Post by leviticus on Mar 17, 2009 22:42:34 GMT -5
LEVITICUS N ASPRIN
HELLO THERE BROOKE, IT IS A PLEASURE MEETING YOU! IF YOU DON'T MIND ME ASKING, HOW OLD ARE YOU? EIGHTEEN OLD? YOU SURE ARE A YOUNG THING AREN'T YOU? BY THE WAY, I HEARD YOU'VE BEEN ROLEPLAYING FOR SIX TO SEVEN YEARS. VERY IMPRESSIVE. ALSO, HOW DID YOU SAY YOU FOUND US? I’M STEPH’S BITCH. LOVELY! PLUS, YOU ARE AN ADVANCED ROLEPLAYER? FANTASTIC! YOU WILL DEFINETLY BE HEARING FROM US VERY SOON! IS THERE ANYWAY WE CAN CONTACT YOU? PM or AIM AT viperbrooke08? ALRIGHT! MAKE SURE TO CHECK YOUR MESSAGES!
FROM A BALANCE BEAM!
[/FONT][/CENTER]If you don’t think I’m dashing, then you can kindly shut the fuck up. My hair is probably the softest hair in Venice Beach. Why do you think that is? Damn straight, I love hair care. My dark brown hair almost looks black, and it’s not too long and not too short. It’s just long enough to thread your fingers through it and feel each and every silky strand flow smoothly. Really, it’s amazing. Touching my hair is a privilege. Sometimes I gel it, sometimes I don’t. Most of the time I just like to let it fall where it wants to. As soft as my hair is it isn’t the kind that falls right back into place after getting mussed. Mess it up and I might just have to sever a limb, heal it, and undo it again. Believe me, it will be painful.
Be careful not to get lost in my eyes. No, really, I’m serious. I’ve been told that my eyes are so deep and shaded to just the right shade of oak brown. They’re seriously dark, but that just helps with matching my awesome hair. The only thing about it is that I’m pretty sure they’re a little almond shaped. It’s strange and I often find myself double checking them in the mirror. The almond shape has me self conscious about my eyes. Which is why I tend to hide them with sunglasses. For all those music buffs, yes- I do wear my sunglasses at night.
To get a little more personal, I weigh in at about 160, which is normal for a guy of my age. I’m not too skinny. If anything I could stand to lose a few. I may look like a wimp with my skinny structure and weak looking muscles, and that would be because I am. Please, too many muscles look horrible. I’m definitely not ‘ripped’, but more than likely it’s the way I tend to randomly glare at people that freak them out. But don’t even get me started on my height. I’m absurdly short. A twenty-one year old should not stand at 5’8. It’s ridiculous. I’m really sensitive about my height.
Let me tell you my style, bitches. I’ll dress in whatever suits my fancy. Don’t like what I’m wearing? Don’t talk to me. But in general I go for comfort rather than latest trends. That’s the way to go. All that matters as far as clothing goes is my jeans. I need to have perfectly fitted jeans. I’ll be damned if I wasn’t cursed with my mother’s hips. That’s right; they sway like a girl’s hips. At least I know how to work it right. To make up for that I have a pretty damn adorable face. I have a killer pout and a smile that can knock a girl into the next century. For the record, I’m also pretty thankful that I have a normal nose. I feel bad for people with oddly shaped noses.
LOVER I DON'T HAVE TO LOVE!
[/FONT][/CENTER]Hello, my name is Leviticus Asprin, and I'm an asshole. Please, ask if I give a damn about anything. I dare you. It should be pretty obvious that I don't take shit from anyone. I have a short fuse and I’m not afraid to light a fire under anyone’s ass that decides to get in my face. Don’t mess with me when I’m in a bad mood. It won’t be pretty. No matter who I'm talking to whether it be another stitcher, civilian, or the president of fucking America I'm always going to by my same old asshole self. I'm the best there is when it comes to writing gossip columns. Why? Because I don’t care about other people’s feelings and I don’t hesitate to tell it straight. The point is that I'm not going to change for anyone or anything. I'm pretty sure I like being an asshole.
Okay, so what? I have a bad habit of getting a little too drunk and doing some pretty ridiculous things. Who doesn't? I like to have a good time. Sure that might come with the cost of waking up with a huge headache in the morning, but that's something I can deal with. If there's a party, expect me to be there. I'm the kind of guy you can expect to liven up a party. People expect me to act out, so why shouldn't I? Screw staying at home and doing nothing. I always have to be doing something. I hate being bored. It definitely shows. I don’t drink because I like alcohol. Actually, I come close to hating alcohol and everything it makes me do, but really…honestly… I hope it kills me one day.
I'm pretty much your average goofball as far as everyday life. I'll do anything that anyone will pay me to do and I'm not afraid to get in trouble. There already been a bunch of shit that I've done just because people have accused me of being a chicken. Call me a chicken and I’ll have your head on a silver platter… if you’re lucky I MIGHT heal it when you’ve admitted you’ve done a terrible thing. It goes from light to extreme. Once I was bet that I couldn’t jump into a pool from the second story balcony of a hotel. Proved that bastard wrong. I had a broken arm for a while, but it was worth the thousand dollars I made off it. I'm a bit of a party daredevil. I'm not afraid of anything that comes my way. The only thing I'm afraid of is fucking love. Feelings can be a bitch sometimes, can they not? One minute I think I’m in love and the next I’m wishing I could… well, never mind, that may be a bit too graphic.
And that brings the soft side. It doesn't happen often so don't expect it. But hey- I can be a real sweetheart when the time is right. Mostly my FEW friends get to see the soft side of me. So no- I'm not always an insensitive asshole. But most of the time I am. I’m pretty sure that no one remembers the nice side of me anyway. It could be that I just don’t want to show it. Hell, I don’t even remember being nice as a kid. Remember, I’m not likely to break down and show sympathy. Think of me as a heartless bastard and move on. That’s the best thing to do.
DON'T KNOW WHEN
BUT A DAY IS GONNA COME!
[/FONT][/CENTER]BUT A DAY IS GONNA COME!
My history isn’t quite worth the fuss over. Personally I don’t see why anyone would want to know it. It all started when my father met my mother. Mother was always a bit of a pushover when it came to romantic things. She worked in a family owned bookstore, which was owned by her mother. My rather bitchy grandmother, Elaine Bennett, probably didn’t want my mother, Sarah Bennett, to see the light of day outside that musty old bookstore. Every day Mom would be busy reading shitty books to underprivileged kids who couldn’t afford to find a fucking Barnes and Nobel to crash. As you can imagine my father, Richard Asprin, comes into this somehow. He was a level headed… pizza delivery boy. Bet you thought I was going say he had some really awesome job that blew my Mom’s out of the water. But no- Dad was the pizza delivery boy who delivered pizza to my mother’s nineteenth birthday party. Gee, the time you least suspect to meet the love of your life, right? Seriously, just imagine…my mother, a bookish, insanely innocent looking brunette with a lanky, awkward pizza boy. They dated for quite a while before Dad got the guts to pop the question. As you can probably imagine… I came along about nine months after the honeymoon.
Then my pathetic existence as a human being started. My parents were never MEAN to me. They were a little distant, but I was too young to care. Hell, it didn’t bother me one bit that my good for nothing mother would rather read a book than change her son’s diaper. I was a baby…what did she think I would do? Change myself? Not likely. My dad always tried to master what he called ‘innovating enterprises’. This really meant that he spent most of his time in the basement trying to invent some piece of shit machine that would change the future of America as we know it. As you can see… he never succeeded. Poor, defenseless, little me was left to a nanny. That’s right- a nanny. Neither of my parents had REAL jobs, yet I was left with a nanny. Oddly enough it never bothered my birth mother than I called the nanny mommy instead of her. Giving that I spent most of my time around the nanny… I had a few other choice words that I used for my mother. But as I started to grow my parents decided a nanny was no longer needed. I was forced to attend the hell hole that was pre-K.
All of the kids in my class were… interesting. Honestly, I preferred nap time. But there was this one girl that I can remember to this day that would always climb over to my pallet when the lights were turned down and no one was watching. She would lean over and whisper, “You sleepin?” Now you would figure my logical reply would be no, but I wasn’t quite a logical child. I would always reply with, “…yeah.” This went on for quite a while. I must say that even in pre-K girls were enticing. It must be in their nature. Believe it or not I was sad to see the day she didn’t come to the school anymore. I never knew the whole story, and I didn’t really care about knowing. All I knew was that one day she was there; crawling up next to me on hands and knees and the next she was gone. It was all very perplexing. I’m not sure this was an important part of my childhood, but it is one of the most memorable.
Never believe a child when they say they are ready to move up in school. It’s a bunch of bullshit. No one is ever ready for Elementary school. I’m convinced that this is where my asshole personality really began to develop. Perhaps it was because I was aware of a lot more than a first grader should be or maybe it was just supposed to happen that way, but my parents were constantly furious because of the calls from the school complaining about my attitude in class towards teachers and other students. Even on through the fifth grade I never cared about who I insulted. I thought it was normal and there was nothing wrong with my personality. Hell, I still don’t think there is anything wrong with it. Disagree? Suck it. Elementary school was really when I started to get to know the people around me. Oh- those were the times when everyone thought they could be friends with everyone out. Turns out there is a place meant to separate the strong from the week. Middle school is the first of the schools to suggest survival of the fittest. It wasn’t hard for me. I made it a general rule not to like anyone. Can’t be offended by people you automatically hate.
High school, though, was interesting. I’m going to skip the boring parts and get to the juicy stuff. I was on a date with a girl named Laura Ferguson. She was a fair looking girl. Sure she wasn’t the prettiest in the school, but I pretty much had to take whoever could stand my personality. Hey- it’s harder than it looks. We were walking along the beach, just enjoying the weather…or she was. That was all she could talk about. If it wasn’t ‘oooh it’s sunny’ it was ‘heard it might rain tomorrow’. I had never been so bored in my life. But hey- she was a girl and I was a boy. It was only natural that I suffer through a little boredom with the belief that I might get some afterward. She was into all of that romantic shit like holding hands and dates where the boy paid for dinner, which I personally hated. Sometime during our walk on the beach my genius of a girl friend decided she wanted to dive off the pier. Naturally I agreed to walk out there with her, more or less wanting to see her fail than swim with her. Laura dived off the pier and was caught by a pretty nasty rip tide.
Naturally I watched her get beat up a bit before I even tried to help. Getting her out of the water wasn’t hard, looking at her after I did was. The oddest thing happened, and I was sure that I hadn’t done it on purpose. But Laura started groaning about how much it hurt. Jesus, she had cuts all over her body. I could imagine that it did hurt very badly. Well, Laura reached out to touch me. I think she was probably hoping for one of those romantic hand holding moments. You know, where the girl is about to tragically die and the boy is left there to look like the jerk that let her dive into a rip tide. That sort of thing. In the process of trying to get away from her so that she couldn’t get blood on my clothes, I accidentally touched her hand. Laura started screaming bloody murder. It was horrible. Her voice had always been a little scratchy sounding for a girl, but this was ridiculous. I stared at her, every bit of horrified that every single one of her injuries had suddenly vanished. Laura must have been a little freaked out too. She ran off and we never spoke again after that. I just assumed that meant I was a free boy.
I decided to act like a fool and tell my parents what happened. BIG mistake… HUGE. My father stared at me like I was some sort of mental case and my mother replied that it was probably just puberty. Mmhm, since when did healing abilities become a pubescent trait? NEVER. So, as a curious guy, I experimented on myself. It was not a smart idea. I would take a razor, cut myself, then heal it. The only odd thing that I couldn’t figure out was why I felt the pain when it healed. Believe me… it was pretty painful. Then I found out that I could also unheal wounds. I thought about going to find Laura, but I remembered that would be the worst mistake I could ever make. My parents didn’t really believe that I had any sort of ability. But it started to get hard on me when I found out that people were looking for people like me, well, they weren’t people… they were trackers. I didn’t think it would be smart to stay with my family. For all they knew I was just a guy that needed to get out and do things with his life. Naturally I got the fuck out of there, letting my parents believe that I was a tormented soul.
This was when I developed my drinking habit. I would seriously go out and drown myself in alcohol. Why? Because I hated myself for my power. The stupid ability made me a freak and I hated it. I decided eventually to make something of my life. I became a rather successful gossip columnist. It wasn’t my first choice, but hey- it was a way for me to make money. Apparently my personality was just right for the part. I wasn’t going to complain. Better under the radar as a journalist with a secret power to heal people than a freak with a secret power to heal people. That’s my history. It isn’t too exciting, but I have a feeling that life has just begun for me.
I BELIEVE IN SYMMETRY!
[/FONT][/CENTER]HEYO! THIS IS LEVITICUS NEIL ASPRIN BUT EVERYONE CALLS ME LEVI/ASPRIN/LA. I'M FROM VENICE BEACH, CALIFORNIA AND AM TWENTY-ONE. PSSHT! I'M ALSO PART OF THE SITCHERS AND I AM DAMN PROUD OF IT, BABEH! MESS WITH THEM AND I MESS WITH CHU! BUT DON'T WORRY, I'M STILL SINGLE, SO ALL YOU LADIES CAN HAVE A PIECE OF THE MAGNIFICENT ME! PEOPLE EVEN SAY I LOOK LIKE BRENDON URIE SO OBVIOUSLY, YOU'LL BE HAVING SOME FUN! MAKE SURE YOU keep in touch! BECAUSE NOONE CAN HANDLE THIS AWESOME GUY!
AT THE BOTTOM OF EVERYTHING!
[/FONT][/CENTER][/SUB]THIS APPLICATION TEMPLATE WAS CREATED BY STEPH ACE OF VOGUE! STEAL WITHOUT KEEPING THE CREDITS AND SHE WILL HUNT YOU DOWN, RIP YOU OPENED, AND FEED YOU TO NASH C: SO BE KEWL AND KEEP THE CRED! CREDIT TO LYRICS GOES TO BRIGHT EYES-ONE OF THE MOST INSPIRATIONAL BANDS ON THE PLANET EARTH-SCRATCH THAT-UNIVERSE!
