Post by lyle fiedler on Jan 1, 2010 19:46:34 GMT -6
`LYLE FIEDLER!
`YOU KNOW IM NOT MUCH BETTER WITHOUT YOU!
NICKNAMES
AGE thirty.
GENDER male.
ETHNICITY American although with German descent.
RELIGON reform Judaism.
SEXUALITY straight.
STATUS single.
OCCUPATION history professor/university lecturer.
PLAYED BY hugh dancy.
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`YOU STOLE MY HEART THEN YOU KICKED IT ASIDE!
- smoking - an unfortunate habit Lyle picked up in his own college years and has never quite been able to quit.
- work - he quite likes to keep busy and his job is a perfect way to do so. he doesn't necessarily see it as a bother.
- history - why on earth would he teach it if he didn't? Lyle has always had a preference for the subject.
- good hygiene - whilst there is an unkempt and messy feel to what he wears sometimes he definitely likes to keep clean.
- caffeine - he's almost never seen without some form of caffeine; his coffee mug is practically a third arm. because, clearly, coffee mugs are satisfactory limbs.
- traditional Jewish cuisine - whilst many reform Jews do not keep Kosher due to Lyle's orthodox-influenced upbringing he keeps it, when it comes to food, out of habit. and, dangit, Jewish cuisine is good. he doesn't really eat too much though.
- music - he's practically closeted music lover. whilst he never is quite honest or truthful about it but Lyle really does like jazz, reggae and even ska. he can't stand most modern music though.
- passion - Lyle will barely show this himself but when he sees excitability in people, whether it be a person or subject, he tends to admire that.
- ignorance - it irritates him on so many levels. he's been educated in his interests and, perhaps a little arrogantly so, he thinks people should be in theirs.
- illness - Lyle was not blessed with a super special awesome immune system and due to his smoking he is susceptible to getting ill. he certainly doesn't like it.
- animals - he's convinced they do not like him and hence he'll avoid them like the plague. he's never really had good experiences.
- boredom - he can't stand it at all; it'll reduce Lyle to erratic fiddling just to fill the space.
- laziness - he can't stand it. he likes to keep busy himself and can't understand others who don't.
- technology - he's useless when it comes to it, honestly. he can barely text himself.
- sports - unfortunately Lyle's not gifted athletically. his lung capacity is that of a three year old and you'll rarely see him running.
- summer - Lyle is not a fan of the heat, definitely not so, and he does not like the summer.
FEARS
- hazards to his family - Lyle's relationship to his family is very strained but even there he's rather attached to them.
- being unable to work - part of the reason why he dislikes illness; without it he wouldn't much to do and Lyle hates that. he easily gets anxious about it.
SECRETS
- a previous mental breakdown - unfortunately, during Lyle's college years, he had a mental breakdown due to the stress of both his further education and family life. he'd almost embarrassed by this.
- his strained relationship with his family - he really does not want people to know of it; he certainly doesn't think of it as other people's business.
OVERALL PERSONALITY[/b]
- disinterested - this is the most obvious part of his personality. Lyle rarely seems to pay full attention to things; whilst he can possess the ability to be engaging he lacks the ability to seem engaged himself. he just is interested in his own priorities and will rarely pretend to be otherwise. other people who waste his time he'll be honest and say he honestly thinks so. this may come off as rather stand-offish and rude to many people unfortunately and can make some unwilling to socialize with him. this, however, is rather good for dealing with students who haven't done their work. this can also lead to a somewhat sarcastic approach to things; if Lyle sees an opportunity, when it comes to quip, he will usually go for it. he could be called quite the deadpan snarker in that retrospect. he does try and stop for people he's rather fond of, in fact, but sometimes he cannot resist.
- intelligent - he'd like to think so and quite so. he's certainly skilled the areas he's interested in. admittedly Lyle is rather unskilled in the areas such as maths and science and he'll struggle with that. still he's knowledgeable in what he teaches and is capable of figuring out problems, dilemmas. he's a professor after all and he didn't get there without at least some of knowledge. Lyle can be logical in that respect.
- stubborn - Lyle is sure in what he says and although he rarely seems passionate he can be very firm in what he says. It takes much to try and convince him otherwise when it comes down to it; his security with his opinions and what he believes in is quite strong despite his seeming lack of passion. This can leave him to be rather childish when coming to admit otherwise when he is wrong though, even though he tries not to be put off by such events. there's a certain amount of loyalty that comes with this characteristic as well but, then again, if a friend does something he does not believe he will not hesitate to point that out in equally stubborn ways.
- level-headed - his disinterested appearance rarely changes and Lyle can seem calm even in difficult situations. there is very little that can seemingly unnerve him. this may make others think of him as a little cold-hearted but this instead leads to a decisive, beneficial attitude to problems as well as obvious clear thought going into what he chooses to do in his life. there are a few things he is sensitive about, don't we have them all, which can set him off but they're hard to find.
- strained - unfortunately a rather work orientated childhood has lead to a rather work-orientated personality; it's very difficult for Lyle to loosen up properly and relax. getting ill can make him stressed very easily and sometimes the amount of work he takes is a unhealthy as well. he seems to find it necessary to be doing so.
OVERALL APPEARANCE[/b]
It's difficult to tell whether Lyle cares about his appearance or not. His clothes do tend to be well-picked, although they don't quite have that wonderful 'FABULOUS~!' air to them but what he does have are thrown together messily. He's certainly not skilled in tucking in his shirt nor a master of ties; they are done rather roughly and, if it is tied properly, its state will gradually decrease throughout the day. It's really variations on suits but nothing too baddy or too tight.
That would do too much to reveal his rather average albeit lanky frame. He's not particularly athletic, not to mention missing out on meals, which has lead to a rather thin shape. There are, indeed, a few scars here and there on his body. He holds a particular dislike for the cigarette burn along his right arm not to mention a small scar beneath his thumb due to a rather disastrous accident with a photo frame. Apart from that though the rest of his skin is fairly unharmed. He certainly has any piercings nor tatoos; his body is frightfully boring apart from that.
His facial features are, in fact, somewhat conventionally good looking; there's a charming edge to them. His hair manages to be a dark brown, in fact, and moderately curly
HISTORY[/b]
Lyle's father, Issac Fiedler, made a 'mistake'. He was a quirky man; he had a decently paid profession as a museum curator, he lived a nice life. The man was raised as an orthodox Jew yet, he himself, choose to marry who his family constantly referred to as 'shiksa'; A non-Jewish girl by the name of Cassandra Bryson. Unfortunately, it was never fully approved of and due to this Lyle and his older brother were raised in a rather strained family environment with his mother leaving at an unfortunately young age. This meant his childhood ended up dominated by a rather strict orthodox lifestyle. The massive family did not really expect much out of him and his brother though; as per orthodox tradition they were not 'true' Jews and this left insecurity dominating his childhood as well as a strong desire to do well.
He did do well to a certain extent; his grades were decent in high school even if popularity was not quite the same. The rather controlled lifestyle lead to Lyle being interested in very little and rather distanced from his family even if they played such a big part in his life. This desire to do well, in fact, started taking the back seat as he begun to get interested in history and due to the influence of a particularly inspiring teacher it left him he decided to take a career in teaching.
Unfortunately his greater family, uncles, aunts, grandparents and other such, did not agree with this decision and wanted him to go into something far more influential. That being so created rather unfortunate discord in his family. This, however, resulted in him leaving New York (born and raised in Brooklyn, the accent he attempts to dial back on
`WHEN HES INSIDE YOU KNOW THERES NO ROOM FOR ME!
[/font](this is a piece of writing i did for another situation. Lyle in this well... Originally he's a defence attorney. With a cat. because he is a secret crazy cat lady[/stike].)
There was something truly indescribable about returning to one's apartment to be greeted with the sight of a cat explicitly displaying itself on a kitchen counter.
Lyle wouldn't describe it relieved so to say. If the cat hadn't been there, my, that'd be cause for celebration. The fact that the mass of clashing red, brown and black fur was there wasn't necessarily uplifting either. Surveying the dark although visible apartment (and the hauntingly empty food bowl) it was safe to conclude what would be on the cat's mind as soon he flicked on the light switch. He was surprised enough that it hadn't already been awoken by his clumsy entrance; the way he had fumbled through his pockets, juggling the groceries and briefcase to get his keys in a rather disorganized, yet eventually successful attempt to open the door was not entirely dignified. Dignity was usually something on the man's mind, a continuum he had to keep up at work but you know what he wanted now?
Some goddamn tea.
It was with hesitancy a hand felt along the wall for the switch and when the hanging light finally flickered into life so did the cat. Rolling towards the food bowl with the reflexes that could possibly rival a well-trained ninja a rather loud, attentive meow left the animal. The man attempted to avoid any eye-contact with it as he naturally advanced into his apartment. There was the slight problem of the fact that there wasn't much else to look at though as Lyle's apartment was surprisingly bare. Practically nothing hung from his walls aside two plain paintings and a rather aging mirror with one too many sticky notes attached to it; these either entailing what was required to fill up the fridge or crudely drawn cartoons involving something perhaps akin to Satan and words usually along the lines of 'THAT PROSECUTOR IS GOIN' DOWN' scrawled beneath in a rather childish manner. An old, dusty Menorah balanced rather haphazardly atop of the yellowing pages from old issues of the New York Times, the hint at any religious belief rather close to toppling over.
Frowning the man made a rather lazy mental-note to try and sort that out later on but it wasn't particularly committed (clearly what he only got done had to be reminded to him in the form of brightly-coloured sticky paper with accompanying doodles) and did, in fact, return his gaze to the cat. It was almost begrudgingly as he did and another purr assaulted Lyle. Irritation worked its way into his features at that; his eyebrows grew into a frown rather than their usual status of being lost beneath his vibrant, red, curled hair.
"I get it... The food..." Lyle begun, mentally berating himself to talking to a fucking cat. It wasn't as if the cat could respond with intellectual wit rivaling Oscar Wilde or Stephen Fry lest even reply. One could barely grasp his; the fact that he grew up in Brooklyn was something that he tended to dial back in his tone. After all who would want to employ a defense attorney that sounded like some form of gangster?
With a thud the briefcase was discarded against the table and the grocery bag followed shortly afterwards. They were practiced actions. It was what every night consisted of. It was cat. Then tea. Then work. Rinse and repeat. Being spontaneous? The lawyer couldn't say he was the least bit interested. Why break a ritual if it worked so well? An absent-minded nod escaped him as the boiler flickered into life; after all he wasn't leaping for some sort of new event in his life. It'd just get... Unnecessary.
Much like the fucking cat.
After all, it had now insisted on practically rolling across the kitchen counter and Lyle was beginning to grow suspicious of whether the feline actually used its legs for their intended purpose anymore.
"... What do you want?"
He wasn't quite sure why he asked it a question. The topic of the fact that the cat couldn't understand or reply had already been addressed, yesyes, but he could still... Talk to it he supposed.
"Butters..." he breathed, annoyance in his quite voice as the cat sort of... The cat pawed at him. Again. And again. It was as if the cat wanted to be throw from a window. It didn't even respond even its name. Why yes, Butters. The cat's fucking name was Butters. Were cats even meant to respond to names? Dogs did that but this cat was just... "Go away."
In this case Butters clearly wouldn't comply to this demand and continued its pawing and/or somewhat inconsistent rape of his arm. Lyle attempted to ignore it. The cat was consistently annoyed him. The man was sure there was no other animal in the world that had quite the same ability to lie down and practically expand over paperwork making it quite impossible to work. It was as if Butters tried to consume everything that Lyle kept precious to him with its fur. Of course, that tended to be very little but...
The whistling of the kettle broke him from that thought actually.
"Fuck off Butters, it's ready," he mumbled and despite this being the least audible of his comments the cat seemed to comply and disappear for once, although it was probably most unaware of the word's harsh connotations. It'd be back of course. Fuck, Lyle was pretty sure it never left his apartment. It'd just... Always be there. He didn't really want to think about the relationship he was stuck in with the cat, however. Something as depressing as that could clearly be brooded over with some fucking tea.
There was something truly indescribable about returning to one's apartment to be greeted with the sight of a cat explicitly displaying itself on a kitchen counter.
Lyle wouldn't describe it relieved so to say. If the cat hadn't been there, my, that'd be cause for celebration. The fact that the mass of clashing red, brown and black fur was there wasn't necessarily uplifting either. Surveying the dark although visible apartment (and the hauntingly empty food bowl) it was safe to conclude what would be on the cat's mind as soon he flicked on the light switch. He was surprised enough that it hadn't already been awoken by his clumsy entrance; the way he had fumbled through his pockets, juggling the groceries and briefcase to get his keys in a rather disorganized, yet eventually successful attempt to open the door was not entirely dignified. Dignity was usually something on the man's mind, a continuum he had to keep up at work but you know what he wanted now?
Some goddamn tea.
It was with hesitancy a hand felt along the wall for the switch and when the hanging light finally flickered into life so did the cat. Rolling towards the food bowl with the reflexes that could possibly rival a well-trained ninja a rather loud, attentive meow left the animal. The man attempted to avoid any eye-contact with it as he naturally advanced into his apartment. There was the slight problem of the fact that there wasn't much else to look at though as Lyle's apartment was surprisingly bare. Practically nothing hung from his walls aside two plain paintings and a rather aging mirror with one too many sticky notes attached to it; these either entailing what was required to fill up the fridge or crudely drawn cartoons involving something perhaps akin to Satan and words usually along the lines of 'THAT PROSECUTOR IS GOIN' DOWN' scrawled beneath in a rather childish manner. An old, dusty Menorah balanced rather haphazardly atop of the yellowing pages from old issues of the New York Times, the hint at any religious belief rather close to toppling over.
Frowning the man made a rather lazy mental-note to try and sort that out later on but it wasn't particularly committed (clearly what he only got done had to be reminded to him in the form of brightly-coloured sticky paper with accompanying doodles) and did, in fact, return his gaze to the cat. It was almost begrudgingly as he did and another purr assaulted Lyle. Irritation worked its way into his features at that; his eyebrows grew into a frown rather than their usual status of being lost beneath his vibrant, red, curled hair.
"I get it... The food..." Lyle begun, mentally berating himself to talking to a fucking cat. It wasn't as if the cat could respond with intellectual wit rivaling Oscar Wilde or Stephen Fry lest even reply. One could barely grasp his; the fact that he grew up in Brooklyn was something that he tended to dial back in his tone. After all who would want to employ a defense attorney that sounded like some form of gangster?
With a thud the briefcase was discarded against the table and the grocery bag followed shortly afterwards. They were practiced actions. It was what every night consisted of. It was cat. Then tea. Then work. Rinse and repeat. Being spontaneous? The lawyer couldn't say he was the least bit interested. Why break a ritual if it worked so well? An absent-minded nod escaped him as the boiler flickered into life; after all he wasn't leaping for some sort of new event in his life. It'd just get... Unnecessary.
Much like the fucking cat.
After all, it had now insisted on practically rolling across the kitchen counter and Lyle was beginning to grow suspicious of whether the feline actually used its legs for their intended purpose anymore.
"... What do you want?"
He wasn't quite sure why he asked it a question. The topic of the fact that the cat couldn't understand or reply had already been addressed, yesyes, but he could still... Talk to it he supposed.
"Butters..." he breathed, annoyance in his quite voice as the cat sort of... The cat pawed at him. Again. And again. It was as if the cat wanted to be throw from a window. It didn't even respond even its name. Why yes, Butters. The cat's fucking name was Butters. Were cats even meant to respond to names? Dogs did that but this cat was just... "Go away."
In this case Butters clearly wouldn't comply to this demand and continued its pawing and/or somewhat inconsistent rape of his arm. Lyle attempted to ignore it. The cat was consistently annoyed him. The man was sure there was no other animal in the world that had quite the same ability to lie down and practically expand over paperwork making it quite impossible to work. It was as if Butters tried to consume everything that Lyle kept precious to him with its fur. Of course, that tended to be very little but...
The whistling of the kettle broke him from that thought actually.
"Fuck off Butters, it's ready," he mumbled and despite this being the least audible of his comments the cat seemed to comply and disappear for once, although it was probably most unaware of the word's harsh connotations. It'd be back of course. Fuck, Lyle was pretty sure it never left his apartment. It'd just... Always be there. He didn't really want to think about the relationship he was stuck in with the cat, however. Something as depressing as that could clearly be brooded over with some fucking tea.
`YOU LIFT ME UP AND THEN YOU THROW ME BACK DOWN!
NICKNAMES nickbo, nickybobo, nick.
WHERE CAN WE CONTACT YOU? PM me
msn me at trenchantly@hotmail.co.uk
aim me at nicolettbo
WHERE DID YOU FIND US? neopets. c:
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