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Cursed by Cupid Vice Captain
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 Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 8:48 pm
Name: Thomas
Player: Chibi_Dragonfly
Stage: Looking
Seeing: N/A
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 8:49 pm
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Cursed by Cupid Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 8:57 pm
Checking the mail was probably the least exciting thing Thom did all week; not that Thom's current life was filled with excitement as it was, but hey. So far as it went, Thomas was comfortable with his life as it was, and that was definitely something, wasn't it?
Walking downstairs with his mailbox key in hand, Thomas said a kind hello to his decrepit old landlady, and offered to help her up the stairs (despite the fact he was going down them), which she declined. Which was fine with him, but his mother would've smacked him black and blue if he hadn't at least offered. It was just another flight of stairs, and then he was at his mailbox, sliding the key into the lock and pulling it open. It was nothing but the usual; bills, bills, and more bills- when the last letter slid out, and landed on the floor with a surprisingly heavy fwump. Curiousity peaked just from the appearance of the thick envelope, Thom reached down, and picked it up. He turned it over in his hand twice, before shrugging, and reaching into his pocket for his swiss army knife, slicing it cleanly open. His eyes scanned over the letter once, then twice, and he frowned. What the hell was this? And who was anyone to say what state HIS love life was in? Sure, it hadn't been all that productive- well, recently- but- hey! He hadn't been looking, there were probably a number of available women in his dance classes that he could... But.. ah... He wasn't really interested in them, since most of them signed up with their boyfriends, or husbands. Hmm.
And then another thought struck him. How the hell had they manged to detect that his love life sucked, anyway? Someone must have notified them- and damnit, the only one who Thom could think of doing such a thing...
"Iamel," he muttered, shaking his head and brushing his fingers through his hair, before sliding his mail underneath his arm, and marching back up to his apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. He'd have to talk to the other later, after classes were over.
So, several hours later, as the other students were filing out of the room, Thomas moved to corner Iamel.
"You have something to do with this Iamel?" he demanded, an eyebrow poised in a high arc upon his face, looking slightly more tense than usual. But then, in public Thom always seemed a little uptight, and uncomfortable. It was slowly easing away, but for now, it was still present.
Iamel rather enjoyed the dance classes. He had been told that he would be able to be decent at ballet but with his wings, it was a matter of aerodynamics then anything. That, and he didn't WANT to do ballet. Gaetan did ballet and Iamel didn't feel like being a part of that. Taking these classes - the jitterbug and all that good s**t - was a good way to use excess energy when Dee was at her own dance classes or spending the night over with patrick or someone. She didn't have many friends, outside of that.
WIn this instance, he was sweating. Iamel was a raver, not a dancer, and he was all sticky and warm and just slightly damp. He had been grabbing at a towel when Thomas managed to hunt him down like a dog on a ********' scent.
"Hey there, Thommy boy. What're you up - ...to. Ah." He tapered off as Thomas got rather snarky, and a smirk twisted itself onto his thin face. Iamel wasn't a very handsome man but the smirk only made him look dashing. Devilish? "What the hell are you talking about? Do with what? I can only play twenty questions for so long."
Thomas studied the other closely as he turned around, and Thomas shifted a bit, pulling the now slightly crumbled letter from his pocket.
"No need to play games, this, to me, seems to reak of your doing," he replied in explanation, his accent a bit thicker than usual. A sure sign that he was looking for answers. He smoothed out the somewhat abused letter so that the other could properly read at least a little of the content, and get the gist of the whole... Dating company thing.
It wasn't so much that Thomas was irrate with the other about it, hell, it might not even be that bad of a way to meet people; (Especially because online dating was above and beyond him; the poor luddite that he was) he just wanted to know if it had been Iamel's idea.
So that he had someone to blame if it went horribly, terribly wrong. Hell, he'd already started filling the thing out a little- but... Some things he just wasn't sure exactly what he was supposed to put, so for the moment, they remained blank.
Iamel plucked the letter from his new found friends fingers and flicked it open to start scanning the contents. Mr Thomas, blah blah blah, youo suck at nailing people, blah blah blah, and finally, he looked down at Thomas with that same sort of slow smirk. His scrawny shoulders rose and fell with a lame sort of uncaring, and he tossed the paper back at the dance instructor.
"Yeah, so? You said you had a hard time meeting people. I'm what? You're only friend ever? I know I kick all sorts of a**, Thommy, but it's pretty sad that a multi-colored ******** like me is the only person you know around here. I'm not a good person to hang around with all the time."
Ohh, two could play the snarky, pass the insults game. Thomas's lip curled at the corner, into the smallest forming of a smirk, and he reached to pluck the letter right out of the air as it was tossed back at him.
"And it's not like I'd want to. And oy, m'land lady invited me for tea last weekend," Yeah, because she'd wanted the rent. But still.
"So this was th'best you could come up with? A dating system that seems ta have just the same sort of humor you do," Thom shook his head, brushing his fingers through his hair, pulling his signature ducktail back up.
Iamel wasn't the only one who sweat during these classes. It could be tough work, all the swinging and lifting and leg-kicking.
"Hey, if you think I'm awesome, just imagine how awesome a whole company like me is." He was teasing. he had to be. Iamel allowed one hand to jerk up and thrust itself into Thomas' hair for a brief ruffle. It was a rather rough gesture, and he was still grinning. The birds fingers tightened and he tugged, just lightly, before he released Thomas' hair and gave a few hops back.
Still, he was smirking.
"Going out for drinks is only awesome for so long and, really, I'm already taken. I don't need to bar-hop. Give it a try, Thommy."
Thom released an exaggerated groan at the suggestion, and shook his head. He still wasn't sure how this strange 'friendship' had come about- but he hadn't yet forced the other away, and, once Thom hadn't been much different from the other. Well, he wasn't that much different now- he just. Didn't seem to be able to relax quite as much as he used to.
"Oy," Thom wrinkled his nose, jerking just slightly as the other's fingers came up into his hair, pushing it back and then pulling on it just slightly, his own hand jerking to try and intercept- but the other was already hopping away. Probably a good thing, too.
"Don't touch the hair man,"
Thom was tempted to make a crack about the other not wanting to play his wing man- but he decided to refrain. THAT could come back to bite him in the a** too, and he really would've preferred that it didn't.
"Speaking of a drink. You got time for one?"
Thom seemed to tense again; he wasn't sure exactly, how to go about asking for help filling the damn thing out. And it had been nagging at him to finish it all damn day...
"I always have time for a drink." Another hop and a flutter of wings; Iamel went forward and, again, took the paper. he slipped past his friend to saunter towards the door. Iamel never sashayed. He sauntered.
"What's this you have - ********, Thom. You've hardly filled out ANY of this stuff. What the hell? Gimme-a pen. We're going to get toasted and fill this stuff out."
Thom had been moving the paper towards his pocket, when the other snatched it up again. Mild annoyance crossed his features as the other took it from him, and he looked as though he might blush as the other started scouring his answers.
"Well I only got it this morning, and I was-" he faltered. He couldn't say he'd been busy, he hadn't been THAT busy... He'd organized his apartment a little, watched television, filled out a word or two, and then gone back to television...
Not even television was that interesting though...
But at least this solved him the problem of asking the other for help with filling it out.
"Whatever," he muttered, reaching and plucking the first available pen from the desk as they passed it. He also grabbed his coat from the rack on the wall, and followed the other out. Glancing at his pen, he shook his head a little.
Orange. Ironic.
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 8:59 pm
Proof that Thom's a sexy beast. Art by m-t-copyright, click for fantastic gallery and cheap commissions! =DD
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 9:02 pm
Character Name: Thomas "Thom" Michaels
Age: Technically, 68, but he hasn't 'lived' that many years. Appears 27; considers himself as such. He was just shy of his 27th birthday when he arrived.
Sexuality: Straight as an arrow~
OC/Shop: Brand spankin' new original character. Fresh out of the packaging and everything. Deeg claimed the bubble wrap he was delivered in!
Description: Thomas stands at a clean 6'3", with dirty blond hair and hazel eyes. He is a well built man, not overly brawny, but he definitely possesses distinct muscle definition from all the hard work he did in the steel industry. His hair is styled in that of a ducktail, or, alternatively known as a 'duck's a**'. Meaning that his hair was combed back around the sides of his head, and then at the front swept up, to resembling the tail of a duck. He possesses a chiseled jaw which is almost always clean shaven, unless there is some sort of dire emergency requiring his absolute immediate attention that doesn't allow him to shave. He doesn't have much in the way of sideburns anymore, though he did have them when he was a teenager.
Thom has a hard time kicking his old style habits, and more often than not will wear white button up shirts, black slacks and suspenders, with a coat and hat. Occasionally he'll wear a leather jacket- but so far as it goes, he was never much of a greaser, and so doesn't feel the style suits him. He will don a pair of jeans- but prefers a comfortable pair of slacks to denim. Thom is reserved about color choices, sticking mostly to navy, grey, charcoal, black and white for his clothing, and he doesn't really feel complete going out unless he's wearing a hat, a fashion trend of which seems to have been lost in today's society.
Other outfits Thomas is likely to wear are here, here (specifically the man on the right with the pipe), and here. For a good visual representation of Thomas, James Dean is a good representation of what I think he looks like, except with a bit more muscle. More images of James Dean: [x][x] and [x]
Personality: Thomas is, in every sense of the word, an 'old fashioned' man. Born in 1940, he watched as the world began to change in the wake of World War II. His own father had given his life fighting against Nazi oppression, and in 1945, a month before the official end of the war, his mother packed up everything they had left, and they moved to America.
Growing up in the fifties meant living through the cold war, the birth of Rock n' Roll, and the revolution of the television as a mainstream source of media. Thomas grew up in the time before the Civil Rights Movement, and much of the racist teachings that were ingrained into him then he still possesses now. It is something he's trying quite hard to overcome, especially given Gaia's overwhelming diversities, but it is difficult for him, as he came from a close minded family, and so he himself can be quite close minded at times.
Unlike many of Thomas's friends, he finished high school, but never pursued any schooling after that. It was during his senior year that he met his soon to be wife, Margret Wilson. He and Maggy went to the prom together- but after that she left for University, while he took a job working in a steel factory. For a time, it was promising work, and although Maggy was far from him, he never forgot about her. In a twist of fate, they met again just before Maggy's graduation, and after several weeks of spending time together, Thomas proposed. Maggy dropped out of school to marry Thom, and for a time, things seemed happy and promising. But the steel industry was beginning it's recession, and it wasn't long before Thomas was thrust a pink slip. Now forced to search for alternate work to keep food on the table for his growing family he took a job offered by the government in the local newspaper. There wasn't much information given, other than it was regarding experimental research, and he would be paid top dollar for his involvement, and whatever 'work' he chose to volunteer for. Not realizing how bad it could get, Thomas took the job- which led to his disappearance in 1966. It was a science experiment gone wrong, and it thrust him into a world he doesn't feel he belongs to, and is having a hard time adjusting.
Before the accident, Thomas was warm-hearted, outspoken and boisterous; he liked to laugh and dance the night away, but he also worked hard to supply his family with everything he could. It broke his heart to lose them as he did, and he feels ashamed of how he just left them; not that he really had any control over it, but he feels ashamed of himself for not being able to do more to stop it. Thomas doesn't like not having control over a situation, and so his current one frustrates him to no end. Another thing that Thomas absolutely hates is being embarassed- and it happens a lot nowadays, since he has so much he needs to learn to fit into current society.
Unlike how Thom was, he's become a quiet, withdrawn kind of man, who is just trying to move on with his life. He doesn't ever talk about his family, or what happened to have him end up on Gaia; he wants to forget, because he is ashamed.
There are many habits that Thomas hasn't managed to break, including smoking, the occasional glass of a good bourbon, and the stubborn refusal to accept that all people are created equal, including those of a colored race, or even the odder races on Gaia. It gets him in trouble quite a bit, but Thom's a strong man, and he can hold his own in a fight.
Other than being thrust into the future, the only other thing Thomas 'gained' during his work with the experimental geneticists was the slightest ability to have control over fire. It's mostly useless- he can light a flame on his thumb large enough to light a cigarette, but that's about it- unless he loses his temper. Then he can bring down all kinds of fiery hell on you, and being Irish, he's got a bit of a short fuse. However, during this state he still has very little control over it, and can unintentionally hurt those he doesn't want to. He keeps this in mind when he gets into fights. Other than that though, it's only the slightest difference in a regular body temperature, not much else.
Prompt Number: 2
Response: Thomas awoke at a quarter to seven, fifteen minutes shy of when his damned alarm was destined to go off. He remained where he was for several moments, debating on whether or not to wait for the impending jarring alarm (an old fashioned wind up with the jarring clanging of bells to get one out of bed) or merely getting up, and saving himself the strife. With a sigh, he pushed himself up out of bed, and, running his fingers over the stubble on his chin, padded off towards the tiny bathroom of the rather crummy apartment he was currently calling his home. It wasn't much- but it was what he could afford on his current salary. Even with working two jobs, today's economy continued to baffle him nine times out of ten, and he found him cursing the ridiculous inflation of- well. Absolutely everything.
What happened to the 30 cent cheeseburger? Or paying 22 cents a liter for gas?
Those days were long gone it seemed, and it was merely one more thing that Thomas found he had to accept, and attempt to move forward with his life. But.. Damnit, some days he just wondered why he pulled himself out of bed.
As he lathered his hands up with shaving cream, and began to apply it liberally to his face, he took a glance at the calendar he'd hung up beside the mirror, behind the toilet. It was a 50's pinup styled calendar- a throwback to a time when he actually fit in. It was both a comfort, and an aching reminder of everything he'd been forced to leave behind, and sometimes... Well, he wondered why he didn't just burn the damn thing, and get a different calendar. Maybe next year...
His eyes fell upon the date, and his stomach did a bit of a turn, more so than it usually did every morning when he moved to shave.
September 1st, 2008.
On this day, almost forty years ago, it would have been his son's first day of school.
And he'd had to go without his father's support. It made his stomach curl. Thomas had remembered how hard it had been for him growing up without a father... Lost to war- a noble death, but still... A growing boy needed his father... Thom had promised himself he'd always be there for his kid- and yet...
Here he was.
He lifted his head to stare into the mirror, his own reflection staring back at him, and Thomas snarled, turning his back on it, trying to quell the cold knot that had formed in the pit of his stomach. He'd never forgive himself for subjecting his son to the same sort of fatherless existence he himself had endured...
Because to Thomas, it was unforgivable.
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 9:03 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 9:05 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 9:06 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 9:07 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 9:08 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 9:09 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 9:14 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 9:16 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 9:17 pm
Owait.
Dee is counting these wrong....
:>
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 9:19 pm
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