locked // fairlytales
the basics;;
name Henry J. Porter.
age Thirty.
birthdate October 31st, in a cruel twist of fate.
location New York City.
occupation Teaches American Literature to 11th graders.
pets Two cats, Whitman and Emerson. Formerly owned a goldfish named Poe, but he met his unfortunate demise at the paws of Emerson. The remaining fish, Twain, was given to his cousin's daughter to spare him the same fate.
family Daughter, Cassidy (age 7). Brothers, Thomas (25) & Steven (24).
the personality;;
Run into Henry on the street, and you won't think much of him. He's not very talkative, and lives in a state of sort of suspended animation. He lives on the edge of depression; he's disinterested in most of the rest of the world (including himself), but he's not clinically depressed. He's just an unhappy person, and as far as he's concerned, he has reason to be.
The only place that one can see the more animated side of Henry is in the classroom. He's happiest when he's teaching, and has been known to hold class overtime because he becomes so involved in what he's talking about. Literature and learning are his sole passions. To him, the greatest compliment he can receive is to be told that he interested someone in literature. When the kids tell him about something they're reading on their own, or start their own discussions about a novel, that's when he knows that he's done something good. Something worthwhile.
Otherwise, though, his life is scattered. He's obsessive about organization, but that's only because he knows that if he leaves anything just laying around, he'll lose track of it. That's not to say that his apartment is neat, though; it's just his desk and his kitchen table (work overflow) that show any sense of order. The rest of it is a mess of dirty dishes and scattered clothes. He's quite obviously a bachelor.
He's lax about physical appearance, as well. It's rare that he shaves, and his haircuts are few and far between. He remembers to bathe, of course, and wear clean clothes, but that's about the most that one can expect from him. He doesn't own anything that could really be termed "nice clothes". When invited to anything that requires more than a button-down and jeans, he always declines.
To combat his tendencies to be distracted and absentminded, Henry always writes things down. There are post-it notes around his apartment with little reminders. If he's told something, and doesn't write it down, there's almost no chance he'll remember it later. He often forgets to refill his prescription. Over the years, he's developed various ways to cope with his issues, and recognizes when something is becoming a problem. He's practical, despite his irresponsible self-medication. Every morning, he runs religiously, rain or shine. If he can't go outside, there's a small gym area in his apartment, but he much prefers the outdoors. His day doesn't start, though, until after he's run at least five miles.
He's generally a loner, spending his evenings at home, reading or grading papers. Occasionally, he does go out, usually to pick up a girl at a local bar or seek out some social interaction. But for the most part, his time is spent alone.
On the subject of women, he tends to be very detached. The addition of his memories as Ichabod to his already negative experience has left him very bitter. When he goes out, he'll sleep with a girl (always at her place), and that's the end of it. Maybe a date or two, if he's feeling especially alone that week. But otherwise, one night is all, and then things are through. He doesn't want to be fucked over again, so he keeps himself separated from most of the people in his life.
When it comes to competition, Henry always backs out. He was never much for team sports or anything competitive in his youth, and the recollections that came to him later didn't help. The way he sees it, there's always a loser, and he has a history of being the one who gets screwed. In truth, his self-preservation instinct is very strong. He's trying to be the opposite of what he remembers-trying to change his story, to change the ending-and it makes him very defensive.
Despite this, Henry isn't what you'd call a nervous man. It's hard to tell whether he has really conquered his fears, or just hides them much better than he did as Ichabod. He does have a few obvious quirks; he only drives when absolutely necessary, and never flies. He's afraid of swimming, too, and much prefers to just keep his feet on the ground. But these are things that he never expresses, and will come up with any excuse to cover these slight fears.
the history;;
Born into a small-town family with a (literal) white-picket fence, Henry's youth was in no way extraordinary. His mother, a housewife, bore two more sons after Henry, and spent the majority of her time cleaning and fussing and fretting. His father, a banker who was already deep into his fifties when his first son was born, kept their family well within the bracket of middle class. Their family was almost picturesque, and despite brotherly squabbles and occasional marital spats, they remained that way.
As a child, Henry had an excess of energy. His parents fondly (most of the time) termed it 'youthful energy', and liked to claim that their son was no more excitable than any other child in the neighborhood. This, of course, wasn't true. Once he started school, it became apparent that his inability to concentrate and unharnessed energy made it impossible for him to succeed at his studies. Well, almost impossible. It was clear that Henry took an avid interest in everything there was to learn, and he especially excelled at reading-and surprisingly, could often sit still long enough to finish a story.
It took several parent-teacher conferences and a string of near-failing report cards to convince Henry's parents that something had to be done. His father, busy with work, didn't have the time to take his eldest son to the doctor to have him diagnosed as "abnormal". His mother, busy with one young boy and pregnant with another, didn't have the time to take her son to be "diagnosed" by a quack. They turned, instead, to a family friend who worked in a pharmacy. He supplied the family with Ritalin, allowing the Porters to choose their own dosage. It worked. In fact, it worked almost too well. Henry was one of those children who reacted to the drug with depression-like symptoms. He became sluggish, and disinterested in most everything.
To his parents, however, it was an improvement. His schoolwork-one of the few areas in which he still had an interest-improved, and neighbors remarked on how he had matured. For Henry, the results were not as positive. His lack of interest and "brooding" personality earned him the reputation of "strange" among his peers. As he grew older, he began to ask questions about this mystery medication, but his parents refused to reveal any details. But despite the lack of a prescription and his growing doubts, he would continue to follow his parents' medical regimen until his junior year of high school, when he decided to take matters into his own hands and see what life was like without the pills.
The change was immediate. While not quite as wild as he had been while he was younger, Henry found that his ability to focus on tasks all but vanished. He forgot things, turned in incomplete assignments, and occasionally failed to finish tests. His parents noticed the change in his grades-from straight A's to straight C's-and confronted their eldest, causing the first of many explosive fights over his right to choose whether to take an unprescribed medication. He demanded a doctor's recommendation, they refused to have their son labeled as a problem case. In the end, he agreed to take the medication again-but he didn't.
Instead, Henry began self-medicating; taking the pills when he knew he'd especially need to concentrate, but avoiding them when he could. School stayed a struggle-now B's and C's, instead of the A's he'd once earned-but his social life rapidly improved. His peers soon found that this new Henry was willing to do just about anything. Shoplifting, streaking, stupid daredevil feats.. you name it, he'd do it. But it wasn't just himself sans pills; it was Henry's bid for social acceptance, and for once, that was taking precedence over everything else.
His first reality call came when he began to receive college acceptances-or more accurately, rejections-in his senior year. The schools he'd really wanted turned him away, choosing others with more than just average grades. But that wasn't enough to make him seek out some different kind of solution. He chose, instead, to pursue an education at a "lesser" school, with the firm belief that he'd focus more on his studies and be able to transfer to the college of his choice.
That didn't happen. The summer after his first year-a year filled with drinking, girls, and very little studying-he found himself one more failing grade away from flunking out. At nineteen, he finally decided to do what ought to have been done when he was just a child; he went to a doctor.
That doctor diagnosed Henry with adult ADHD, and started him on a medication with the proper dosage, along with tips to help him cope. One of these tips was running. Henry found that if he ran for a few miles every morning, it helped what the medication was already doing for him. The following year, his grades shot back up, and his social life died down. He wasn't the "strange" kid that he'd once been, but he'd reached a healthy medium between that and the guy who'd gone out every night.
He went on to transfer, eventually getting his degree, and settling in New York City to work on getting his teaching certificate. He wasn't alone, though. When he was twenty-two, he'd met a woman named Melissa, who he'd asked to marry him only a year later. In New York, they were living together for the first time, and making preparations for their wedding six months later.
Four months after they arrived, Melissa broke off the engagement, leaving Henry for another man she'd met at her new job. Henry was a wreck. He stopped taking care of himself, and was soon floundering, racking up debt as he no longer had a steady source of income. His teaching certificate was put on hold indefinitely. Only a few months after Melissa left, his father passed away. When it rains, it pours. And in the midst of all this, Henry started having dreams. Strange dreams, about pumpkins (which he'd never liked), and horsemen. Soon all the memories were back. Just when he was beginning to believe that he was completely crazy, he was contacted by someone from the Atheneum, who managed to convince him that he was, in fact, the reincarnation if Ichabod Crane.
Things settled, eventually. It was a rough year, but Henry made it through and came out the other side with some semblance of a normal life. He mostly keeps to himself, now, knowing what he knows about his past life and how this one has turned out so far. He doesn't talk about Melissa, and has stored away all the photos and reminders of her in a box in his closet. In fact, his apartment has very little decoration, and no pictures. Instead, he has books. Lots, and lots of books.
After things settled, he went back to his teaching degree, finally becoming certified as a teacher in the state of New York. While he no longer takes his medication with any regularity, he continues to run every morning, and pops a pill when he feels like things are becoming too scattered. He's a favorite at the high school in which he teaches; his lax approach to discipline and his disbelief in the accepted teacher-student hierarchy wins him points with the kids. Add in the fact that he is, occasionally, forgetful (often when it comes to pop quizzes), and he's easily a favorite.
Once a week, his mother calls, and at least once a month she comes to visit (always bringing him casseroles, because she thinks her boy doesn't eat), but otherwise, he rarely has visitors. For the most part, he's a solitary person, and he has gradually come to accept that.
the tale;;
fairytale Ichabod Crane, from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.
ability None.
feelings about his tale
Henry is, to put it nicely, not a great fan of his tale. He's bitter about the fact that he never got a proper ending-just disappeared, never to be heard from again-and was essentially gypped. Someone else got the girl, and he got screwed. He doesn't like to think about it much, because when he does, he tends to dwell. He'll never be the first to ask someone about their tale, because he's so bothered by his own. Instead, he tries to avoid the topic entirely.
However, Henry does appreciate the fact that Ichabod was a schoolteacher. On occasion, he wonders if that's why he chose the profession in the first place-perhaps he never had a choice in the matter at all-but he tries not to think about it. It only makes him bitter, that whatever life he had before could be controlled by this other part of him.
And, of course, there's his dislike of Jack-O-Lanterns, and generally any sport involving a round ball. As a child, he once had a soccer ball aimed at his head, and screamed for hours afterward. Something about it has always unnerved him, and Halloween will generally find him locked up in his apartment, with a bowl of candy left outside the door. Now that he knows where it came from, he has tried to overcome it, but the fact remains that he's still nervous, and will react quickly when he senses anything coming at his head.
additional information
• The Legend of Sleepy Hollow [1 2]
• Ichabod Crane [1]
the appearance;;
height Six feet, one inch.
build Scrawny used to be the word most commonly used to describe him. He doesn't have much extra on his bones, but there's more muscle than it looks at first glance. It's from all that running, among other things.
eyes Blue.
hair Dark brown, cut relatively short. Usually unshaved.
dress style Cheap button-downs, most of them a few years old. He doesn't bother to get new clothes very often, unless the rest are falling apart. It's rare that you'll see him in something other than jeans, and old tennis shoes that have seen better days. None of it is really dirty, but his wardrobe could definitely use an update.
the relationships;;
status Married to Kay Ellis Porter, after a two-week engagement. No, they're not rushing things.
sexuality Heterosexual.
turn ons Low-key women. Honesty. Nice legs. Brunettes. Women who can hold their liquor better than he can. Straightforwardness. His wife.
turn offs Commitment. Liars. Clingy women. Short skirts (and the kind of woman that usually implies). Cheap drunks. Cheaters. Blondes.
the storylines;;
• In development!
the ooc;;
name Ceanna.
aim scarletmagik.
played-by Ryan Gosling. [1 2 3]
disclaimer Not real, not mine, I make no profit off of this. But please don't steal the character concept, or I'll track you down with a sharp object. ♥!