Post by nathan jefferson on Oct 12, 2009 17:38:40 GMT -5
" sing us the song of the century
[/b][/i]nathan . james . jefferson[/font][/size]
"hear the dogs howlin' out of key, to a hymn called faith and misery"
_______________________________________[/center]
name ![/font][/size]
nathan james jefferson[/size]
age ![/font][/size]
twenty-three
birthday ![/font][/size]
august 11th
sex ![/font][/size]
male
sexuality ![/font][/size]
straight
membergroup ![/font][/size]
tourist
[/blockquote]
" the dawn of my love and conspiracy
[/b][/i]at first glance, you seem okay[/font][/size]
_______________________________________[/center]
[/font][/size]
faceclaim !
josh hartnett
hair ![/font][/size]
dark brown with a tendency to spike upwards.
eyes ![/font][/size]
dark brown, a bit on the puppy-like sort, surrounded by thick dark lashes that are totally wasted on a guy.
style and build ![/font][/size]
nathan's pretty good to look at, really - bod-wise. standing at a pretty respectable height of six feet, he prides himself on his well built torso and broad shoulders, his reasonably muscular arms - for a guy who totally intends to be doing law job for the rest of his life, some pretty toned legs and killer abbs, he could be instantly tagged as hot. the fact that he dresses accordingly to that hotness also helps. it isn't unusual to see him wearing white shirts and jeans, or merely dark or neutral coloured polo shirts as a daily ensemble, though he is overly fond of wearing tuxes - mainly because it's what he wears to work and he loves it beyond imagination.
[/blockquote]
" forgotten hope and the class of thirteen
[/b][/i]but looking deeper, you're farther away[/font][/size]
_______________________________________[/center]
likes ![/font][/size]
his parents, his siblings, his friends, his dog and horse, smoking, whiskey on the rocks, classical music, swimming, riding, spotless and perfectly ironed shirts, antiques, tea, coffee – actual coffee, not that thing they have in America, fireplaces, rain, fog, good books, dark and neutral colours, hunting, hospitals, irony and sarcasm, causing chaos, monarchy, manchester united, arguments, sex, cars, his car, sailing, the smell of alcohol, burnt wood and freshly mowed lawn, children
hates ![/font][/size]
boston!, sugary and fizzy drinks, heat, too much sun, boston, sun burns, sand, drunk people, badminton, frivolous and giggly girls, people begging for attention, drama, fusses, whining, phone calls, boston, text messages, his ex-girlfriends, geometry/drawing/math, stupidity, overloud and high-pitched noises, immature displays, clingy women – unless he wants them to cling for some reason, awkward silences – when he hasn’t caused them on purpose, crawling beings, environmentalists, democracy/republic/communism, having his picture taken, guys who treat girls poorly – no matter just how he treats them himself, manly women, karate – his parents decided to make him take lessons during highschool, lessons that later proved to be pretty useful but that he still recalls depreciatively, women who basically fling themselves into his bed – the women, not the fact that they’re in his bed. oh, and right: boston.
quirks ![/font][/size]
lifts his eyebrows at people an awful lot; tends to snigger and smirk more than smiling; loves causing chaos – meaning he will state polemic beliefs as his own and watch the commotion that rises afterwards; always stares people in the eyes; is atrociously blunt; most times says things he doesn’t really mean or even act according to – like that he hates someone’s guts when he’d really defend that person from all harm – that he’ll later regret; rarely or never apologizes; becomes pissed off at the smallest delay; has a dreadful temper in the morning before he’s showered; calls women sweet names – darling, love, honey, etc – even when he isn’t being the least affectionate with them; curses an awful lot though he abstains himself before women he considers to be halfway decent; he is chivalrous to women, even when it’s quite obvious that all he wants is to wring their necks. he’s scared shitless of reptiles, which basically means if he sees one, he’ll probably barf on location.
dreams ![/font][/size]
Being a successful, billion winning lawyer; getting married to the woman of his dreams and having kids – yeah, I know, shocking.
basic personality ![/font][/size]
nathan's the guy you would most likely think a complete asshole. most times, yes, he is so. blunt to the point of rudeness, a flaming bad temper, an apparent incapability of admitting he's wrong - even when he blatantly is; a complete failure in anything similar to asking for forgiveness, a tendency to make you understand he doesn't care for you - even when he does and quite deeply so; an inclination to saying exactly what he knows will piss you off. he enjoys mayhem and ruckus, he likes heated arguments and he adores hitting people - when he's legally authorized, of course. while being a bastard, he can also be your best friend. he'll never let someone he likes down, and tends to be a little over-protective when it comes to them, no matter just how much he says otherwise. he's extraordinarily charming when he feels like it, and is quite unselfish when it comes to that moment of truth when you really, really, really need him - no matter how many times in the past he's told you to fuck off, he'll do it for you, whatever it is you need. also, he's quite sensitive to frail women, children and animals and any of those can about twist him around their fingers - or paws.
[/blockquote]
" and the welfare's asphyxiating
[/b][/i]every hero has a story[/font][/size]
_______________________________________[/center]
[/font][/size]
history !
[/blockquote]
"A college lecture. A question. A passionate discussion. Apparently, these three situations in a row lead to insane love, affection and a rollercoaster of undeniable mutual lust between two seemingly rational beings.
Tell me about it.
Apparently, that is precisely how my parents met, twenty-three years ago. My mother was attending a lecture at York University given by none other than my esteemed father. According to him, she was rather hot even then - I saw the pictures and I have to agree with him - and he spent the whole lecture eyeing her. Because she was just that much of a piece of eye candy. In the end, for some reason none of them seems to vividly recall, my mother went to him – to ask him a question, according to her – and they ended up having this real heated argument – my mother has an extraordinarily bad temper I’m rather proud to say I have not inherited – where they basically ended up skewering the opposite gender into tiny little pieces. How on earth they managed to do so, I shall never be able to understand – the lecture was about economics, damn it!
Anyways, the argument got so fiery - in the middle of a conference hall filled with about three hundred innocent bystanders - that the most competent people around them dragged them onto a private room, where they continued bombarding one another with every possible indecent adjective they could possibly think about for a couple of minutes. How my father didn’t chicken out and run away screaming for his mother, I shan’t ever know. I know I would. But he didn’t and, apparently, that led to… er… “intercourse” in the room’s desk.
No, I shall not develop any further, out of fear I might barf, thank you very much.
They still hated one another, mind you. A lot. In fact, during the few days my father spent in York, chaos arose whenever he was unlucky enough to find Moms. People instantly took shelter, and it was a matter of seconds before crowded corridors became empty, the screams my parents bombarded at one another echoing on the venerable walls of that renowned institution... And they argued about everything. Someone told me a story about them bursting into heated discussion about the cafeteria's dessert that day, or something of the same sort. Ridiculous. Either ways, their relations during those fifteen days were dreadfully unstable. They either wanted to wring each other's neck or wanted to just close themselves on some random closet and... er... you know. And in the middle of all that, I was conceived.
Could be worse, I guess.
My mother was from a very strict family. They still are. A few months later, she still corresponded with my father, their letters mashed with insults and arguments. It was in one of them that my mother told him I existed. Something on the lines of "I strongly disagreed with your point in X, etc., etc., I think you are an idiot, etc, etc. Also, you'll be a father in five months. Cheers, Janine."
My dad flew to London the next day.
After a couple of days, they were happily wedded and arguing on their honeymoon.
Five months later, I was born, in London.
Oh well. Happens to the best. That is, to me.
Continuing. My childhood was bloody brilliant. Everyone tended to adore me – hardly difficult to understand why – and I grew up happy style. I had a couple of younger siblings with devious minds to take care of – wonder who they got that from…? – and a whole lot of snazzy neighbors. One of them, Letty, my girl next door, was actually the first one I got laid with. I vaguely remember her parents having invited my parents and I to tea – or dinner, or something – and us hitting it up hard on the closet upstairs. How on bloody earth we didn’t get caught, I shall never know. But whatever.
Highchool was rather amusing, when you come to think about it. Girls were such bitches. Not that they aren't anymore, but they are a little less dumb. Sex, sex, sex. Parties every once in a while... I recall having had a gazillion serious girlfriends back then - dang, I was innocent.
Law College. I just broke up with my rather stable girlfriend of five months – a very great achievement for me, really. I decided she wasn't worth the trouble, really – also, if I had to hear her high-pitched laughter again, I bloody swear I'd strangle the girl, no matter how good she was in -- er... I finished taking my degree this year. Also, my current location is Boston. Did I perchance mention how I hate Bostons’ guts…? Because I do. However, I was offered a year’s internship in this appalling place for an outrageously well-known multinational – and beggars aren’t choosers. Though I daresay I’d rather starve to death – or go back to my folks – than to have to lay a single step in this country ever again."
" sing us a song for me
[/b][/i]behind the mask[/font][/size]
_______________________________________[/center]
name ![/font][/size]
anae
age ![/font][/size]
seventeen
contacts ![/font][/size]
pm’s ok. if you want my msn, just ask.
anything else ![/font][/size]
[/blockquote]
… nay
