DERANGES, vincent james

[vincent james deranges]

YOU TREAT ME JUST LIKE ANOTHER

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stranger, well its nice to meet you sir. i guess i'll go.[/color][/font][/center]

"Vincent James Deranges.
Yes, my awesomeness even shows through my name. My parents must have been seers or something, or maybe they just took a lucky chance with my name. Or possibly they didn't even know what it means. Whatever, I like my name. Vincent means prevailing or conqueror. So, that is interesting, right? And also, Vincent is the first name of a famous painter, ever hear of Van Gogh? I bet you have. James isn't as interesting, but still. It means 'he who supplants.' Like, provides, I suppose. James is also the name of two Kings of England (James I ruled from 1603-1625, and James II from 1685-1688). Deranges has been passed down as my last name for many, many generations. I means 'to disturb the order or arrangement of.' Or something along the lines of making someone mentally disturbed, which is pretty interesting too. Don't mess with me or I'll fuck up your brain. Yeah."

"Nicknames? Please, just call me Vincent or Deranges. Nothing else. Of course, on occasion, I do allow very pretty girls to call me Vinny. But unless you are of the female persuasion and are good looking, don't call me anything but Vincent or Deranges. Though.. if you want to go all out and call me My lord, Sir, Almighty, go right ahead. That will be fine also. But, I think Vincent will suffice. We don't want my head to swell much more, now do we? Probably not."

"House, year , age, and birthday? Well, if it isn't obvious enough, I'm in Slytherin. Which, by the way, is arguably the best house. A lot of the worlds greatest wizards have come from this house. Just ignore the fact that all of them were incredibly dense and got themselves offed by some little kid with a scar because they were too stubborn to let someone else kill the little prat. I mean honestly, who cares how he dies as long as he does? Oh. Sorry, I went rambling a bit there. Anyway, I'm eighteen and in my seventh year. Yes, eighteen. I was born after the cut off, okay? I was born on October 12th, my birth was fairly uneventful. Typical birth and all, nothing all too special. But, I find it... interesting that on my birthday two different Popes died. Of course, not in the same year, but still. Pope Honorius I died in 638 and Pope John IV died in 642. Only 5 years apart and on the same day. Coincidence? Maybe or maybe not."

"Random tidbits time, because we all know you want to know the inner workings of me and my head. That's right, you do. 14 inches, Ash, Phoenix Feather; I got it from Ollivander's. Nothing interesting. It's a wand, it does magic. I'm happy with it. I don't have a broom and I don't play quidditch. Shocker. Well, not only do you have the high risk of injury in quidditch (that arguably makes for great battle wounds) but, you also can literally fuck up your hands. You see these hands? These hands were made for scheming. Not gripping a broom handle. And speaking of gripping handles, I like girls. Not guys and their wands and little sacs of magic. Sorry? But girls just have that appeal, that guys do not. And I'm sure it's fairly well known what side I would choose if another wizarding war broke out. I am the leader of Serpent's Hatchlings. That's right, the leader. And for my schemes I don't plan to be as stupid at iddle widdle Voldy was."

"I suppose you want to know my boggart, dementor and patronus, right? Well, if you tell anyone about any of this I will personally kill you. And I won't leave it up to just a simple killing curse, no, I'll also use the reliable power of my hands and snap your spine in half. Just to make sure you're gone. Happy thoughts! Anyway, my boggart is a fluffy white cat. And not even a big one, but this evil little fuzz ball. It's embarrassing. I have a good reason though, and if it happened to your it would be your worst memory and then your boggart would become a fluffy cat too. It's too gruesome to depict so I'll spare you the details. No? You want to hear it all? Okay then, I personally suggest you skip reading this, but it's all up to you. Well, it was a dark and stormy night... No seriously, it was. I was at a friend's house, well she isn't my friend anymore but she was at the time. And we were uh... watching tv. Yes, that's what I will call it. Tv. And right in the middle of watching tv, her adorable white, fluffy cat just waltzed right on in. Perfectly fine, right? We decided to just ignore it. Apparently the stupid thing was hungry and wanted some food. My friend hadn't fed the stupid fuzz ball all day and it wanted it's food. Right then and there. Well, we were too busy watching tv, and so the cat had to find another source of food. I suppose I look like a good plate of cat food? The stupid thing just jumped on me and started clawing and biting and clawing and biting and.. it was horrible and disturbing. Broke the skin in several places, took a good chunk out of my lower calf too. I still have the scars, see? Anyway, I was a bit of a bloody mess and it was all terribly disturbing. Needless to say that cat isn't around anymore. I would say poor thing, but it was pure evil. Pure fucking evil. My patronus is a peacock. Which I think is the best animal there is. Well, the male ones. The females are a bit plain. But I digress. The best thing about peacocks are their feathers, they are just so beautiful and attractive. Like me, right? Anyway, to conjure my patronus, I think of the happiest time in my life. My childhood. Sure, it's cliche, but it's what's true. Back then I didn't have to worry about keeping up my appearances or anything of the sorts. Just carefree fun. Don't get me wrong, I love all the decisions that I have made to get me into this position. I love being the leader of SH, but it's a lot of work. And at times I wish I could go back to my childhood, but then I pass someone in the halls and I see the look they give me. And that just reaffirms that I love being the leader of SH."

"My personality? Dear, you are trying to get into my head, aren't you?"

Secretive. If there was one word that could describe all of the facets of Vincent's personality, it would probably be the word 'secretive'. Vincent hates sharing things with people, whether it be what his plans are, what he had for breakfast, or what he is feeling at any particular moment. Over the years, Vincent has found that it is merely a lot easier and more convenient to be secretive. If Charles is up to some sort of mischief, he would never share his plans with anyone. Even if he was planning something nice, which hasn't yet happened, he wouldn't share it with anyone. Vincent doesn't tell people the sort of grades he gets on papers, or exams, and he hasn't told a single person other than Mason how he did on his O.W.L.S. If Vincent is angry with someone, he won't tell another soul, he'll just quietly fume for a bit and then exact his revenge. If Vincent is sad, well, he definitely won't tell anyone, and he probably won't even let on that he's feeling that way. Even if there's a smile on Vincent's face, most of the time no one will know the reason behind that fact. Frankly, Vincent thinks that sharing things with other people makes you vulnerable to the other persons intentions, and Vincent in no way wants to feel vulnerable or be in the position where someone can take advantage of him in some way. He does not trust easily, nor is he a particularly trustworthy. He doesn’t fully relinquish himself to anyone without a great amount of respect and esteem for the person, which is hard to come by.

Jealous and 'Mean.' It can not be helped, just as people breathe, Vincent is by general standards ‘mean’. Sarcasm is one of his main tools of conversation, matched with his opinions one would have to have a tough skin to survive a conversation with him. Jealousy is another trait that plagues him, though this is one trait he wished he did not have. It is part of his whole obsessively addictive ways, what he doesn’t have he wants, and is envious of any who has what he craves. While not up front with this vice, it certainly molds how he treats people in a social situation. Even though Vincent is generally rather rude and snide with most people, those traits are exemplified when he is talking to people whom he is jealous of. Vincent with use every sarcastic remark and retort in his toolbox to try and break the other person down so that he can feel better about himself, and convince himself that he had no reason to be jealous of the other person.

Poised and Headstrong. Collected. Sharp. Put together. All these words and phrases could describe Vincent adequately. He always likes control, and henceforth exudes that very air, even though it comes off as arrogant. He never reveals too much in his words or visage, but always says just enough for the sake of intrigue and mystery, just as his noble upbringing has dictated. Even so, he manages to get away with whatever he wants whenever he wants, having a serious disregard for authority, rules, or societal principles. From the way that Vincent acts at school, one would think that he isn't aware of the rules. However, the truth is that he merely is too headstrong to care about which rules he's breaking. Because of his upbringing, and all of the money that his family has, Vincent has a sense of entitlement about him and thus thinks that he has every right to do whatever it is that he wants.

Dark and Realistic.He doesn’t see the point in imagining up all these wonderful notions of how life could be. If he is faced with someone who is spouting out ideas about how lovely life would be if if if, he will usually indulge them and possibly even offer a few suggestions, all the while thinking how ridiculous they are being. After all is said and done, he will probably crush that dream with a short comment about how all of that could never happen and it would be ridiculous to think otherwise. And if it isn't obvious enough from his talk about snapping necks, he is extremely dark. A bit morbid at times. He can somehow manage to make all that morbidity professional. It's a real skill.

Paranoid. Well, if you were the leader of a secret group, wouldn't you be too? Vincent is always afraid of someone coming out of the middle of nowhere and just BAM! killing him. Or just tormenting his soul and sending him to St. Mungos or something. It's a bit of an irrational fear as he knows (or thinks) he is protected enough from anything and that he can handle his own, but you never know. He can sometimes be seen checking over his shoulder repeatedly.

Vain. Isn't it obvious? He is almost vain to a fault. He can't help that he is insanely gorgeous and whatnot. It also doesn't hurt that he has the brains to back it up. And all his imperfections, well he just hides those. Just ignore his irrational fears too.

"My family? Oh, so that's enough about me? Well, isn't that lovely? Oh. You only want to know more about my family so you can know me better? Well, that's a bit better. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, right? Or something. My mom is an airhead. I would say she is a trophy wife, but she nearly isn't that. Of course she is beautiful, any mother of mine would have to be, am I right? Haha. Anyway, she probably can't even add 2+2. That's how dense she is. My father is much different. I don't know why he married my mother, but that's who he chose. So, whatever. I look up to my dad, he is incredibly intelligent and many days we just spend hours talking to each other about life and death and everything in between. He is the one who gave me inspiration to create SH. And I give him full credit for such."

"My birth was fairly uneventful. My mother goes on about how the birds sang, butterflies flew by and the whole world was aglow. But I'm sure that's all hogwash because I was born late at night, so that would make absolutely no sense. And plus, how would butterflies get into the room? I told you my mother was dense. My father said it was a normal birth, nothing too interesting. But apparently my name was going to be Thaddeus before I was born, but as soon as my father saw me he said I looked more like a Vincent. So, here I am. I'm glad I didn't get stuck with Thaddeus. It sounds like a nomadic name or something. I just picture an old man in a rocker. Or a caveman. Vincent is much better.

Anyway, I'll skip over most of the boring details of my life. Which really aren't that boring, but I feel like you already know way too much about you. And to be honest, I don't even know who you are, you could be my enemy and truthfully, the less you know the better. But, if you are my enemy, just let me know and I'll ramble on about how I was potty trained and all the adventures I had before hand. I'm sure you would be incredibly engaged into that conversation.

Anyway, I was born in Dorset, England. It's incredibly beautiful, the shores are amazing, the weather is great. I really don't see how anything could have been better about the location. Except for the rain. It tends to rain a lot, but really that's everywhere so there really isn't much you can do about it. Maybe cast a water repellent charm and be on your merry little way. Magic does wonders.

My childhood was fun, but fairly uneventful. Nothing of terrible consequence happened other than my father teaching me the ways of the world a bit earlier than most kids. But, I don't mind, it just prepared my mind better. My childhood was mostly carefree even though in the back of my mind I always knew I was destined for great things, my father told me so.

Other than that little bit, nothing else too interesting happened. Around my eleventh birthday I received my acceptance letter to Hogwarts, of course I was disappointed because I would be older than most first years since I was born in October and the cutoff date is sometime around September. But it didn't matter, I was still off on my way to Hogwarts. My mother said I should have went to Durmstrang, it's more prestigious or something. Stupid. Hogwarts is much better. How many great wizards came from Durmstrang? Not nearly as many as the amount that came from Hogwarts.

Anyway, once arriving at Hogwarts we were informed about the sorting ceremony. Of course, I already knew that I wanted to be in Slytherin. The best house, honestly. Plus, my dad recommended it. He said Ravenclaw was second best and he others really weren't worth the time.

It only took me a second to be sorted, immediately into Slytherin. I was ecstatic. Apparently the sly, cunning bits of me just ooze from my pores or something. Isn't that lovely? My dad was proud at any rate.

In my remaining years, I founded Serpent's Hatchlings, with a bit of help of course. But, that's where I must allow my story to fade to black. I can't let the inner workings of my group leaked out to just anyone. Like I said, I don't even know who you are, you could be trying to ruin me for all I know. Of course you could also be some random, innocent reader. But whatever the case, I'm not telling you any more until you earn my trust."

ohhai, my name is EFFY and i'm SIXTEEN years old. i've been roleplaying for FOREVERSIX YEARS because i'm that awesome. you can reach me at PMS, effyvendrick @ aim, [e-mail] @ MSN. just in case you were wondering, the password is DIEDIE. Avada Kedavra.

She had been perfect, those ruby red lips, that jet black hair, she was his everything and Luther had to just go and ruin it. A slight gasp left his lips as he became engulfed with the ghost of his past. She was so gorgeous, and she had been his, all his. They were due to wed in a month, she was about to turn twenty-one. He supposed she felt being three years older than him was enough, four would have been way too much. Telling her that he was really about seventy years older than her did him no good, she would just give him that pleading look and then go off and sulk. It broke his heart every time she did that, how was he supposed to say no to her? After an hour or so of silence, Luther would go over and try to comfort her. It was always in vain and she would send him off for another hour and then she would apologize for being so silly and getting upset over something so trivial. It never eased Luther’s mind and he always felt horrible for refusing her request. After all, who really wanted to be stuck at one age for the rest of their life, preying on innocent humans who you may or may not end up killing. It was all still disturbing to Luther and he had been a vampire for over seventy years now.

In those seventy years he had never met anyone who could toy with his hear the way Coraline did. He honestly couldn’t stand to see her sulk one more time. It was a sunny morning the next time she asked him to turn her. Luther was sitting inside on the bed, safe from the sun. Coraline was on the balcony soaking up the sun. ”Luther, dear, if you finally turn me, I’ll be incredibly thankful.” Luther had given a light chuckle and leaned forward. ”Fine. But, if I turn you, you can’t soak up the sun anymore.” Coraline grinned. ”I’ll live. Figuratively.” Luther chuckled and beckoned for her to come into the room, which she did willingly. Luther took her hand and bent to bite it. Immediately feeling the blood running toward his lips, he frowned. It didn’t taste nearly as he had expected it to, it wasn’t as sweet as he thought it would be. It was actually rather distasteful. He tried to let go of her hand, but his teeth wouldn’t unclench. He struggled to loosen his grip, but it seemed as if his bite was getting tighter and tighter. Coraline started to go limp and in seconds she was gone. He could finally let go of her hand, her blood was everywhere and she no longer had a heartbeat. She wasn’t breathing, she wasn’t responding. She was dead and not the kind of dead she had wanted to be. But really dead. Luther couldn’t believe he had killed his only love.

Thinking back on it now he figured it was all her fault really. If she hadn’t of begged so much… He gave a light sight, no it was his fault. If he had better self control than he though he had, she would still be here, they would be married and living the perfect life. They would have been able to live together, forever. Frowning, Luther tilted his head down and ran both hands through his hair. On the other hand, if she was still living, he would never know about him being a wizard and he loved being a wizard. Though, he probably should have figured out that he was a wizard much earlier. If he had of learned about magic before, maybe he could have saved her. Then he would have had the best of both worlds, right? Sighing again, he realized he would gladly give up all of his magic to have Coraline in his arms right now. Why did she have to beg so much? Why couldn’t she just have been happy to have him for as long as she lived? No, the better question was: why couldn’t he stop drinking her blood? It’s not like it tasted wonderful. Maybe his mouth knew that he wasn’t destined to spend the rest of his life with her. That was bull, of course he was supposed to live forever with Coraline. It only made sense.

Another sigh from his lips brought him back to the present. There was really no use for him to dwell in the past, there was nothing he could do to change it. But, that would never stop him from visiting his days in Surrey. A slight movement from the trees in the forbidden forest caught Luther’s eye. Something… no, someone was emerging from the trees. They didn’t seem to be doing a very good job of it, it looked as if they were stumbling out. They must be mental, going into the forbidden forest alone. But, what if they hadn’t of been alone and the other person was left in the forest. Luther gave a slight shudder from the imaginary cold chill that passed over him. Luther stood to walk over to the person and help them out, perhaps by taking them to the infirmary. After taking a few steps in their direction, Luther’s eyes adjusted to the figure. It was obviously a girl, with black hair, covered in what looked and smelled to be some sort of blood. Luther nearly stumbled backward, was this the ghost of Coraline finally coming back to get her revenge?

Trembling, Luther ran full speed toward the figure and reached her in a few seconds. She looked incredibly similar to Coraline, but strikingly different all at the same time. For one, she had blue eyes and her lips were a shade or two lighter than the color Coraline’s were always stained. The smell of blood assaulted Luther’s nose, it smelled of centaur and was that wolf? All mingled with the very muffled scent of a human’s blood. ”M-miss…” It was astonishing how close she looked like Coraline, he supposed it was only the hair and the fact that he had been thinking about her not more than two seconds ago. “Do you need help? A trip to the infirmary, perhaps?” He gave her a pained and confused look as he offered her his arm.

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[ANNIE]