Post by Jamie Blake on Sept 17, 2008 18:45:24 GMT -5
BEHIND THE MASK&&
[/size]name: Dana
age: 16
gender: Girly
years of experience: NadaBACK TO BASICS&&
name: Jamie Blake
nickname: -----
age: 16
gender: Male
sexual orientation: Straight
race: Werewolf
blood: half-blood
sin/virtue: -----LOOK INTO THE MIRROR&&
celebrity: Pete Doherty
picture:
height: 5'10"
weight: 130lbs
eye colour: Brown
hair colour: Brown
heritage: Caucasian
tattoos: An anchor on his left forearm, 'Mouse' on his right pec (partially removed diy style).
piercings: ----
flaws:
Such a pleasant young boy, isn't that Jamie Blake? Dont kid yourself, he's hardly what one would consider charming. Cranky and impatient to the bitter end, Jamie doesn't like anyone, save a few exceptions. And the few exceptions he does like are just like him; cranky people who get together to smoke, drink themselves into a stupor, whining about their lives and occasionally starting a brawl with each other, only to get together the next day and do it all again. Jamie really doesn't have the patience to deal with you, the bus driver, the bartender, the bouncer, leaves, or anything really. He's been accused of having ADHD, but he's having none of it. He's simply a cranky drunk who enjoys getting a rise out of the general public. And by god, he's good at it.
"I'm sorry love, were you saying something? Just as well, I couldn't be bothered to listen to your boring drivel." While having the courage to be yourself and not care what others think could be considered an asset, Jamie crosses the line into downright rudeness. As far as he's concerned, the world has screwed him over enough, so why shouldn't he be allowed to have a little fun at your expense? Besides, all the girls say what they truly value is honest, so why shouldn't he tell a pretty damsel what an agonizing bore she is? After he's sweet-talked her into paying for dinner, of course.
overall appearance:
Well.... he isnt exactly what you'd call pretty, Jamie, but not completely hideous either. Standing at 5'10", he weighs about 130 pounds of thin muscle and soft skin. On his right pec, he has a diy tattoo of Mouse's name (which he tried to remove with a cheese grater a week later after one of their fights.) His chest and ab muscles, if there are any, are hidden underneath a layer of flesh. He is not fat at all, merely out of shape. To help the matter, his skin is pasty white. His legs are long and skinny, chicken legs, if you will, with matching gangly arms. He never did grow much body hair, and only has to shave every other day, if that. His hands are bony with average sized fingers, complete with broken, dirty fingernails and scarred knuckles. On the left hand he's missing the tip of his middle finger, which was cut off when he was fourteen during an incedent with his schools paper cutter.
Jamie is as babyfaced as a sixteen-year old, hard drinking smoker can be. The best features on his slightly angular face would have to be his full lips, despite being constantly chapped. His sooth, pale skin has a pockmark here and there from picking at the occasional pimple, while his cheeks are slightly hollow. His brown eyes would be considered attractive, maybe if he'd get more sleep and they werent always so puffy. His eyes match his hair, a dark brown shade. It's never combed, never styled and left to air dry, and when it gets too long he cuts it himself with whatever sharp object he can find. Scissors are overrated anyways. His teeth are in surprisingly good shape, well, for Jamie anyways. They're slightly crooked, and most of the molars have porcelain fillings. Jamie does his best to take as good care of them as he can, but unfortuneately, it doesnt always work.
Stylewise, he's trying. Jamie dresses as well as he can and knows how without feeling like a fraud. His day to day wardrobe consists of what he calls 'Liquor class': Dark pants, wife-beaters and blazers. And of course, often suspenders and fedoras. Maybe even a tie. For colder days, he has an ancient leather jacket from the sixties that used to belong to his Grandad, and a cheap scarf borrowed from Dad. He has a suit a size too big for him, bought for him by his mum for thirteen-fifty from a thrift store. He's already worn holes through the elbows and knees so it no longer looks even slightly fancy, but Jamie doesn't care. He always feels like a millionaire whenever he puts it on.BE YOURSELF&&
likes: [at least seven listed or a paragraph; seven sentences minimum]
-Good whiskey and other liquor
-Smoking
-Sex
-Making an ass out of himself and others
-Women
-Rats
-Money
-Free things
dislikes: [at least seven listed or a paragraph; seven sentences minimum]
-Being a werewolf
-Ham
-Stupid people
-People trying to 'improve' him
-Emo children
-Country music
-Sitting still
-The war. He doesnt understand it
strengths: [at least five listed]
-Stealing
-Lying
-Arguing
-Sticking to his beliefs
-Making something out of nothing
weaknesses: [at least five listed]
-The bottle
-Family
-Rats. He loves rats
-Being kind
-Coveting nice things
-Food
overall personality: [at least three paragraphs; six - eight sentences each minimum]
"'Scuse me darling, but I was just strolling past and couldn't help but overhear what you were saying, and if I may say so myself - you're a bloody idiot."
Jamie is king of the world with a fedora for a crown, sitting on his garbage-can throne, chain smoking and watching the world go by. He's an ass, but in the most romantic of ways. It isn't unlikely for him to tell off a half-naked couple making out in the vicinity of school children. However, it also isnt unlikely for him so chase a taxi carrying his girlfriend at midnight, wearing nothing but socks, screaming obscene poetry at the top of his lungs. Shameless? Maybe, but nobody ever got anywhere in life by being timid in the shadows. Thats what his grandaddy taught him and dammit, he's sticking to it! Whoever disagrees with him knows where to put it.
Jamie grew up without much, so he knows to make do with what he has, what he has stolen, and treasure it to the bitter end. Desperately envious of the upper class, with their nice cars and designr jeans, he stews about it in silence. Jamie is very close to his parents, and also his granddad on his fathers side. The select few people and things he does love are as well cared for as he can manage, including his girlfriend of a year. Jamie shows he cares not with words, but with things. Having close to nothing nice when he was a child, he enjoys giving his friends (and rat) the best gifts he can (although often obtained through questionable means). If Jamie ever gives someone a present without any particular occasion, it means he considers them to be valuable. And that person shouldn't be suspicious, or really anything but grateful. That gift means Jamie means only the best.
His talent for twisting words is not lost on cantankerous Jamie, and he enjoys putting it to use. His parents being from england, he has picked up on quite a bit of their british slang and uses it as much as possible. Another trait he picked up, not from his parents, but from the infamous comedian George Carlin, was a hatred for 'soft language.' Barely anybody has ever heard Jamie use euphanisms. To him, 'overweight' is a wussy way of saying 'fat', 'crapper' is a perfectly acceptable way of saying 'toilet', and 'he passed on' is an overly polite way to tell someone 'the old fart died while in bed with a Thai hooker.' A linguist of the lower classes, Jamie is infuriated by the softening of words because then the meaning behind them becomes watered down and lost. Quite often whilst strolling through the city, he will run into a street philosopher, or some young and stupid suburban girl whining about how the world has screwed her over. Jamie delights in having insightful arguements with these people, more often than not the result ending up being him walking away leaving his conversation partener frustrated and irritable. If there is no philosopher or idiot to be found, he will simply pick an arguement with one of the lads or his girlfriend, the victor usually being him. The only person he cannot best is his grandfather, and it frustrates him to no end. At least we now know where he gets it.CAN'T RUN FROM YOUR PAST&&
parents: Ellen, 47; Tommy, 49
siblings: ----
other: Grandad on fathers side, Paul; Grandparents on mother's side, George and Luisia
pets: A rat named Thelma
overall history: [at least four paragraphs; six - eight sentences each minimum]
Early life:
The Blake family came over from England on Jamie's third birthday, August 17, 1995, bringing Grandpa Paul along with them and leaving behind his mother's affluent family. His mother took a job with a maid agency while his father found work as a pipe-layer, and Grandad stayed home during the day to look after Jamie. Even on both their salaries, money was always tight, so from an early age, he learned to scrounge. By the time Jamie was ten, he had learned the art of pickpocketing and had begun to steal from the local suipermarkets. Nothing major at first, just little things, like baggies of candy and one dollar rings. He was caught only twice. While his parents longed to move him out of their inner city apartment to a safer neighbourhood, Jamie loved the dark glamour of the inner city. To him, it was a world of neon lights where you could buy a ten dollar pair of shiny shoes from the Salvation Army, stick a silk flower in your fedora and call yourself bourgoisie.
Pre-teens:
Jamie Blake first got his grubby hands on his first drink when he was twelve, a Peach Schnopps his mother had left on the counter and forgotten about. He eagerly snatched it off the table, carried it into his room where he promptly guzzled it down with enthusiasm. It left a nasty aftertaste in his moth, but the overall flavour and minor buzz he got was so delicious he promptly went prowling in search of another. He got it, two weeks later when his parents had some friends over, and once they were all suitably liquored up they figured it couldn't hurt to give the kid one. Of course, they know about the bottle he swiped when their backs were turned. By the time he was thirteen and realized the appeal of being drunk, he'd taken to bribing local gangbangers on the weekends, who were all too happy to buy him the booze in exchange for his pocket money. And he had more of it now, since his mother had written a tearful letter to her folks back home, pleading with them for some help with the finances (they did, naturally. Although it was still not enough to move).
Recent history:
His dependence on alchohol grew steadly, and after aquiring a fake ID, so did the worries of his parents and grandfather. Having nowhere near enough money to send him to rehab, they tearfully pleaded with Jamie to attend weekly AA meetings. Normally he would have resisted this, but feeling guilty, he did. At the meetings, however, he never spoke, never paid much attention, never even believed he had a problem. After all, he wasn't drunk all the time, it was saved for the weekend, and only some evenings. Not wanting to quit drinking, and with his parents decision to cut off his cash flow, he found a job in a grocery store. It was there where he met his future girlfriend, Mouse, nicknamed so because of the shape of her face. They didn't start dating until three months later, after Jamie got fired for telling a customer where to put it.
Fifteen was a major year for Jamie, it marked the best and worst times of his young life. The best being that eerie little attraction that compelled him to ask Mouse on a date, and not break up with her after he got sex, as he had with other girls. The worst being, two months after Jamie asked Mouse out, he got bitten by a werewolf. Even though he only transformed on full moons, the sheer fright of knowing what he was terrified him to death, and he developed an even more volatile temper than before. He regarded even the powerful strength that came with the wound as a curse. It threw him completely off guard, and what made him the most upset was he found himself accidentally hurting Mouse when he was trying to be gentle. Not to mention the heavy-duty chains his parents had installed to the walls of his bedroom to restrain him on the nights he did change.
His mother, not knowing what else to do, immediately called her folks in England. Within a week, her parents came through with a school they'd somehow found for, shall we say, the other breeds? They even offered to pay. Jamie immediately said no, and fought with everything he had to be allowed to stay. And he was, for eight months. Then, during a fit of anger, he managed to rip one of the securely bolted chains out of the wall. His father, terrified for the rest of his family, told Jamie he had to attend Argyle, there was no way out of it. And so, in a stunning display of nerves, Jamie was sent off to a strange school....ALL I NEED IS THE REST&&
secret word: Fallen Angel
other characters on this site?: -----
anything else?: While I have little experience roleplaying, I write lots of stories, which should be helpful
sample roleplay:
Swaggering down the sidewalk, lit cigarette in one hand, five dollar bouquet of carnations in the other, Jamie hummed a little ditty he'd overheard his mother singing in the kitchen before he'd headed out the door. He was in a surprisingly good mood. He was also slightly more dressed up than usual, having taken the time to shower and shave before throwing on a clean blazer and his seven dollar dress shoes, nicked from the Salvation Army. He liked the shoes, liked the feel of the old, beaten leather against his bare feet. He wished he had the opportunity to wear the shoes more often, since the thought of wearing them during his day-to-day life seemed so wasteful to do. No, best to save them for special occasions. And today was quite special.
It was the one year anniversary of the day he'd first asked his girlfriend out, such a stupid thing to celebrate really, he thought. One year to the day he, ignoring all the little warning bells going off in his head, asked a girl out, implying she was the only girl he'd see until he told her otherwise. Normally that would have happened fairly quickly, but not with Anna, better known as Mouse. For some strange, stupid reason, he decided to keep her around. Maybe it was because she didn't do all the emotional feelings-sharing crap girls normally do. Or maybe it was because Mouse was the only girl who'd seen through his pretty words right away, called him on his crap yet was still civil towards him. Whatever it was, it scared Jame to death and he fought going into the relationship with everything he had. Of course, when the feelings you're fighting are your own, emotions usually triumph over will power, and Jamie's case was no exception.
And so, he as he walked down the main streets to Mouse's apartment, he contemplated how a self-proclaimed jerk like him had found himself all tidied up and going to give a girl flowers, and wasting his hard earned cash taking her to the best damn dinner he could afford. Maybe it was because they'd only been going out two months before he got bitten, and yet she still stuck around. Or maybe it was because there was a guarantee of getting laid after.
As he contemplated this whilst crossing the street, he became so lost in thought that he failed to notice the slightly higher edge of the newly-beginning sidewalk, and he stumbled, dropping his flowers. He quickly caught himself, straightened and turned around to pick up the bouquet.
He turned just in time to see some idiot stomp on it. And then the idiot's idiot girlfriend.
Breathing deeply, he stooped down and carefully picked up the now crushed bouquet, staring at the backs of the couple who'd ruined them. Then with a swift, sudden jerk of his arm, he hurled the cheap flowers as hard as he could at the pair, then stomped back in the direction he came without even waiting to see if the bouquet hit. Ducking behind a building, he furiously puffed on what was left of his cigarette until only the filter was left. Pissed off, he started in the direction of the market to steal another bouquet from the florist. If he had to make a second trip, then dammit, this time he was getting some roses or lillies, or something pricey. On his way there, Jamie took great care to knock over every garbage can he could, or if they were too heavy, at least knock off the lids. The crash was immensley satisfying