Post by Anthony Quincy Fletcher -- on Oct 29, 2011 23:37:33 GMT -5
[/b]Anthony Quincy Fletcher, ADDERFOOT
a tall, quiet man with brown hair and blue eyes.
roleplayed by cricket
NAME – Anthony Quincy Fletcher
GENDER – Male
AGE – Thirty
MAJORED IN – Clinical Sciences with a focus in Physical Therapy
RESIDENCE – Miala Apartments
CURRENT JOB – Physical Therapist at the Hospital
HOMETOWN – Albany, New York
CLOTHING STYLE –
Casual; Anthony prefers not to spend a lot of time in the mornings deciding what he is going to wear. For the majority, his wardrobe consists of solid-colored t-shirts and jeans, making his choices in the early hours very simple. He also is not the type for accessories, he prefers not to wear a watch or other jewelry but occasionally, on a particularly bad day that he needs cheering up, he will wear an old bracelet that his sister made him when they were children. For shoes, he has taken a liking to Converse but he will often wear any old gym shoe for convenience.
Dressy; While this is uncommon, there are times that Anthony does have to wear nicer clothing. He isn’t the type to wear a tight, hot suit. He prefers a simple collared shirt and a tie, he will also choose suspenders over a belt but will often hide them with a sports jacket of some sort. This is also the only time he will wear a nice watch or other trinket to add to his appearance.
PHYSICAL STATURE –
Anthony can easily be described as tall and skinny. As a kid and teenager, his height barely broke five feet but once puberty set in during his later years, he easily passed six foot (6’ 3”). And always a spindly child, he has always had a difficult time gaining and keeping weight despite doctors constantly warning him that his weight wasn’t healthy. While over the years, he has filled out slightly, he still leans on the skinny side. What really sticks out is his shoulders appear more muscled than the rest of his body and seem a bit out of place.
HAIR/EYES –
Hair; When he was younger, Anthony constantly kept his hair long and bangs nearly covering his eyes. As he grew older, that quickly ended and gave way to a short and easily manageable haircut. His bangs rarely pass the middle of his forehead and the back neatly stops at the nape of his neck. In terms of style, Anthony takes care of his hair meticulously, constantly checking for pieces out of place and hates it when someone touches his head. Because of this, his bad days are easy to recognize because he will just leave the house with bed head and for those used to a clean-cut Anthony, this can be rather startling.
Eyes; Anthony has blue eyes and is near-sighted. He owns a pair of glasses but due to convenience prefers to wear contacts instead.
OTHER APPEARANCE –
The bar is boring and slow on a Tuesday night. You have a drink in hand and you wander from booth to booth looking for some fun. Eventually end at the bar in a stool, sulking in your inability to pick up a single man this night. Looks like it will be a boring night…
Then a tall drink of water sits next to you. And when you say tall, you aren’t kidding. This man has to at least break the six foot marker and he isn’t a sickly and lanky tall. No, he isn’t built like those computer nerds that hunch over when they walk and slouch forward as if to hide their overwhelming height. No this man holds his head high, his shoulders (which you had already noticed are broad and well-muscled) were straight. Not a single slouch was present to taint his posture.
He orders a single scotch and reached out a hand to take it. They are big and full but look soft without a single scar marring them. Though on the inside of his middle finger on his left hand, a rough callous had formed. A writer’s bump, you think they call it. He must have a strong grip then.
Out of the corner of your eye, you watch the man lift it up to his mouth. His lips are not near full, his top lip is much thinner than the bottom but the light smattering of scruff under his nose and his chin hide that fact. He downs the entire drink and grimaces. As he does so, small wrinkles form on his forehead and his nose, folding the skin in a sign of disgust. They fade when he gives the bartender a smile. It’s crooked, the left side lifting much higher on his face than the right. A small portion of his lips open up to show a row of white teeth, obviously taken care of over the years.
You slowly move up his face. His nose from this angle appears short and pointed at the tip but has a nice curve to the bridge. And the little stubble below the tip doesn’t hurt either. His eyes are bright and are not obscured by glasses, either he is wearing contacts or has good vision. As the light catches his eyes, you can see the thin line of a contact resting against his eye. The color is a soft blue, not a striking icy blue that would make a girl swoon or a dark mysterious blue that drove ladies mad but just a kind blue. Instead a blue that came to mind when you imagined a young child or a cute dog. The only problem with his eyes was that under each was a purplish tint from long nights.
Then you come to a real problem. His eyebrows. They are like big brown caterpillars, thick and a dark chocolate color. While they were groomed to an extent, they still sat on his brow like a pair of fat marker lines. These eyebrows were low enough that if he scrunched up his face enough, they would eventually block out his eyes. Maybe with a little more TLC, they could be managed but for now, you are compelled to attack them with a pair of tweezers.
His hair was completely unlike his eyebrows. It was clean, fluffy, and perfectly groomed. Not a single hair looked out of place on his head. It was a rich chocolate color that complemented his pale skin. It was tastefully style, kept short above his ears with a slight bit of sideburns. And suddenly this led to you to question his sexuality. Yes there were men that cared about their hair but this man seemed to be very meticulous with his. There was a hint of product and at least twenty minutes worth of preparation. Every other man you had been with only stayed in the bathroom for ten minutes and that included teeth brushing and shaving. None of them did anything with their hair.
Your fears are eased a bit as you glance at his clothes. He isn’t wearing some flashy attire that came to mind when you thought of a gay man. Instead he was clothed in a simple black t-shirt that tightened around his shoulders at just the right angle. Down below were a pair of jeans that were not quite skinny but were tight enough that it hung close to his skin and the cuffs at the end of his jeans wrapped around the top of his sneakers. Those were black with the signature star that was often associated with Converse.
You start to draw your eyes back up but then end locking your gaze with his. He tilts his head just the slightest to the left and opens his mouth to say something. Maybe he is going to buy you a drink or offer you to dinner.
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to save you some time.” He puts his glass down on the bar. What was he talking about? You didn’t care; his voice was low and sweet. It didn’t have that gruff edge that you often liked in a man but on this guy, you couldn’t be bothered. He also had a rhythmic way of talking; at this point you honestly didn’t care what he said to you. “You’re not my type.” He fixes the collar around his chest and zips it closed. He gives you an apologetic smile before dashing out of the bar as if there were hot coals under his feet. Except for that. That was the last thing you wanted to hear.
That’s a shame. Maybe he just doesn’t like brunettes.
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GREATEST STRENGTH – His compassion for other people
FAVORITE HOBBIES – Reading, jogging, and working
THINGS THAT PLEASE –
TOUGHEST OBSTACLE – Dealing with loss and disappointment
THINGS THAT DISPLEASE –
ORIENTATION – Homosexual
PERSONALITY SUMMARY –
INFLUENCES –
MOTIVATIONS –
HISTORY –
Tiny fingers clasped the top bar on the crib, skinny arms tried to lift the small boy but he didn’t quite make it. Little Anthony hung suspended in mid-air as he tried to peek over the side. The baby lied just beyond a small curtain that blocked her from the view of her older brother. With a wild kick, the boy attempted to get higher, to at least get his eyes over the top. Even the smallest look would be enough for the boy. It had been a long time since the little girl had made a sound and he was starting to get concerned.
Suddenly the boy was swung into the air and held above the crib. Strong hands grabbed either side of the boy and carried him with ease. “Whatcha doing Sport?” His father asked, laughing and gave the little boy’s sides a friendly squeeze.
“Violet wasn’t making no noise.” Anthony said in his tiny voice. He gave a pout that only a four year old could pull off. “I wanted to be sure she was okay.” He was the big brother, it was his responsibility to make sure his little sister was alright at all times. Anthony glanced down at his little sister. The tiny baby, only a few months old, was fast asleep. Her chest rose up and down with a small snore. The tiny wisps of brown hair fell on her tiny head and Anthony smiled. That was his sister.
Anthony’s father smiled and nodded. “You’re a good brother. She’s just sleeping, let’s leave her be.” He started to turn around and leave the room. Anthony clung around his father’s neck and watched over the shoulder until they were down the hall. There Anthony was lowered back to the ground and his father patted the top of the boy’s head. “Never let that change.”
Anthony puffed out his chest and smiled. “I’ll always be a good brother. Forever and ever.” As long as he was Violet’s brother, she would always be safe.
LITTLE GIRLS AND COOTIES
The little peck on his cheek was enough to send Anthony running for cover. The boy scrambled over to his mother. The young woman was perched on a bench and jumped when her son latched onto her leg and used the hem of her skirt to wipe his cheek. “Mommy, that girl just gave me cooties.” He whined, furiously rubbing the white skin pink. “Tell her not to do it again.”
Lila couldn’t help but laugh at her son’s antics and swept him up onto her lap. Using the end of her sleeve, she slowly rubbed her son’s cheek. “You will be fine Anthony. That’s just what girls do.” She turned the six year old boy to face her and she smiled which caused Anthony to smile back. “Now go back to playing.” She shooed the boy off her lap and smiled as he ran to his friends.
She watched the entire time; Anthony avoided the little girl that had kissed him which turned into a game where the girl chased Anthony around the park a few times in an attempt to kiss him again. At the end, the little girl had given up and Anthony wandered back over. “Can we go Mommy?” He asked and took her hand and started to pull. “I’m never marrying a girl.” The boy muttered once they were a block away.
Lila gave her son’s hand a squeeze. “Why is that honey?”
“Girl’s have cooties. I will marry a boy, they don’t have cooties.” Anthony said matter-of-factly, sounding completely confident in his decision.
His mother laughed and smiled but did not go to correct her son. Instead she just held him close. “That sounds like a plan Honey.”
IS MOM ALRIGHT?
“COULD ANTHONY FLETCHER PLEASE COME TO THE OFFICE?”
Anthony flinched as his name was read aloud on the speakers. Being a typical room full of eighth graders, there was a collective ‘ooooohhh.’ that filled the room until the teacher shushed them. Grudgingly and with an apologetic look toward his math teacher, the boy picked up his books and scurried out of the room. He could feel every pair of eyes following his retreating back.
As the boy made his way to the office, through the glass windows he could see his father. The man’s face said it all. Anthony was caught between dropping his books and running, far away and collapsing where he stood and breaking down into tears. “No.” He whispered and forced himself to take a few steps toward the office.
Before he could reach the door, it had swung open and a small shape rushed forward. Small arms wrapped around his waist and the front of his shirt grew damp with tears. Violet clutched him around the middle, shaking with violent sobs. Anthony dropped his books off to his right and bent down, clutching his little sister close to him. “M—mom…” The girl could barely choke out words. She tried to speak but it only fell apart into more tears. She buried her head into his shoulder.
It had been a long battle with a silent killer. The two children had watched their mother waste away, treatment after treatment, nothing seemed to work. And now it was the end, their mother had lost.
Anthony wasn’t sure how long he crouched there holding onto his sister but it was long enough to make his knees ache. He didn’t want it to end. It meant that he had to deal with what was coming next.
IF YOU WON'T BE THE ADULT, I WILL.
“Hey Anthony, when is dinner?” Violet hovered above him, round blue eyes flickering between him and the book in his lap. If Anthony was studying, that often meant that dinner was going to be late but that didn’t stop for growing Violet from asking. The ten year old girl seemed to always be hungry.
Anthony glanced up from his math textbook and smiled. “Give me another ten minutes and then I will see what we have in the fridge.” He promised before returning to the problem at hand. It was the third assignment of the night, that only left studying a list of Spanish words and taking notes for history and then he could spend the rest of the night with Violet.
Closing the book Anthony stood from his chair and went into the next room. “Dinner?” It didn’t take long for Violet to take notice. She drifted into the kitchen and sat down at the table, watching him. Anthony smiled back at her and nodded, opening the fridge. There wasn’t anything inside, not even a carton of milk.
“You didn’t get the shopping?” Anthony stormed into the next room. His father sat in that old chair, the television on too loud. By this time, that chair probably had an imprint of his father on it; he never seemed to leave it. “I left a list of everything we needed. I told you before I left for class to spend twenty minutes getting those things.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. His father remained silent and did not even turn to look at his son. “Sometimes I feel like the only adult in the house.”
Anthony came back into the kitchen, Violet still in her seat at the table. Still fuming, he checked his wallet. A few bills stuck out, enough to buy dinner. “Come on, we’re walking to the hotdog place down the street.” He motioned for his sister to follow.
She hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the living room but joined her brother. “Are you and Dad fighting?”
“I wish.” Anthony sighed. He had hoped that his father would have at least fought back.
THIS IS LOVE?
The patrons didn’t spare them a glance, the waiters and waitresses stared at them with disdain. They appeared to be two noisy teenagers that had come to terrorize the restaurant. The manager was almost ready to kick them out the second they walked in. Though business was business, he had a waiter seat the two teenage boys and give them menus.
“You look nervous.” Gavin said and then laughed, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his palm. Anthony shrugged and glanced around, checking to see if any people were staring. They weren’t. Gavin’s smile faded and he drew his arms off the table. “I’m sorry that I suggested this.”
Anthony’s gaze snapped back to Gavin and sighed. “Don’t be, it was a good idea.” He tried to convince Gavin—and himself. “It just seems a bit weird.” He leaned forward and placed his crossed arms on top of the table.
The waiter came over, took their order, and walked behind into the kitchen. “We can make this work Anthony, it’ll be okay.” Gavin reached forward as if to grab Anthony’s hand but the brown-haired teen drew his arms away and placed them at his sides. Looking crestfallen, Gavin put his arms back at his side as well.
Anthony hated seeing that face. Gavin’s disappointment always made him look like a cross between a lost puppy and a sad little child. With a small smile, Anthony held his hand under the table and opened his fingers wide. Gavin returned the smile and gripped Anthony’s hand tight. “One step at a time.” Gavin whispered with an approving nod.
BE SAFE
“I’m going out with my friends!” Violet called from the next room. Anthony could hear her shuffling about, pulling on her coat and grabbing her purse from the counter.
“Come in here for a moment then.” Anthony answered back, not glancing up from his book. The girl came into the room and he checked her clothing. She wasn’t wearing anything too revealing or too sketchy, just a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She also had on a bit of make-up but he would let that slide. “You need any money?” She shook her head. “I could drive you. You don’t need to walk.” He offered.
Violet shook her head again. “You need to study. That scholarship means everything to you.” She tapped the top of his book. “I can walk.” She said firmly and shouldered her purse. “Stop worrying Anthony.” She teased.
“I’ll never stop worrying for my little sister.” Anthony shot back. “Remember, don’t talk to strangers, don’t accept rides from anyone you don’t know, and if anything goes wrong, anything at all, you can call me.” He said this to her every time she left the house without him. She was a freshman already, he couldn’t stop her from going out but he could at least make sure she was safe.
She waved him off and laughed. “I’ll be fine Anthony; I’ll be back before curfew.”
“You better!” He shouted after her and the front door closed.
It was getting late. Curfew was drawing near and there hadn’t been a single call from Violet. Anthony checked his watch and then the electric clock in the kitchen to be sure his watch wasn’t wrong. She should’ve called by now, she always did. He had made sure there were always coins in her purse for the payphone.
Anthony grabbed his car keys off the counter and peeked into the living room. “I’m going out to find Violet.” When his father didn’t answer except for a snore, Anthony took that as permission to go.
He drove the route his sister usually took to her friend’s. When there was no sign of her, he pulled into the house’s driveway and rang the doorbell. No one answered and the windows were dark. Anthony hopped back into his car and headed down a few other streets. Maybe they had gone to another house or to the park.
It was only a few more streets until Anthony was forced to come to a complete stop. The street was blocked off with neon yellow caution tape and at least three squad cars and an ambulance. A wave of panic struck Anthony and he hopped out of the car.
He had to be overreacting; this couldn’t be something to do with Violet. His fears were confirmed though when he spotted the huddle of girls off to the side, each of them with shock blankets thrown over their shoulders. One girl was missing from the group and that was Violet.
Suddenly the ambulance roared to life and started to drive away, sirens blaring. Anthony remembered the last time he had felt this way, the day his mother died.
He ran over to the nearest officer. “What happened here?” He demanded, his voice catching in his throat. The officer glanced over at him and back at the notepad he was holding.
“There was an accident, a car hit a girl. Violet Fletcher.” The officer paused and did a double take back at Anthony. “Are you her brother?” He asked, a guilty look passing over his face. Anthony’s expression was probably enough of an answer. “I’m so sorry.”
IF YOU LEAVE NOW, YOU CAN NEVER COME BACK
“Where are you going?” A voice snarled behind Anthony. The boy paused, a large and heavy cardboard box weighing down his arms.
He was tempted for a moment not to answer. His father didn’t deserve an answer. “I got my scholarship, I’m going to college. I told you this a few weeks ago.” Anthony shot back and refused to even glance over his shoulder at his father. He bumped the door open with his hip and carried the box to the trunk of his car. “I won’t be far, only an hour. If you finally decide to become a father, you can come visit me.” Anthony slammed the lid of the trunk down harder than he had meant. He didn’t expect it when he turned around though.
There was a burst of pain on the left side of his jaw and Anthony fell against the car. His jaw popped as he moved it. His father stood there with his hand clenched into a fist. “You are not leaving.” His father had spoken more words in the last three minutes than he had in the last five years. The anger faded into despair. “Your mother and sister are gone, and you are leaving me too?”
“And you expect me to stay?” Frustrated boiled over inside of Anthony, frustration that he had kept at bay for five years. “You give up on Violet and I, you hardly act like a father, and now you expect me to forgive you after so long and stay?” His voice rose in volume until he was practically screaming. “I have a future Dad, I’m leaving today and you can’t stop me.”
Anthony turned his back, his jaw throbbing but he held his frown.
“If you leave now, you can never come back. You can never expect anything from me!” His father shouted. Anthony ignored him and hopped into the car, closing the car door to drown out the rest of his father’s words. He had never given Anthony much anyway.
That was the last time Anthony saw his father.
THE REST OF MY LIFE STARTS TODAY
The door unlocked with a soft click and Anthony stepped into his apartment. In the darkness, he groped around for the light switch and flicked it up. A small overhead light illuminated the entire main room. A tiny kitchen with last night’s plate still sitting on the counter and card table with folding chairs and a small couch and television, both a bit unused, it was home.
It was late; Anthony had stayed behind at the office to check over some patient files. He hoped that Murray wouldn’t mind. He shrugged off his coat and threw it over the nearest chair. All Anthony could think about now was his bed and the little bit of sleep he would get before repeating it all the next day.
Stumbling into the bedroom, Anthony fell onto the bed. His eyes watched the ceiling and debated whether to change his clothes or not. A soft meow came from the side of the bed and a pair of golden eyes peered up at him. Anthony pat the empty space next to him. The black cat bounced up onto the bed but decided that the center of Anthony’s chest was a better spot to curl up.
He was tempted for a moment to move Murray but instead Anthony stroked his hand across the cat’s back. It was a tiny apartment, a job with long hours, a heap of student loans, and the only thing keeping him company was a cat but Anthony was content. He had left home and his horrible life almost fourteen years ago. He still missed his mother, his heart still ached for Violet and he was lonely after losing relationship after relationship but he was content.
This was his life and he was going to make it worth something.
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