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Description

sdjghsdfjkh so many beautiful bakers applying
I-I really wanted to try anyway, though ;7;//

--

Name: Wesker mr. whiskers
Age: 23
Birthday: Spring 19
Job: Bakery Cook
Job alternative: Postman
Race: Human

Marriage Gift: “You sure ya got the right guy? N-No, no, no, no, I mean—yes, yes of course!!”
❋ mushroom-walnut soup

Loved Gifts: “Aww, nuts! I hope y’know how much this means to me!”
❋ strawberry jam – 4-leaf clover – bandana

Liked Gifts: “Oh, hey, this is pretty dern neat!”
❋ fruit sandwich – strawberry milk – strawberry – butter roll

Disliked Gifts: “Hahaha! Now what on earth were you thinkin’, givin’ me this?”
❋ boiled pumpkin – pond smelt – char – chub

Hated Gifts: “…Honestly, this is kind of bumming me out…”
❋ flop – cheap cloth – feed

Magic: Water element - Water bomb

Personality:
Wes is dumber than a sack of potatoes.

Contentedly laid-back and tactless—without the intention of ever changing—the only things Wesker remotely finds a passion in is cooking and romance (and occasionally learning new things). He hopelessly wishes to get find, marry, and “cook for his loved one until they are fat”.

Despite living with his family and all the people in a small village all his life, Wes has NO people skills. He often acts brash, blunt, impolite, and pathetic; even sometimes in front of the girls he longs after so hard.

Additionally, he is supposedly a wimp among wimps. His complete lack of pride as a man also makes him proclaim this outright when asked to so much as a thumb wrestle.

And in his mellow stupidity, Wes is a carefree, go-with-the-flow kind of guy, and gives dedicates his attention to whatever tickles his fancy at any given moment. However, being this fickle and refusing to settle down on any particular interest before it's proved it's worth also makes him rather open-minded—if not a bit slow on the uptakes.

History:
Since he was born, Wes lived on a small farm off the border of some small village, where his small family lived a small life. Despite his father and mother’s mediocrely hard working personalities, Wes never found work in his interests. He grew up to be so lazy, in fact, that his mother refused to feed him. Her intentions were to push her sloth of a son to learn how to fend for himself, but instead, he simply forgot to eat until he nearly shriveled down to nothing.

Reluctantly, she sat Wes down one day when he was little more than skin and bones and taught him how to make mushroom-walnut soup, his favourite dish to date. To her surprise, from the slicing of the onions to the stirring and simmering, his attention was rapt. Rather than turning his head and dozing or wandering off, he got out of his seat and wanted to try putting the soup together himself (he was confident he had eaten it enough times, he knew the ingredients like the back of his foot). And although he was distressingly horrible at it, and the outcome was a disturbing black sludge, it was the first thing either of his parents had seen him put effort in.

After that, however, cooking remained the only thing Wes was interested in, and although he was steadily improving, his parents once again became tired of the way he simply ate, slept and wandered aimlessly day after day. At one point, they tried to cautiously ignite a spark for sport and encouraged Wes that fishing was a lazy activity, and seafood tasted great, but after months and months using almost no meat besides fish in his dishes, even seeing a single gill could make him hurl, and merely mentioning hope for an athlete in him made his parents groan.

Over the next short years of his adolescence, Wes’ favourite dish to recreate was still his mother’s Mushroom-Walnut soup (although after the seafood incident, he was careful not to attempt it too often). And yet, no matter what he tried, he still could not recreate it perfectly. He refused to accept the recipe from his mother, convinced that he knew all of the ingredients but one, which must have been some top-secret sort of thing, like they tell one so often in stories. For a while, he turned it into a game—spying on his mother, fleeing when their eyes met, secluding himself every so often like a mad-man in a small shed—a game which carried on until both of his parents were absolutely fed up with his childishness.

All that said, when Wes received the letter, his mother and father were more than happy to let him go. And despite feeling indifferent with the parting at first, Wes found himself unconsciously yearning for his home after only a short while apart. The only way he could find to console himself was in making comfort food—the sorts of things his mother prepared for him, his favourite of which being soft rolls and bread. In the end, one thing led to another, and he ended up finding the bakery of the island, and happily took a spot creating the food he loved, simply letting days roll mellowly in and out.

Additional Info:
- Wes lives happily on the beach side, in some scrap of canvas he calls a tent.

- If you're going to try and make him read anything, make it a picture book or a recipe book. A recipe book with mostly pictures. orz

- He stitched the “MOM <3” on his shirt by himself, stabbing holes in his fingers and everything. But he was happy it turned out semi-legible. And that he spelled it right.

- Don't tell him that what he's doing is actually work. He'll be very shocked and confused, and could very possibly be sent into spiraling depression, leading to obligatory questions such as, "what is life?" and, "does the universe exist?" and, "is time travel with kittens possible?"

- His dream in life is perfectly recreating or partaking in the perfect recreation of his mother's soup.

--

I have way too many male characters.
Which is why I made another one.
Obv.

he kind of reminds me of a cat... i-is that just me? /WEEPS

Item icons (c) Ushi no Tane
Thank you!

Description

sdjghsdfjkh so many beautiful bakers applying
I-I really wanted to try anyway, though ;7;//

--

Name: Wesker mr. whiskers
Age: 23
Birthday: Spring 19
Job: Bakery Cook
Job alternative: Postman
Race: Human

Marriage Gift: “You sure ya got the right guy? N-No, no, no, no, I mean—yes, yes of course!!”
❋ mushroom-walnut soup

Loved Gifts: “Aww, nuts! I hope y’know how much this means to me!”
❋ strawberry jam – 4-leaf clover – bandana

Liked Gifts: “Oh, hey, this is pretty dern neat!”
❋ fruit sandwich – strawberry milk – strawberry – butter roll

Disliked Gifts: “Hahaha! Now what on earth were you thinkin’, givin’ me this?”
❋ boiled pumpkin – pond smelt – char – chub

Hated Gifts: “…Honestly, this is kind of bumming me out…”
❋ flop – cheap cloth – feed

Magic: Water element - Water bomb

Personality:
Wes is dumber than a sack of potatoes.

Contentedly laid-back and tactless—without the intention of ever changing—the only things Wesker remotely finds a passion in is cooking and romance (and occasionally learning new things). He hopelessly wishes to get find, marry, and “cook for his loved one until they are fat”.

Despite living with his family and all the people in a small village all his life, Wes has NO people skills. He often acts brash, blunt, impolite, and pathetic; even sometimes in front of the girls he longs after so hard.

Additionally, he is supposedly a wimp among wimps. His complete lack of pride as a man also makes him proclaim this outright when asked to so much as a thumb wrestle.

And in his mellow stupidity, Wes is a carefree, go-with-the-flow kind of guy, and gives dedicates his attention to whatever tickles his fancy at any given moment. However, being this fickle and refusing to settle down on any particular interest before it's proved it's worth also makes him rather open-minded—if not a bit slow on the uptakes.

History:
Since he was born, Wes lived on a small farm off the border of some small village, where his small family lived a small life. Despite his father and mother’s mediocrely hard working personalities, Wes never found work in his interests. He grew up to be so lazy, in fact, that his mother refused to feed him. Her intentions were to push her sloth of a son to learn how to fend for himself, but instead, he simply forgot to eat until he nearly shriveled down to nothing.

Reluctantly, she sat Wes down one day when he was little more than skin and bones and taught him how to make mushroom-walnut soup, his favourite dish to date. To her surprise, from the slicing of the onions to the stirring and simmering, his attention was rapt. Rather than turning his head and dozing or wandering off, he got out of his seat and wanted to try putting the soup together himself (he was confident he had eaten it enough times, he knew the ingredients like the back of his foot). And although he was distressingly horrible at it, and the outcome was a disturbing black sludge, it was the first thing either of his parents had seen him put effort in.

After that, however, cooking remained the only thing Wes was interested in, and although he was steadily improving, his parents once again became tired of the way he simply ate, slept and wandered aimlessly day after day. At one point, they tried to cautiously ignite a spark for sport and encouraged Wes that fishing was a lazy activity, and seafood tasted great, but after months and months using almost no meat besides fish in his dishes, even seeing a single gill could make him hurl, and merely mentioning hope for an athlete in him made his parents groan.

Over the next short years of his adolescence, Wes’ favourite dish to recreate was still his mother’s Mushroom-Walnut soup (although after the seafood incident, he was careful not to attempt it too often). And yet, no matter what he tried, he still could not recreate it perfectly. He refused to accept the recipe from his mother, convinced that he knew all of the ingredients but one, which must have been some top-secret sort of thing, like they tell one so often in stories. For a while, he turned it into a game—spying on his mother, fleeing when their eyes met, secluding himself every so often like a mad-man in a small shed—a game which carried on until both of his parents were absolutely fed up with his childishness.

All that said, when Wes received the letter, his mother and father were more than happy to let him go. And despite feeling indifferent with the parting at first, Wes found himself unconsciously yearning for his home after only a short while apart. The only way he could find to console himself was in making comfort food—the sorts of things his mother prepared for him, his favourite of which being soft rolls and bread. In the end, one thing led to another, and he ended up finding the bakery of the island, and happily took a spot creating the food he loved, simply letting days roll mellowly in and out.

Additional Info:
- Wes lives happily on the beach side, in some scrap of canvas he calls a tent.

- If you're going to try and make him read anything, make it a picture book or a recipe book. A recipe book with mostly pictures. orz

- He stitched the “MOM <3” on his shirt by himself, stabbing holes in his fingers and everything. But he was happy it turned out semi-legible. And that he spelled it right.

- Don't tell him that what he's doing is actually work. He'll be very shocked and confused, and could very possibly be sent into spiraling depression, leading to obligatory questions such as, "what is life?" and, "does the universe exist?" and, "is time travel with kittens possible?"

- His dream in life is perfectly recreating or partaking in the perfect recreation of his mother's soup.

--

I have way too many male characters.
Which is why I made another one.
Obv.

he kind of reminds me of a cat... i-is that just me? /WEEPS

Item icons (c) Ushi no Tane
Thank you!