Beelzebub Leloup
Name: Beelzebub Leloup
Status: Muggleborn
School: Beauxbatons
Year: Third yearAppearance: Due to lots of heavy lifting in his later childhood, he has formed rather muscular arms and broad shoulders. rather tall for his age. He has heterochromia, which gives him two different eye colours. His right eye is a dark shade of blue and his left is dark brown. Short slightly curly, wavey brown hair accentuates his rather pale complexion. In the back of his neck, he has a small X-like scar that he got due to falling over and hitting the edge of a table.
Faceclaim : Henry Cavill (young ofcourse...)
Personality: Beelzebub is a flirt with a cheerful smile. But behind that, there lies a certain slyness. He's humble about the way he looks yet he's aware that he's goodlooking. He's not really great at making friends which makes him come off as weird or awkward. He doesn't like to talk much. Instead, he focuses on music. With him, he usually carries an acoustic guitar. One of the things that girls usually swoon by. Musicians are h o t.History: Beelzebub isn't actually French. He's Belgian. Born in the capital, Brussels, from his loving and hardworking Muggle parents. She, a beautiful redhead, Elisabeth Rosendaal. His father, a dark haired stunner with chocolate coloured eyes, Lucifer Leloup.
They both were ordinairy but exceptional in skill. Elisabeth was rather shy about her looks. Not sure when others were making fun of her, or when they were serious. It made her quite humble and thanks to her red hair, a colourful wallflower. Not only in her looks was she beautiful, but the way she could bake was something that couldn't go unnoticed aswell. Her parents were dedicated workfolk that kept their bakery running day and night and as she grew older, the tasks became heavier and the hours she spent in the kitchen multiplied. Elisabeth was exhausted every morning but she soon became a pro. As the months passed, she swore an oath to herself: 'I'm not going to do this for the rest of my life...But while I'm at it... I'll give it my best.' Elisabeth was a hard worker and kept to herself. Between the éclairs and cream puffs, she didn't have eyes for anything else but the money that was rolling in so she could someday move out and try something new.
Beelzebubs father, Lucifer, was an odd one out. He was pretty goodlooking except his social skills were rusty as can be. He wasn't great with his hands as he had a job as an accountant from a local company that sold vacuumcleaners. Collecting receipts and putting them in files to then calculate taxes... A boring way to earn money but he was good at it. Numbers were his ... well... thing. While others had trouble with math, Lucifer had a feeling for them. A sense of judgement. They were his safe haven. However, such a brain needed to take a break every so often. And where else would be a better place to do so than at a local bakery with a repuation of having the most finest of products in the entire neighbourhood. Dressed in a business suit he met his future wife, Elisabeth. Enchanted by her talent for creating delicous sweet bliss, he soon started to fall for her.
The redhead was hesitant at first, intimidated by Lucifers good looks. They masked his awkwardness for a while. To her, he seemed cold and as far as she could tell, he didn't actually want to be there, eating her desserts. But then, when he thanked her and complimented her for her sevrice she noticed that they weren't that different. That he was actually a warm person. She then too, fell in love with him.
They soon got married as things went pretty fast back then. Elisabeth and Lucifer both left their former workplaces and set up a bakery together. She did the social part and the baking. He did the money counting and calculating their taxes. He became their own personal accountant. Together, they got a son, Beelzebub. Lucifers family had a knack for strange mythological names and with Elisabeths permission, and enthusiasm for new things, their first and only son came to carry the name Beelzebub. Beel for short.
During his youngest childhood years, he helped out his mother in the shop and attending customers. Of course, only until he had more muscle, he could only carefully carry orders over and back. His mother added a cafeteria to the shop and so clients could do their groceryshopping, but then drink a cup of coffee, early in the morning, to slowely awaken.
At the age of 10, his mother called him over, asking him to bring a bag of flower from the back of their establishment. As she was so busy, she had forgotten that their last bag was placed on a shelve somewhere just out of Beels reach. Beel didn't take any chances and pulled up a chair to gently pluck it with his rather strong arms for a child his age. The chair he used wasn't particularry steady and Beel knew. He sensed it in his legs as his feet slightly wobbled. His gaze dropped down but that was a wrong move. Losing his balance, he fell to the hard floor. Yet... the pain never came. As he had his eyes pinched closed, he felt as if he was floating, slowely drifting closer to the tiled floor. His mother heard the wooden stool hitting the ground, the wobbly culprit, dropped out of its hinges. Panicked and confused by her child being perfectly fine, she knew that something extraordinairy had happened infront of her eyes. Her son was more than just a bakerboy. A drop that high would've definitely given him a serious injury and yet.. he survived.
The months after the incident, the Leloup family continued their usual routine and the strange incident was briefly forgotten... Until a beautiful letter flew into their mailbox, adressed to Beelzebub. Puzzled Beel opened the letter, together with his parents, letting their eyes read and read again. It didn't make much sense to them. Was this a prank? His father chuckled and nearly tossed the stationery away, calling it rubbish but soon a Professor came to introduce them to the wonderful world of magic and wizardy. A place they had never heard of before. Only in fairytales they'd speak of things like these. However, they were convinced, after a very long time of conversing during coffee break. Their lovely son was special and he was set for more great things than they could ever dare imagine.
You're gonna need a bigger boat
Beelzebub Leloup
Is your character a Broom Racer? No.
Is your character a Quidditch Player? No.
Is your character a Duelist? No.
Stats:
Stamina: 10
Evasion: 4
Strength:15
Wisdom: 4
ArcPower:2
Accuracy: 10
[/quote]Abilities: To be accepted they must be written out fully.
Charmer - Words : 447Obnoxiously Strong - Words : 482ReducioBorn from two good looking parents, it's quite obvious why Beel is so attractive. He doesn't have his mothers lovely red hair but he does have her charming smile. It's so genuine and bright. When he started to finally grow his own personality, his mother noticed how he could naturally make her day. One day she was having a rough time. Elizabeth couldn't put her finger on what exactly was ruining her day. Maybe it was the dough that felt different in her hands. Maybe it was something Lucifer said earlier that day before he went to sit behind his desk. Her mood was ruined. Handling the croissants in a rougher way than her usual gentle lady touch, Beel knew something was up. His mother was cheerful by nature, even though she was rather shy. Offering her a helping hand, her blue eyes locked with his for a brief moment. Beelzebub made a funny remark, something about the croissants looking like flexing, pale crabs. And ofcourse he had to perform what he was talking about, to her.
Arching his arms infront of him, balling his fists, putting on a serious frown... It made his mother burtst out in laughter. The coldness that once overcame her immediately melted away by her sons cheerful personality. For a while she had been afraid that Beel would turn out to be like her father. Socially awkward and an inward personality. But seeing him flouritsh. Seeing Beelzebubs playful side, gave her hope for the future.
The following years he became more confident about who he was. The young mothers who came for a drink with their daughters were quickly intrigued by the young boy. His humble yet bright smile, combined with his rather athletic build would even make the oldest heart skip a beat. The younger girls would, or, stare for too long, or they turned their head away, turning red as they did.
His father was worried that their son wouldn't have an interesting childhood next to kneading dough and an once-in-a-while-spicy-dad-and-son-math moment. Beel sadly didn't have the same numberbrain his dad had. Lucifer eventually had peace with it. Even though his son wasn't great at nubmers, he did seem to have a knack for music. Setting him up to do acoustic guitar lessons, Beel soon found a new way to express himself. Through song and sound.
After practicing for weeks, he finally started to get the hang of it and even combined it by his rather warm, sweet voice. The clients that came back every week always looked forward to Beels small performances. It was good for him, good for them and especially good for becoming a more popular establishment.The Martial Artist - Words : 459Reducio
Growing up in a family which lives of profits of bread and sugarry sweets, Beel grew up to be quite a strong lad. To carry around bags of flour and to help out in general behind the scenes of the bakery, he was quite handy. Not only his arms but also his legs had turned into quite a muscular set of limbs. As said before, his shoulders had gotten more broad and wide due to the daily heavy lifting.
Even small things that turned into routines like sliding bread in the oh so hot oven had given his muscles quite a work out. Beel wasn't born strong. He soon came to realise that being strong would increase his workload and lessen that of his mother. Father was kinda muscular but he would never be as muscular and broad like his own son. Not that Lucifer minded. He was glad to see that Beelzebub found pleasure in working in the bakery.
Just like Lucifer helped out with guitarlessons, he also decided to give the young lad his own small work out bench. Nothing too big. Just a few heavy weights and a punching bag. Beel was flattered and glad that his father supported him. After getting some pats on the back, he happily got to work and slowely gaining more muscle. This had caused him to grow broad yet surprisingly, his arms didn't grow really fat. He turned into an atheltic build lad which was perfectly balanced. No way would he ever look like the freakishly bodytypes of bodybuilders. They changed their bodies for different reasons than Beels. As you can't skip leg day, Beel had saved enough money for his own bicycle. Even if he did help out alot in the bakery, he also had to go to Muggle school. The fastest way was by bike. Brussels has quite some steep hills and mounting those requires quite some wellformed calves. After a month or two, his legs had gotten used to riding up and down the chaotic city structure. Nearly no longer breaking a sweat he could move around with ease. Going up and down to a local grocery store was no problem.
When he got in Beauxbatons, he made use of his muscular advantage to save those that don't have a voice of their own. Beel wasn't the best at making friends, but he didn't like bullies. That too became sort of a big deal for him. He didn't see himself as better than others just because he was strong. But he would use it against those that did think like that. Not only working out helped out to keep your strentgh. A balanced meal made a big difference as well. The young muggleborn didn't like anything with too much sugar in it. Ironic. Maybe his childhood behind the counter of his family bakery had left a sugarry impression on him.ReducioThe streets of Brussels weren't the safest. Especially not by night. It happened that Beel had to pass by certain streets to get somewhere. Later in his life, the bakery he worked in had started a delivery service. And who made the deliveries? That's right. Beelzebub did. It was no problem to him. Everyday to school he liked to try different routes, figuring out which route would be the shortest. Sometime he just liked to explore since the world inside the bakery had become too small for him. He was curious by nature because of this. His hometown had a reputation of having certain gangs roaming the streets during the evening and mostly at night. These gangs weren't necesarrily out to hurt any random strangers but if you happened to run into them at the wrong time, things could get spicy.
One time, Beel was riding back home, taking a scenic route. The moon was out and due to lingering clouds in the sky, it was still hot out. One of the gangs was roaming a small alley, an alley that Beelzebub wanted to take home. Yet he got pulled from his bike. The young lad was strong and could throw a few members from his body, yet he had no idea how to tackle them. He had no strategy. And because of that, they could land a few punches on him. Grabbing a nearby heavy barrel, Beel tosses it at the thugs and ran. Black and blue he arrived home. His parents were worried sick and begged him to no longer do deliveries in the evening. Beel chuckled and waved their worries away. Why would he back away from this? He knew what he needed to fix. He had weapons but he didn't know how to use them.
After some heavy discussions with his mom and dad, especially his mom, they agreed that he could start fighting lessons. It could never hurt, right? Beel had guaranteed them that he'd only use it to defend himself, but he did ask his tutor some good techniques to strike the enemy back. The teacher appreciated his enthusiasm and after hearing Beelzebubs motivations to fight, he couldn't be happier to help him out. But just like his mother, the tutor pressed him on the fact to only use the attack-techniques when he got cornered. Other times he could only use ways to defend himself. It took quite some time to perfect his technique. His big arms were hard to control. Fighting wasn't just kicking in the air or breaking someones nose. It needed finess and patience. When he finally managed to succeed, the gangs in the streets knew one fellah they didn't wanted to screw with. The Iron Tank called Beelzebub Leloup.
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