Posts by Spottedrose

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Ashton raised his hands up, as if he were being handcuffed. “Ah, you got me. You’re on today’s episode of ‘U-Got-Pranked!’ Now tell me miss, how do you really feel?” He held an imaginary, invisible microphone up to her mouth, as if expecting an answer. His blue eyes shone with the immediate truth that he was just messing with her. His eyes (and despite their bright blue look were actually rather hawk-like but no one ever saw any blue-eyed hawks so he just shrugged it off) took in every feature of her face including the way she sneered at him.

In the famous quote from his all-time favorite movie, Back to the Future…
Great Scott.

This girl was pretty as heck and sure had mastered the sneer. He shook his head, a smirk toying on his lips even though she couldn’t see them. “Well, you see the god of the stars or whatever and Hawk-Eye had a baby and they named it me.” He grinned, his blue eyes flashing with what seemed like starlit wonder. “Ah, crap, you’re bleeding. Hang on.” With a swirl of what looked like the tendrils of light from the stars on the tips of his fingers, he pressed them against her palm. Her cut sealed up completely, only leaving behind a pure white, thin scar where the injury had been. “There. Now sorry about the rush, but I can walk ya to a bus stop or you can try to fend off more drunks and rapists yourself. You can pick.”

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Ashton shrugged at her question about being a ‘wise-guy.’ Wise was a term that he preferred to stay away from, mostly because it indicated he might know everything. He’s good at academics and assorted random skills, but when it really came down to the all-powerful gray beard and endless knowledge type show, he wasn’t that wise. Perhaps persistent or sassy would be a better word to describe his actions toward her exclamations (or even funny, if someone decided to boil his words down in a steaming, grimy little black witchery pot).

“I wouldn’t call myself a wise guy. Funny or smart or sarcastic, perhaps, but definitely not wise. I’m just a messed up, stupid a-hole like the rest of the world.” He grinned then, and the material of his mask stretched across his lips with it, perhaps giving her just a glimpse of full lips. However they disappeared quickly when he saw her injury. As she pulled her hand away, he pulled back with more force than she was giving.

“Okay. Go to the doctor for your concussion and tell them about the dude dressed in black with magic stars flowing out of his fingers. See which hospital that puts you in.” His eyes danced with humor and bowed a mocking bow from the waist up. “If you’re absolutely positive that you don’t need assistance, I shall be off then. And you will never know who the dude who saved your life was.” He added a dramatic sigh and smirked again, behind the dark mask on his face.

NICKNAME: None.
AGE: Twenty years old.
GENDER: Female.
PERSONALITY: Funny, out-going, friendly, always has a smile on her face.
HISTORY: Can be discovered in role-play.
LIKES: Her horse, riding, trail rides, summer, swimming.
DISLIKES: Snobby people, not being able to ride, long showing days, winter, being cold.
HOMETOWN: A really tiny town in Oklahoma.
ACCENT?: Southern?
HORSE:
EVENT:
CRUSH:
BOYFRIEND:
OTHER:

[font=georgia]BARN NAME:
AGE:
GENDER:
PERSONALITY:
HISTORY:
SIRE:
DAM:
TACK:
RIDER:
OWNER:
CRUSH:
MATE:
PUREBRED?:

THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS MA HOMIES.

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Ashton popped a hip out sideways, like he was critiquing her newest attire, and placed a black gloved finger to where his mouth would be. “You don’t look like you belong in the nuthouse,” he commented. Then his eyes danced with humor again. “That’s mostly because you don’t look like a squirrel to me.” He laughed in spite of the fact that it was his own joke and the sound was low and smooth, like buttery honey. Then he bowed his head low as if he were deeply saddened by her statement.

“Aw, babe, you’re telling me you don’t want to think about me? Dang, that takes a hit right to the star-crusted heart…” He pretended to sniffle, even though she was speaking about his outfit now. He raised his head. “Oh, something more like this?” Within a timeframe that she could blink, there were tiny white pinpricks on his black suit, as if the stars of the skies were now in his suit. “Now, when I’m flying—” he said, even though he really cannot fly “—the bad guys won’t be able to shoot me out of the sky?” Then he shrugged his shoulders and the suit changed to something bright blue with white clouds on it. “Or this? I think it really depends on the weather. That’s why I watch the news every morning; so I can dress appropriately.”

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He wasn't really trying to cause trouble. He's more of a trouble-solver, really, but this girl caused him to think differently. He wanted to see where her buttons were and how to push them. So far it seemed he was succeeding. I mean, really this girl should be kissing the ground he walks upon and asking for some steamy upside-down make-out session like in that old Spiderman movie.

But no, she was stomping away and he simply stood there because he knew she would turn back around. She did and a smile quirked at his lips. "It doesn't have to be possible or logical or rational as long as it is." He shrugged his shoulders and the suit flickered back to it's normal black color. "And I, missy, am definitely here." She asked for his name and he let a tutting noise fall from his lips, as if he were scolding her. "You can't just ask something like that, babe. Especially not to an extremely hot superhero who just saved your life." He sighed, tipping his head toward the sky. "You can just call me 'That Extremely Hot Superhero Who Just Saved Your Life.'" And with a slow, drawling chuckle and a nod of the head and he disappeared into the shadows.

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full name • timber charles stang.
nicknames • the stang, stang, eight.
age • eighteen.
birth date • august second.
hometown • falcon heights, texas.

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personality • timber, when you first meet him, seems to be another one of those egotistical common, king-bee jocks that are found in every high school. and it's true, that is the first impression many get when approaching him. he seems to be the type who flirts with every girl and hooks up with a different girl every night. really, though, that isn't the case. he keeps up the outer personality as a sort of defense for his reputation and being so well-known in the surrounding towns due to his basketball and bronco-riding skills he seems to think he has a cause for being so jerk-like.

among his five best friends, however, timber is an entirely different person. he's carefree, mildly sarcastic (but with a joking type of attitude about it), and trustworthy. nonetheless, he only acts this way when timber is only around his five best friends. if you put him next to his best friends and an upperclassman at their school, timber will put back on the egotistical jock mask and play it off as if he doesn't know his best friends. he doesn't do it on purpose (and maybe this is where the majority of his stupid guy-brain comes in) and he really doesn't even realize it unless someone brings it up to him. even then he is defensive about his actions.

now, be that as it may, timber is still a very trustworthy person. if someone gives him a secret and begs him not to tell anyone, he will not do so. when it comes to gossip timber does not participate unless it directly involves him. and even then he only involves himself in the matter to approach the ones who are being gossiped about to find it whether the rumors are true or false. timber is a very bold type of guy, regardless of his assorted personalities when it comes to his school friend and his best friends. that being said, when timber has an infatuation he is not afraid to show it. he will flirt it up and is prepared to take whatever risks or jump whatever hurdles he must to get that girl.

timber can be a very charming fellow and can usually weasel his way through sticky situations. he's a good liar, though that is not the best trait to have, but he is not very good at finding out if other people are lying. timber cannot keep a poker face, mostly because he is too busy smiling or laughing or making silly comments when he's near his friends. even still, there are times when it takes a lot to make timber angry and there are times when it takes little to make him angry. usually it just depends upon his mood. altogether, timber is a deep but confusing eighteen-year-old.

likes • bronco-riding, playing basketball, being around his best friends.
dislikes • slutty girls, gossiping, homework.
sexuality • straight.
love interest • open; to be determined.

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parents • charles stang [father, alive], rosalie stang [mother, alive].
siblings • none.
bedroom • click.
screen-name • irresistible.[/size][font=georgia][color=black]

MY FORM IS COMPLETED. <3

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She shot back her retort but he didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. He’d still made an impression; still caused enough trouble that she would remember him and think about him. Not that he wanted her to (or did he?).

It was easy to melt into the shadows and creep back to his adopted parents’ home. He’d left the window unlocked but closed so getting in was easy. She might need sleep, but Ashton certainly couldn’t. Tomorrow was a school day and school days were days he did not look forward to. However, all his homework was completed and his ‘undercover nerd outfit’ was prepared and ironed. That’s all his adopted parents knew about him, anyway. He was a know-it-all strange child with ironed clothes and a perfectly clean bedroom (a bedroom which hid the real gadgets and ways of communicating with his true parents) and an interesting attitude toward life.

That’s all he wanted them to know about him.

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On most nights it was easy for Ashton to fall asleep. His sore muscles never failed to help him into the dark world of shadows and slumber, and even though his body felt slightly drained from using the healing starry magic to seal the girl’s wounds, he found he couldn’t sleep. He knew what was coming when he slipped into sleep (hovering hazard masks with dark eyes, torturous equipment trying to find out how he worked, the shrill laughter when he struggled against their devices, the aching and sharp and spiking pain that never ceased to cause him discomfort); memories and nightmares and daydreams and reality mixed with agony.

It is this way that he fell asleep, first slowly and then all at once.

And when he woke, drenched in sweat and the sheets clinging to sticky skin and his heart racing, the sun had risen. It is their eyes and the pain that woke him (soulless and empty and though he knew they were only the eyes of the hazard masks, they still haunted him). His alarm beeped only minutes later, while Ashton had been lying in a sort of comatose state of mind, repeating over and over, “It is okay, you’re okay, they’re not here. It is okay, you’re okay, and they’re not here.”

He dragged himself out of bed and got in the shower, washing off the tense sweat that coated him like a thin layer of torturous memories. The shower helped Ashton recollect his thoughts and when he got out and grabbed his backpack (sticking both his suit and the communication device into a hidden pocket only he could find within the pack) after changing he felt a better sense of who he was. He was a hero now, not some lanky, sick child squirming beneath the cold metal of prodding and surgical devices. Even still, the scars that were littered across his torso, hands, and hips (scars he had healed himself, since the scientists were content to let him bleed to death) always reminded him of those dark days if his nightmares did not.

He drove himself to school, since both of his adopted parents had left already for work, and pulled into an open spot in the parking lot. Then he leaned his head against the back of the seat, closing his bright blue eyes and allowing himself a few seconds of quiet since he’d arrived a bit early.

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He didn’t know of any siblings he might have. He figured he would never know. His mother still communicated to him vaguely, and he might see his father every now and then (in secret, when they had slowed the earth for enough seconds to glimpse each other through a wormhole) but as far as he knew he was an only child. It didn’t bother him; in fact he was grateful for it. He was the only one who had to withstand the poking and prodding and pain. However, the selfish part of him wished for someone who understood his nightmares. He wished for someone who could scream with him and wake up with a fast-paced heart and a rushed head. As far as he knew, though, he was the only one.

After about a minute of dozing lightly, Ashton opened his eyes and looked around the parking lot. A few more cars had drifted in and parked, their seats now abandoned as students walked into the school. His bright eyes caught on a silver-haired girl wearing a leather jacket and a smirk of a grin barely flickered across his face. He hadn’t noticed her before (why, he could not say, but perhaps his parents had been hiding it from him until the time he’d saved her) but after spotting her Ashton climbed out of his car, slung his backpack across both shoulders, and headed her way.

He’d only been going to this school for a week or so but he gotten down the layout of the building. Even still, Ashton knew he could play off the fact that he might not know where he was going. So he pretended to bump into her, his muscled bicep jostling against her side and causing him to lose his balance. “Oh! I am so sorry, ma’am,” he choked out, gasping in surprise. He’s a pretty good actor, you know. “I’m new here, so I’m still learning my way around the school.” He sent her a small, apologetic smile, bright blue eyes grinning with a wild sort of starry forgiveness. “Do you think you could help me?” His first class was near the rear of the school, in an area that was both hard to find if you were new and also difficult to get to unless you were early.

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hiiii. i'm the newbie and i have no idea what i'm doing except that i'm excited for this. i'd like to make a suggestion though; i think it would be wonderful if you could have a link to all the forms for the characters you've listed on the 'players' page. that way we can all access the other players' characters and see their personalities, what part of their movie they left, etc. does that make sense? anyway, it is just a suggestion. <3
also i need someone to help me figure out who my female character should be. :| is there anyone needing a female character to match their male character?

[align=center][font=georgia][size=11px]this thread is being used as a character biography page for a thread titled "the animal project" found here.

[align=center][font=georgia][size=11px]here is the first bio - clicky.
the second, female, bio will be on the same thread.

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Ashton caught her hand and pulled her closer to his body to steady her, a slight smile brimming on the edge of his lips. However, he let her hand go when she caught her balance. Still, his fingers were the same as the previous night, when he’d touched her to heal her hand. Although she probably could not tell the difference, since his hand had been gloved. Nonetheless, the pressure and feel of his hand was much the same. Her comment about him calling her ‘ma’am’ caused a grin to cross his face and a smooth chuckle to leave his throat.

“I beg your pardon, miss. I have been brought up to call everyone ‘ma’am’ or ‘sir’ and so it is just a habit of mine.” His intense blue eyes captured her gaze. “Although, you could give me an actual name that I can call you instead of ma’am.”

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He finally got her name. Delphi. It was interesting, to say the least, and he repeated it aloud. “Delphi.” He liked the way it felt on his tongue, foreign but beautifully strange. His blue eyes were thoughtful, calculating, but she drew him back to the present with her question. “My name’s Ashton.” His high cheekbones only became more obvious when he sucked his cheeks in to make a fishy-face, something he did often when he was thinking.

“Anyways, if you could show me to the class that would be great. It’s room 124.”

[align=center][font=georgia][size=11px]oh my gosh are there really a lot of pirates i didn't notice
oh cinderella would be a good one! i'd just like to know if there are any 'in-demand' female characters needed.

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She is different around an actual human, he realized. When he’d saved her, she’d been hostile and defensive, always with her guard up and her fists in the air. Here she is more carefree, smiling and laughing more frequently than she’d ever done the night before. Perhaps it was just because she was scared (being robbed and pushed over a bench often caused someone to put their defensive walls up and truly realize how blind and naïve they were to the reality of the world) or perhaps it was because she thought he was just a figment of her imagination and she was not supposed to associate herself with him.

Whatever the cause, Ashton found he liked both sides of her equally.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he said with a quick smile. Her next comment caused him to drop the expression, since he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. There was irony in her statement, really, because he is more of a star-boy than a fish-boy. He wanted to say that to her, but then she would know who he was and then she would call them on him and then his nightmares would become reality. Besides, his identity is never supposed to be revealed whether he was running from them or not. Still, he couldn’t stop the words from escaping under the rush of an exhaled breath that she might never even catch. “More of a star boy, really,” he barely whispered, if that. It was more of a thought formed with lips but no throat.

“It’s room 124 actually. You were one off.” He grins, then, bright eyes shining. “I prefer to get to classes early regardless of beating traffic or not.” He began to move next to her, his steps smooth and long yet collected, in some way. “What about you? Do you like to get here early to beat the rush or just to get situated in a calmer environment?” He smiled at her again, despite the long word at the end of his question.