[APP] Discedo
Playground: discedo
Link: October 4th, 2009
Accepted: Accepted!
Character's Name: Dean Winchester
Series: Supernatural
Timeline: Post-season three, immediately after the season finale. My idea is that, when Dean dies in 3.16, his hell is not fire and brimstone, but this place ♥
Canon Resource Link: Wikipedia article, Screenshot from show, Supernatural Wiki Article.
Personality: Dean's whole purpose in life is to kill monsters that threaten the well-being and general pulse of innocents. It's how he was raised, and it's how he molds his life and makes his choices as an adult. This in turn makes him excellent in intense situations, because honestly, he's been there and done that, there isn't much in the way of things that go bump in the night that will scare or surprise him.
Saying that, his maturity level is somewhat low. He calls his little brother a "girl" because his hair is longer than army-regulation. He turns every interaction with a female (and sometimes with males too) into one big innuendo-fest that would amuse only a nine year old. He drinks excessively to relax, sometimes to deal with things he doesn't want to bother with. He never does drugs because he believes they impair his ability to protect himself and his brother, but makes cracks about them nonetheless. He is brash and downright offensive when conversation turns to something he is uncomfortable with, like emotions or relationships or a failed attempt on his part to protect someone.
He is loud and destructive unless in a life-or-death situation and he hates things he doesn't understand or can't kill right away. He is insanely loyal to his family and small group of friends, and will literally go to hell for the family portion if it saves them from discomfort.
What your character can offer: Fighting prowess, weapons proficiency, a good diversion when needed. He was raised from age four to be a fighting machine by his father, so quick reflexes and a head for strategy was ingrained right from the get-go. He can use nearly any weapon he comes across, even if he isn't familiar with it, because the pointy part/projectile/bubbling stuff goes in the monster, right? Also has a basic knowledge of Latin, and knows his way around a spell book/ritual if needed.
What items will they be bringing with them? Wallet: picture of little brother Sam age ten, credit card for Bob Plant (VISA), credit card for Orson Whelles (MASTERCARD), credit card for Joshua Homme (DISCOVER), assortment of crumpled US currency (six ones, two tens, and one twenty). Basic metal keychain: key to 1967 Chevrolet Impala, key to storage locker, key to lockbox. Lock Picks: Euro/Japan Slim-Line 15 Pc. Pick Set & 14 Piece Pick Set, without cases and shoved in various inseams and pockets upon his person. Bowie knife, stuck in his boot. Smith & Wesson M&P9 (9mm caliber) handheld gun, no ammo.
Third-Person Sample:
Have to find it, have to find it, have to--
He stops, hand hovering over another piece of trash. Tilts his head and listens to the wails outside the building. Is it getting closer? Is that thing getting closer? Whatever the fuck it is, chewing up people or picking its teeth with spun sugar and gingerbread remains.
Dean lets out a shaky breath, then keeps digging, because now is not the time. Tosses empty cans and jagged pieces of metal to the side, not even proper grade to melt-down for ammo if he had the equipment. The label on the closet near the door says 'WEAPONS', so there has to be something left already made, damnit.
His thumb snags on the corner of a sharp bit of something, and he hisses out a curse. Sucks it into his mouth as he keeps rifling around with his uninjured hand. Who knew the afterlife would be such a garbage heap? It's like hell for someone with OCD, but the rest of the humans are stuck there too--
He stops, pulls the digit out of his mouth. Stares at the rough gouge in his flesh with wide eyes. His hands are oddly steady, even though his bones feel like they're shaking apart.
"I'm dead," he says. "I'm dead, and I'm bleeding."
Laughter bubbles up his throat, and he clenches his jaw, grinds his teeth and forces a lungful of air out before he starts into the hysterics. He's better than that, he won't lose it now. This is just some perversion of hell, and any time now a demon will mozy in and attack so he can tell it to go fuck itself sideways on a tractor claw.
A scream comes from somewhere, he doesn't know, but it's inside the building now. He grabs the wooden chair leg that he had thrown nearby when he started to search, and stands up, whirls around to look at the open door. Tightens his grip on the makeshift bludgeon, and waits.
First-Person Sample:
This is hell? This is what I've been piss-my-pants scared of all this time?
Those demons are liars.
Dude, I thought this place would be all fire and brimstone, tortured souls on old England equipment and lots of ABBA playing from the stereo. I expected Club-Med for demons, not the Wild Monster Park of things that I've never seen on Earth or anywhere else. But I guess there would be new and unusual things down here, that shouldn't be a surprise.
A nice little trial-run before their grand debut in the great ballroom of Fucktown, U.S.A. As fugly as they sound, Jesus.
If I'm not being tied up, that probably means I can get out of here. I just need to find something to fight my way out with, other than these damn knives. I need ammo, man. I need something to fucking shoot.
Also: For personal reference, subject line classifications.
[TEXT] line
[AUDIO] line
[VIDEO] line
[NOTICE] line
Link: October 4th, 2009
Accepted: Accepted!
Character's Name: Dean Winchester
Series: Supernatural
Timeline: Post-season three, immediately after the season finale. My idea is that, when Dean dies in 3.16, his hell is not fire and brimstone, but this place ♥
Canon Resource Link: Wikipedia article, Screenshot from show, Supernatural Wiki Article.
Personality: Dean's whole purpose in life is to kill monsters that threaten the well-being and general pulse of innocents. It's how he was raised, and it's how he molds his life and makes his choices as an adult. This in turn makes him excellent in intense situations, because honestly, he's been there and done that, there isn't much in the way of things that go bump in the night that will scare or surprise him.
Saying that, his maturity level is somewhat low. He calls his little brother a "girl" because his hair is longer than army-regulation. He turns every interaction with a female (and sometimes with males too) into one big innuendo-fest that would amuse only a nine year old. He drinks excessively to relax, sometimes to deal with things he doesn't want to bother with. He never does drugs because he believes they impair his ability to protect himself and his brother, but makes cracks about them nonetheless. He is brash and downright offensive when conversation turns to something he is uncomfortable with, like emotions or relationships or a failed attempt on his part to protect someone.
He is loud and destructive unless in a life-or-death situation and he hates things he doesn't understand or can't kill right away. He is insanely loyal to his family and small group of friends, and will literally go to hell for the family portion if it saves them from discomfort.
What your character can offer: Fighting prowess, weapons proficiency, a good diversion when needed. He was raised from age four to be a fighting machine by his father, so quick reflexes and a head for strategy was ingrained right from the get-go. He can use nearly any weapon he comes across, even if he isn't familiar with it, because the pointy part/projectile/bubbling stuff goes in the monster, right? Also has a basic knowledge of Latin, and knows his way around a spell book/ritual if needed.
What items will they be bringing with them? Wallet: picture of little brother Sam age ten, credit card for Bob Plant (VISA), credit card for Orson Whelles (MASTERCARD), credit card for Joshua Homme (DISCOVER), assortment of crumpled US currency (six ones, two tens, and one twenty). Basic metal keychain: key to 1967 Chevrolet Impala, key to storage locker, key to lockbox. Lock Picks: Euro/Japan Slim-Line 15 Pc. Pick Set & 14 Piece Pick Set, without cases and shoved in various inseams and pockets upon his person. Bowie knife, stuck in his boot. Smith & Wesson M&P9 (9mm caliber) handheld gun, no ammo.
Third-Person Sample:
Have to find it, have to find it, have to--
He stops, hand hovering over another piece of trash. Tilts his head and listens to the wails outside the building. Is it getting closer? Is that thing getting closer? Whatever the fuck it is, chewing up people or picking its teeth with spun sugar and gingerbread remains.
Dean lets out a shaky breath, then keeps digging, because now is not the time. Tosses empty cans and jagged pieces of metal to the side, not even proper grade to melt-down for ammo if he had the equipment. The label on the closet near the door says 'WEAPONS', so there has to be something left already made, damnit.
His thumb snags on the corner of a sharp bit of something, and he hisses out a curse. Sucks it into his mouth as he keeps rifling around with his uninjured hand. Who knew the afterlife would be such a garbage heap? It's like hell for someone with OCD, but the rest of the humans are stuck there too--
He stops, pulls the digit out of his mouth. Stares at the rough gouge in his flesh with wide eyes. His hands are oddly steady, even though his bones feel like they're shaking apart.
"I'm dead," he says. "I'm dead, and I'm bleeding."
Laughter bubbles up his throat, and he clenches his jaw, grinds his teeth and forces a lungful of air out before he starts into the hysterics. He's better than that, he won't lose it now. This is just some perversion of hell, and any time now a demon will mozy in and attack so he can tell it to go fuck itself sideways on a tractor claw.
A scream comes from somewhere, he doesn't know, but it's inside the building now. He grabs the wooden chair leg that he had thrown nearby when he started to search, and stands up, whirls around to look at the open door. Tightens his grip on the makeshift bludgeon, and waits.
First-Person Sample:
This is hell? This is what I've been piss-my-pants scared of all this time?
Those demons are liars.
Dude, I thought this place would be all fire and brimstone, tortured souls on old England equipment and lots of ABBA playing from the stereo. I expected Club-Med for demons, not the Wild Monster Park of things that I've never seen on Earth or anywhere else. But I guess there would be new and unusual things down here, that shouldn't be a surprise.
A nice little trial-run before their grand debut in the great ballroom of Fucktown, U.S.A. As fugly as they sound, Jesus.
If I'm not being tied up, that probably means I can get out of here. I just need to find something to fight my way out with, other than these damn knives. I need ammo, man. I need something to fucking shoot.
Also: For personal reference, subject line classifications.
[TEXT] line
[AUDIO] line
[VIDEO] line
[NOTICE] line