MONET, Jérémie Thomas

[ihuffedandipuffed]

{catching teardrops in my hands}

{ Jérémie Thomas Monet }
ONLY SILENCE AS IT'S ENDING, LIKE WE NEVER HAD A CHANCE
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MEET MISTER ( JÉRÉMIE MONET ). BORN INTO A ( HALFBLOOD ) FAMILY ( JÉRÉMIE ) ONLY ( FOURTEEN ) YEARS OLD, ( OBLIVIOUS ) AND ( NAIVE ) IT'S NO WONDER THAT RAGGED HAT PUT HIM IN ( HUFFLEPUFF ).

you can take everything i am
BASICS-BASICS-BASICS-BASICS-BASICS-BASICS-BASICS-BASICS-BASICS
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FULL NAME: Jérémie Thomas Monet.
AGE AND BIRTHDATE: the twenty-first of april, in twenty oh eight is his day of birth, and he is currently fourteen.
BLOOD STATUS: half-blood.
HOUSE: hufflepuff.
YEAR: fourth.
OCCUPATION: student.
WAND TYPE: willow, unicorn hair, twelve and a quarter inches.

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you can break everything i am
PHYSICAL-PHYSICAL-PHYSICAL- PHYSICAL-PHYSICAL-PHYSICAL
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PHYSICAL APPEARANCE: Jérémie is a thin British-Frenchman with wild brown hair that seems to defy gravity. The thick mop he calls a work of art tends to be perfectly fine on the sides and part of the back of his head, but the top is often messy and sticks up everywhere while still somehow looking as if it is in place. Not including the hair, the fourteen year old stands five feet, six inches tall, but he could be five feet, eight inches tall if he stands on his tiptoes. At one hundred and twenty pounds, Jérémie is on the lighter range of the weight group, and although the doctor insists this is perfectly healthy and natural, especially for a growing boy, his mother repeatedly tries to feed him lots of food to 'put his weight right.' As Jérémie isn't exactly the most muscular boy out there, he is often teased about being girly, especially since he likes to wear clothes such as muscle shirts and skinny jeans. His dark, chocolate-coloured eyes also tend to be an excuse as to how he is girly, as his friends claim that they tear up constantly if they poke fun at him.

Jérémie would never be found wearing any sort of makeup, though he is a large fan of using magic to make him look like he's smoking a cigarette to ward of anyone who tries calling him girly. (Although it's actually only an illusion. All of the cigarettes he smokes are flavoured and don't actually have any tars or carcinogens.) One way you can tell he isn't a smoker is by the faint scent of mint in the air when he "smokes", which he claims is the breath mint he had earlier so he could more fully enjoy his smoke. Another way you can tell is by his smile. Jérémie's smile is full of white, undamaged teeth, which would rarely be seen on an actual smoker. He's only had one cavity, and that was because one year he ate all his Halloween candy in one sitting and then slept without brushing his teeth. Jérémie has a very distinct walk that involves taking three steps before tripping over his always untied shoelaces. It's a miracle he hasn't killed himself tripping down stairs because it seems no matter how many times he ties them the laces always become untied.
PLAY BY: Jérémy Kapone.

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go on and try to tear me down
INNER LAYER-INNER LAYER-INNER LAYER-INNER LAYER-INNER LAYER
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STRENGTHS: charms, herbology, researching, dancing, withholding useless information
WEAKNESSES: potions, care of magical creatures, divination, understanding girls, food, defense against the dark arts
QUIRKS OR HABITS: constantly checking his hair & chews on his right thumbnail if he's nervous.
BOGGART: when the boggart comes out, it is large, shapeless (often times a shadowy blob that tries to engulf him), and as black as you can get. he fears darkness, and the way to beat darkness is to shine light. When Jérémie cries, 'Riddikulus!', the boggart turns into a miniature lighthouse.
PATRONUS: Jérémie's happiest memory is the day his father taught him to fly a broom despite his mother's protests. His patronus hasn't quite taken shape yet (as his happiest memory isn't exactly very strong) but on the rare occasions you can see it's form, he has found that it is a peregine falcon.
AMORTENTIA: turkey, fresh-cut grass, and book.
LIKES: flirting with girls, learning new spells, writing books (although he never finishes them), reading (he often abandons books halfway through for a new book, being as fickle as he is.), playing with his dog, and hanging with his father
DISLIKES going shopping with his mother, his girly-looking wand, vomiting, bertie bott's every flavour beans, snow, defense against the dark arts
PERSONALITY: Jérémie is your typical teenager. He's stubborn, grumpy in the mornings, and definitely sings in the shower even though he denies it. With the guys, he's joking around, once or twice making a sexual remark, and constantly trying to prove he's better at something than them. With the girls, hes soft, sweet, and determined to win them over. He's very fickle, and hops from one thing to another like a hot potato, which would go terrible for him in the dating area, although luckily for the girls he'es never had a girlfriend. He's friendly to everyone, even Slytherin, and often gets ragged on for it.

Jérémie is naive, never really going beyond the rules, and can tend to be really gullible when he wants to believe something. If he had his way, the Earth would have left the Sun to travel around Jupiter a couple years ago, Pluto would be inhabited by robots, and the sun would have gone out, leaving the Earth to a dramatic death but ended up being saved by the wizarding world shortly after the sun died. Jérémie is in absolute love with foods, especially chocolates, or any kind of sweet, really, and must have a high metabolism because if he gained weight from all the sweets he ate, he would be obese by now. He's very oblivious to what other think or feel about him. He believes what he wants to believe, so even if you told him to his face that you hated his guts he would be cheerful and reply that his guts love you too.

Jérémie thinks that rules should be adhered to, no matter how silly they are, so when the new laws were made, it was a rather smooth transition for him despite having to move and he's never protested about it. The laws haven't hurt him yet, so he has no reason to dislike them. One thing Jérémie is not is brave. Jérémie is a coward above all else; heck, he can barely sleep at night without a nightlight on! In the daytime, he parades around with a false facade of courage, but the moment darkness begins to settle upon the land, he's finished. He may be a rather loyal friend at times, but he's a cowardly one and will always selfishly put himself first if it comes to serious consequences, even snitching on his own friends.

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i will be rising from the ground
THE PAST-THE PAST-THE PAST-THE PAST-THE PAST-THE PAST-THE PAST
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FAMILY Léo Monet - father, French, wizard, book store owner and off-the-record writer. aged thirty-three. possibly the closest person to Jérémie.

Ellie Marie Monet - mother, British, muggle, laundry cleaner and clothes mender. aged thirty-six. closer with her daughter than her son, but always tries to help him by setting him up with girls, most dates of which end up being disastrous.

Ashlee Rose Monet - sister, British-French, non-magical halfblood, student at the high-school in Oxford. aged seventeen. constantly fights with Jérémie when he's home.

Buster Monet - pet, great dane. Jérémie's best friend and constant companion when he's home. He also makes a great pillow. aged four.
HISTORY Jérémie was born on April 21st, 2008, before the big hubbub with the new laws. His family lived in London, in a ratty old house that had belonged to his mother's great-grandma. They were fairly happy there; his mother mended clothes for their neighbor and was a stay-at-home mom; his dad worked for the Ministry of Magic, particularly the Muggle-Worty Excuse Committee, and briefly, the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

When Jérémie was eight, Robert LeBlanc made new rules. Rules that changed their lives, even though Jérémie didn't really have any clue about them until a year or two later. His father randomly told his mother one day that they were going to move. He already had a house picked out, the trailer ready to go, and had most of the things in boxes before she could ask why. As Jérémie didn't know he was a wizard then, he had a Muggle mentality, and knew nothing of the Ministry of Magic. Ellie and him thought his dad had an office at a bank.

Jérémie's mother didn't know anything about the wizarding world until Jérémie was about nine years of age. She was getting frustrating, calling electritions to the house day in and day out because whenever she tried to turn off Jérémie's light, it would flicker, then remain on. When Léo heard about this, he knew that his son was a wizard and decided to break the news to Ellie. She took it rather harshly, called him a liar, demanded proof, and then when she got the proof, she gathered up Jérémie and their things and then left the house. They stayed in an hotel for days until she couldn't handle Jérémie by herself anymore; his distraught was sending his magical powers awry. She ended up coming back, and forgave him. Léo told his son about Hogwarts, the wizarding world, and what he was.

When Jérémie was eleven, he received his letter to the famous school of witchcraft. His mother, now having warmed up to the idea of magic and wizards, was ecstatic. In celebration of his acceptance, his mom went out and got him a present; his dog, Buster. Soon afterwards, he was thrown into the magical world of Hogwarts. Even though Jérémie may be half French, he's never been to France and he cannot speak a lick of it; he stumbled over Bonjour, and the only sentence he's ever been able to say is j'taime. His dad has tried for years to teach him the language, but to no avail.

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to watch me while i bleed
THE PLAYER-THE PLAYER-THE PLAYER-THE PLAYER-THE PLAYER
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ALIAS: jacque.!
AGE: sixteen.
TIMEZONE: i'm running on usa central time (: except. i might be on more after midnight here. /insomnia!
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:

“Oh, it’s so sad that this had to be your last moments,” the man murmured easily. “I was hoping when I finally killed you, that you would be tortured in front of a million helpless fans distraught about the loss of their precious hero.” He spat the last two words out, a few droplets of saliva spraying from his cold lips and onto his victim’s immobile body.

The boy before him glared up at him, unable to do anything as he had bound the boy with magic and made sure the child could not escape. The man tapped his wand against his chin, thinking. “Hmm, how to kill you, how to kill you…” He thought aloud. “Oh! I know just the way!” An evil smile accentuated his already creepy face. “Just like your parents did… just like you were supposed to all those years ago.” Voldemort laughed at the boy in front of him, The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. Harry had given up, and defeated, let a single tear fall from his face. “Crying? Oh how touching. This just makes this moment even greater!” Lifting his yew wand with his thin fingers, Voldemort pointed the menacing weapon directly at Harry’s chest. “This time,” he promised, “I won’t fail.”

xxx

Harry awoke with a start, sweat peppering his forehead. His scar burned, oh, how it burned. It felt as if he had been set on fire. Pulses swept through his body, starting at his lightening-shaped scar and quickly running through his nerves and down to his feet, over and over again until he couldn’t possibly bear it. It was the worst feeling in the world, except perhaps walking through a ghost, which he found quite unpleasant and it always gave him the chills. He made sure that whenever he was around a ghost that he could stay out of arms reach if it was possible, as just being near one made him nervous.

He flicked his light on, revealing the small room he was in. It was littered with broken toys, not that any of them were Harry’s. Harry just didn’t get toys. He didn’t get anything from the Dursley’s. The Dursley’s were absolutely atrocious to Harry, locking him in his room, always choosing Dudley over Harry, and one time, putting bars over his window. Hedwig hooted in protest of the sudden brightness of the room. For being an owl, she wasn’t very nocturnal. Actually, she only liked to sleep whenever Harry wasn’t paying attention to her, which, at home, was only when Harry wasn’t sleeping or was away with the Dursley’s.

“Oh, Hedwig,” Harry whispered to his beautiful snowy owl. “I’m sorry I woke you, but you have to be quiet, hear?” Hedwig hooted softly this time, blinking slowly in understanding. “Thanks,” the boy beamed, slipping a finger through the bars of her cage and scratching her affectionately. She leaned into his finger, unfurling her wings slightly in the little room she had and bobbing her head up and down lovingly.
Harry removed his finger and turned to look at the window. The moon was watery looking in the sky, very pale and hardly seen through the clouds that decorated the night sky. Stars were inexistent at this hour, and the dark-haired wizard sighed softly. “Hedwig, I can’t make these dreams stop. Every single night, Voldemort somehow manages to catch me, and he plans on killing me. He tells me his plans, every last gruesome detail. He’ll point his wand, his mouth will open to speak the Killing Curse, and then… I wake up.” Harry’s lips twitched as he slid his gaze over to the owl. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m the one that is supposed to die.”

Hedwig gave a sad little hoot, which told Harry nothing. He knew she wouldn’t understand a word that he said. He knew she wouldn’t be able to offer any useful advice or encouragement or anything beyond little hoots and the comfort of her presence. He kissed Hedwig on the beak, who adoringly kissed him back in her own little way, letting him know that she loved him and cared for him just as she cared for him. Harry tried to push the dream out of his mind. “Right, schoolwork,” he chirped cheerfully to his owl. He glanced at the half-broken alarm clock that had been poorly repaired when he first moved to the room right before his eleventh birthday. Green letters glared back at him, reading 3:23 AM. That gave him enough time to at least get through Divination before the Dursley’s would awake and Hell would devour him. The wizard reached under his bed and pulled his trunk out as quietly as he could. It took him ages to inch it out, as he had to pull then stop and listen before he could repeat the process. When he finally was able to open it, the clock hissed at him to hurry up. It had taken him nearly twenty minutes to inch the trunk out of its sport. He rummaged through it for another five minutes before he found his homework.

The lid slammed closed with a loud bang. Harry held back a curse, biting his lip in anticipation. He awaited noise from down the hall that would signal someone had heard him, but the only thing that he heard were the continued snores of Dudley and the soft whistle of air from Aunt Petunia as she slept. Uncle Vernon was a surprisingly quiet sleeper, all things considering.

Harry dimmed the lights with his wand and climbed onto his bed, opening his book and readying his quill and parchment. He worked on his Divination through the long hours of the night, and as he was too scared to go to bed, he even got a head start on Transfiguration before he heard the quick, loud rap of Aunt Petunia’s knuckles on the door and her sharp, high-pitched voice demanding him to wake up immediately and begin breakfast so Vernon could eat before he went to work and Dudley wouldn’t throw a fit for a meal being late. The soon to be fifth-year student at Hogwarts sighed and quickly but quietly put his homework away, tucking his trunk back under his bed to begin another day in Hell pretending that witches and wizards didn’t exist.

word count: one zero five four.

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