be very honest with ya, I don't like losing. I didn't know that before because I had never been in a situation where I had to lose. So, he was heading home one night after his friends had gone in and I ran him down with my parents car. It went pretty fast, I didn't pussyfoot about the whole thing, I just kinda stepped on the gas and there it was. I guess, if you look at the fight like, just a battle, you could say I won the war. So, if you think about it, it seems I actually won. Bitchin'.
Yeah, that's what got me here. Went to court, got sentenced. That's not so awesome, but whatever. Fuck it, I can deal with this place, seems more fun than anything. As for my childhood? I dunno, it was relatively normal, I figure. I had two parents who didn't get along that great but could stand each other "for me". I was an only child and I had friends in school, but they kept changing and the number would get smaller, but that's just because most of them weren't as interesting as they seemed, so we just parted ways, I figure. I never spent a weekend alone though, that's for sure. Everybody had me over or some shit. It was pretty normal. I mean, I lost one friend because apparently her parents thought I broke her neck. Which I did, I admit it, that was definitely my fault. But if the little fucker wasn't jumping around in my all the time, there'd have been no reason for me to physically get her out of my space. And there happened to be a railing and a small ledge. It was pretty humorous, she cried and screamed. You should've seen everyone's faces, man, if that isn't the definition of mortified, then I clearly need a new fuckin' dictionary."
WANNA TELL US SOME LIKES?[/b][/size][/color]
"Not particularly, listing my likes sounds dull. But I figure I gotta, so I will. Let's see, I really like the color lavender. I tried to paint my room it once, but my mother flipped the fuck out. Something about her precious walls, so I painted her entire room black with this one big red spot on the ceiling while she was at work. I guess I like painting, too. It smells pretty awesome when it's still wet. Oh, and you know those little tortilla things? Tor...titos? The mini-microwavable ones? Yeah, that shit's awesome. I'd rob the store of 'em if I had anywhere to put it all. I also really like being around people. People are great, even the dumbfucks, it's true, but I do, of course, prefer the smart folks. Especially the weird ones. The odder, the better, right? I also really like Mexican food. Ever had it? The shit's fuckin' good. I dunno, footie pajamas are pretty hardcore. I've always gone out of my way to own a pair."
AND SOME DISLIKES?[/b][/size][/color]
"Oh, so many things. You ask too much. Well, I hate cop shows, or law shows or any of that. It's some of the most self-righteous bullshit I've ever seen, I could go my life never seeing another episode again. And have you ever seen those people riding their bikes on the freeway? What the fuck is that? They're in the damn way, for starters, and that's just ridiculously stupid. Blond hair with darker skin bugs me. It doesn't generally flatter the features and if some superficial shit like that was gonna annoy me, that's what it'd be. I can't stand flip-flops, either. Just, in between the toes, ugh, I dunno. And I guess I've learned I don't really like being interviewed. This has been really lame."
I GUESS WE'RE DONE HERE. ANYTHING ELSE?[/b][/size][/color]
"No, I'm perfectly cool with us being done here. See ya."
WHY ARE YOU SCARED TO
[/font]" DREAM OF GOD WHEN IT'S SALVATION THAT YOU WANT? "[/font][/center]
NAME: Teeks or TK
AGE: nineteen
EXPERIENCE: 6-7 years
TIME ZONE: Pacific
OTHER CHARACTERS: This is my first.
This is Wes from a different site. 39 and a man-witch with fire power. xD
Wes twirled his key in his fingers, leaning back against the trunk of a tree. He was about a mile outside of Ashes, off the side of the highway and in clear view of any passing cars. He held a cellphone to one ear
"Seriously? You want that much for it?" he asked, incredulous, into the phone. "Well, it'd be free if I killed you."
"See, that's a much better offer," he chirped, as he put some pressure with his thumb to the chest of the small doll he was holding in his other hand. "You'll drive it out to me, then?" There was a short pause. "Good, see you soon."
Wes snapped his phone shut and pocketed it. For a moment, he watched the doll quietly. After that, he shrugged, wriggled his fingers around in his pocket, before pulling out a sewing needle. He jabbed it into the doll's right foot, then put both into his pocket.
Wes was not just on the side of the highway; he was standing a couple feet from a large fire burning rather merrily in front of him. The crackling was loud and there were tiny explosions from the car underneath it. Being who he was, the fire stayed contained to the burning of the car, when it really should have been tearing down the entrance of the forest.
He had been trying to buy a car from a man who lived a couple towns away. Wes met him in a bar when he'd first been on his way back to Ashes a little under a week ago. The man had insisted on haggling, and at such unreasonable prices, for what was certainly only slightly less shitty than the truck Wes was currently destroying. So, he'd used his own methods of getting the man to play fair, by simply giving Wes the car, and now he just needed to get back home. Wes watched the fire for a moment, before heading up to the side of the highway, hoping to hitch-hick back into Ashes.
He sat on the railing at the edge of the road, the fire still roaring behind him. He leaned forward and stared down the road for a minute before getting bored; Ashes wasn't on most people's way. He snatched up a rock, lit it on fire, and tossed it into the middle of the road. Then he repeated the action, trying to make a line of fiery rocks. It certainly worked better than his thumb - and considering the his age and his particularly not-sexy legs covered in tattered old jeans, no one (in their right mind) would pick him up but him.
"Seriously? You want that much for it?" he asked, incredulous, into the phone. "Well, it'd be free if I killed you."
"See, that's a much better offer," he chirped, as he put some pressure with his thumb to the chest of the small doll he was holding in his other hand. "You'll drive it out to me, then?" There was a short pause. "Good, see you soon."
Wes snapped his phone shut and pocketed it. For a moment, he watched the doll quietly. After that, he shrugged, wriggled his fingers around in his pocket, before pulling out a sewing needle. He jabbed it into the doll's right foot, then put both into his pocket.
Wes was not just on the side of the highway; he was standing a couple feet from a large fire burning rather merrily in front of him. The crackling was loud and there were tiny explosions from the car underneath it. Being who he was, the fire stayed contained to the burning of the car, when it really should have been tearing down the entrance of the forest.
He had been trying to buy a car from a man who lived a couple towns away. Wes met him in a bar when he'd first been on his way back to Ashes a little under a week ago. The man had insisted on haggling, and at such unreasonable prices, for what was certainly only slightly less shitty than the truck Wes was currently destroying. So, he'd used his own methods of getting the man to play fair, by simply giving Wes the car, and now he just needed to get back home. Wes watched the fire for a moment, before heading up to the side of the highway, hoping to hitch-hick back into Ashes.
He sat on the railing at the edge of the road, the fire still roaring behind him. He leaned forward and stared down the road for a minute before getting bored; Ashes wasn't on most people's way. He snatched up a rock, lit it on fire, and tossed it into the middle of the road. Then he repeated the action, trying to make a line of fiery rocks. It certainly worked better than his thumb - and considering the his age and his particularly not-sexy legs covered in tattered old jeans, no one (in their right mind) would pick him up but him.
