Post by brent on Jul 17, 2013 15:20:17 GMT -6
| [atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; background-image: url(http://i44.tinypic.com/34fb0ns.jpg);-moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; -webkit-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; border: 4px ridge #7a9aa9, bTable][tr][cs=2] brent zachary mckinney. twenty-three. substitute professor. 12", vine, primeape fur, unyielding. brandon flowers. | |
[rs=2] | Hey there, cutie. So I guess you're wondering who Mr New Guy is? I'll give you the longer version, you look like the kind of person who'd be able to cope with hearing it. Besides, I can trust you, right? If not then I'll just cast a quick memory charm and, boosh, no harm done. You cool with that? Yeah? That's what I thought. The name's Brent McKinney. You can probably tell from the semi-American accent that I wasn't born here. I grew up in fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada with my parents Madison and Clayton. We moved over to England when I was around nine or ten so my dad could take a job teaching at some fancy university. I, of course, was extremely upset to be parted from my friends and the rest of my family so, from then on, I was determined to kick up a terrible fuss until they let me go back. It didn't work, as hard as I tried. Truthfully, I blame Hogwarts for that. When we received my letter it was a total surprise - something we primarily viewed as a sick old joke. A witch arrived, claiming it was true and proving that magic existed. It shocked the three of us; there was no magical blood in our veins that we'd ever been aware of. That made me feel special. My whole 'torment the parents so you can get your own way' plan didn't work out because I had to go to school. My bitterness only grew as I had time away from them, giving me more of a chance to sit and brood over why they were terrible people. (Honestly, they're not that bad and I'm a bit of a drama queen but whatever.) School was reasonably uneventful for me. I did best in charms and muggle studies, from what I remember. And in my first year I was bullied for being some prissy little muggleborn kid but I learnt to fight back and gained more and more confidence. I was a little Gryffindor with a powerful roar. I'm the type of guy that likes to leave you with a lasting impression, if you hadn't guessed that already. Although, sometimes, I just like to hide away and sulk. There's two main sides to my personality. You have the arrogant, stupid side where I'm just gonna yap on about how wonderful I am and perhaps how wonderful you are too if I'm feeling generous - and then the angry side. I'll admit it, a lot of the time I am a grumpy arsehole that'll snap and shout and argue. I'm stubborn; I like to get my way and I won't rest until I do. Anyway, I finished school with a handful of qualifications which could've been a lot worse, but could've been better at the same time. So what did I do now? Well, I manage to get into a band. And, oh god, the band life is something pretty darn unique. I got dragged into those dodgy sort of clubs where whores hang out and ended up smoking and drinking plenty of shit too. That, sweetheart, was when I first started cross-dressing. It's a secret, okay? I dress up like a lady and call myself Angel. There. I said it. But I don't mix my personal life with Angel. It's embarrassing. So she tends to make appearances at night when I'm not working. Angel's pretty similar to me though apart from, uh, being a woman. Still, I'll wear make-up as whoever I am because there's no harm in it. I'm in a band. Band boys wear make-up anyway, don't they? I'll finish up with what exactly I get up to these days... I'm a substitute teacher/professor/whatever-the-hell-you-want-to-call-it at Hogwarts. Don't get me wrong, it has its perks from time to time but, Merlin, I kind of hate it. The band's fizzling away since we got jobs, I'm struggling to pay the mortgage for my house (well, flat - it's above a shop) in Hogsmeade and I continue to dress up as a woman every few nights. Great, huh? Just what you'd expect from your average twenty-three year old wizard who's cut himself off from his parents. Here's the part where you walk away and repeat none of this to your silly little friends. Now, off you trot! |
connie. fourteen. two. |
