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Johnny

"One small crack doesn't mean you are broken, it means that you were put to the test and you didn't fall apart."

0 · 537 views · located in Beacon Hills

a character in “Teen Wolf {Next-Gen}”, originally authored by sethwy, as played by sethwy91

Description

[div style="width:480px;background-color:#D6D6D6;padding:10px;border-top:5px solid #CC9160;border-bottom:5px solid #CC9160;margin-left:5%;"]
[div style="margin:5px;padding:2px;border:3px solid #CC9160;width:100px; height:100px;"][img src="https://31.media.tumblr.com/9f921567346f95879f78aef6d63bfee8/tumblr_inline_ngvcfxADwq1t2nnc6.jpg" style="max-width:100%;"][/div]
[div style="letter-spacing:-1px;font-family:georgia;font-size:25px;line-height:25px;color:#A8824D;text-shadow:1px 1px 0 #C7C0BD;margin-top:-100px;margin-left:80px;text-align:right;padding-right:10px;"]So you were never a saint
And I’ve loved in shades of wrong
[/div]
[div style="letter-spacing:-1px;font-family:courier;text-transform:uppercase;font-size:11px;line-height:10px;color:#EBEBEB;margin-top:-15px;margin-left:100px;text-align:right;text-shadow:1px 1px 2px #6E6A68;"]@tag, NOTES[/div]
[div style="text-align:justify;font-family:arial;font-size:11px;margin-top:20px;color:#75685D;margin-left:20px;margin-right:20px;"]

[span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:15px;color:#AD8F76;font-weight:bold;text-transform:lowercase;text-shadow:1px 1px 0 #C7C0BD;"]F[/span]irst letter should be different than the rest bc it has it's own span style, bla bla bla bla bla blab bla text goes here and stuff. Yadda yadda yadda your text all goes here.

[span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:15px;color:#AD8F76;font-weight:bold;text-transform:lowercase;text-shadow:1px 1px 0 #C7C0BD;"]Far far away[/span], behind the word mountains, far from the countries Vokalia and Consonantia, there live the blind texts. Separated they live in Bookmarksgrove right at the coast of the Semantics, a large language ocean. A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary regelialia. It is a paradisematic country, in which roasted parts of sentences fly into your mouth. Even the all-powerful Pointing has no control about the blind texts it is an almost unorthographic life One day however a small line of blind text by the name of Lorem Ipsum decided to leave for the far World of Grammar. The Big Oxmox advised her not to do so, because there were thousands of bad Commas, wild Question Marks and devious Semikoli, but the Little Blind Text didn’t listen. She packed her seven versalia, put her initial into the belt and made herself on the way.

[span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:15px;color:#AD8F76;font-weight:bold;text-transform:lowercase;text-shadow:1px 1px 0 #C7C0BD;"]W[/span]hen she reached the first hills of the Italic Mountains, she had a last view back on the skyline of her hometown Bookmarksgrove, the headline of Alphabet Village and the subline of her own road, the Line Lane. Pityful a rethoric question ran over her cheek, then she continued her way. On her way she met a copy. The copy warned the Little Blind Text, that where it came from it would have been rewritten a thousand times and everything that was left from its origin would be the word "and" and the Little Blind Text should turn around and return to its own, safe country.

[span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:15px;color:#AD8F76;font-weight:bold;text-transform:lowercase;text-shadow:1px 1px 0 #C7C0BD;"]Extra notes;[/span] feel free to edit and change the colours as you like when you use this template. The icon has to be 100x100 in size.

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[div style="font-family:courier;color:#757575;margin-left:45%;text-transform:uppercase;"]♥ [a href="http://riveniscence.tumblr.com"]Chou[/a][/div]

So begins...

Johnny's Story

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Character Portrait: Johnny Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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"I feel like I'm a pawn in a game I don't understand."
Johnny Halbrook | Human | Homosexual | 16 | 5'9"

It was about 30 minutes before classes started when the large, black Rolls-Royce pulled up in front of the school. Stopping just off the curb of the main sidewalk leading up to the front doors. Once in park, the driver’s door opened and a man of about 30 started to get out. Dressed in a suit and tie, the man only made it out of his door and managed to turn around before he paused in front of his door and watched the rear door open. As it did, out stepped Johnny, a young teen of about 16 years old with blonde hair and blue eyes, who was dressed in a pair of brown pants, well worn, casual Ruida shoes, along with a short sleeve shirt beneath a red hoodie, and a denim jacket over that. As he got out of the car, pulling a large, black backpack out with him, he looked over to the driver and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture as if to imply he should’ve bothered getting out and said, “Thanks Mr. Edwards. I’ll call you when I get out.” The man simply nodded before replying, “Very well, Mr. Halbrook. Hope you have a good day.” Pulling his bag up, over his left shoulder, Johnny turned back to the school and, running his hand threw his already messy hair, sighed and thought to himself, Me too. He then made his way up the wide sidewalk leading up to the doors as he heard his driver get back into the car, shut the door and drive off.

He got a few looks from people, though most of their muttering seemed to consist of comments about the fact that he’d been driven to school in a car like that. That’s a good start, he thought to himself. Eventually, he made it up the front steps and through the front doors to find a ton more people. This school dwarfed his old school and in fact, he began to think this school probably had as many students as his hometown had people in general. “Wow,” he mumbled to himself as his steps slowed. As they did though, a bigger guy, seemed to be a senior, with an entourage of people with him, bumped into Johnny. To which Johnny, out of habit, responded with, "Oh, excuse me," his Southern accent still pretty thick and obvious when he spoke. Of course the guy just retorted with, "Watch where you're going, new kid," and his friends snickered, making comments among themselves about Johnny as they walked away. Johnny couldn't really do anything other than sigh and make his way down the halls, hoping he'd be able to find the office in this giant building this town called a school.

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tate Bullard Character Portrait: Johnny Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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“I’ve been alone for too long to know if I like it or not.”



17 | Omega-Werewolf | Pansexual | 6'1''


Dialogue Color: {#BF000}
Thought Color: {#860D2B}




"Tate get up!" Harvey, Tate's 'father', barked whilst flicking his bedroom lights on and off. Only receiving a groan from Tate, he was really anything but a morning person. It didn't take long until Tate's blankets were tugged from him and he was pulled by his ankles out the warm embrace of his bed. He was already late for school, about fifteen minutes to be exact. He'd usually get up by himself but today, a lot like other days, not so much. This year, being Tate's senior year, was supposed to be different. Different meaning no missing school just because he felt like it or not even trying to undertake homework like he used to, he made a promise to Harvey and he was already letting him down. By this time Harvey left, leaving Tate with the decision whether to keep his promise or over look it, and Tate never breaks promises.

He quickly got up from his heap of blankets that had formed upon the floor, and began to get dressed. Being someone who's never been one for fashion, Tate looked around his room, throwing on the first things he could find not bothering to mess with his hair. Once done dressing he ended up wearing an old torn pair of blue jeans, a plain black shirt followed by his infamous leather jacket gifted to him by his mom when he was a boy. It never fit him when he was young, only now as he was just growing into it, but that didn't stop him from wearing it whenever he could. He then grabbed his worn, maroon backpack and was out the door and into the chilly september air.

Tate use to look forward to school when he was younger, but not as much anymore. Tate didn't know that many people in his school, nor did he know the building that well. He officially moved to Beacon Hills around the end of summer, not giving him much time to meet potential friends or atleast have an idea of what the people of Beacon are like. The walk to Beacon Hills high school wasn't long yet, Tate wished he could've kept walking. It wasn't his first day either, he'd already been attending the school for about a week now. But still as much as he'd like, no real friends have been made. Tate rushed through the building doors and headed straight for the office, signing himself in since he'd already missed a bit of first period, and then headed to his class which happened to be English III.

The teacher was mid lecture when Tate rushed in, he was quickly told to take a seat, earning glares from everyone. He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it even more, as he plopped down in a seat next to a blonde boy not much smaller than him. Tate didn't know his name, he wasn't exactly good at names, but he did know for certain the whole aura given off by him interested Tate. He had seen him in the class but never took the chance to do a double take. The boy didn't seem to notice Tate's staring, though neither did Tate.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Scarlet Violetta Morse Character Portrait: Tate Bullard Character Portrait: Kennedy Quire Character Portrait: Johnny Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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ImageAs Johnny began to arrange his supplies on his desk in his preferred setup, the teacher began to speak, beginning with something about the origins of language and the beginning of literature. He then moved from that to a quick recounting of how most civilizations starts in human's earliest days had oral traditions, passing their history and stories of the past through spoken word, not by writing. Of course, this was all stuff that Johnny knew. He had been known at his old school for being one of, if not the smartest kids there. He'd skipped both 7th grade and had skipped half of freshman year, which was why he was younger than everyone else here. He was a 16 year old senior and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing yet.

As the man at the head of the class continued with his lecture, clearly enjoying the area of study he taught, Johnny leaned forward, placing his cheek into his and resting his elbow on the desk top. As he did so, he absentmindedly placed the tip of his pin between his lips and began to flick it up and down, a nervous habit of his. But as he did so, his attention was quickly drawn to another teen who entered the class, quite late, which clearly annoyed the teacher, who just told him to take a seat. But despite the glares that most students seemed to be giving, Johnny could only stare. Damn, were all California guys as good looking as him? Johnny thought to himself as he watched Tate walk in and sit down, not realizing he hadn't taken his eyes off the guy since he'd walked in.

But as he continued to watch him sit, Johnny finally regained his wits and turned away, looking forward, not being able to shake the feeling that.... Was he staring at me? Johnny asked himself. No. There was no way. Please, he thought, He's' gotta be a basketball player with that height and I'm...well... Just as that thought crossed his mind, two more students entered late. These were two girls, one dark headed, the other as blonde as Johnny. They were pretty and apparently the teacher didn't mind that they were late. Johnny just snickered to himself about that fact.

Then the teacher finally paused to ask the class a question. "Right. So can anyone tell me what is commonly considered the oldest literary work in human history? Not the oldest story, but just the oldest written piece," the man asked, looking around the room to see who'd give it a shot. One student, a young female raised her hand and guessed, "Beowulf?" The teacher smiled and replied, "While that is one of, if not the oldest English work we know of, it's not the oldest work known to mankind. Does anyone know that one is?" The man then took a step forward and shut the textbook on one of the students in front's desk and added with a chuckle, "Without looking it up."

Johnny looked around the room and just shrugged and raised his hand, since it didn't seem anyone else was going to answer. The teacher pointed to him and said, "Yes, Mr.....Halbrook?" Johnny nodded in confirmation that, that was his name and then said, "Most historians consider the Epic of Gilgamesh to be the oldest known piece of literature, written about 3,000 years ago by the first known civilization, the Sumerians." Even the teacher seemed to be a bit caught off guard by how Johnny just prattled off the information right off the top of his head and nodded as he replied, "Yes. That's correct, Mr. Halbrook. And without your cell phone, very good." The class snickered a bit at that, as did Johnny who couldn't help but blush a little as he realized most eyes were on him. But the teacher quickly shifted into his next lecture, discussing the importance of literature to history and all that. And as if given a queue, Johnny placed the pen back between his lips and began to flick it back and forth, wondering if the lecture would contain something that he didn't already know, and thus would actually need his pen and paper. In the least, the teacher seemed to like what he was doing and at least was willing to try and make the class entertaining.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Scarlet Violetta Morse Character Portrait: Tate Bullard Character Portrait: Kennedy Quire Character Portrait: Johnny Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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“I’ve been alone for too long to know if I like it or not.”



17 | Omega-Werewolf | Pansexual | 6'1''


Dialogue Color: {#BF000}
Thought Color: {#860D2B}




Tate snapped out of his daze as the teacher rose his voice, no discreetly trying to get his attention, he then began to continue his lecture of old pieces of literature. English III was interesting to Tate, he was sometimes completely fascinated about the history of literature or epic poems written in the 8th century. But lots of thing interested him, so it didn't take long for him to once again get distracted, this time it was from two girls barging into the classroom. They shot the teacher some shy eyes, causing him to smile and nod his head in a motion saying take a seat. Tate rolled his eyes, People and their inability to resist a pretty face.. Tate thought as the blonde and raven haired girls took their seat, one plopping behind Tate.

Class went on for a few second longer uninterrupted, before a smell crept into Tate nose. His head perked up at the familiar scent, a mixture of tree bark and dew, a weird concoction but the smell was distinct. Tate hastily glanced around the room, his eyes swiftly glowing a light blue due to his heart rate hastening. When he noticed the change in his eyes he glued them shut mentally cursing himself, hoping no one had noticed as he steadied his breath. He shook his head and attempted to pay attention, once he felt his pulse drop he looked around the room once more to see if anyone noticed but didn't see any shocked stares. None that he caught that is.

"You were just overreacting, you smell weird things all the time." Tate whispered to himself. Would it really be that bad anyway? To meet another werewolf? his mind began to race but he stopped himself. A few more minutes after the whole ordeal, Tate had put it in the back of his mind, blaming the smell on the open window in the back of the class and a gust of wind. It was crazy but kept his mind of it. Tate began to pay attention to the lecture fully now, no more distractions. He paid attention just to hear the teacher smugly ask the class a question, one girl hesitantly rose her hand but was incorrect.

Tate tried to think for a minute but didn't really have an idea at the moment, until the blonde boy next to Tate rose his hand. "Most historians consider the Epic of Gilgamesh to be the oldest known piece of literature, written about 3,000 years ago by the first known civilization, the Sumerians." the boy answered, as Tate smirked as the teacher was even a bit taken aback. Even Tate was stunned, the boy was smart most likely the smartest one in the class even if he looked a bit young for the class in the first place, but he was also not to mention good looking with made Tate infatuated with him. "Good job, blondie." Tate whispered to the boy, almost automatically regretting his petty attempt to sound cool as he gnawed on his bottom lip out of embarrassment, wishing he'd taken another moment to think through his word choices.