jacqueline & maixent
|Home||Help Search Members Calendar Tag Box|
|Welcome Guest ( Log In | Register )||Resend Validation Email|
Posted: Mar 30 2015, 01:15 AM
Blake Alexis Everly
"Is he interested in nothing more than tea and the wider issues of life?"
snarky— short-tempered — friendly — hard-working — deep in the closet
Alexis is a family name, and historically a boys' name, and teasing him about it is a very fast way to see this little hobbit get angry with you.
You were always a small, nonathletic child. You preferred the company of your books to the company of the other boys in town. Your father tried to convince you to play football or cricket, but you were neither fast nor coordinated enough to perfect the skill so the idea was lost quite quickly. This was rather disappointing to your father, given that you were his first and only son, but your mother called you her 'little gentleman'. She dressed you up in bow ties and jumpers and suspenders and told you not to get them dirty. That way you always had an excuse as to why you couldn't roughhouse with the other boys.
You were a blond little boy with bright blue eyes and great prospects for your future. Your family wasn't rich, but they were well enough off that you never worried and they knew you could get into a good university someday. You did well enough in school in most subjects, but you excelled in your reading and science. When the other kids were still reading Mr. Bump you were reading Charlotte's Web. When they were reading Redwall you were reading Lord of the Rings. You enjoyed learning about the world, and how it formed, and what makes up a person. You were picked on for being bad at sports and having glasses, but no more than any other child at that age. You were quite happy.
Your mother had terrible allergies to cats and dogs, and birds were always considered to be so much of a hassle. So, you had reptiles for pets. You had a beautiful ball python once, a lovely albino that grew to be four feet long before it escaped and terrorized the neighbors. Then you were downgraded to having a frog. You were disappointed at first, but you soon came to love your new constant companion. It was just a pixie frog, a bullfrog, but it meant the world to you to have something you took care of all on your own. It was a 3 pound behemoth by the time you entered high school, and you were forever labeled as the weird kid with a pet frog. You couldn't have cared less.
You decided at an early age that you wanted to be a doctor. Your parents, especially your father, were very proud of the idea of their little gentleman using all his knowledge to help people. Your father had been a soldier, after all, and your grandfather a battlefield surgeon. You had a legacy of helping people to uphold. And you were fully prepared to do it, too.... That is, until high school biology rolled around. You did well on the tests. You could do the homework in your sleep. Everything was going just fine, until that day... the day all high school students dread as far as biology goes. Not Sex Ed, but something far, far worse....
Frog Dissection Day.
You don't remember passing out. It wasn't something you'd been aware was happening until it was far too late to react. But you could feel your father's shame as you hit the floor at the sight of the freshly dead, bloody frogs on the dissection slab (the late 80's weren't kind to the psyches of students). You woke up in the school's infirmary, head aching and feeling quite queasy. You were forced to take a 0 for the lab, but your excellent tests and homeworks gave you a B in the class anyway. That was when you decided to take your interest in books and poetry more seriously, in spite of your father's protests about it not being a real career path. Your mother was, of course, happy with anything you chose to do.
You spent the right of your high school career studying literature of all kinds. You had a small group of friends, but you weren't really the social type. None of it appealed to you. Your idea of a fun night was sitting at home with a good cup of tea and a better book, while your friends would rather go out dancing or watching movies at the drive-in. They were always telling you that your issue was needing to get laid, but you had even less interested in all that than anything else. You actually got a girlfriend for a little while early in high school, but she broke up with you because you didn't want to make out with her on a date. You were definitely made fun of for that, and you felt truly self-conscious for the first time.
You hated hearing the other students talk about you behind your back. They were calling you Lady Alexis, Everugly, poof, fairy, pillow biter, and all manner of other rude names that you'd rather not think about. You did your best to hide yourself in your books and focus on your studies. You hit puberty rather late, of COURSE you weren't interested in women. You'd convinced yourself that must be it, so when you finally DID start to change you tried your best to convince yourself that women were attractive. You made rude jokes with your friends, flirted with the girls, and did your best to shake the image of the previous years. Most people forgot, as teenagers so often did. You never did.
You met a nice girl in your last year of high school in your favorite Literature class. Her name was Emily, and she was a very lovely young woman. She was smart, pretty, funny, and a genuinely nice person to be around. You thought that it must be love, and you went on to the same university together. You went for a BA in English, she went for History. You were never physical with her through school, because she was a good girl who wanted to wait until marriage. You were happy with that. You were in no rush after all. You had your whole lives ahead of you both. Why ruin a perfectly good friendship and relationship with Emily? Yes, it made you both look like prudes, but you didn't care.
You got married a week after graduating from college. Your parents were exceptionally proud of you. Even your father was happy, in spite of your mostly useless degree. You and Emily moved in together, but still the physical aspect of your relationship was.... lacking. You just couldn't see the point of it, and you wondered if something was wrong with you. It made Emily happy, sure, but you couldn't see the appeal at all. It certainly wasn't like anyone ever described. It just wasn't the kind of animalistic instinct you had. It took so much effort, but it was worth it, you supposed, for your lovely wife. You still preferred to sit on the couch with a cup of tea, though.
You worked as a primary school teacher while you worked on your Master's degree. She worked at a museum. You were both contented for a few years, but the companionship alone wasn't enough to keep you together. You both felt there was something missing. There was no spark. Not enough physical attraction to make her feel happy. So you let her go. You went your separate ways, and to be honest you haven't seen her since. You mailed each other for a while afterward, but then you moved to London, and she went to the United States, and you just never got back in touch. You started teaching at a nearby primary school in London, and you fell into a deep sadness for a long time.
Your Masters program was a blur of self-loathing and books. So many books of so many varieties. Fantasy, science fiction, history, poetry. The books became an escape for you, a shelter that you built for yourself in libraries and on your couch and around the kitchen. You stayed up late not because you were studying too hard but because you didn't want to go to an empty bed. Your usual tea became spiked with Kahlua, or vodka, or Irish cream depending on the day, but you drank it just as often. It was hard to take, and you sometimes wondered what you could've done differently. It was obviously your fault, because Emily has been a perfect friend, girlfriend, and wife.
And that was when the rest of your world came crashing down around you. You got a call at 8 am one morning. It wasn't too strange, after all, you'd been expecting some call today. Your parents were heading out on an anniversary trip to New Zealand that day, and they'd been nervous about it. After all, none of you had been out of Europe before. They'd promised to call when they'd landed, but you hadn't expected it to be so soon.... It wasn't meant to have been so soon, and it wasn't your parents on the other line.
"...Yes, Can I help you?"
"I'm sorry, but your parents have been involved in a plane crash."
Thirty years old, already divorced and now both your parents were dead so young. You'd never felt so lost. You felt so alone. If it weren't for one of your professors pushing you to keep up with your work, you probably would have disappeared completely into your sadness. It wasn't fair. But few things were fair. You wondered if your life was as meaningless as the books you analyzed for class or read to the primary school kids. But, you pressed on. You wrote poetry of your own to push you through. You forced yourself forward. Why not? Curling up and feeling sorry for yourself didn't make anything better. It certainly hadn't helped you so far.
You graduated with your Masters and with highest honors possible. It felt good. You felt proud of yourself. No one in your family had ever had a Masters Degree, as far as you knew.You began teaching at the local high school. You were already going grey, but you had that youthful bounce back in your step. You smiled more. People noticed. Some flirted, but you remained uninterested in a relationship.
"I'm sorry."You'd say it with a smile that reached your ears and made them perk up.
"But I'm married to my work, and my books."
It was a lie, to yourself, but you were always okay with lying to yourself. You felt alone, and you wished he could feel that intense physical attraction to women that everyone said you should, but you couldn't. You couldn't even fall in love with the women in your books, or in the stories you wrote for yourself. You always felt drawn to the strong male characters, but that was just author insertion or power fantasies....right? Of course right. After all, you'd BEEN married before! You aren't gay. You've been in love with a woman. The idea is ridiculous....... isn't it?
You're too old for such thoughts anyway. You're 43, for God's sake! These thoughts are for your students, not you.
Bro — 19 — Eastern — pm — mock turtle
Posted: Mar 31 2015, 04:53 AM
oh my goodness, i love him! he's so adorable and easy to relate to. he genuinely sounds like a real, believable character and it's just fantastic. can't wait to see him around on-site!