Post by Rusty McConaughey on Jan 13, 2013 17:40:26 GMT -5
Full Name: Russell Benjamin McConaughey (Mik-kon-uh-hay. Yknow, like the actor). He absolutely hates being called Russell because that's what his mom yells whenever he's in serious trouble. Most often, he goes by Rusty or the occasional Russ.
Age: 17 nearing 18, born on August 29th. He is a sophomore, though, as he was held back a year and started kindergarten late.
Sports/Clubs: None. He's clearly too cool for that.
Appearance: Rusty is a bit on the tall side, coming in at five foot ten. He's a bit pudgy, but definitely not fat. Naturally his hair is a very dark brown, but he bleached it when he was fourteen. Since then, he's dyed it black.. but it basically looks like what it was originally. Its curly as fuck and he likes to keep it at a medium length. If he let it grow out anymore he'd probably look like a girl. His eyes are a brilliant light blue, he'd call them his best feature for sure. Overall, he's got a pretty cute face. Round cheeks, big eyes, a small nose and thin lips. His mom has always called him 'puppy', mostly for his eyes.
Since his parents don't give a shit and are pretty loaded, Rusty has quite a few tattoos. Mostly on the right side of his body, he's got a lateral piece, a half sleeve and a groin piece (his parents don't know about this one..). There's a couple little ones scattered along the rest of his body as well.
In terms of style, Rusty usually looks like he was meant to be a teenager in the nineties. Baseball tee's, 90's grunge band tees, baggy jeans, beanies and bulky sneakers. He likes to be comfortable and really doesn't care about being fashionable.
(i think its safe to say this was my worst appearance section yet)
Personality: There's a lot to Rusty. He's a pretty complex fella. So let's take this step by step.
The Friendly/Cutesy Side: Rusty can be a very caring, compassionate person. He cares very much about his family (even if he's constantly playing jokes and pranks on them) and his friends. They're all he's got and he wouldn't give them up for the world. He's protective as fuck (which could also be considered a bad thing, especially in terms of romantic relationships) and wouldn't hesitate to throw punches if you threaten his loved ones.
He loves to make friends. Rusty thinks that the more friends he has, the more protection he has. A friend is someone to fall back on, someone you can really trust. Trust is a serious deal with Rusty. The minute you turn you back on him, expect your name to be stricken from his list. He'll drop you just like that if you betray him. The one thing he'll never do to a person is give them any reason to doubt his trust. He hates when people do that to him, and he's at least sane enough to have the decency to respect others if they respect him.
In a relationship, he'd be a strong boyfriend. He's yet to have a girl to call his own, but he sure knows how to treat a lady. All about old fashioned chivalry, he's the kinda guy to toss his coat in a puddle for you to cross over it. He'll always open the door for a girl, pull out her chair for her to sit, all of that. Rusty is not the jealous type. He understands that just because they're dating doesn't mean she has to drop all the other guys in her life. Sure if she's all up on some other guy, protective Rusty comes into action and he'll lash out. But just because she has other guy friends won't make Rusty jealous.
The Crazy/Psychotic Side: Rusty is a fucking nutcase. He's constantly off the walls, bouncing around looking for excitement. Most people recognize Rusty by this category. He's "that kid that jumped off a building". He's "that kid that willingly stuck his hand in a bear trap". He's "that kid that painted his entire kitchen blue while his parents were away". Rusty is a seriously spastic kid that does anything and everything. He strongly believes in the "live like your'e dying" statement. Life is here and now, so he's living it up while he can.
He's not afraid of pain. I can't even tell you how many bruises, welts, and broken appendages this boy has had. Sure he might seem like a chicken at first, but give him a second and he'll be out there taking it all because he doesn't want to seem like a wimp.
Danger should probably be his middle name. Its all he lives for.
The Teenager Side: Rusty, though he tries to act like an adult (or so he says.. he's such a child) is actually an incredibly stereotypical teenager. He's quite easily stressed out; the tiniest things drive Rusty up a wall. He's been known to take things too far, especially when it comes to fighting. Would he break someone's arm? Not purposely, no. But would he punch you square in the face over and over again? If you push him to it, he wouldn't hesitate. He's got his own seat in the Headmaster's office.
Rusty has pretty low self esteem. He thinks people think he's weird, think he's doing all the things he does for attention. He's not self conscious about his looks (in fact he's pretty damn cocky), but thinks that people see him as nothing more than an attention seeking freak.
Story Time:
It was just last year when I lost him. My first sophomore year, when I was sixteen years old. Ryan was eighteen, but either way we'd been best friends since the sandbox. We literally grew up together. I never moved and neither did he, so we'd been neighbors forever. He lived right next door and most nights we had a sleepover. Even when we were teenagers. Its funny to think how gay we must've seemed.
We lived in a pretty secluded part of New York. A real rundown almost ghetto-ish seeming place. Though, it felt like a place where hillbillys might live. So I guess not ghetto. But that's beside the point. Anyway, our houses were backed up to train tracks. Not right behind our house, there was a good mile of forest between us and the trains. But it was close enough to where if we were yelling, our parents always said they could hear us. Only, not when the train went by.
We used to test that all the time. Ryan and I would take day long trips into the forest with like, a shit load of stuff. Backpacks stuffed with our 'survival' shit, canteens, compasses, jack knives, all that stuff. Ryan used to bring a spear he carved, too. So we'd stay all day and yell back home at certain markers to see if our parents heard. We'd test it when the trains went by too. And they never heard that. Not once. And fuck, I wish they had.
I lost Ryan on a Wednesday. It was the day after his eighteenth birthday. We'd gone out into the woods like we always did for birthdays to spend the night. We were gonna camp: make a fire, build a tent, have s'mores, all that. Only, by this time we'd both been way into drugs. Pot only, really. But drugs, nonetheless. I guess if nothing else, I can thank Ryan for getting me off that shit. The day he died, I quit. And its morbid to thank someone for dying, but I truly believe he'd saved my life.
Anyway. If you didn't guess, we were high that Wednesday night. Tripping major balls, man. It was bad. We heard the train coming and went to watch. We always did that, high or not. It was a rush to stand real close and feel the vibrations run through you. Only that night, Ryan got a little too close.
I don't remember it happening and I kick myself every day for that. I don't remember the last thing he said to me, I don't remember what he looked like the second before it happened, fuck I don't even remember going to see the train. The last memory I have of him is setting up the tent and him kicking the back of my knees so I fell. I tackled him after that and we laughed for a long time. A real long time. It was so perfect. My best friend and I, just having a shit good time. No weed, no alcohol, no nothing. Just purely a damn good time. Then we went and fucked it all up by getting high. It was my idea, too.
I killed him.
I'll never not believe that. Because its true. If I hadn't brought up weed, we wouldn't have been so high and we wouldn't have been so close to the train and Ryan wouldn't have exploded. I wouldn't have passed out, Ryan wouldn't be dead, I'd be fucking happy and still have my best friend.
When they found us in the morning, I'd been asleep (passed out, really) beside the tracks. I was covered in blood from head to toe; completely splattered. Ryan was.. well, Ryan wasn't in one spot. I don't even wanna go into the details of how many pieces he'd been split into. But the people told me he'd been hit head on. He was standing directly on the tracks, or at least jumped to the very middle. I don't know how they figured that out and I don't know how the train hadn't stopped to come find a dead kid and a stone cold kid. Fucking idiot.. didn't even know he hit something. That's how fast the train was going.
Ryan's death is the reason I failed my first sophomore year. When he went, so did I. Mentally, I was dead. I couldn't handle not having him, I couldn't handle going home to nothing. He wasn't there, and he never would be again. I lost it. Everything slipped away. I'm doing much better now, because Ryan has made me strong.
But I still miss him.
Other: Rusty is terrified of snakes. He can't stand them. He absolutely, one hundred percent, hates them. They make him cry.
He smokes. Not a whole lot, but at least two a day.
There's a soft spot in his heart for puppies and kittens.
"Daredevil" is a pretty good way to describe Rusty.
Though his hair often looks pretty dirty, he actually takes really good care of it. He just styles it to look messy. Which is weird but whatever.
Now at the age of seventeen, Rusty could sport a full on beard if he wanted to.
Contrary to popular belief, Rusty is actually a virgin. He's never even kissed a girl. But he'd deny it if you said anything.
Rusty is really good at skateboarding.
