Post by Algernon Crane on Jul 20, 2010 4:36:18 GMT 1
Algernon Barnabas Crane
eighteen , male , homosexual , pureblood , student
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eighteen , male , homosexual , pureblood , student
the factfile[/font]
Height: 6’1
Build: Muscular
Wand: 13 Inches, Willow, Dragon heartstrings
Patronus: Hedgehog Seahorse, and the memory is the day Bianca Worthington agreed to go out with him. He can never sustain it long, as that memory always leads to other, more unpleasant ones
Boggart: Everyone realising his sexuality. Can you imagine what that would do to someone of his standing?
Dementor: Telling Ashley Green about his sexuality in 4th year, and the consequences.
Amortentia: Freshly mown grass, men’s cologne, broom polish
Nicknames: Algie, Algae, Crane, ‘that rich guy, the one who always looks really up himself? Yeah, him.’
Clothing Style: Algie likes to think of himself as intensely fashionable, though he would never let the general public know that, so tried to give his clothes an unstudied, just thrown on look. He’s a fan of stonewash and ripped jeans, shirts, t-shirts, blazers and brogues. Fortunately, he’s so obscenely rich he can get away with things such a brogues, and side partings, making him look posh rather than gay, but there’ll be days when he’ll muss his hair up and wear converse and a zip hoodie - it’s good to keep people guessing.
[/font][/ul][/size]the biography
Aldus Carlisle Crane, 57, Advisor to the Minister for Magic
Vanessa Genevieve Crane, 51, Lawyer
Siblings: Selene Joanne Crane, 17, Student
Relatives: N/A
Other Important Figures: Ashley Green, ex best friend; Bianca Worthington, ex girlfriend.
Pets: Ralph, a snowy owl, very snooty and refined. He and Algie get on very well.
Pensieve:
Anyone who’s ever laid eyes on Algernon, let alone actually spoke to him, can tell he comes from a very rich family. His parents were Aldus and Vanessa Crane - Vanessa was from an old, pureblood family, one of the few that had managed to remain fabulously wealthy after that little hoo-ha with the return of Voldemort. Aldus’s wasn’t so lucky, having disappeared underground to avoid charges. Quite how he managed to reinstate himself in polite society, and exactly where his money comes from now no one is quite sure.
Algie never wanted for any though throughout his childhood - clothes, money toys, his wish was his parents command. However, more important than this was the attention they showed him, being some of the few among their peers not to palm their children’s up bringing off on expensive nannies and tutors. Of course, Algernon, and sister, Selene, had the best education money could buy, but it wasn’t as a substitute for parental devotion. Vanessa, who’d never worked a day in her life, spent her day times caring for her children, and her evenings looking after her husband and throwing lavish dinner parties, while Aldus met with investors and chaired board meetings, then played two man quidditch with Algie in the garden and read stories to his daughter. Both Algie and Selene grew up secure in the knowledge that this was what life should be like.
This went well for few years, with Algernon’s ego growing day by day as he went to private primary school around children just as, or not quite as rich as him. He had the kind of healthy hatred for his younger sister all children do at that age, and hadn’t quite grown out of the stealing other children’s toys phase by the time he was ten - he just tended to be more subtle about it, stealing friends and reputations instead.
Starting his first year at Hogwarts was one of the most amazing times of Algie’s life. It didn’t take him long to gravitate towards Ashley Green, a boy of similar wealth and status to himself, and establish a position as high up the food chain as was possible for first years. He made few other friends, most either thinking him an absolute wanker, or getting close to him merely to reap the benefits. It didn’t matter to Algernon, he was perfectly happy with where he was, getting mediocre grades from exasperated teachers, and feeling like he owned the place.
But it couldn’t last, and soon things were irreversibly turned on their head when the opposite sex suddenly became an object of interest, not hatred. The trouble was, Algie still wasn’t interested. While his friends found themselves utterly fascinated with boobs, the idea left Algie cold, and the idea of kissing a girl? God, that was just gross. The only person who’d ever kissed him other than his mother was his great auntie Meryl, and that was not an experience he ever wanted to have again.
It took another few months before Algernon realised quite why boobs were no more than an amusement to him - it wasn’t simply that he wasn’t interested in them, it was that he was interested in something else instead. Foolishly, he decided to owl his father about it, being the one person he knew who’d been through the hell of teenage years and was not likely to ridicule him, or ask someone else. Fortunately, in a fit of pubescent shyness, he didn’t reveal it was him who was having these feelings, but cagily asked about them in general terms. The reply he got told him that whichever of his friends was having these feelings, he should sever all connection with them completely understood. What he had to do was ignore these treacherous feelings and try to be more interested now. It was not normal or healthy, and would be the ruin of that boys family.
Algernon was shocked, and momentarily upset, but he understood. He had to ignore his feelings and start taking more of an interest in boobs. That was normal. That was healthy. It shouldn’t be too hard, he decided, the rest of his friends seemed to manage it effortlessly, and even if he was just pretending, it didn’t matter, so long as no one found out. He would not be the one to ruin his family.
It worked for a time, with Algie starting to join in when his friend ogled girls in the great hall, after a few jokes about him being a late bloomer, and was even one of the first to ask a girl if he could actually see her boobs. He got a slap to the face, and a cheer from his friends. This was one of the things that prompted Algernon to work on his charm - he wasn’t exactly bad at sweet talking people as it was, but if he was going to keep up this charade, he’d need to be amazing at it.
But Algie met yet another stumbling block in his fifth year, who went by the name of Lucas Clarke. He was gorgeous. That was the problem. Algie had only ever been attracted to men in the abstract before, but this was very definitely concrete. He had no idea how he hadn’t seen this boy before - apparently he was a hufflepuff, and a halfblood, which explained it, but for reasons entirely beyond Algie, didn’t put him off in the slightest. Still, he had to soldier on and think about boobs, which hi diligently did, but not without some negative effects. He was losing sleep, becoming irritable - he was known for having a bit of a temper, but right then it seemed to be on a hair trigger. His grades were slipping, and his customary quips with the teachers became nothing more than insults and threats - he was even sent to see the headmistress at one point.
It was then that he made the biggest mistake of his life. He told Ashley. Hid friend has been pestering, constantly asking what was wrong and not backing off, even verging on saying he wouldn’t be Algernon’s friend any more, if he didn’t explain what was wrong. He’d never forget the look of horror is Ashley’s eyes when he said it. The next thing he knew there was a rumour gong around that he was gay, with some no-name hufflepuff, and that the two of them had secret trysts in the room of requirement, or the shrieking shack, or the herbology greenhouse, depending on who you asked. Algie denies it all fiercely, even going as far as hunting down Lucas and picking a fight with him, yelling at the boy for spreading rumour, and hitting him, hard. It really didn’t help matters, though - he was seen pinning Lucas up against a wall, only fanning the flames of gossip. Lovers tiff? Maybe the two of them just liked it rough.
His saving grace came in the rather unlikely form of Bianca Worthington, the girl he’d asked several years ago to show him her boobs. She said she liked him, and that she didn’t mind about the rumours, and if he liked, she’d be his girlfriend. Algie was elated. Bianca was from a good, pureblood family, and she most definitely had boobs, even if she did refuse to show them to him. He heartily agreed, and it wasn’t long before he was restored to his rightful place in the Hogwarts hierarchy, a place that was now conspicuously missing one Ashley Green.
After that, Algie’s life seemed charmed. He almost managed to forget that he didn’t really like boobs all that much, especially when he had a pair such as Bianca’s to do [almost] as he pleased with. Bianca was the one who made him realise it wasn’t so bad if he talked to people who were below him - it made him seem approachable, and though he never was quite as good at it as she was, he did manage to widen his friendship circle a little and was soon enjoying the benefits.
He learnt a great number of things from Bianca, and truly thought he could be happy with her for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, it would appear she didn’t feel the same, and in sixth year, she broke up with him to start seeing the edgy, cool and dangerous Kevin Sykes, who had an eyebrow piercing and dyed his hair. Algie recovered from this blow by promptly being discovered mostly naked with two Ravenclaw girls in the prefects bathroom.
And so it has been ever since. Things a slightly different to how they were - Algie still has his friends in the rich and famous circle, though there’s a gaggle of women who often hang around him now - most people have forgotten the incident in fifth year enough to assume he’s screwing them, but in truth he spends his time with them swapping fashion tips and insulting other people’s hairstyles, having realised there are certain people he can trust with his secret - apparently boobs are good for something, after all.
[/ul][/size] [/font]the inner workings
Dislikes: The fact that he likes men, not having a girlfriend, losing, being wrong, feeling out-manned or emasculated, not getting the right amount of sleep, sweating without good reason
Quirks and Habits: Runs his fingers through his hair a lot, throws the closest thing to hand at people when they annoy him, smiles to try to get himself out of trouble, flirts without even thinking about it, feels uncomfortable if he doesn’t eat an apple every morning.
Mirror of Erised: To settle down with a good, pureblood wife and raise a family. No gay involved at all.
In Depth Personality:
Self-Confident - [self-kon-fi-duhnt] - adjective
1. realistic confidence in one's own judgment, ability, power, etc.
2. excessive or inflated confidence in one's own judgment, ability, etc.
1. realistic confidence in one's own judgment, ability, power, etc.
2. excessive or inflated confidence in one's own judgment, ability, etc.
Algernon has always had a belief that he’s pretty much the bees knees, although whether or not that belief is justified really depends on the situation. He knows he’s good looking, which he tends to use to his advantage as best he can, turning the charm on anyone he thinks it will work on. However, he also knows how strong he is, physically, and at throwing a crafty hex, so is not afraid to use threats, if he think it’ll work better than charm. He can come across as arrogant and condescending, which he does often purposefully to people he wants to intimidate, namely his male peers. However, he will sometimes exaggerate his self-confidence for comic effect, mainly to impress the ladies~.
Charming - [chahr-ming] - adjective
1. a power of pleasing or attracting, as through personality or beauty
1. a power of pleasing or attracting, as through personality or beauty
Algie has a way with words, and has no scruples about using this to get exactly what he wants, be it as a means to an end, or just to keep whatever company he’s with entertained. He’s got the false laugh down to a fine art, and always knows when to throw in a tactical compliment or a well timed smile. That doesn’t, however, mean that all his reactions are false - he’s more than capable of laughing for real, and meaning what he says, it just has to be around exactly the right people.
Flippant - [flip-uhnt] - adjective
1. frivolously disrespectful, shallow, or lacking in seriousness; characterized by levity
1. frivolously disrespectful, shallow, or lacking in seriousness; characterized by levity
One of Algie’s most annoying traits, especially coupled with how arrogant he can be, is that he hardly ever takes anything seriously - not himself, nor anyone else. He’ll make light of most situations, partly as a defence mechanism, partly because he can’t be bothered to deal with whatever serious thing is happening to him. Though it can be amusing, given the right situation, many people, especially his teachers, have been known to berate him for it, but most of the time, he cant bring himself to be bothered to deal with that, either.
Catty - [kah-tee] - adjective
1. slyly malicious; bitchy
1. slyly malicious; bitchy
Long story short, Algernon has a tendency to be, well, a bit of a bitch. He’s rather judgemental, and will assess people based on the way they look and the things they may or may not have done. However, it’s only around people who know who he really is that he’ll let this side out in full force, scrutinising the cut of the skirt whatshername is wearing, and gossiping about whether or not thingamibob and so-and-so have slept together yet. For the most part it only comes out as cutting remarks towards people he deems to not be worth his time.
Self-Pitying - [self-pit-ee-ing] - adjective
1. a self-indulgent attitude concerning one's own difficulties, hardships, etc.
1. a self-indulgent attitude concerning one's own difficulties, hardships, etc.
Although a somewhat large part of Algie’s personality, his self pity is not something he’s especially renowned for, mainly because he tends to keep it to himself. There are times when he’ll feel like breaking down and crying, when he actually acknowledges the reality of how conflicting who he is and who he wishes he was are, but most of the time he forces himself not to, and pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind. However, it’s not a charade he’ll be able to keep up forever.
Hot-Headed - [hot-hed-id] - adjective
1. hot or fiery in spirit or temper; impetuous; rash
2. easily angered; quick to take offense
1. hot or fiery in spirit or temper; impetuous; rash
2. easily angered; quick to take offense
Algernon has always been somewhat easy to anger, even at the slightest of things. These days he tries to put on a calm face and laugh it off, which works most of the time, but if you press the right buttons it doesn’t take much for him to fly off the handle and have you pinned up against a wall, threatening to punch your lights off. He’s also one for making snap decisions, acing on impulse and not really thinking of the consequences. This has often lead to threats and charm having to be employed, so make sure whatever rash decision he makes stays well away from public knowledge.
[/ul][/size] [/font] behind the mask [/font]
Experience: 3ish years
Time Zone: OMG it’s GMT
How Did You Find Us?: I clicked my heals together three times
Play By: Ed Speleers
Sample:[/size][/ul][/font]
Sebastian was being impatient, which wasn’t like him. Normally, he was the kind of guy who could sit outside someone’s house all night, waiting to take photos of them as they immerged, probably with their secretary, neither of them fully dressed. It sounded bad when you put it like that, but Seb technically was a professional stalker. Not that he really though about it like that - he wasn’t some sicko who whacked off while he was doing it. Most of his cases were more serious than that, anyway, involving muggings and missing people - in a city like London, it was inevitable.
Which was why getting impatient about a friend not being in was fairly out of character. In his defence, Sebastian had had a long, not particularly successful day, and what he wanted to do was go for a pint with his best mate, so her not being at home was a huge inconvenience. Amazingly, she’d not left her door open, and she usually tended to do, even when she was out. It was a wonder she hadn’t been burgled, although Sebastian doubted anyone would want to break into the flat of a starving artist, and the busy little bakery below was a deterrent, as well.
But the lack of open door didn’t deter Sebastian for a second - anyway, without letting himself in, how was he to know Liz just hadn’t heard his hammering and yelling, or was asleep, or ignoring him? Not that ignoring Sebastian ever did anyone any good, he was very persistent. Which was probably the reason he had a Key to Liz’s flat anyway. It used to be her spare key, but seeing as she hardly ever locked her door, and he used to let himself in with it when he needed to when she actually did lock it, one day he’d just added it to his key ring. He wasn’t even sure Liz had noticed it was missing yet.
“Liz!” He yelled again as he let himself in, shutting the door behind him “Liz, if you’re having lesbian sex you better warn me right now because I’m gunna walk right in on it otherwise” There was no response, but he walked over to her bedroom anyway, a cursory glance inside telling him that no, she definitely wasn’t having lesbian sex. At least, not in her room. He grumbled somewhat, more offended by the fact she wasn’t there than he would have been had she actually been in the middle of it with someone. There were art supplies all over the place, and Seb grabbed the first pencil he could find - a 2b, whatever that was - and went over to the wall opposite the windows. It was covered in sketches and paintings; apparently Liz didn’t have enough canvases to keep her occupied, but Sebastian found a clear path and wrote the words ‘oi you, why are you not in? I need a pint. Meet me in the fountain when you get back. My phone’s dead, so don’t try ringing, just come, or I’ll be sad =(’. Satisfied with that message, he scouted around for a tin of red paint, levering it open with the key he had for Liz’s door before dipping his finger in it and drawing a heart around what he’d just written. Liz wouldn’t mind - she could paint over it if she needed the space.
Sebastian wandered through to the kitchen, rinsing his finger under the tap before grabbing a glass of water - it wasn’t quite the pint he was after, but he felt Lizzy owed him a drink after having the audacity not to be in. Then he noticed a pad of post-it notes on her counter, and grinned. He picked them up and quickly labelled the entire contents of her fridge, with things like ‘this banana is evil. No, really, don’t eat this banana’.
He was still grinning as he trotted down her stairs and into the street outside. He wasn’t actually a big fan of the Fountain, but it was quieter than The Eagle, and less likely to dissolve in a mess of fighting as the night went on, which was exactly what he wanted right then. Not that he usually wanted a fight - he was better at wounding people’s pride than their body, and definitely believed that the pen was mightier than the sword, even if that just meant flicking ink in your opponents eye while you ran away. It was just he was usually fan for a more laid back, cheerful atmosphere, but laid back these days seemed to mean not watching what you said around the right people. Or rather the wrong people. Or whatever kind of person it was that was likely to punch you in the face if you didn’t watch what you said. And Seb never had been good at watching what he said.
Which he very nearly demonstrated when he walked into the fountain and spied Cameron Walters apparently collapsed on the bar, but decided that yelling ‘OI DYKE!’ across the pub wouldn’t endear him to anyone, especially not Ronnie. The two of them had a fairly volatile relationship, to say the least, but they got on well enough that they hadn’t killed one another yet, although Seb had his pen at the ready, just in case he needed to make a quick getaway, should she decide to launch an attack.
Instead, he settled for plonking himself on the barstool next to her. “Hello O drunken one” He said, grinning at her recumbent form, resisting the urge to ruffle her hair. She’d probably break his wrist. He turned back to the bar momentarily to order himself a pint, then returned to tormenting Ronnie “So what brings you to this part of town? You might wanna watch yourself, I hear there’s been an outbreak of bubonic plague” He took a swig of his newly acquired beer, smirking at Ronnie. It was one of his more outrageous lies, without even a hint of believability, but hey, he’d had a bad day, he deserved to lie his arse off.
Which was why getting impatient about a friend not being in was fairly out of character. In his defence, Sebastian had had a long, not particularly successful day, and what he wanted to do was go for a pint with his best mate, so her not being at home was a huge inconvenience. Amazingly, she’d not left her door open, and she usually tended to do, even when she was out. It was a wonder she hadn’t been burgled, although Sebastian doubted anyone would want to break into the flat of a starving artist, and the busy little bakery below was a deterrent, as well.
But the lack of open door didn’t deter Sebastian for a second - anyway, without letting himself in, how was he to know Liz just hadn’t heard his hammering and yelling, or was asleep, or ignoring him? Not that ignoring Sebastian ever did anyone any good, he was very persistent. Which was probably the reason he had a Key to Liz’s flat anyway. It used to be her spare key, but seeing as she hardly ever locked her door, and he used to let himself in with it when he needed to when she actually did lock it, one day he’d just added it to his key ring. He wasn’t even sure Liz had noticed it was missing yet.
“Liz!” He yelled again as he let himself in, shutting the door behind him “Liz, if you’re having lesbian sex you better warn me right now because I’m gunna walk right in on it otherwise” There was no response, but he walked over to her bedroom anyway, a cursory glance inside telling him that no, she definitely wasn’t having lesbian sex. At least, not in her room. He grumbled somewhat, more offended by the fact she wasn’t there than he would have been had she actually been in the middle of it with someone. There were art supplies all over the place, and Seb grabbed the first pencil he could find - a 2b, whatever that was - and went over to the wall opposite the windows. It was covered in sketches and paintings; apparently Liz didn’t have enough canvases to keep her occupied, but Sebastian found a clear path and wrote the words ‘oi you, why are you not in? I need a pint. Meet me in the fountain when you get back. My phone’s dead, so don’t try ringing, just come, or I’ll be sad =(’. Satisfied with that message, he scouted around for a tin of red paint, levering it open with the key he had for Liz’s door before dipping his finger in it and drawing a heart around what he’d just written. Liz wouldn’t mind - she could paint over it if she needed the space.
Sebastian wandered through to the kitchen, rinsing his finger under the tap before grabbing a glass of water - it wasn’t quite the pint he was after, but he felt Lizzy owed him a drink after having the audacity not to be in. Then he noticed a pad of post-it notes on her counter, and grinned. He picked them up and quickly labelled the entire contents of her fridge, with things like ‘this banana is evil. No, really, don’t eat this banana’.
He was still grinning as he trotted down her stairs and into the street outside. He wasn’t actually a big fan of the Fountain, but it was quieter than The Eagle, and less likely to dissolve in a mess of fighting as the night went on, which was exactly what he wanted right then. Not that he usually wanted a fight - he was better at wounding people’s pride than their body, and definitely believed that the pen was mightier than the sword, even if that just meant flicking ink in your opponents eye while you ran away. It was just he was usually fan for a more laid back, cheerful atmosphere, but laid back these days seemed to mean not watching what you said around the right people. Or rather the wrong people. Or whatever kind of person it was that was likely to punch you in the face if you didn’t watch what you said. And Seb never had been good at watching what he said.
Which he very nearly demonstrated when he walked into the fountain and spied Cameron Walters apparently collapsed on the bar, but decided that yelling ‘OI DYKE!’ across the pub wouldn’t endear him to anyone, especially not Ronnie. The two of them had a fairly volatile relationship, to say the least, but they got on well enough that they hadn’t killed one another yet, although Seb had his pen at the ready, just in case he needed to make a quick getaway, should she decide to launch an attack.
Instead, he settled for plonking himself on the barstool next to her. “Hello O drunken one” He said, grinning at her recumbent form, resisting the urge to ruffle her hair. She’d probably break his wrist. He turned back to the bar momentarily to order himself a pint, then returned to tormenting Ronnie “So what brings you to this part of town? You might wanna watch yourself, I hear there’s been an outbreak of bubonic plague” He took a swig of his newly acquired beer, smirking at Ronnie. It was one of his more outrageous lies, without even a hint of believability, but hey, he’d had a bad day, he deserved to lie his arse off.
