Post by John Tate on Aug 10, 2009 5:38:02 GMT
[/b] YOU can't KILL the BOOGIE man![/size] [/center][/blockquote]*
*TELL ME WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE
Name :: John James Lloyd/John Tate
Nickname :: John-Boy, if you want to die
Age :: 18, its cool with him, though he is glad that maybe now he'll be able to make an identity for himself beyond that of the protected, sheltered son.
Sexuality :: Straight, but all bets are off when he gets wasted.
Clique :: Jock
*LOOK IN THE MIRROR
Overall appearance ::
At six foot three, John is built like an athlete with a tall relatively lanky frame. In this he takes after his mother though his coloring owes more to his father with his dark brown hair and warm brown eyes. Though he might be considered by some to be attractive, John doesn't view himself as a pretty boy by any means. His life had been hard and a great deal of that is revealed in the defined planes of his squared jaw and high cheek bones. He's a thoughtful sort and with all that he has been faced with in his life its rare for him to smile. One of his friends even jokes that it took him two months to get him to laugh at one of his jokes. It was an exaggeration, but not too far a stretch.
He carries himself like most guys his age who participate in sports of one kind or another, often letting his testosterone guide him. He has a quiet confidence about him that despite his being the definitive strong and silent type attracts a good bit of attention when he enters a room. It could be something that comes naturally to him because of his bloodline or his height, but it isn't something he actively seeks to obtain, this interest or attention. More than anything he just wants to be like everyone else, and more often than not his body language calls to mind someone unassuming and even kind. He has the potential for that trait, some see it in his eyes. But more than anything he is guarded, his physicality an expression of his inner workings.
He likes casual clothing. Not liking the constraining feeling of a tie around his neck, more often than not any shirt or tie he wears around his neck will be as open as he can get away with. It is for this reason that he doesn't wear a necklace or chain around his neck, doing so makes him feel like he is choking. His favorite garments are one of his father's old leather motorcycle jackets and a pair of jeans he's had for a year. He prefers solid fabrics to prints for the most part, often choosing masculine bold colors or simple black, white or navy. He is most comfortable in athletic wear, especially his team uniforms, as it makes him feel like he is a part of something more than his f*d up family life.
playby :: Josh Hartnett
*I THOUGHT I KNEW YOU
Overall personality ::
John is someone who is only now coming in to his own. For years, all of his life basically, he has been held back, kept from even the simplest of desires and motivations. In a way he is only now experiencing some of the freedoms many of his peers explored four or five years ago. He finds it both freeing and a little frightening to be back in Haddenfield and in his mother's old room at the Strode's. As a result he can be manipulated and influenced by the people he feels drawn to. Usually he makes the right choices but occasionally not. He's a trusting sort though he tries to keep himself protected by acting as an observer and introvert when faced with new situations and people.
On the surface, he seems like a good natured guy and for the most part he is. He does harbor some anger toward his parents and the world in general because he feels like he got the short end of the parental stick. His dad was largely absent, and a drug addict. His mom, well, she's suffered too much and has lost her mind. He's smart like she is though, too smart. And even though he claims to be a skeptic, its mostly a defense mechanism. For him, his cynicism is a way to deal with things he either doesn't want to face or is afraid of. He can only visit his mother twice a month now, seeing her like this any more often is just too painful.
He feels guilty about that. At heart, he still wants the white picket fence, the mom baking cookies and the golden retriever ready to play catch. He tried the girlfriend thing and it hasn't really worked out for him. He's too serious for most girls his age, and for most of his peers for that matter. He spent much of his childhood taking care of his mother and father and consequently he comes across as an old soul, someone far older than his years. This doesn't mean that the boy he could have been doesn't make an appearance from time to time. With those he trusts, he reveals a sweet, fun loving, loyal, somewhat carefree spirit.
He can be rebellious. He can come across as a modern day James Dean, especially with a cigarette hanging from his lips. He just wants to get on with his life. Its why he's involved with Lockdown now that he is back in the place it all began. John just wants to prove to everyone, including himself, that Michael Myers is gone forever. He's not going to hide or live in fear anymore. Part of him feels that maybe if he is strong enough, that his mom might be able to come back to him one day. Taking care of her gets old, but its all he knows. Sometimes, the familiar is easier to take than the unknown.
Likes ::
- chocolate milk
- cheeseburgers with ketchup and pickles
- salads, yeah, he knows he's weird
- listening to music late at night in his room, it helps him get to sleep
- having a few good friends to hang out with
- sports, especially baseball, soccer and football, he hopes to get a scholarship so he can go to college
- sneaking cigarettes, its his one true vice
Dislikes ::
- excessive homework
- adults who are asses just because they think they own you for being younger
- getting a blackout after a night of partying
- girls who hang all over him
Hopes and dreams ::
He wants to go to college and have a successful life and career, not only for himself but to prove that his family doesn't HAVE to be screwed up. He wants to fall in love, he wants to be able to allow himself to fall in love.
Strengths ::
He's a good person. Its all over him, almost as if he was wearing a sign that says 'nice guy.' He'd tell people it says 'I'm f*d up...and no, I don't carry a really BIG knife.' And that on the back it would say something like, 'And no, my Mom is NOT crazy, she's delusional. There is a difference.' He's a lot stronger than one might expect. He is even surprised by it at times.
Weaknesses ::
He feels like people judge him before they even get to know him. Even when that isn't the case, he definitely wears a chip on his shoulder. Because of that he makes his own misjudgments at times in dealing with others and some situations.
*BACK THROUGH THE PAGES
Family ::
Pets :: He got a puppy (his first) for his eighteenth birthday in August, Rex, a black lab. He takes the dog for long runs through Haddenfield almost every evening.
Hometown :: Haddenfield, IL
Overall history ::
John was born to Laurie Strode and and Jimmy Lloyd, two people who were brought together by tragedy one night in 1978. A tragedy that would prove to his a little too close to home for all concerned. Initially, things seemed hopeful and by the time he was born in 1981, John's mother was nearly finished with a college degree and his father was working at a hospital in Champagne. In time, whether it was the pressures of supporting a young family or his mother's quirks, his father would end up methadone addicted and eventually leave his mother behind. Whether it was paranoia or a real threat to their safety, John may never know which, his mother took them into hiding.
The two moved to California after she ended up faking her own death. His mother found work in the school system, always at the same school he ended up attending. He didn't mind it at first, life became about the two of them against the world. Uncharacteristically, it was John who ended up comforting Laurie, now Keri Tate, after her all too common nightmares. Eventually she worked her way up into a high level position at Hillcrest Academy in Northern California. John did his best to fit in at yet another school. In time, he even allowed himself to enjoy the prospects of a girlfriend, Molly Cartwell.
Understandably their relationship suffered not only due to the trauma of what they experienced when Michael found his mother in California, but the killing stroke came when John was taken in by his foster-grandparents back in Illinois shortly afterward. He's been back in Haddenfield now for a little while. So far its going relatively smoothly, though he has started feeling the need to rebel against his grandparents stricter than expected rules. Having a best friend who likes to party hard isn't helping, though it does make life more interesting.
*COME AGAIN
Anything else? :: Not that I can think of.
Roleplay example ::Ethan had broken away from Carson at some point after the second drink at the second bar. He'd gone to the bathroom feeling like he might be getting sick and then come out to find his way to the next bar, the Arc. He didn't truly mind. He hadn't much felt like company after being brushed off by Holly. He'd thought he'd meant more to her than that. She'd sure meant a LOT to him. A WHOLE lot. Maybe she had meant too much. She'd tried to warn him, but he hadn't wanted to believe her. He still didn't. He'd wanted her to turn around, to face him and for them to work everything out. But she hadn't and now, with injured pride he wasn't sure that he wanted her too. He knew there was a problem with all of that though. A significant problem for him. He still loved her.
As a result of her silent dismissal, he'd drunk three times as much as he needed to at the last bar and was now quite feeling the effects. Most of them ill. He soldiered on, however. This was for charity. And he was getting as much to drink as he wanted. So it was a win, win situation. Even if Holly was being dumb. He knew there was something wrong with her. Little E felt it in his gut. Worse when he looked at her he felt as if his chest hurt, almost like he could feel the pain she was trying to tamp down and run from. It didn't make any sense, he knew that, but it was the only way he knew how to describe it. The feeling he got when he saw her, a feeling that multiplied and compounded in upon itself when their eyes met.
He'd apparently gotten to the bar before most of his friends. This resulting in his ingestion of two drinks before he was officially allowed to drink the official beverage. He could no longer taste anything. He supposed that was good. Good considering he was really feeling and tasting the slice of pepperoni pizza he'd had before all of this started tonight. Before he could get all of the Jack Daniels down he felt like he was going to be sick. He forced it down and got the nod from the blond with the clip board. The pizza was definitely reasserting itself now and in entirely unpleasant ways. All of this in combination with the multiple beverages he'd partook of in the interim.
He belched, burped, farted out the mouth. However one referred to it he was mortified. His stomach gurgled, no, it rumbled, like a volcano about to blow. He felt purple, if that was possible, to feel a color. A burb escaped his mouth with much protest from both the hands that flew to cover his mouth and the noise coming from his stomach. He was still mortified that he'd burped in public and not just when fooling around with his friends. He had a reputation to uphold. Now Levi would not even say hello to him. All because of an untoward bodily function. He wondered then if Levi had ever even farted. He doubted it. Levi did nothing with out a committee. If anything he probably paid someone to wipe his butt. Much less burp.
The mental ramblings were cut short by the increasingly unpleasant taste in his mouth as the contents of his stomach threatened to reverse themselves. Out of instinct, Ethan looked for Aiden. He didn't see him. He thought of trying to fight his way through the crowd to the bathroom, but Holly was there. He didn't want to deal with that. He didn't think he had the time. He spotted a fire exit located at the end of the bar. It was only a few steps. Surely he had time. Surely, he could make that. Vile liquid rose up in his throat and he clamped his mouth shut. Eyes watering, Ethan pushed the door open and managed to make it four steps before the first wave crested the shores of his gaping mouth. He stopped dead in his tracks, his body hunching over to protect his clothes. The acidic gunk splashed down, splaying outward over the asphalt.
Vanity struck and he shifted his feet to avoid ruining his shoes. Strange the things you thought of when being sick. Ethan worried that too much throw up might severely wound his vocal cords and he wouldn't be able to sing the way he liked. He wondered if Justin Timberlake ever worried about this when he threw up. He doubted it. Like Levi, Justin probably paid people to handle the unpleasant aspects of life. It made sense in some respects.
Oh...yay! Ethan hated throwing up.
This was awful, worse than awful. He should sue himself for emotional distress. This was worse than anything he could imagine. He was going to be scared emotionally. He thought of his new sweater, light gray with a swell collar. He wondered how he was going to get it off without messing it up. He REALLY hoped no one was seeing this. He didn't want Holly to know, especially. He didn't want her to know he was sick. He wanted her to thin he could hang in Holly Stone's world. But he was failing. He was failing. As things were now, Ethan James puking his guts out in an alley, he would never have a chance with her. She wanted a guy who could hold his own, one who could drink her under the table. Right now Ethan could face and empty chair and it would win. He SO sucked.
But he wasn't going to ruin his sweater too. When he could he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shook it off. Taking a breath to steady himself, he pulled the sweater over his head. He wasn't worried about ruining the white t-shirt at all. He reached out and placed the sweater onto the crate next to him. This, just in time for another wave to strike. Next he'd have to get out of his shoes, but hopefully not. He hoped it would stop soon. Jack Daniels, pizza and whatever those other sweet drinks were just did NOT mix well, no matter what anyone might say.
Oh, yay! he thought...just Oh, yay!
*WHAT A PLAYER
Your Alias :: Jason
Age :: Old Enough
Contact :: PM
How did you find us :: Advertisement
Codeword :: * Sing me a dream'
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