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FROM OFF TO ON ;
Created on 2008-02-05 03:13:49 (#14875715), last updated 2008-05-06
140 comments received, 323 comments posted
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6 Journal Entries, 24 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 13 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | matt motherfuckin' jeevas |
|---|
BioWE ARE THE PEOPLE WHO'VE COME HERE TO PLAY | |
| The first thing you realise about Matt is that when you’re talking to him, it’s likely that every word you say goes straight through one year and out the other. It’s nothing personal, though- not because he particularly dislikes you (not that he particularly dislikes anyone), but because he’s bored. Bored of everything and everyone, bored of you and most likely of himself, too. However, there are always exceptions, times when he’ll look up from the glowing screen of his PSP and hear you out. For how long, and how genuine that lazy half-smirk tugging at the corners of his lips is, are debatable, but it’s the thought that counts. But oh, don’t let that throw you off too much. He’s a nice guy once you get to know him, has a bit of a twisted sense of humor and a skewed perception of what’s fun, but whatever. He’s been known to grow on people (kind of like fungus), either with charm or by sheer coincidence-- stay around someone for too long and you begin to adapt, you know? Besides ; the apathy running rampant through that mess of fried wires he likes to call his mind has it’s advantages, too-- makes it hard for him to get angry, leaves him inclined towards being rational instead of screaming and smashing things at the toss of a hat. Now, here’s the surprising part, that one personality quirk most people don’t see coming for miles until he’s shoving it down your throat, an arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders and a big dumb grin plastered across his face. The bastard’s really goddamn loyal, like a dog. Get the right person to tell him to jump, and he will. Fuck on-coming traffic or 20-foot-tall monsters, because he’ll do it! And yeah, sure ; he’ll bitch about nonstop, but that won’t stop him, either. |
II DON'T LIKE IT EASY ; I DON'T LIKE IT THE STRAIGHT WAY | |
| Wammy's house- that's where it all started. Maybe not in the literal sense; it started the day he was born, but Wammy's sure had a lot to do with the general direction he started taking early on. Kinda like it was all predestined or whatever, or maybe Matt just had too big of an imagination from playing those video games when he was hardly old enough to do much else but sit in front of a television and click, click, click away. He got there, though, and things went as they would. Matt was a reclusive, quiet sort of kid still getting used to the prospect of change; after his mum died he hadn't really known what to do. He wasn't especially attached to her, seeing as she didn't spend much time with him in the first place, but still. It felt weird. A little empty, like something that was supposed to be there had suddenly been taken away, leaving this lung-crushing gap in between. Wammy's house worked as a system to train the next in line to succeed L. But frankly, Matt didn't really care about that. He wasn't for the whole 'renowned super-detective' thing or whatever else they were calling it; he didn't really care about getting in the lead. He probably could've done it, too, if he felt bothered. Fact of the matter: nope, just not his thing. It wasn't until one of the other kids befriended him did Matt start to apply himself (in the loosest sense of the word). Mello; it was all Mello and his fiery disposition, pushing Matt with snippy, snide comments and ridiculously complex plans on the newest prank he'd thought up, until Matt made himself work just enough to sit himself nice and cozy down on third place. Not any farther than that, though. Three was a pretty cool number and he was pretty okay with it. 'Course, once Mello left the orphanage, things slid straight downhill. There was no entertainment to be found in Near, the first-place and top-most candidate for the title of L, or anyone else for that matter. It wasn't long until Matt himself ditched his orphanage home and began a slow, lethargic existence in the states. Just coasting by, hacking bank accounts to get money to pay rent for the shitty hole-in-the-wall in which he resided for the next few years and beating every big-name video game to hit the market. It was a life if he'd ever had one, anyway. Not much else to it. Eventually, he meandered through the state-lines and wound up in New York, drawn more to the busylife there than anything, really. Waiting to see if something could set fire to his blood like a time of the past he could hardly remember anymore. Maybe he'd get lucky. And then that thing attacked, right when he'd gotten settled in Manhattan after a few weeks of looking for the cheapest place to stay (which wasn't easy, mind you). It was seriously like some shitty-quality scene straight out of goddamn Godzilla, only less lizard-esque and more... Well. Who really fucking knew. | |
AND WE RAISE OUR HEADS TO THE COLOR RED | |
MUN ; awree ( | |
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