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obaewankenope · 5 years ago

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so i finished my raphael!crowley fic @darthvcder ur welcome

You Were Made (To Meet Your Maker) summary:

How does one Fall and still stand as an angel? How does one exist both as good and evil? How does one embody the virtues and the sins? How does one perform miracles on Her order when they are no longer one of Her angels?

In Heaven a spirit doth dwell Whose heart-strings are a lute;

None sing so wildly well As the angel Israfel, And the giddy stars (so legends tell), Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell Of his voice, all mute.

Edgar Allan Poe

Crowley doesn’t know the answer to any of those questions, he’s not sure he wants to know them. He’s always been curious—always asked and asked and asked—but some questions, he knows, are not always answerable[1].

Once he was an angel. Once he had brothers and sisters made of beautiful light, full of song and praise and wonder. Once he knew what it was to be Her mediator. Once he knew heaven in gentle glory.

Once.

Now he is a demon. Now he knows what it is to claw his way through the earth, from a searing heat at the core, further and further away from the boiling fire toward sweet blue sky and cold beyond. Now he knows what it is to feel so, so alone. Now he is no one’s messenger, no one’s herald. Now he knows hell.

It’s not as bad as it could be, Crowley knows this. It is worse for some of the demons who were Made Demons and not who Once Were Angels. There’s a difference between the two types; those who have been made into demons are so much weaker, they’re the cannon fodder to thin the enemy lines and exhaust the heavy-hitters on the battlefield. Demons Who Were Angels Before are strong and mighty still, with their wings retained and all of their celestial powers driven by demonic strength instead of God’s love.

Crowley has wings but to those he is now kin to, they see him as a Made Demon rather than a Once Angel. He prefer it that way. Made Demons are given simpler tasks, capable of far less intellectual ability and generally good for a few temptings before they stupidly meet their end at the hands of a priest with holy water on hand.

It was his wings that made Crowley the option for tempting Eve in the garden. He could fly as well as slither, speak as well as hide. Made Demons are given far less attention by heaven and the celestial Powers That Be so, obviously, Crowley would go under the radar and avoid detection[2].

That made the meeting with the principality on Eden’s wall all the more amusing. For Azirafel knew not who stood beside him. Though he could not for Crowley had done much to hide it from all—brother and sister and Parent alike. Mother did not know him for Crowley had dropped all but his power and wings when he Fell.

Yet…

Mother did not stop calling on him. She called for him—Her mediator, one who heals, —to perform miracles throughout human history. Heal this human, save this place, travel to that town and perform a miracle to save the children, speak between the Archangels and stop them from tearing each other apart. Always a Purpose. Always another Task for him to Perform for Her.

And for all that he hated it, hated being called when She had cast him out, he still answered her summons. He wore a face that his siblings knew, answered them when they called for him by That Name and never let it be shown that he felt that part of him had died the day he Fell.

Azirafel grew as a friend, became someone Crowley found companionship throughout the ages of humanity. The angel who was a Principality of Eden, the angel with a flaming sword gifted to humanity for warmth and protection and out of kindness. Azirafel was worth knowing, Crowley decided only moments after meeting the angel in Eden.

Knowing him throughout the ages only solidifies that fact as Incontestable.

The kind of Incontestable that makes life insurance policies such useful things to have on a spouse with a dangerous job even when you mess up details on the policy when making it[3].

God’s plans are, as always, ineffable. Azirafel loves that phrase, that word, it’s his go-to defence and distraction from Important Conversations method. Crowley respects it, that sort of verbal skill is sadly lacking in hell—and heaven, it was lacking there as well, but that was Then and this is Now[4].

Now where he sits in his flat and wonders what the itchy sensation across his back is. It feels… not familiar, it’s too strange to be mistaken for the irritation of his wings wanting to move and be in the world. Crowley feels as though it’s a sensation meant only to be felt by him and only at this specific moment in time.

The moment his television blares to life, screen mottled with white noise and a distorted but instantly recognisable voice echoing through the surround sound system built into the walls, Crowley understands.

He wishes it had been his wings itching for some freedom.

“Crowley, darling, I have a brilliant task for you.”

It’s not brilliant. Crowley knows it’s not. He knows it like he knows the way Abraham couldn’t believe the sight of three Archangels standing before him in the Grove of Mamre two thousand years ago. It’s the same understanding of this being A Distinctly Not Brilliant Task that he has of every order She has given him over the ages.

This is something Crowley is destined to do but he sure as hell doesn’t need to enjoy it[5].

So delivering the end of the world doesn’t necessarily involve him tooting a horn for the world to hear, but even celestial and demonic beings had to move with the times.

As an Archangel, Crowley’s purpose was so different to his demonic duties that it was laughable how they—finally—meshed together with his being the bearer of Armageddon. It was hilarious.

Perhaps he should have been sat waiting for the end times, perhaps he had been. All through his time on earth, acting as demonic scourge while performing angelic blessings, Crowley has been waiting. He knew—knows—the fruitlessness of it all. The ending is written in the lyrics of the cosmos, in the stanzas and bars of each note, a mournful admission of what was, is, will be.

Aziraphale—modernised pronunciation, grammar, letters, language, it suits the angel better than it does Crowley—has never understood the pointlessness of it all. A loyal angel, loving and kind, who holds fast to the order of loving humanity. That’s Aziraphale.

Crowley wishes he could be like Aziraphale.

In the moments of his life when he has had too much time to sit and think, Crowley has envied and resented Aziraphale in equal measure. But he has pitied him most of all.

At least Crowley knows the ending, Aziraphale doesn’t even have that. It’s a small consolation[6].

So here it is, Crowley, the Fallen Archangel Who Is Not Samael, who delivers unto the earth an ultimatum, a determination, a statement of undeniable fact[7].

Let the axe fall, let those who will fall collapse and those who are given Favour rise. Crowley is the harbinger of extinction.

A fitting duty for one such as he.

Aziraphale understands that the end times are coming. He understands in distant terms, removed from the centre of it by virtue of his distance to the child Crowley delivers to the nuns—Crowley knows without having to check that the child is unremarkably remarkable and will bring the world to ruin in ways it has never been brought to before—and the time they have until the War To End It All.

That Aziraphale honestly considers Crowley’s suggestions, his nagging, his hints, his temptings, to the point of agreeing to work together on the child… Crowley has known the Principality for a long, long time and he never thought the angel would agree to such a thing even with the Arrangement between them.

It’s as unexpectedly wonderful as learning an angel gave his celestial blade away out of kindness and kindness alone.

He’s reminded of his time in Greece, back before the Romans got it into their heads to be a civilisation. Before he met Aziraphale in Rome and continued to bond on their immortality on a mortal world. Greece had been a wonderful place with a lot of dark spots to mar the brightest sheen on it.

Hell had loved Greece for its slaves and wars and conquest. Crowley had loved Greece for its potential.

He had flourished in Greece, walking streets with his eyes gold rather than serpentine yellow, hair flowing red to his waist, robes always a pristine white, red, and blue. Crowley knows he had looked beyond anything mortal. He had intended it.

Greece was a place where healing was so, so important. Where Crowley could walk into a temple dedicated to Asclepius—a lovely gent—and touch the heads of the sick and heal them of their ills and have no fear of it reaching heaven that it was he was doing it.

Heaven had never tracked his movements—they couldn’t, no Archangel could be tracked save by another Archangel or God Herself—and Hell was more interested in the suffering he claimed credit for that a minor healing meant little to them.

It was always assumed to be in service to a higher cause[8].

Falling had never been his choice, not really. He’d just hung out with the wrong crowd, asked too many questions, been tricked at the worst possible time to be tricked.

Samael’s words were like honey but with a vinegar aftertaste only noticed when one stopped imbibing the sweetness. Crowley remembers how kind Samael was, how loving and bright and sly. He remembers huddling beneath his brother’s wing and staring in wonder as the beginning of the cosmos. He remembers Samael’s hurt anger when She revealed to them all Her newest project.

Humanity.

Most of all, Crowley remembers the boiling pits of hell as he landed, the searing agony as the sulphur bit into celestial skin and tried to poison it. He remembers his wings unfurling and launching him from it, landing on rock-molten ground and screaming screaming s c r e a m i n g.

He remembers contact with his wings of bodies and beings never before known in the universe. He remembers celestial fire burning around him, lashing out and immolating those who dared approach him.

Crowley remembers wings of fire and light and love wrapping around him, blocking out the world, smothering his own celestial strength and arms entwining around him, caging him in place.

Crowley remembers the soft words, spoken in that honeyed voice, calming him, soothing him, placating him to stop, stop, just stop dear brother, you are safe with me.

But safe was not here. Safe was Before. Safe is an illusion Now.

“Go above, tempt the mortals, do this and remain there, I give you the duty and honour and freedom from here. I am Kind like that, I am Gentle, I am Merciful.”

Merciful? It would have been merciful to end him then and not force him to endure as this.

But Samael was only ever merciful in ways that He Preferred to be. Not ways Crowley wished.

That angel up in Eden bears a blade that is common and yet rare. It burns with celestial fire and something more, something else that is a leftover from one who bore it before. Power and strength and will entwined.

Crowley recognises it and he wonders at it. Why this blade? Why this angel? What is the reason?

But questions have damned him once, Crowley wishes them not to damn him again.

She would likely do worse than just let him Fall[9].

Being the bearer of the end, knowing without doubt that it will come to pass. It is no kindness to know it. It is less so to realise he will be Called Upon to fight.

Which side will call him first? First come first served.

Crowley hopes to never know but he does, deep down he does. It is always She who will Call him first.

It is less a kindness than heaven or hell calling him.

Standing on the ground of an airbase in Tadfield, beside an angel who has no idea who he is, with children who follow the Anti-Christ, two mortals who have souls tied to one another, and the Horsemen—and Women—of the apocalypse, Crowley accepts his Place.

It has always been with humanity.

Selfish reasons have driven him over the eons. To be seen as more than just a demon, less what he has Become and instead as one who is Kind and Gentle. But, at the core of him, Crowley loves more than any other.

He loves so much he Fell.

He loves to understand, to ask, to enquire, to have answers.

He loves to spend time with others, witness them, wonder at them, love them equally and without guile.

He loves to be with his angel, the principality, the kindest he has ever known.

He loves these children, standing beside their friend who terrified them only hours previous, steadfast in their loyalty and love for one who could destroy them.

He loves it all and all Crowley has ever been is a being of Love.

Whether he has admitted it or not since his Fall.

Now he admits it.

Now he stands.

Gabriel is shocked to witness it. To see two immortal beings standing beside a mortal weapon, implacable and unrelenting in their loyalty to neither side and to the Third they all Forgot.

Aziraphale, the bright and kind angel of Eden, is wondrous in how he does not startle at the change of one he has known since the start. His strong, determined, focused angel.

Crowley wants to smile at him.

He smiles at Gabriel instead[10].

Adam, the child who has been named for one of promise and born of dust collected by Crowley’s own hands, just looks at him and smiles.

“You look more like you now, Mister Crowley,” the boy with Power Over All says, and Crowley wants to laugh.

Of course the boy who is his nephew would Know Him beneath the illusions he has constructed from the start. Of course.

“I’ve always looked like me, thanks,” he replies, smirking a little at the way Adam shakes his head.

“No, you look like you should now,” Adam insists, his eyes moving from Crowley’s face to the wings behind him.

Crowley realises they are no longer the inky-black with slight shades of blue. Now they Shine bright and reflective. Like gemstones shaped like feathers. Lapis lazuli.

And there are four, not two, wings sprouting from his back[11].

No wonder Gabriel is shocked into open mouthed silence.

Crowley’s revealed himself in every way and hadn’t actually realised until Adam pointed it out.

“Raphael,” Gabriel breathes, shocked beyond measure. The Archangel Who Is Messenger seems weak-kneed and confused, as though he cannot believe what he sees.

Crowley figures he probably can’t. Gabriel always did have a problem with imagination.

“Gabe’,” Crowley nods at his brother—younger than him by moments but no one but the Archangels know that—and shrugs a shoulder. “Long time no judgement.”

The kids snicker at that and Crowley’s smile widens because yes, that was funny. Aziraphale’s nervous fluttering makes the smile and humour sharp and as vicious as Crowley is capable of being.

It’s often forgotten than healer’s know best how to cause hurt.

“You died.” Gabriel looks like he can’t believe the sight of him as real, like it’s a trick of some sort and, yes, he’s a demon to all here so demonic trickery is the Thing To Do.

But Beelzebub is looking a little green around the gills—flies—and Crowley realises that she didn’t know who he had been.

Samael—Lucifer—hadn’t told them.

It’s obvious, looking back on it all, that had he told them that the Archangel he smothered in his wings was the snake he sent to Eden, the one entrusted with the Anti-Christ, were one in the same, he’d have faced a distraught rebellion of Made and Once demons jealous of the favouritism.

And it was favouritism[12].

“Died? I’ve been performing miracles the world over,” Crowley replies and okay, yes, perhaps that’s not something to admit in front of Beelzebub who definitely didn’t know about those miracles—the green hue on her face is mixing with a pale sort of red, the kind shocked anger tends to produce—but oh well, it’s done now. “Good to know you’re as observant as ever, Gabe’.”

That makes Gabriel scowl, wings ruffling in offence. If there’s one thing Gabriel always did hate his brothers and sisters doing, it was pointing out his attention span. For one who was so good at destruction, he sure did overlook the obvious.

The obvious here being that when an Archangel dies, heaven is dimmed and their name rings out and—hold on a second.

“Did She declare me dead?” Crowley asks suddenly, and he wants to know but he doesn’t at the same time because if she did—he doesn’t know if he could bear that.

“No,” Aziraphale answers beside him. The angel has been forgotten between the Archangels facing each other—one Fallen, one not—and Crowley startles a little. Gabriel too, from the expression on his stupidly square face. “She declared you Lost.”

Crowley blinks. “Oh.”

“There’s a difference between dead and lost?” One of the children pipes up, Crowley knows it is Brian just because Adam knows it and Adam is his family in ways only Gabriel can understand.

Aziraphale looks at the child and it’s not Crowley’s imagination that the Principality’s face softens from a sort of hard concern to something much kinder. He’s good with kids, Crowley knows, when he isn’t intent on shoddy mortal magic.

“Dead is extinct in angelic terms. Angels die and we know because we feel it and the Almighty declares it,” Aziraphale explains in that soft way he has when explaining things, a little fast and with so much feeling. “Lost is—uh—not quite the same. It can mean dead, but it can also mean stolen, misplaced, or one who has abandoned—” Aziraphale looks at Crowley, voice faltering and Crowley snorts.

“I never meant to fall,” is his response, his explanation, and defence in one.

Beelzebub chooses that moment to finally chip in on the whole family drama[13].

“Thiz izz all nicezz but we have a war to fight!” She gives Gabriel a Look that has the Archangel shifting as though he’s just remembered why he popped into being on earth when he so clearly hates the whole damned mudball.

“Yes! Right! Well, family reunion will have to wait! We really do have a schedule to keep to,” Gabriel says, giving his attention to Adam who, Crowley is pleased to note, is very Not Impressed with the Archangel’s attempts at being friendly to him. “Adam, we need to restart the apocalypse.”

“But why?”

Crowley officially loves this kid.

Gabriel and Beelzebub both blink, nonplussed and Crowley just wants to cackle. It’s insane and bonkers and absolutely bloody hilarious.

“Because this is the Great Plan, Adam, and you have the starring role.” Gabriel smiles but the smile is strained. Crowley remembers the smiles Gabriel used to give him as a fledgling, all full of joy and wonder and awe at his family. This smile is the smile of upper management being forced to try and wrangle an agreement from the union when they’d rather have everyone slogging away for a tuppence.

It’s sad how well that smile suits his brother now.

“Don’t you want to rule the world, Adam?” Beelzebub asks, trying to be friendly and approachable and Crowley sort of wants to gag and maybe Adam does too because the boy leans back a little from her.

“It’s hard enough thinking of things to keep Brian, Wensleydale and Pepper happy,” is what Adam says and Crowley smirks.

Bless those who don’t want power because it’s too much effort.

“Listen, you little brat,” Gabriel’s smile falls away and in its place is an annoyed scowl that rings of storms and destroyed cities of men. “This apocalypse is happening. Now restart it!”

If a child with power over all of creation could turn an Archangel into a slug for being an absolute dick, Adam Young could definitely do it.

“Bit rude, Gabe’,” Crowley says, sauntering up to stand behind Adam, and he’s a little pleased at how Beelzebub and Gabriel both step back at his approach. Aziraphale joins him on the other side of Adam and they stand with the child, facing down heaven and hell both. “You used to be much better with kids.”

“Really?” Aziraphale looks askance at Crowley. “I never knew that.”

“Welllllllll,” Crowley drags out, scratching his neck. “He was pretty good with the new angels when Mother got around to making them. Always showing them how to use their wings and stuff. Guess he’s gotten cranky in his old age.”

The wings Gabriel has been keeping from this mortal plane appear in a sudden flair of motion and light that blinds most of the humans out on the field—Adam and the witch are unaffected. They’re whiter than Crowley remembers, with less gold in the feathers to mark him as loving and wise. Perhaps that says all that Crowley needs to know about Gabriel as he is Now compared to how he was Then.

Gabriel, just like Crowley, possesses six wings to Aziraphale’s two. It is a mark of the status and power of Archangels that they all have four wings on their backs, though only two are used for flight. The other two are more… excessive displays of power and status.

That Crowley retained his when he Fell probably shocked Gabriel more than his being Not Dead. An Archangel who Fell is a disgrace and that he would still have all his wings is unheard of. Samael, Crowley knows, lost a set in the Fall. It’s one of the reasons he has avoided his—avoided him and kept his wings strictly to two whenever he has been forced to see The One Who Was Lightbringer. It hurts them both, he thinks, to be reminded of what was lost[14].

“Enough!” Gabriel roars and the world around them trembles from the force of an Archangel’s anger.

The humans shake and look around in alarm, even young Adam, and Aziraphale seems—rightly—terrified of an angry Archangel. But Crowley knows Gabriel.

He has known this Archangel from the moment She made him and he knows Gabriel’s limits.

Even without the Host of heaven to give him strength, Crowley is strong enough to match his little brother[15].

So he sighs and clicks his fingers with all the fanfare of his usual dealings with celestial beings who foolishly draw on their power in front of mortals. Immediately the rumbling ceases and the sensation of thunder and power dies away.

Gabriel looks around, confused and Crowley raises an eyebrow because, well, it should be obvious.

“You always were prone to temper tantrums, Gabe’,” Crowley remarks, amused at it all. Gabriel’s expression is as close to open confusion as Crowley has ever seen it.

Beelzebub—now—looks rightly afraid. That Crowley—lowly Crowley whom she has always hated—can end an Archangel’s anger before it even really begins… it shocks her.

“Last one I remember was Sodom,” Crowley continues. “Oh, and Gomorrah! That was a doozy of a temper tantrum, I tell you.”

If looks could kill, Gabriel’s thunderous expression probably would have murdered Crowley on the spot. As it is, only Adam’s looks can probably kill. Probably.

“This is an absolute joke! Stop with all of this crap and just start the apocalypse!!”

And there’s the whining from an Archangel. Lovely.

“I agree. It izz time, boy!”

And now a demon’s joining in. Great.

“No.”

Adam Young is the absolute best child, Crowley has ever met.

“It izz the plan!”

“It is the Great Plan!”

“It izz written!”

“The war must be waged!”

“There must be a winning side!”

Adam stares at the Archangel and demon as they trade off, without even realising, to try and convince the child to do what they want. They sure as hel—heav—Alpha Centuri can’t make him.

“But—uh—excuse me for a moment,” Aziraphale pipes up, distracting Gabriel and Beelzebub from continuing their routine. “Is that the Ineffable Plan you’re talking about?”

Gabriel splutters. “It’s the Great Plan.”

Beelzebub nods. “It izz written.”

“But,” Aziraphale presses. “Is it the Ineffable Plan?”

And like a bolt of lightning to the face, Crowley understands what this angel—the kindness and softest and most loving—is doing. He’s being sly.

“You don’t know,” Crowley breathes, near silent, but Adam catches his words, looks at him with that look on his face that is part-confusion and part-understanding.

Neither side understand Her. They never have. Not Before, not Now, not Ever. It’s how it’s always been. Crowley accepted that a long time ago, as much as it galled him and enraged and hurt him to do. He is steady with that understanding. He has made himself a life by doing what he Knows is Right and not regretting it.

She let him Fall and he learnt to Stand Alone after.

Maybe it’s time for heaven and hell to learn to do the same?

“Well, Ineffable Plan and all, maybe this is Her plan all along and you lot are messing it right up?” Crowley questions, mock-thought and pondering. The look on his little brother’s face is so amusing that he wants to laugh, but the situation is Serious and laughing would be Bad[16].

“God does not play games with the universe!”

Crowley cocks his head because really? Gabriel, really? “Where have you been?”

“Your father will not be pleazzed boy!” Beelzebub declares and, well, she’s not wrong. Samael will be pissed beyond reason with Adam for not causing the apocalypse as per the Great Plan.

Crowley would probably have pointed out the irony that Samael is following Her plan with the apocalypse if he hadn’t been concerned with Samael tearing off his wings in anger. Fun times.

“He’s not been pleased since Mother went and decided to create humanity in case you hadn’t noticed,” Crowley snips at Beelzebub who buzzes angrily at him[17]. The amused breath that Aziraphale lets out makes Crowley smile, pleased that his snark still amuses the Principality.

It’s very endearing that Aziraphale is amused by Crowley at his most snippy. Endearing and very easy to fall in a whole new way for.

“I hope someone tells him, your father,” Gabriel says, giving Beelzebub a Look that Crowley quirks a brow at. His little brother knows a Made demon so well that he can exchange Looks with them? Oh how the hypocrites rule the roost.

“Oh, they will,” Beelzebub promises. It’s an ominous promise, the sort that is an assurance of a lot of Problems to come and probably, most likely, Pain too.

Crowley finds he dislikes that.

But he can’t really do anything about it when both Beelzebub and Gabriel disappear in hues of green and purple, leaving the airbase with two fewer immortal beings than it started with.

“Did we do it? Did we stop the apocalypse?” one of the children ask—Wensleydale—and Crowley nods.

“I… I think we did, yeah,” he says, frowning a little.

His wings are still out and he’s just realised that fact and is starting to pull them back within when the ground trembles and a striking pain runs through his chest, dropping him to the ground with a pained cry.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Aziraphale demands, stepping toward him in concern. “I feel something.”

Crowley hisses, more like a snake than any sound a human or angel would make, coming up to his knees—the best he can do with that striking pain still in his chest—and he looks at Aziraphale. “They did it. They told him.”

He lets out a shuddering breath. “He’s coming.”

Crowley feels like he’s about to witness something—do something—that will forever change him. Forever change who he Was, who he Is, and who he Will Become and he’s afraid.

“Come up with something Crowley!” Aziraphale snaps at him, standing with the flaming sword of Eden and the Morningstar. “Or I’ll—I’ll never talk to you again!”

He’s so, so afraid.

But there’s anger beneath the fear. Bubbling anger that has been simmering away on the back burner for over six thousand years and it’s finally, finally boiling over.

His wings, snap out, fan around him as he forces himself to stand, to ignore the pain, to heal what is causing it over and over and to keep going. He is the Archangel Raphael. He is the demon Crowley.

He is healer. He is tempter.

He is humanity’s protector.

And he is done with his brother.

Stopping time is easy, he’s done it dozens of times over the years whenever he’s needed a little more time. It’s a little more difficult to pull Adam and Aziraphale into the little bubble he’s created where they can exist and be but not be affected. Adam is easier to pull than Aziraphale and it’s only because of the closeness he has to Aziraphale that it takes less power than it ought to otherwise.

“Adam, you have to make a choice.”

Choices. It always comes down to choices.

“Right now, reality will listen to you.”

A child of eleven has power over reality the likes of which Raphael-who-is-now-Crowley knows to be unique. Half-Archangel, Adam Young can do anything with the strength of his will alone. But it is the humanity in him that makes him so, so worthy of that strength.

Adam won’t squander it like Samael would. Like Crowley would, even.

All angels are flawed beings, imperfectly flawed and prideful. A perfect world is what every angel thinks is Best. They don’t understand the beauty of struggle.

Crowley learnt it the hard way. Aziraphale has learnt it over time on earth. The earth is beautiful for its variety, its difference, its disorder, for every ounce of pain and suffering and harm and wonder and love and kindness there is upon its surface and beneath it.

Adam Young knows the same for he is human and he knows that perfection is an illusion crafted by imperfect hands.

So Adam won’t create perfection. He’ll create what is Right and what is Good and it is never going to be Perfect.

Everything must have a balance. Even paradise.

“You’re not my dad! You’re not my real dad!”

Oh but it’s true. No parent who is absent in their child’s life is a parent, least of all one who appears and demands obedience just for being Parent.

Samael is learning the same lesson She learnt and Crowley wants to laugh at him. He really does.

But it’s hurting too much in his heart of hearts to laugh. The pain of seeing his brother laid bare, rejected again, unmade once more… it’s like Crowley’s being rent in two.

Perhaps he is.

“But you’re my uncle.”

And just like that, with four words from a child with Power, Crowley’s pain stops. Adam has rejected Samael—no, he has rejected Satan as father—but claimed Crowley as uncle. He accepts the bond of family, celestial and timeless, and he accepts Crowley.

Maybe he cries, Crowley doesn’t really know. All he knows is that having an eleven-year-old son of the Devil only-by-birth clinging to him and telling him that “you’re mine, you’re my uncle, mine, my uncle” over and over until it seeps into his skin and muscles and right into the core of his being made of material no mortal could understand, is the most amazing sensation Crowley has ever known.

It’s like Forgiveness and Absolution in one.

This was Her plan all along.

Crowley—clinging as fiercely to Adam as the child does him, Aziraphale stood with a hand on his shoulder—can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed at Her for not sharing some of the details to make it a little less painful for him in the long run. It’s so very like Her to not explain.

Some lessons, parents learn in the end, cannot be taught, they must be lived.

Crowley is happy enough to live this.

He still has Questions though. He wouldn’t be him if he didn’t, after all.

[1] It’s an incontestable fact that some answers hurt too much to hear. Crowley knows this better than most considering he has given answers to humans over the centuries that have driven men mad and women to drown their children to protect them from the Suffering To Come.

[2] He could have too. Not because he was Made but because he wasn’t. His divine power has always been his own, his knowledge always his, his wit, his smarts, his survival instincts and drive to Be More. It means that he knows how to avoid notice when, by all rights, he is the most noticeable thing around.

[3] Crowley had been secretly pleased at managing to make that clause in a policy—it had nothing to do with protecting The Little Guy from the Big Bad Corporation as a psycho-therapeutic act, nothing at all.

[4] Before the Fall is, in Crowley’s mind either ‘Then’, ‘Before’ or, ‘When He Was Still Just One And Not Two’. After the Fall is, naturally then, ‘Now, ‘The Present’, ‘Where He Is Two Instead Of Just One Any More’. He exhausts himself sometimes, figuring out the mental hurdles he leaps on an endless track trying to figure it all out. Who he was Before and who he is Now, how much they bleed into each other, how little they do, what parts are the same, where the differences lie. It’s all the more exhausting because he can’t just talk to anyone about it. Talk therapy is a Big Thing that Crowley puts a lot of stock in but, unfortunately for him, no licensed therapist has quite the credentials necessary to help him out. Unfortunate, that.

[5] Crowley has rarely enjoyed any of the orders he has received from Her or from hell, with the exception of three orders that allowed him the chance to work around the strict commands. One time was with Noah’s Ark when he managed to rescue a few dozen of the children surrounding the Ark whom he miracled to a patch of land far enough from Noah and Co to not be a problem for a few generations. She hadn’t smited him or rained down destruction on those children so, as far as Crowley feels, the action wasn’t wrong of him and She agreed with him on it all but was a little Too Proud To Admit It. It was a habit with Her.

[6] It is no consolation at all. It is too painful to be reassuring knowledge to have.

[7] It is noted in several religions of humanity that there is an unnamed angel who heralds the end of the world, sounding a trumpet signalling Armageddon. Crowley isn’t quite sure how the humans came to learn this but, considering that the angel they mention with no name is him, he’s pretty impressed. Also concerned and a little bit afraid because someone had to tell the humans.

[8] It is an oft’ forgotten fact that demons, just as easily as angels, are capable of feats of healing. It is less common but no less possible. Crowley has, in his long existence, performed several hundred thousands healings. Of those healings, hell has not thought to investigate on them beyond a short memo enquiring—dropping the matter when Crowley responds each time with credit for whatever suffering those healed have caused, intentionally or otherwise. After all, a healed slave who was freed but poisoned by their master is causing suffering for that master whom exile is the punishment for.

[9] But what is there that is worse than Falling? Crowley feels that there is only Death and Oblivion but those would be a kindness now. So obviously She would deny him them. Living as a demon and it being known who he was would, perhaps, be worse than the Fall. One who was bright and kind and a healer, now Fallen? If it was known, that would be so, so much worse.

[10] It is not a nice smile. Bit too bloodthirsty and full of Might to be nice.

[11] He possesses another two but they aren’t really wings so much as strategically placed protection methods for celestial organs of great important. Crowley has no desire to reveal those to any present. Except maybe Aziraphale.

[12] For reasons Crowley never really wanted to think about too much. It was a painful reminder that they were, among the Fallen and the still Flying, apart from all the rest for how they had been made and what they were to each other. Existing without him is, for Crowley, both impossible to consider and all too easy to imagine.

[13] Beelzebub however is not really family. She is a Made Demon—quite powerful and with a lot of pull down in hell but Made all the same.

[14] Crowley is under no illusions that the hurt caused by his four wings upon his back is more from the fact that Crowley still, somehow, retained Her favour and love even in a place as loveless as hell when Her Lightbringer was torn at and left mutilated by his Fall. Maybe it’s a commentary on how Crowley never really Fell so much as tripped and landed in the wrong place and had no way back before the crossing closed up shop and vacated itself out of existence. Either way, it has always made interactions between Samael and Crowley awkward.

[15] The thing that is easy to forget is that, as the One Who Heals, Crowley has an understanding of energy and power and all those other things that makes him a match with Michael and Samael because he doesn’t need the raw power of the First Archangel or the Lightbringer to win in a conflict. One day, Crowley supposes, the others will understand that fact.

[16] But he can definitely laugh about it later.

[17] She’s done that several times over the years, each time because Crowley had said or done something she wanted to hit him for but actually couldn’t.

#Good Omens #Good Omens Spoilers #An Angel and a Demon together #Ineffable husbands #Crowley #Aziraphale #Crowley as Raphael #Raphael!Crowley #Good Omens fic #GOmens #my writing

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magewriter · 5 years ago

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Understanding

Kalex Week Day Four: Marriage Tropes

Wednesday, 11/20 - Supertrope - Marriage - Marriage tropes! Fake married, arranged married, accidentally married, betrothal, etc.

I own nothing. So…I went with another AU for this one. I’m not entirely happy with it and will probably eventually revisit this in order to continue it.

Words: 4,198

*&^*&^

Alex sighed, closing her book and taking off her headphones. Her parents were still at it, discussing what to do with her new ‘sister’. The alien girl that had yet to leave the room across the hall for more than meal times. The same girl who spoke very little English and seemed terrified of her own shadow.

She could hear her cry at night, although neither of her parents had appeared to be aware of it. Alex was used to this, since she knew from experience that her parents could sleep through practically anything. Alex was a light sleeper, like her grandmother.

Scowling down the staircase, Alex had to wonder if they realized how much sound carried upstairs from the living room and kitchen. If Alex could hear them, then Kara with her super hearing could as well. Better, actually, when Alex thought of it.

Sending a dark look at the closed door guarding the younger girl, Alex returned to her room and began gathering supplies. She didn’t want to have anything to do with the new girl that had invaded her family and clearly did not want to be here. Not that Alex could blame her for that. Alex didn’t always want to be here either.

Looking over the pile, Alex nodded to herself. Talking was all well and good, but sometimes action was better. She was fairly certain action was always better. It certainly got more done than talking a subject to death did.

Creaking open the door (they would need to replace it at some point, Kara’s uncontrolled strength having cracked the door and frame several times), Alex slipped into the dark room. Searching the space as her eyes adjusted, the thirteen year-old felt her heart break.

Kara was curled up in the corner furthest from the door. Her hands were over her ears and her eyes were squeezed shut. She was once more dressed in the same odd white clothing that she had arrived in, the tattered remains of the outfit she had worn to breakfast scattered beside the bed. Things were broken and torn all over the room, testament to Kara’s abilities.

New abilities, Alex reminded herself. With that, Alex began approaching the smaller girl. Kara looked up at her and Alex stopped. No one had ever looked scared of her before, but she didn’t know what else to call the look in tear filled blue eyes.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Kara blinked at her. “Hello,” she said slowly, “Al-Ex.”

“Alex,” Alex corrected at the odd pronunciation of her name. At least she was no longer using Alexandra.

“Alex,” Kara repeated slowly, nose scrunched up in concentration. She shifted more into the corner, winching when she felt the material crumble from the movement.

She hated this. Not the Danvers, but the situation. None of them understood exactly what Kal-El had done, and he was too busy ignoring her to learn his mistake or assist her in rectifying it. Kara doubted he would want to, as human as he was.

He had taken everything but the clothing she wore to his Fortress. All the things she could have used to assist her in adjusting to this planet were now hidden away from her. She was prohibited from using powers she didn’t understand, much less know how to control.

Like his, her parents had planned for the changes that would occur. Unlike his, hers had planned for her to raise him and hide both of them should the need arise. No one had planned for her to go off course, but then she doubted they would have expected Kal-El to abandon her to strangers.

Kara almost wished she was back in the Phantom Zone. At least there she was no one’s inconvenience. She was not betrothed to a girl who had no understanding of just what that meant. Kara was pretty certain Alex disliked her, either as a ‘sister’ or future spouse.

She did not have the language needed to explain all of this. The older Danvers were trying, but they lacked the same understanding as Kal. They were all focused on her adjusting to Earth and being human. None of them had stopped to consider that she had just lost her family and the world she knew as home. They all appeared to be under the impression that she should be ‘over it’ already.

Alex broke their staring contest, moving to sit beside her. “Can you at least understand what I’m saying?” She asked bluntly.

“Zhi,” she winched, “yes,” she repeated the affirmative in English. Understanding the language was the simple part, trying to use it to express herself was proving more difficult.

“Okay,” Alex nodded to herself. “This is how this is going to work. You are going to teach me Kryptonese, and I’ll help you with your spoken English.”

Kara nodded. It would help and she owed the girl that much. Perhaps eventually she could explain what Kal had done.

“While that happens, we’re going to work on your powers.”

“I am not to use them,” she repeated the phase she had heard far too many times to count.

Alex scoffed. Adults. “Then how are you going to learn to control them?” She took Kara’s silence as agreement. “We’re starting with hearing and strength. And once we figure it out, you’re taking me flying. Got it?”

“Got it,” Kara nodded, feeling a smile form on her face for the first time in days. Flying was easy, and she would be very careful with Alex.

“Good,” Alex pulled out a fresh notebook. “So first thing, alphabet.”

Several weeks went by like that. Using basic skills most people learned in preschool and kindergarten, Alex helped Kara control her strength. She found sounds for Kara to focus on when things began to be too loud. Kara taught her the basics of Kryptonese, both the simplified alphabet and key words. Alex made a game of it, exchanging word for word around the house and figuring out terminology when there simply wasn’t a translation available.

Kara was much faster with English, although she still spoke formally instead of with the vernacular of a thirteen year old. Once she had enough words, she lamented the loss of her pod and what it contained to Alex in the dark of the night.

“We could try to ask for it,” Alex suggested quietly. She had discovered that Kara was tactile to the extreme, so it was no longer odd for her to have the smaller girl curled in bed with her. It meant that Alex was not yanked from slumber to Kara’s night terrors, plus she was never cold.

“I doubt they would allow us to have it. Kal-El desires me to forget, to be human.” Kara had tried before, argued that it belonged to her. Would it really harm anyone if she was allowed those small pieces of home?

Alex snorted. She was beginning to like, possibly even love, the odd girl. She was not, in anyway, the least bit human. Why should Kara have to forget anything? Alex equated it to being told to forget her Nana and Papaw after they had passed away. How could she forget the man who had first taken her surfing, or the woman who made her favorite blanket for chilly nights?

She was well aware it was not the same, but she had nothing else to compare it to.

“So we don’t ask permission.” She wondered if she had the right clothing for a trip to the Artic. “You fly us there and we steal it back.”

“I do not believe I can carry you and my pod.” Perhaps if Alex was inside? Kara didn’t think so, not when she would need to fly high enough to remain unseen.

“So we take the big back pack,” Alex replied, “and we fill it with the important bits to bring back here. That I know you can do.”

Kara nodded. “Yes, but it would take time. More than a single night.”

“You have a point,” Alex mulled it over. “I have an idea, but it means waiting. We’ll need to be really convincing in order to pull it off.”

“Okay.” Kara trusted Alex. Kal-El may have made many mistakes, but this one might actually become something Kara was no longer angry about. She hoped that Alex would be understanding and accepting of it.

“Okay,” Alex hoped this worked out. If not, they would be grounded until college. Well, she would be at least. “I need to make a phone call, but this will work.”

A single phone call later and her Grandma Mason (Eliza’s mother) was a firm ally. Alex hadn’t even really had to try to convince the woman to begin asking for the girls to visit. The eccentric woman was always up for trouble, a trait she shared with her granddaughter.

Not that Eliza had much room for complaint. She had agreed to take in an alien child using faked documents to make it look legal. She also managed to use the ‘sister’ title as if she actually believed it.

Emily Mason took exactly three months to arrange for the two girls to spend two weeks in Indiana in June on the family farm. Eliza and Jerimiah were fine with it, although both gave the same lecture on keeping Kara’s origins a secret. The ‘no powers’ rule was to be strictly enforced, and they left it on Alex’s shoulders to ensure it happened.

Dutifully, fingers crossed behind her back, Alex promised to take care of Kara and keep the secret. Kara did the same, although she still did not fully understand why crossed fingers negated a promise.

It took all of an hour once the elder Danvers were gone for Emily to turn to the girls and ask them what the plan was.

“Kara’s an alien and we’re going to get her stuff back.” Alex answered.

“And that’s the reason for all the missed family gatherings then,” she nodded. It made much more sense than the excuse her daughter had been using. “Well, come along and fill me in. I have fresh gingerbread and tea. Kara dear, how to you like yours made? Sugar or honey?”

“Honey, please!” Kara’s eyes were bright at the thought of two of her favorite things on this planet. Krypton had not had bees. She wasn’t entirely certain what went into gingerbread, but the spiced sweet reminded her of her aunt and the candies she would return with from her travels.

Alex grinned, following the two inside. Grandma was the perfect ally.

Emily listened as the two teens told her Kara’s story. Her heart went out to the girl. Her own grandparents had been Holocaust survivors and she had grown up with their stories of the camps and the war and the aftermath. To have lost everything and not truly been given the time to deal with the trauma, it was hard enough on an adult.

“The old field outback is well hidden,” she told them after a few minutes of silence. “You should have no trouble practicing out there. The barn is old, but still perfectly sound. There are plenty of things around here where we can work on things, and hide others.” She studied them a bit. “How certain are you that your pod is at the Fortress?”

“Where else would he have taken it?” Alex asked. “He wouldn’t have…” she trailed off. Clark wouldn’t have destroyed it, would he? He had been cruel enough to leave a distraught, traumatized twelve year old on her parents’ doorstep.

“It is there.” Kara said. “He took it and myself there first, before taking me to the Danvers’. He said it would be there for when I was older.” She didn’t think he would be capable of destroying it. There was a failsafe in the pod to prevent such a thing. Her father had assured her of it, mostly to assuage her worries probably but she trusted him not to lie to her.

“Then it won’t hurt to at least check it out.” She sighed. “That would be something to see. You’ll have to tell me all about it when you get back. Alex, your grandfather’s old jacket might be a bit big but I think a few extra layers and it’ll fit just fine.” She set her empty mug down. “I want it to be understood that I do not like the thought of you two going that far away without adult supervision, but I think this is something you both have to do.”

“It is,” both girls replied. Kara needed that information to help explain what it was Kal-El had done. Accident, misunderstanding, whatever it was, he had still done it. Considering her foster parents’ constant stressing of the title ‘sister’, she was beginning to suspect they had some inkling of what had happened.

“Alright, but you leave and come back at night. And,” she stressed this, “you do not leave until I am satisfied that you are prepared.”

Not wanting to lose their only ally, they both agreed. Kara thought it was smart. The cold wouldn’t affect her, but Alex would freeze in moments. She did not want to lose her betrothed. Alex was the absolute best thing on this planet. Even better than potstickers.

They were allowed to leave two nights late. Alex was bundled up to the point she was more concerned with heatstroke before they got off the ground than she was of freezing once they were in the Artic. Kara was dressed in a brand new black leotard, blonde hair tucked up in a black beanie. Both of them had new black combat boots, Alex’s a size too big to accommodate the layers of socks on her feet.

Emily was prepared for everything. From the amount of snacks she provided, not even Kara’s appetite fazed her.

“Your grandmother is,” she struggled for a moment to remember the correct wording, “amazing.” She beamed when Alex smiled at her.

“Yea, she really is.” Alex looked around the woods they had stopped in for a break. It was pretty, all pine trees and very different from the beach she had grown up on. “Um…Kara…we need to go.”

“Why? You are still cold.” Despite the layers, her human was still shivering from being so high in the atmosphere going at speeds just under dangerous for humans. She had promised Emily that she would take care of Alex, keep her safe and bring her back in one piece.

“Yea, I can deal with the cold. That, not so much.”

Kara turned to see what Alex was looking at. She knew the animal from the television and books, but it took her a moment to place it. “Oh! A bear! It’s so cute!”

The animal saw them. It growled, rising onto its back legs to tower over them. Soft snuffling sounds came from behind them.

Alex swallowed as two bear cubs appeared. Kara cooed over them.

“No Kara, don’t pet them!”

Kara froze when the mother bear roared. Catching herself, she changed targets to Alex, picking her up and taking them back into the air. The adult bear roared again, but the girls ignored it in favor of locating another clearing. This one without any bears.

“Don’t pet wild animals, ever.” Alex told her firmly. “No matter how cute they are.”

Kara looked down, ashamed. She was invulnerable, but Alex wasn’t. She could have gotten her betrothed hurt, or worse killed. “I am sorry Alex.”

Alex sighed. She pulled Kara into a hug. “I’ll get you a stuffed animal. You can pet those as much as you want.”

Kara’s eyes widened in horror. “Who would stuff an animal? Why?”

“No, no!” Alex shook her head. She no longer had any of her stuffed animals, having long ago abandoned them in favor of science kits and other more interactive amusements. “It’s a kind of toy. I don’t have any, not anymore, but,” she paused. “Find us a town, I’ll show you.”

That was how their quest got sidetracked so Alex could buy Kara her first stuffed animal. It was a floppy puppy with bright orange and green fur. Alex had no idea what kind of dog it was meant to be, but it made Kara smile as she looked it over.

Toy tucked carefully in the bag, they continued on. Alex had absolutely no idea what time even was when they arrived at the Fortress. She knew she was cold and the light was strange. Kara was tired, she knew that as well by the way she had slowed even as they reached an area where it was safe for them to fly lower.

“A giant key, really?” Alex crossed her arms, words muffled by the layers of scarf covering her face.

“Kal-El’s security measure could be much improved.” Kara agreed. It was easy enough to get inside.

It hurt a little, to see this small piece of home. However, it didn’t take her long before she had the Fortress online and warming to safe human temperatures. Scowling at the computer, Kara quickly fixed the settings so that such functions were automatic.

Lights turned on, illuminating the different spaces. Alex was awestruck, absently shedding her outer layers as she tried to take everything in at once. The little robots that appeared speaking Kryptonese took the clothing and began leading them to a room Kara’s presence had apparently unlocked.

“Oh Rao…” Kara felt tears escape her eyes and didn’t try to stop them. Her Uncle had nearly perfectly recreated her room and the view from it. She suspected that one of the kelex units had moved her pod here. It was set against one wall, waiting for her.

“Is that…Kara, is that Krypton?” Alex asked softly. “It’s pretty.”

“It was,” her voice trembled.

Alex listened as Kara began half singing what sounded like a prayer. She remained quiet as Kara’s voice flowed from one prayer to another, eventually choking off. At that point Alex wrapped the girl in a hug, offering what comfort she could.

For some time, they just sat there in the room staring out the ‘window’ at a view that no longer existed. Eventually, Kara stood up and broke the hold.

“I need to show you something. I do not know how to explain it. You need to know.”

Alex, confused, watched as Kara opened her pod and began to take things out of it. Clark had clearly not done anything more than set it down. Kara paused over a few items, wiping away tears as she separated things into two separate piles.

“Here, this is a translator.” Kara held out what looked to be (and were) a combination of contact lenses and tiny earbuds.

Alex hesitated a moment, but took them. Kara had to help her put it on, but they managed it with only temporary discomfort.

“How do I know they’re on?” Nothing looked different.

“Can you understand me?”

“Yea?” Alex looked at her weirdly.

Kara smiled sadly. “They’re working. Can you read this?” She held up a small tablet, sliding a crystal into it before the screen lit up.

“Tales of Firebird,” Alex frowned as the shapes she recognized as Kryptonian rearranged themselves into English. “That is freaking awesome.” Her frown turned into a grin as she began to understand how this worked. Of course an advanced civilization like Krypton had technology akin to something out of science fiction.

Kara’s smile was weak. Yes, she supposed it would be amazing. She took the tablet back and removed the crystal. She picked another, this one a simplified explanation of Kryptonian culture. Inserting it, she skipped to the section concerning the joining of families.

“Please read this.”

Alex took the tablet, eager to learn more. Kara seldom spoke about her life, mostly because all of the adults were so intent on her learning to live on Earth. It had been nearly a year. Kara would be going to school soon instead of studying at home.

She began reading. She paused, moving back to the top of the page to reread it. Then she did it again. And Again. Finally, she looked back up at Kara.

“We’re engaged?” No one had asked her about this! Is this why Kara was so reluctant about certain things?

She rescanned a few phases.

Gift giving. Alex had given Kara any number of things since her arrival. Kara, once they had begun testing out her powers, had taken to giving her small stones she had shaped. The blonde had also gifted her with several sketches, mostly of Alex surfing or fantastical animals.

Food sharing. Kara was often reluctant to try new foods, but she gave anything a try once Alex had tried it or offered it to her. Once Kara knew what her favorites where, she often brought them to Alex when the older girl was slow to get going in the morning or when they were having a lazy day.

A family Elder turning over the person in question to the new House. Clark had done that, insisting in both English and his terrible Kryptonese that the Danvers were adopting Kara. They were to be her new Family, her new House. He had fulfilled the negotiation stipulated in what she was reading.

“Holy shit.” Alex breathed out. “We’re engaged.”

“Yes,” Kara spoke. “We don’t have to be if you don’t wish this. I understand,” she kind of did, more than she had anyway, “kind of, that adoption is different here. Kal-El did not know what he was doing.” She continued to babble, apologies mixed with explanations.

“Kara,” Alex set the tablet aside and went to her alien. “Kara, it’s okay.” She could handle this. “We can be engaged.” She swallowed, determined to see this through. She had been told to take care of Kara. She was just going to do it in a vastly different way than had been intended. “When we’re older,” she covered Kara’s mouth, “when we’re older,” she stressed, “we’ll talk about it again.”

Kara nodded and Alex removed her hand. “So is there a ring to go with this?”

“Ring?” Kara frowned.

“Humans exchange rings when they get married, and one person usually wears an engagement ring.” Alex explained.

“Oh! We exchanged bracelets,” Kara explained. “Plain ones, made by the larger house for the engagement and more ornate ones for the ceremony.” She swallowed. “Marriage was for life. Unless one of a pair died, there was no dissolving the bond. Even then, the remaining partner seldom bonded with another.”

“Right,” Alex could do that. Bracelets would certainly be easier to get away with. She was going to have some fun with this. “Does my being a girl bother you? Is that why you waited?”

Kara looked confused. “I do not understand. On…on Krypton gender is not…was not…it’s a thing that is. Why would it matter?”

Alex had a feeling she would be reading the information on the crystals over and over again. “It doesn’t,” she finally decided on. “So, do we have bracelets?” They were easy to make, she probably had all the supplies needed at home. If not, her grandmother would have them.

“I think I might.” Kara got up and looked through the small pile of items she had set aside. She pulled a small box engraved with the House of El crest. “Here.” She brought it over, opening it to show Alex what was inside.

Two silver bracelets rested inside, both embossed with the same House of El crest that Clark had made so popular the world over. This was sharper, the lines and points less rounded.

“I have a set, and another that were meant to be Kal-El’s.” Kara said. “Betrothal bracelets are often handed down through the generations while the ones used for the formal ceremony are forged through the courtship. These were last used by my parents.”

“You’re awfully calm about this,” Alex commented, hesitantly reaching out for one of the bracelets. She stopped. “Does it matter which one I wear?”

“I always knew my marriage would be arranged once The Matrix chose my match.” She gave Alex a small smile. “I think we would have been matched. I think my family would have liked you a great deal.” She set the box down so she could remove one of the bracelets. “Do you…are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Alex was well aware she could have taken the out. They could work on becoming the sisters her parents wanted them to be. Alex…didn’t want to do that. She held out her left wrist. “I accept your proposal Kara Zor-El.”

“I accept your proposal Alex Danvers.” Kara slid the bracelet onto Alex’s wrist. Alex startled when it reshaped itself to her wrist until it was the perfect fit. Kara’s did the same when Alex repeated the actions.

“We should pack up and get back to Grandma’s.” Alex looked around. “Pity we can’t take this with us. We could have our own clubhouse.”

The trip back was simpler.

There were no bears for starters.

Alex took a great deal of pleasure in informing her parents that they had already arranged her marriage.

#kalex #kalex fanfic #kalex week 2019 #day 4

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regretroulette · 5 years ago

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i hate that Japanese was my first language because I no longer speak it as fluently as I speak English now (depreciating skill from lack of use) but it still affects my grammatical structure and pronunciation.

I say whole sentences backwards like a Yoda ass bitch sometimes, and get my R and L sounds mixed up sometimes too.

#Rs and Ls are the same Change My Mind #this has nothing to do with accent i sound like a normal californian. its mostly a sentence structure thing #my brains just hardwired to structure thoughts a certain way and its BACKWARDS from english #zuzu.exe

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edales-drabbles · 5 years ago

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The Peace Treaty 2

“Themes: Forced/arranged marriage, duty to the state vs duty to family, fantasy

Summary: Aelric Hartwin was a General in a land war between the immortal elves and the moral humans. A peace treaty has been struck but the elves want their prizes. Some handsome Generals will suffice for now.

High Lord General Saelethil Adrieth was an elf who rarely didn’t get what he wanted. As a skilled duellist and tactical mind, Saelethil had led his people to victory in the name of his King and Queen many times.

Each time they had rewarded him with a boon and each time he asked for nothing more than a token for when he found the person he wished to marry. His soul mate was not with his own people, that was clear from his lack of mark, so another race would have the soul that completed his. He’d need the token to turn them immortal and young forever like himself. There would be no point having a soulmate only for a few decades to pass and for them to waste away. No, the tokens would be needed.

The war, if it could be called that, with the humans had not been Saelethil’s idea. It had been rather childish on both sides and had escalated beyond most reasonable men’s control. When Saelethil first gained his title, they would have slaughtered the humans like animals. Now, it was different.

Humans were sentient and growing more clever by the day. He had not been the only one to notice. The cowardly King who would sacrifice his own to stop the war. Only King Walter was no fool, Saelethil knew this well. Walter had played chess against his King and won. Walter had ensured the peace for the next ten generations. Walter knew he was the one not written on the list but was there none the less. Walter obeyed the requirements given and that was it. Until the last one.

The cowardly King was prepared to die for peace.

Saelethil wished it was not the man he wanted who had disappeared. His King and Queen desired a new pet and Walter would have been perfect for him. It was a waste of blood and at the end of the day, Walter was right. The last chance to see one's children was not one that could be taken from his General.

“I’ll find him,” Saelethil declared as he stopped his King from slicing the throat of the Cowardly King. “Just means he’s given me a chase,” he grinned darkly.

“You are content to hunt for him?” His King asked, hope in his eyes. Walter just held still, eyes closed, still waiting for the final blow. The Kingdom watched. Not a single person had cried out in the Cowardly King’s defence. None of them understood why Walter had done what he did. They thought they could win this war. Only Saelethil knew better.

“Hartwin is a man of his word. If he accepted this as his fate, I have no doubt he will behave when I find him. It will just be a matter of finding him,” Saelethil shrugged, confident in his judgement.

“Aren’t you lucky, my dear one. You get to be my bed warmer after all,” His King purred into Walter’s ear. “You should really thank my General.”

Walter opened his eyes and looked at Saelethil with a look of numbness. He looked like his soul had already been removed and the thing left was just a husk. Saelethil almost felt sorry for the man. “Your mercy is surprising for your station,” Walter said calmly, his words polite, courteous and more importantly, in fluent elven. His King looked shocked for a moment. None of them had noticed that before.

“It is not mercy,” Saelethil replied.

“Then no thanks is needed,” Walter countered calmly, some more of himself returning to his eyes and stance. “This was not a life I wished to return to but the needs of the many are more important than my own. Were more important. I am not longer a King, after all.” He smiled at the end. An almost dead smile.

Saelethil met his King’s eyes. That did not bode well for Walter adapting to being the Royal’s plaything. “It is a life,” his King pointed out.

“Is it?” Walter challenged gently. There was a slight shift of his hips and suddenly it wasn’t the cowardly King in front of them anymore. It was a warrior on the battlefield. “So what will do you, warrior? Will you rip your chosen from his children? Will you kill them if they try to keep their father? Pasts and presents are important and by choosing to claim us, you must be prepared for the past to come hunting for us. Hartwin simply went to his.”

“I will not kill a child,” Saelethil sniffed but the sinking feeling was bad. Walter was right, just what was he going to do with the children of his soulmate?

—

Hunting his prey was not hard. Saelethil knew a lot about Hartwin after all. What was harder was dealing with locals who looked at them with hate in their eyes and daggers in their hands. He had brought along some of his most trusted men and he had needed them. Not all the locals attacked but they always made it known his kind were not welcome.

He didn’t care in the slightest.

“Ah, Aelric’s elf. We been waiting for you to appear,” an old man grumbled, an eye patch over his left eye and crutch next to his seat. The other elder man with him chuckled and moved a piece on the chessboard they were playing. “Brat has been down with the flu last week or so.” He said lightly.

It was certainly a different way to be greeted by the locals. “Where can I find him?” Saelethil asked, ignoring his second’s amused smirk. Aelric’s elf indeed. Still, Hartwin hadn’t lied to the people of this village about his new keeper. They seemed rather unbothered by the fact a patrol of highly armoured elves had appeared in their quiet little village. Eyes were watching them but no one was hiding their children or pulling their weapons in case of a fight.

“North trail, turn left at the fork. If you hit the waterfall, you went too far,” the old man shrugged, gesturing at a path. “Watch out for the girl. She has a nasty swing with that frying pan of hers,” he warned gently.

“Understood, my thanks,” Saelethil nodded, steering his horse onto the path. His men murmured their own thanks and followed.

“That went too well,” his second, Elre warned.

“We keep our eyes out and our eyes open,” Saelethil said calmly.

“For girls with frying pans,” Elre chuckled, amused at the idea.

“Indeed,” Saelethil agree dryly. It made sense to him that Hartwin’s daughter would be a fighter in her own right. She would have had to defend herself while her father was at war. Saelethil doubted any of Hartwin’s children would be the sort not to pick up a blade at some point in their life.

A boy appeared on the path, Saelethil pulling his horse to a stop. The boy looked at him strangely, a nasty black eye under his left eye and a split lip. He scowled. “Just my luck,” he muttered. “Third bad thing to happen is you lot appear.”

“I imagine the first two hurt more,” Elre offered when it was clear Saelethil wasn’t sure what to say to the injured boy. He was Hartwin’s. No doubt about that. A mess of black hair that looked red in the sunlight. Brown eyes that looked black when enraged. A cluster of freckles over his nose and cheeks. This boy was the spitting image of Hartwin, though a great deal younger. The boy couldn’t be older than eight.

The boy shrugged. “Depends what you cause to happen,” he offered in response.

Saelethil silently offered his hand. The boy looked at it a moment before taking it. Saelethil gently pulled the boy up and on his horse, the boy wrapping his arms around his waist calmly like he’d know Saelethil his whole life. But weirdly, he likely had.

“What’s your name?” Elre asked softly.

“Not polite to ask when you haven’t given your own,” the boy challenged.

“Yet you ride his horse without a word,” Elre questioned.

“I know his name. I don’t know yours,”

“And his name is…”

“Saelethil Adrieth,” the boy said calmly. His pronunciation was slightly off but there was no denying the child knew exactly who he was. Saelethil tried not to think too much on that. This was all going to be a test, and he knew it painfully. “And your name is?” He mocked in the same tone.

“Elre Leoyra,” Elre introduced.

“Oh! Da did mention you. You’re the one who fell into a mud pit during the ceremony thing,” the boy mused.

Saelethil smirked as his second spluttered. The ceremony thing had been a very important and very sacred ceremony that happened every hundred years. The incident was one Elre was never going to live down. Even by children now it seemed.

Eventually, they reached the house, Saelethil swinging down and lifting the boy down calmly as Elre and he continued to bicker without ever learning the child’s name. Saelethil entered the house, careful to watch out for the girl wielding a frying pan. When none came, Saelethil moved over to where his soulmate was resting. In an alcove in the kitchen where it was nice and hot.

“Found you,” Saelethil teased softly, sitting on the side of the bed.

Pale skinned and looking green Aelric smiled up at him sleepily. “You’re not going to catch what I have, right?” He checked. Saelethil shook his head. The kiss he got in return was worth the lie. Warm, loving and passionate. Then as they parted Aelric pressed their foreheads together. “That’s all your getting for free. I told you, I wanted to live my life not be fucking bound to you forever,” he warned darkly.

#story snippet #slash fiction #slash #my writing #drabble #mxm #forced marriage #elf x human #high fantasy

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whumping-newbie · 5 years ago

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It’s Not Your Fault

POV: Irena

Characters: Irena, Matylda, Anastazja

Warnings: idk, self loathing, referenced/implied attempted assault, I’m not sure how to describe this tbh.

Pronunciation:

Anja = An-ya

Laleczka = Lal-etch-ka (means “little doll” in Polish)

The castle was a hotbed of gossip in the days after the incident. Everyone who had previously been indifferent to the everyday actions of the Princess and her Maidens of Honour suddenly had an opinion on how they should have acted - How they should not have been in that area of the castle in the first place, how they should have known not to trust the guard who took them there, on the orders of the General, how they should have known better.

I was not involved in the incident, thankfully, but I was one of the first to find out about it, alongside Karolina and Zofia. I had been in the Princess’ bedroom, awaiting her return with Matylda and Anastazja. I was with the other two Maidens when a Royal Guard had knocked frantically.

The urgency of the knocks had been unheard of in our entire (admittedly short) careers as Maidens of Honour. Barely anyone knocked on the door to the Princess’ room, and even then to hear such panic behind the door was worrying enough.

It was shocking, the guard had rushed in and locked the door. He had been ordered to protect us, he said. He had been ordered to remain here until things had calmed down, he said.

“What’s happened?” we had asked, worried. Nothing like this had happened and our hearts raced, literally nothing in our training as Maidens had prepared us for this.

“I cannot tell you, because I don’t know myself,” he had said, “something serious.”

Something serious.

We had wished he had never said those words.

One thing we were certain of was that something had happened to someone in the castle at that moment. Who was not important, because anyone willing to bring harm to either a guard or servant or cook would be just as willing to bring harm to someone more important, like the King or the Princess.

The not knowing was easily the hardest part. Keeping occupied whilst we waited was pain staking and none of us dare say a word - talking about the ‘what ifs’ was out of the question, talking about anything else seemed insulting and uncaring. Karolina was pacing the room nervously, Zofia was stood at the window with a hand over her mouth, and I was sat on the sofa, my head in my hands, praying not to be sick. My thoughts were filled with terrible things that could be happening.

And honestly, I kicked myself at the fact that most of my awful, intrusive thoughts were correct in the end.

The Princess was confined to her bedroom, more of a personal preference, and probably would be for a little while. She had bruises. The entire incident was kept mostly in secret, and only eleven people in the world know what truly happened, but this did nothing to stop the rumours.

Oh the attack was true, and who the perpetrator was became true eventually, but the why he did it is still very secret.

I only knew based on Anja’s testimony.

There was a guard, who had approached the trio with urgency, telling them that the King wished to see the Princess immediately. They swiftly followed and were led to a part of the castle where the King would very rarely frequent – intelligence offices, mainly.

The room they had been led to, it was not an office, and the man that met them there was not the King.

The General had locked the door and put a very large, very sharp knife to the Princess’ throat, the escort guard had a hold on Anastazja and Matylda had frozen with fear.

It was terrifying, she had said, I kept trying to get out of his grip, and I was barely managing that, he was strong! The… the General had turned around and said to Matylda, with this evil smile… “if you move from there, I’ll slit her throat.”

And Matylda had done just that, paralyzed with fear, but Anja was more accustomed to action. She had escaped and the guard gave chase, and she ran, yelled for help. Anja was an endurance runner, but so was her pursuer, and she only just made it back to someone who could help her.

The Princess had escaped that room too, eventually. Matylda didn’t say anything. The Princess said she hit him and ran, before he could do anything.

Her ripped blouse was a good enough indication of what he had planned, but failed, to do to her.

The fact that all this had happened in less than 15 minutes was scary, since nothing like this had happened before. Us as Maidens still had our duties. We still had to tend to the Princess, perform our activities, but they were moved to her bedroom and anything that couldn’t be was cancelled for the time being. There were certainly to be no public appearances. Matylda and Anastazja were the exceptions, of course - with good reason – except that Anja returned to work almost immediately.

Matylda had yet to.

I was taking a moment alone in quiet recollection in the library when Anastazja, the strong presence that she is, joined me by the window, overlooking the vast ocean below us.

“The atmosphere is so dark around here,” she said thoughtfully, gazing out with me, crossing her arms as she spoke.

“I’m not surprised, honestly. How are you doing?” I asked, careful in how I phrased the question.

“I am fine, I am,” she nodded reassuringly, raising a hand slightly before she continued, “I… Am worried, though,” she said slowly, as though hesitant.

“The General and the guard involved are being punished for their crimes, I’m sure,” I tried to be just as reassuring, but I felt my voice waver. The General used to be such a decent man, and now I didn’t know what to think about him anymore, “the King wouldn’t let them get away with it.”

Anastazja raised a hand completely now, “no, no, not that. I am certain we agree on that. That isn’t what worries me,” she looked away, casting a glance at the door behind us, before facing me again, “it’s Matylda.”

“She told me she was fine, that he didn’t hurt her…” I recalled. I had only spoken to Matylda once since the incident, mainly because of her request for solitude.

“And you’re right. But it’s not a physical pain she is suffering through, and believe me, she’s suffering,” Anja nodded her head as she spoke, “she blames herself. And before you say anything, we all know it was not her fault. No one blames her for what happened. When the General had a knife at the Princess’ throat, he told Matylda that he will slit her throat if she so much as moves. She was never tied up, but she was held in place by those words. When I fought back and ran away, she still daren’t move. I put the Princess in danger with my actions, but I ran for help. Matylda is hurting, Irena, and I think you’re the only one who can help her. She won’t listen to me, but I think she is going to act irrationally. She thinks the Princess hates her for her lack of action, which is certainly not true. Haven’t you noticed how little she has seen the Princess since the incident?”

“So surely the Princess is the better qualified person to speak with her about this?” I countered.

“By the time the Princess is ready to talk to her, I think it will be too late.”

“And… what, you think she’s going to quit?”

“I do, I don’t want her to, but I do, and I think once she’s set on it, she will quit.”

The idea of Matylda leaving her duty as a Maiden of Honour was heartbreaking to consider. She was good at her role and respected in it as well, why would she want to give it all up? Well, she has just been through a scarring incident that the Princess is unlikely to forget in a rush, and Matylda is so much younger than us. As sobering as it is, Anja is probably right.

It would also mean that I am so close to losing a dear friend over something she had no fault in.

“Please, just go see her. She needs a friend, someone to talk to, and I don’t think she’ll listen to anyone else. You’re both so close to each other, please,” Anja pleaded, taking a hold of my hand and looking into my eyes.

I nodded, “I will, Anja.”

---

"Matylda, are you alright? You’ve been awfully quiet,” I asked, after having knocked on the door to her bedroom, just two doors down from the Princess’. To get to our rooms, you have to go through the Princess’ herself. There is a small corridor to the side of the room, which connects our five generously spacious rooms to Anjelika’s. All of them had a stunning view of the gardens below us, but only the Princess had a balcony. Our windows opened, but it was too cold for that at this time of year.

Matylda didn’t open the door straight away, and she took her time answering me at all.

"I… I’m fine, Irena,“ she said weakly through the door.

“Please, let me in, Laleczka. I just want to see you again,” I asked gently, my head against the door, waiting for a sound to indicate that she was moving either towards or away from me, “please...”

It took a few seconds, but I did hear the click as she finally unlocked her door. She didn’t open the door to let me in, so I did it myself, slowly and as quiet as I could manage.

Matylda’s room was adorned with flowers. She loved to paint, and was quite skilled at it, and most of her paintings were of the flowers in the gardens below us. They were full of life and colour, just like she should be. Her other painting is something of her pride and joy, and only hung it up because I had seen it before she could hide it. She had done a self-portrait, of sorts, of the six of us performing ballet, with her next to the Princess in the centre. She had captured us so perfectly, and I loved the way she painted the dresses like they were flowers, the flowers in the gardens below us. She was decked in a dress that looked like a yellow and orange iris, Anja’s was covered in red and white corn poppies. Karolina was purple with tulips, Zofia was a blue lotus. The Princess was a daisy, and I was a “euphorbia redwing charam”. I had never seen this flower, as it was not a Kosmosian native, but Matylda had chosen them for us, decorated our dresses in a way that envisioned us, she said. She was going to hide this beauty away from us, until I showered it with praise that it rightfully deserves. She had painted the flowers that she thought were us, around the room, every one of them. She hangs it above her bed, a proud reminder of what she can accomplish.

It was sad to think that she would leave us behind, after everything we have done together, as Maidens and as friends. At least, if me and Anastazja are correct in our assumptions.

“You’ve seen me now,” she said from her desk, “I’m fine, honestly.”

"Please don’t lie, Laleczka, something is wrong. Please, tell me what it is,” I asked gently, closing the door behind me. I knew it was a stupid question, but I didn’t think about that as I spoke.

Matylda was watching me. At my words, she turned back to the desk and looked down at whatever she had been doing. A blank sheet of paper, and a pen rested on top of the pristine desk. It was not normally so devoid of anything, there were normally her sketchbook and pencils there, maybe an unfinished picture too, maybe her paints. Seeing just the pen and paper spelled out everything to me, confirmed it, even.

She curled her shoulders forward, and I heard her voice crack, “I… I failed.”

“Failed at what?” I asked, sitting myself down on the spare chair just beside her desk.

She continued to look at the paper, and I could see the tears well up in her vibrant blue eyes, “I failed in my duties. I’ve thought about this. I want to resign from my role as Anjelika’s Maiden of Honour,” she spoke quickly, as though getting them out quicker will somehow make them hurt less, as if treating a wound.

But also like treating a wound, it can hurt much more to remove something quickly instead of carefully.

"Matylda, please think this through,” I pleaded.

She nodded, her untamable blonde hair bounced as she did, closing her eyes, "I have. The Princess hates me, I didn’t do anything. Anja, she fought and kicked and got away… I just let them try to…” she hitched her breathing as she sobbed, letting the tears stain her pale cheeks and fall onto the paper she was trying to write on.

“I promise you, Laleczka, that no one sees it that way except you,” I tried reasoning with her, holding out a gentle hand and resting it on her shoulder, I hope she sees this as a comforting gesture, yet something in me nagged to not touch her, so I released her after only a few seconds.

She shook her head, "I did a dishonourable thing, Irenka…”

I pulled my chair closer to her, “Matylda, you did not. Please listen to me. I am so sorry you all went through that, truly,” I put my hand on her shoulder again, but this time she looked at me, glassy eyes swimming with tears and sadness, “maybe this is too soon to talk to the Princess about, but go talk to Anja. I promise she will tell you exactly what I am telling you now. Me? I would have probably done what you did. You have to remember that Anja has been in a high stress situation like that before, neither you nor I have.”

“But…” she stammered, her face blotchy and red.

I didn’t let her finish, I spoke over her, “What is your duty as a Maiden of Honour, Matylda?”

Matylda thought for a moment, thinking on her answer. She looked down at my feet and spoke to them instead of me, but this was good enough, “… um, to be a companion to her company. To offer her guidance, support and advice. To be loyal and trustworthy…“

"Now where in those duties you just told me, does it mention having to protect her from an active threat?” I asked, she looked me in the eyes again briefly, but quickly darted them over my shoulder, “where does it mention having to sacrifice your safety for her own? That duty belongs to the guards assigned for her protection - not to a Maiden of Honour, not to me and certainly not to you,” I shook her shoulder slightly as I spoke, speaking with enough confidence and conviction to hopefully get my message across, “I promise you, Laleczka, that Anjelika does not hate you for being forced to watch. Anja does not resent you for not acting the way she did. You were in an unpredictable situation because you did not expect the General to do what he did. He is the dishonourable one, Matyldka. Not you. Do you understand?”

She nodded slightly, sniffling, “… I understand, Irenka.”

Somehow I suspect that she did not believe her own words, “I want you to repeat after me, alright? I did nothing wrong.”

“But, I did -” she protested, but I knew that she would react this way.

“I did nothing wrong.” I repeated calmly, but slightly louder, looking her straight into the eyes. She looked into mine, I could see something in hers. A glimmer of something, beneath all the sadness. I’m not sure what it was, but there was something there.

“… I did nothing wrong.”

“I am not responsible for the General’s actions, he is responsible for his crime.”

She looked down, breaking our eye contact, before she repeated me again.

“I am not re… Responsible for the General’s actions… He, he is responsible for his crime.”

“The Princess does not hate me for being too scared to help her.”

This is where her silence was truly a shock. Even I did not expect her to believe this. How much had this one thought eaten at her, in the two days since the incident? How lonely must this have been, for her to live thinking that one of her only friends in the world must hate her? How could she have conceived this idea in the first place?

“The Princess does not hate me for being too scared to help her,” I repeated, blinking quickly to supress my own tears.

She gulped, and then repeated my words, "the… The Princess does not hate me for being… Being too scared to help…”

I pulled her close, into my arms. I heard her sob, face buried in my shoulder, clutching at my front, her own shoulders jarring from crying. I heard her weak attempts at words between her hitched sobs, but they were so incoherent that I didn’t attempt to ask her to speak. I squeezed my arms around her, hoping that she understands that I am here, I always have and always will be, “and don’t you forget it,” I said quietly into her ear, through my own tears, “the only person the Princess blames for that night, is the General.”

Matylda pulled away from me after a while, truly opening the floodgates of her emotions to me. She wiped her teary eyes with her fingers before speaking again, “… I understand. Thank you Irena,” she spoke with a small shadow of a smile hanging from her lips. I could sense the gratitude, and I smiled in return.

"I’m only looking out for my friend,” I smiled, wiping my own tear from my cheek, “come on, let’s go get you something to eat. You can see the others, if you want to,” I nodded my head in the direction of the door, my hand held out for her to take. She took one look at her desk again, before standing up and leaving with me.

If all she needed to know was that she still had her friends believe in her, then that is what I will give her every time.

I hope she truly understands that, now, that none of us will turn our backs on our friends in need.

#putting the comfort in hurt/comfort #these two are really close friends and this is the kind of situation where it really shows #I can't imagine any other MOH or even the Princess having this much of a vulnerable conversation with Matylda #my writing #my characters #my oc's #my original characters #irena #matylda #anastazja

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tessdl · 5 years ago

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TESS DE LUCA — QUESTIONNAIRE

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: teresa tess brooke de luca PRONUNCIATION: didn’t you learn how too sound things out in kindergarten? tə-ree-sə ‘tehs’ bruk dey luke-uh MEANING: summer harvest i think? REASONING: cruel forms of torture? her parents thought it was pretty NICKNAME(S): tess, tessa, t, blondie, thing 2, beluga PREFERRED NAME(S): tess BIRTH DATE: august 12th, 2000 AGE: eighteen ZODIAC: leo GENDER: cisfemale PRONOUNS: she/her ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: i hate everyone biromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: i don’t know that term. could you define it and put it in a sentence? bisexual NATIONALITY: american ETHNICITY: white

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: brentwood, new york HOMETOWN: brentwood, new york SOCIAL CLASS: upper FATHER: julian de luca MOTHER: gabrielle james SIBLING(S): monty montgomery ‘monty’ de luca, xavier, zander BIRTH ORDER: second PET(S): norweigan forest cat named willa. she’s a brat. OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: n/a PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: grizz gareth ‘grizz’ visser - ex boyfriend ARRESTS?: nine she’s full of shit PRISON TIME?: i barely got away with my life! very full of shit

OCCUPATION & INCOME

SOURCE OF INCOME: i usually lifeguard in the summer, does that count? CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: eh PAST JOB(S): none besides the lifeguarding SPENDING HABITS: none of your business good at saving her money unless she really wants something and her parents won’t buy it for her MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: my necklace and bracelet and a beluga grizz widdled for her

SKILLS & ABILITIES

TALENTS: i can hold a handstand for a solid minute gymnastics, drums, athletic, quick learner SHORTCOMINGS: i suck at remembering important dates in history many LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, italian, spanish, french barely DRIVE?: yes JUMP-STAR A CAR?: no yes CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: yes RIDE A BICYCLE?: yes SWIM?: i’m a lifeguard PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: drums PLAY CHESS?: yes BRAID HAIR?: yes TIE A TIE?: yes PICK A LOCK?: no yes

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: virginia gardner EYE COLOR: blue HAIR COLOR: blonde HAIR TYPE/STYLE: chest length and wavy GLASSES/CONTACTS?: glasses when reading for long amounts of time DOMINANT HAND: ambidextrous HEIGHT: 5′8″ WEIGHT: 127 BUILD: physically fit and pleasing on the eyes EXERCISE HABITS: i like to be physically active for at least an hour every day SKIN TONE: you know that tanning lotion that advertises a semi-permanent natural glow? i look like that but all the time… without the lotion TATTOOS: my parents would kick my ass PEIRCINGS: four in each ear MARKS/SCARS: i have three brothers NOTABLE FEATURES: uh my hair is very bright? everything lbr USUAL EXPRESSION: looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you CLOTHING STYLE: depends on my mood and the weather JEWELRY: earrings, necklace, ring ALLERGIES: i’m allergic to bullshit none that she knows of BODY TEMPERATURE: i run hot DIET: vegetarian PHYSICAL AILMENTS: none at the moment but i’m sure i’ll have one within the next hour

PSYCHOLOGY

MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic good TEMPERAMENT: sanguine whatever the fuck that means ELEMENT: fire MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: nothing you can prove! definitely insomnia SOCIABILITY: my friends say i’m the life of the party? EMOTIONAL STABILITY: depends on the emotion PHOBIA(S): i’m not a huge fan of bugs. out in the world? cool. in my room? not so much. ADDICTION(S): can you be addicted to running? DRUG USE: stay in school she likes weed ALCOHOL USE: i’m not as think as you drunk i am ya girl likes to party PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: again, i have 3 brothers

MANNERISMS

QUIRKS: uhhhh HOBBIES: playing sports, anything outdoors, beating up my brothers, reading, video games HABITS: sorry, i’m not a nun she picks her cuticles and bites her lower lip a lot NERVOUS TICKS: -draws a picture of a bug looking nervous- same as her habits DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: my family, my friends, my brain’s inability to consistently produce melatonin… FEARS: i laugh in the face of danger ha ha ha being alone forever, going to jail has recently been added POSITIVE TRAITS: energetic, charismatic, humorous, free spirited & adventurous NEGATIVE TRAITS: stubborn, fiery, self-deprecating, reckless SENSE OF HUMOR: i have one clearly the answer is yes, mostly sarcastic DO YOU CURSE OFTEN?: never in my life all the damn time CATCHPHRASE(S): does the middle finger count as a catchphrase?

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: anything physical ANIMAL: marine life BEVERAGE: water BOOK: the adventures of sherlock holmes that she totally did not steal from grizz CELEBRITY: winona ryder COLOR: black like my soul it’s purple DESIGNER: paul vasileff FOOD: buffalo mozzarella sticks FLOWER: cherry blossom GEM: tananite HOLIDAY: halloween MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: my legs or a car MOVIE: space jam MUSICAL ARTIST: queen QUOTE/SAYING: “fuck you.” probably sentences that start with ‘bold of you to assume’… SCENERY: woods / forest with streams SCENT: vanilla or cocoa SPORT: football SPORTS TEAM: gotta represent my favorite guys, the west ham idiots TELEVISION SHOW: stranger things WEATHER: anything that won’t make me melt or freeze me into a popsicle VACATION DESTINATION: australia

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: the olympics would be pretty cool. i just don’t have that kind of dedication to any one sport. GREATEST FEAR: losing someone i care about whomp MOST AT EASE WHEN: physically active LEAST AT EASE WHEN: alone BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: graduating probably BIGGEST REGRET: i don’t regret anything letting grizz leave MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: i don’t really get embarrassed but the great pistachio incident of 09 was pretty close BIGGEST SECRET: you’re joking right? grizz’s secret TOP PRIORITIES: my family and friends

#newhamhq: task

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harbingham · 5 years ago

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Harry took one look at the survey && rolled his eyes. What a waste of fucking time. As if they were all going to BOND because a survey supposedly confirmed they could be f r i e n d s . Or at the very least good roommates ?? Whatever. Harry quickly wrote his name, crossing out the rest of the questions with EASE. Besides, they knew who he was already.

Instead, cursive letters inked the paper — If you put me with someone annoying, I’ll make sure the trip is absolute hell. Ending the sentence with a thick period, annoyance festering as it usually did with life’s POINTLESS trifles.

The usual smug smirk dipped over his lips, carelessly turning the questionnaire in without a second thought.

so yeahhh, because my son is the way he is ... i filled it out for him bless up. why do i love harry bingham when i fucking hate him ?? idk fam, idk.

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Harold Theodore Bingham PRONUNCIATION: H EH - r uh l d th EE - uh - d aw r b IH ng-uh m MEANING: estate ruler / army leader REASONING: Harold was his great-grandfather’s name, while Theodore is is father’s name that’s been passed down for quite a while as either a first/middle kinda deal NICKNAME(S): Harry, Har ( though he doesn't like it ) Bingham, Pretty Boy PREFERRED NAME(S): Harry, just Harry unless you want a punch or a mean remark bless BIRTH DATE: April 13th, 2001 AGE: 18 ZODIAC: Aries !! GENDER: Male PRONOUNS: He/Him ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Heteroromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual NATIONALITY: American ETHNICITY: wonder bread

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: West Ham, CT HOMETOWN: West Ham, CT SOCIAL CLASS: Upper/Close to the 1% FATHER: Theodore Bingham † MOTHER: Karen Bingham SIBLING(S): Stacy Bingham ( 12 ) BIRTH ORDER: Harry, Stacy PET(S): In the Bingham household ?? Never. OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: He’s surrounded by family, they usually always have at least two reunions a year. However he’s never felt close to them ?? So he’d never list their names here really. He’s only somewhat close to his immediate family. Though, he was close to his nanny growing up if that counts bless PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: it’s a list of like ... relatively short lasting relationships, hookups, && one night stands, until his most recent, kelly, which is probably his longest lasting one ?? ARRESTS?: Technically, on record, none :). He’s definitely been caught like, trespassing, underage drinking, && drunk driving lbh ... but yeah, no record. i hate him. PRISON TIME?: N/A

OCCUPATION & INCOME

SOURCE OF INCOME: intern at parent’s company / his parents CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: he doesn’t really like it tbh, but it’s done his family well so after college he definitely plans to continue the legacy && make if flourish even more. PAST JOB(S): n/a SPENDING HABITS: *throws money in trash can* MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: the gold ring with the bingham family insignia his father gave him when he turned 13 ( made him feel like he finally belonged you feel ) though he’d tell you it’s everything he owns ... i hate him

SKILLS & ABILITIES

TALENTS: bringing people together ( or apart ), lightening the mood ( or you know, fucking it up too ), banter, racing, fixing cars SHORTCOMINGS: oh honey — saying shit he doesn’t mean, his own arrogance, addictive personality, emotional invulnerability, aloof nature, shall i continue ?? LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: English, French, Italian DRIVE?: Hell yeah JUMP-STAR A CAR?: Yes CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: Yes, but he’d rather pay someone to do it before ever doing it himself RIDE A BICYCLE?: nope catch me crying SWIM?: Yes PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: Does learning the recorder in 3rd grade count ?? PLAY CHESS?: Yes BRAID HAIR?: Yes ( Stacy made him learn since he was the only one home most of the time ) TIE A TIE?: Yes, his father practically taught him that in the womb. PICK A LOCK?: nah. he’s more into the jump the fence, break some glass, make a fucking scene, kinda trespassing

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: Alex Fitzalan EYE COLOR: dark brown, specks of gold in natural light HAIR COLOR: Chestnut Brown HAIR TYPE/STYLE: Curly && wavy, his hair texture kinda varies by each strand unless he properly styles it ... which he does when feeling okay GLASSES/CONTACTS?: No, but he definitely likes the aesthetic of glasses sometimes. Like bet money on his ivy interviews he wore glasses ... did i mention i hate harry bingham ?? DOMINANT HAND: Right HEIGHT: 5′10″ WEIGHT: 140/150ish lbs ??? BUILD: Slender Muscular EXERCISE HABITS: it’s rather irregular and depends heavily on his mood. if he’s in a good/okay mood then a few times a week. otherwise it’s hard to do much of anything, let alone work out you know. SKIN TONE: light with pink/tan undertones TATTOOS: none PIERCINGS: none MARKS/SCARS: small dark birth mark near his right, outer ankle. shoulders/back && cheeks tend to get rather freckly in the summer && he hates it. some random cuts && bruises from blacked out drunk/high escapades, the occasional hickey bye. NOTABLE FEATURES: dimples when he actually smiles, white af teeth, the hair™ USUAL EXPRESSION: either completely unamused or smirking tbh CLOTHING STYLE: designer, preppy — think polos, ironed pants, or cuffed skinny jeans, all paired with some boat shoes. sometimes when he’s not feeling so great he’ll wear a plain tee/hoodie JEWELRY: gold pinky ring ( mentioned above ), apple watch on occasion ALLERGIES: long haired cats BODY TEMPERATURE: runs hot 😏 DIET: no such thing, boy’s metabolism is fast, the lucky son of a bitch. PHYSICAL AILMENTS: N/A

PSYCHOLOGY

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral TEMPERAMENT: Choleric / Melancholic ELEMENT: Fire MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: Anxiety, Depression, Toxic Masculinity 👀 SOCIABILITY: Moody™, but very social. Popular™. EMOTIONAL STABILITY: um ... he tries ?? it’s not good though, nope. PHOBIA(S): autophobia ( fear of being alone ), atychiphobia ( fear of failure ) ADDICTION(S): coffee, opiods, alcohol, etc DRUG USE: yes please ALCOHOL USE: yes please PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: if provoked yes, or if he feels the need to protect/stand against something.

MANNERISMS

QUIRKS: easily annoyed, rolls his eyes a lot, has a comeback for almost everything ( even if it’s just a fuck you ) HOBBIES: cars, racing, sailing ( learned from his dad ), HABITS: drinking, swearing, pills, drinks coffee every morning NERVOUS TICKS: furrowed brows, pacing/unable to stand still, hand twitching, squinting eyes DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: Money, Perfectionism, doing the Bingham name justice FEARS: Being forgotten, Isolation, Losing the rest of his family/the few he cares about, Death, Fatal Illness POSITIVE TRAITS: Charming, Adventurous, Witty, Ambitious, Assertive, Protective NEGATIVE TRAITS: Moody, Enigmatic, Cocky, Prideful, Destructive, Sarcastic, Stubborn, Impatient SENSE OF HUMOR: sarcastic, dark DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: he fucking literally fucking says fuck every fucking other fucking word :D CATCHPHRASE(S): fuck you cassandra, fuck off, fuck you, fuck me, fuck that, we’re playing fugitive tonight

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: Racing / Sailing ANIMAL: Otters BEVERAGE: any && all alcohol™ ... or secretly strawberry hi-c don’t @ him. BOOK: never let me go by kazuo ishiguro CELEBRITY: Margot Robbie COLOR: Navy Blue && Dark Gray DESIGNER: Balenciaga && Ralph Lauren FOOD: loaded fries FLOWER: blue stars GEM: Sapphire/Diamond HOLIDAY: halloween MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: he has a lot of favorite cars, but his black maserati ( aka the fugitive car ) is probably his favorite. he also likes helicopters MOVIE: Fight Club, The Wolf on Wall Street, The Breakfast Club MUSICAL ARTIST: blackbear, Drake are two of his go-tos, though the list is long QUOTE/SAYING: “Just do it.” boy bye SCENERY: nothing like overlooking a long wooden dock into a bright blue lake surrounded by trees SCENT: cedar, sandalwood — anything kinda woody/musky ?? bless. SPORT: golf SPORTS TEAM: his father always rooted for the yankees, so he roots for the yankees TELEVISION SHOW: Mad Men WEATHER: cloudy with just a bit of sun peaking through, bright blue sky — not too hot, not too cold. VACATION DESTINATION: anywhere near a body of water, though he’s particularly fond of lake como in italy cause there’s a bit of everything ?? mountains, the lake, beautiful architecture, etc :’)

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: living that ‘american dream’ baby GREATEST FEAR: peaking in high school, being forgotten/not wanted (yet you push people away boii water u doing ?!), being vulnerable ... again there’s a long fucking list MOST AT EASE WHEN: in a fast car, living that reckless™ lifestyle LEAST AT EASE WHEN: realizing what a dumbass he is && having to apologize for it BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: getting into brown && columbia off some actual merit && not just money wow BIGGEST REGRET: not really being there for his dad near the end bc that would mean being vulnerable && saying goodbye coming on this fucking trip MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: losing the student body president position to cassandra BIGGEST SECRET: which one you want honey ?? TOP PRIORITIES: for everything to stay the same / go back to the way it was :) :( :) :(

#newhamhq: task #( * you say a lot of things you don't mean !! ) — headcanons.#task 001.#death mention tw #drug mention tw #depression tw

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queen-asante · 6 years ago

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Hey there! I hope I'm not bothering you! I'm writing this story and I need advice on how to write Rolf. I saw your Ask Rolf account and you write him really well... any tips?

Not at all! ❤

First thing’s first:

1) It’s not necessary to tack on ‘‘yes’‘ and ‘‘no’‘ at the end of every sentence. Too many writers do this. XD

2) He’s totally allowed to break from third person when deemed appropriate. Rolf actually consciously speaks in third person, it’s not the language barrier at all. If anyone wants to revisit the first season, he always spoke in first person. He didn’t start speaking in third person till the second season because apparently it was not a character trait the writers adapted for him until much later (keep in mind, they were still figuring out the characters and all their quirks). We didn’t see enough of the secondary characters in Season 1 for them to fully form and become the fleshed out individuals we know and love from the later seasons. But yeah, re-watch ‘‘Oath to an Ed’‘ and you’ll notice Rolf never speaks in third person. Even after referring to himself in third person became his trademark idiosyncrasy (playing into the foreigner stereotype), he still knowingly breaks from it all the time. Mainly to exercise authority. Now doesn’t ‘‘Do as I say?’‘ carry more weight than ‘‘Do as Rolf say?’‘ Yeah, I think so too. :)

3) (I hate this word for personal reasons but for a lack of a better term) the ‘‘broken’‘ English is very mild, hardly noticeable (if that!). Try not to overdue it. Though he still obviously struggles with the language barrier, he’s a lot more fluent than people give him credit for. (Note: He’ll say ‘’This one is easy’’ not ‘’This one easy’’. Or a better example, “This empty roll must be replaced with a new one." Complete sentence. If it was terribly ‘’fractured’’ it would sound something like this: ‘’Empty roll must be replaced with new one.’’) I think it’s the thick accent that makes his speech sound more ‘’broken’’ than it actually is to the Western ear. Though sometimes his grammar is kinda weird, it’s not all that ‘’crippled’’. Sometimes I use the way I used to speak English for authenticity (usually I had trouble with contractions and would replace words like ‘’don’t’’, ‘’can’t’’, and ‘’won’t’’ with ‘’not’’. For example, instead of ‘’I don’t know’’ I used to say ‘’I not know’’). Which brings me to my next topic.

4) Bilingual skills! Eventhough he strains to pass his English class and other classes of challengingsubject matter, his bilingual skills verbally improve in Season 5. Where Rolf is shown tospeak mild ‘’broken’’ English in the first coupleseasons, he returns in Season 5 much more articulate than we remember him. Thoughhe still claims to find English complicated, and scores F’s on his Englishexams and homework, he’s also able to ramble the entirety of the Englishlanguage dictionary a la Double D. In other words, his vocabulary broadens fromjust country riddles to methodical flowery arrangements. Go figure. Rolf’sEnglish is actually very fluent, even though at times, he wrestles to find theproper words to express himself, but it seems he mainly has trouble withstructure and grammar, rather than a lack of comprehension for his secondlanguage. Though simple-minded phrases like ‘’Tony Baloney’’ and ‘’flatdoodle’’ are not obsolete from his day-to-day jargon, he’s adopted massive ‘’DoubleD’’ words like ‘’protuberance‘’ ‘’fortitude’’ and ‘’retribution’’ in hisspeech, and uses them in perfect context and pronunciation without missing abeat, never mind his thick Eastern European accent. He gains so much confidencein his newfound, increased cognitive abilities that he takes a risk and entersthe Spelling Bee in ‘’Too Smart for His Own Ed’’. Prior to the competition, aviolent panic attack seizes him, preventing him from spelling even a simpleword like ‘’watch’’, and during his turn, he chickens out due to a publicspeaking anxiety, but we have to give him credit where credit’s due.

He was so confident! Damn you stage fright!

Why does he look like he’s going to spitthe most fire verse of the century?

Ahem. Point is, don’t hold back from giving him big vocabulary. He’s actually not that simple-minded or, as Double D would say ‘’uneducated’’. Someone who took it upon himself to learn a foreign language can’t be all that dumb. Yes, he’ll still refer to raisins as ‘‘doohickeys’‘ but he knows what a wallet is. Keep him Old World but don’t make it sound like he was was raised by wolves and lived in a cave his whole life. He’s an immigrant, not an idiot. He’s crossed oceans on a canoe, he’s probably seen more of the world than any of the kids in Peach Creek who’ve never been father than their own backyards. He’s kinda wise beyond his years.

That being said, it’s totally realistic for him to still struggle with finding proper words and expressions to express himself. For instance, I’m MUCH better at English than I used to be but I still have my moments. Just recently, my American friend used the phrase ‘‘cracking up’‘ and I thought she was either a) angry or b) losing her mind. She proceeded to explain to me that in that particular context, she meant she was laughing really hard. Mind blown! I’m also still confused by some English idioms that don’t exist in my language. ‘‘Knock on wood’‘ is one of them. I still don’t get it, no matter how many times my friend explained it to me. There was also a funny instance I had a long time ago. In my country, we have a saying that describes someone who’s named after someone or something famous. Like, if your name is Fanibhusan, named after Lord Shiva, we call that something… and I was having major difficulty finding the English equivalent to that. I originally used the word ‘‘trivial’‘ having no idea what ‘‘trivial’‘ actually meant. It only sounded right to me because I associated ‘‘trivial’‘ with the word ‘‘trivia’‘ but my friend said that wasn’t right, because that actually meant the opposite of what I thought it meant, which is ‘’of little value or importance’’. So we spent a good deal trying to figure out what I was trying to say, but in the end, my friend broke the news to me that there was no such thing in the American English language. Sooooooooo bilingual people, even half fluent ones like me, are still going to have those moments. Sometimes you’re going to have that constant translating in your head… although when I’m speaking English to my English speaking friends, I tend to think in English, if that makes sense. XD

5) Immigration! Everyone’s favourite subject. Welp, it’s much appreciated when fanfiction writers don’t totally ignore his status. It shapes him as the person he is. However, you don’t have to dwell on it either. Don’t confine him to a label. He’s a person first, immigrant second. Make it known he likes basketball and candied beets before you let ‘’immigrant’’ define him, because then that just clumps him into the image of a faceless mixture of brown people hopping fences and negative stereotypes. Let him be a proud Son of a Shepherd first and foremost. Let him be happy and carefree, because this kind of representation is just as important as any social issue. He doesn’t have to be a sob story to make me feel represented. Rolf’s prone to heartbreak, and he does get homesick, and it’s very important to realise the challenges and culture barriers he faces, but he’s also upbeat and positive. It’s important to have that balance of both real struggles coupled with childhood nostalgia.

6) Most importantly, have fun! Go nuts!

#eene #ed edd n eddy #rolf #immigration #immigrants #bilingual problems #language #asante's questions

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bnha-love-imagines-blog · 6 years ago

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Mariska #1

Character Profile Full name: Mariska Josephine-Esmeralda Marie-Anne Arlovskaya

Pronunciation: Mar-e-ska Jo-sef-ene Es-mer-al-da Mary-Ann Ar-lov-sky-a

Meaning of Name: Mariska: Of Bitter Sea in Hungarian; Josephine: Diminutive of Joseph (He will add); Esmeralda: Emerald in Portuguese; Marie; Rebellion; Anne: God’s Favor; Arlovskaya; Surname in Belarus

Hero/Villain Name: Alegria (Joy in Portuguese) the Thoughtful hero

Nicknames: Mari, Jo-Jo, Alda, Annie

History of Nicknames: Mari: Diminutive of first name; Jo-Jo: Jealous cousin called her this when he would visit the Arlovskaya estate in order to make fun of her; Alda: Her parents called her this frequently; Annie: Diminutive of Anne

Aliases: N/A

Nationality: Portuguese-Belorussian

Affiliation: Hero

Student Number: 25

Quirk: this would be the official label of the quirk, the in-depth description of it is later: Telekinesis/Pathokinesis

Birthday and Astrology Sign: September 27/Libra

Age: 15 turning 16

How old do they look: 16

Mental Age: 19

Gender: Female/She/Her

Orientation/Sexuality Preference: Bisexual/Biromantic

Birth date: September 27

Birth place: Homyel

Death date: N/A

Death place: N/A

Appearance: Eye color: also mention if this is unusual in the family or society.: Sea foam green eyes

Eye shape: Deep set eyes

Do they wear contacts or glasses?: Reading glasses Hair: Waist length naturally wavy naturally dark blonde hair; dyed strawberry blonde ombre to ash blonde

Height: 5′5

Weight: 140

Body build: slim, lean, muscular, overweight, etc.: Slim thick (small, lean waist, good amount of muscle on bum and legs)

Body shape: pear, hourglass, rectangle, etc.: Hourglass

Complexion: Rose ivory

Cup size: D

Blood Type: O+

Handedness: Right handed

Hand type: big hands, tiny hands, delicate hands, long fingers, short fingers, calloused hands, etc.: Delicate with some callouses from baking and cooking, long fingers, small compared to any male’s

Nails: long, short, dirty, clean, etc.: Oval shaped, long, painted nude, clean

Movement: Graceful

How do they walk: fast, with a limp, slow, hop in their step, swinging arms etc.: Toe first from years of dance

Posture: Relaxed, straight

Flexibility: Ballerina/Gymnast level

Voice: Mezzo-Soprano Belorussian accented

Speech Mannerisms: do they pause, stutter, say “um”, etc.: Licks lips between words, lisp when saying c’s

Scars: A scar on her right hip from her grandfather over pushing her in training and stabbing her (nicked her uterus almost causing her to become sterile but didn’t); A burn scar on her left shoulder from when she made a comment about how she believed they killed her parents

Birthmarks: if any: N/A

Piercings: if any: Double standard earlobe; nose stud on the right

Tattoos: if any: N/A

General face structure: like high cheeks bones, or looks like (insert celebrity): High cheekbones; Facial features are that of Perrie Edwards

Defining physical traits: N/A

Statistics: Power: ★★★☆☆ C

Speed: ★★★ ☆ ☆ C

Technique: ★★★★☆ B

Intelligence: ★★★★★ A

Cooperativeness: ★★ ★ ★ ☆ B

Extra Explanation: N/A

Quirk and description: Telekinesis: Ability to move things with her mind (includes lifting people) Will get bad migraines and ringing in her ears if used too much; Pathokinesis: The ability to sense and control others emotions, Unable to use it on loved ones and has less control over her own emotions after using it for 30 minutes

Clothing: Uniform: UA High School Uniform

Casual outfit: (Changes frequently)

Preferred outfit: Leggings, off brand converse, a faded guns’n’roses crop top

Hero/Villain costume: Catsuit

Equipment / Support Items: if used: Handcuffs, taser, retractable police baton

Accessories: N/A

Jewelry: Rose gold locket with both her parents’ pictures in it, a gold ring with an opal that her father gave her before he died

Characteristics:

Personality:Kind, intelligent, daydreamer; stubborn, frivolous, gullible

Myers-Briggs Type: ENFP-T

Alignment: Chaotic good

Big Five personality traits: Extroversion: 96%; Agreeableness: 95%; Intelligence/Imagination: 91%; Emotional Stability: 9%; Conscientiousness: 5%

Enneagram: Type 2: The Helper

Most prominent personality trait: Kindness

Best traits: that others can see, they believe, etc.: Her kindness

Worst traits: that others can see, they believe, etc.: Her inability to follow plans

Likes: Anything they like to do, eat or see. : Music, dance, literature, culture (Portuguese, Belorussian, Japanese), yoga, cuisine Dislikes: Anything they don’t like to do, eat or see.: Large bugs, clowns, her grandparents

Quirks: (not the superpower but little silly things they do) Hums as she does something, taps her fingers, twirls her hair, rolling her tongue Fear: Her grandparents killing more of those she loves, clowns, large bugs, being too weak

Hobbies: Singing, dancing, reading, yoga, going to the gym, eating, playing guitar, and cooking/baking

Skills/Talents: Singing, Dancing, Flexibility, Playing guitar, piano, and violin

Strengths: Combat, Intelligence Weaknesses: Her kindness, gullibilty

Reason to keep on living: It would make her parents proud

What is their self-image like: Appearance wise: She believes she’s beautiful except for her scars Personality wise: She is happy with who she is Overall: Okay but hates her past and everything relating to it

Any religious or spiritual faith: Freelance Catholic (Prays with rosary, confesses sins daily, goes to church during holidays, worships the saints)

How does this faith / lack of affect them: It connects her to her mother. She feels at home when she comes home and is able to pray the way she and her mother would when she was a child with the rosary beads

What superstitions do they have: Walking under ladders, breaking mirrors, spilling salt, using the Lord’s name in vain

Coping mechanisms: Prayer, cuddling with her love(s)/her dogs/both

Any life motto or quote they live by: don’t be a jerk, yolo, cup should be half-full always, etc.: “A little thought and a little kindness is worth a lot more than any amount of money”

Favorite things:

Favorite Food(s): Kletski, Galushki, Tsibriki, Arroz Doce, Dobradinha, and Bacalhau com natas

Favorite Drink(s): Water, Green Tea, Coffee

Favorite Color(s): Teal, Purple

Favorite Animal(s): Dogs, Red Pandas

Favorite Number: 13

Favorite Season(s): Fall

Favorite Holiday(s): Christmas (Parents favorite holiday)

Favorite Time of Day: Sunset

Health:

Physical: Healthy

Mental: Not the best because of PTSD and Depression

Emotional Stability: Not the perfect but not terrible when her pathokinesis hasn’t been used

If faced with crisis, what is their go-to: fight, flight, or freeze: If there is someone in danger, fight. If she is in danger or it’s a natural happenstance, flight

Nutrition: Very well, home cooked meals almost daily, has a bit of a sweet tooth though

Habits: this could be sleeping habits, eating habits, nervous ticks, biting fingernails, etc.: Sleeps on left side and mumbles in sleep, eats with mouth closed and as nobility style etiquette, bounces her leg when nervous as well as taps her fingers, meditates and prays daily, good care of body, if she's in a big crowd, she'll accidentally sense a negative emotion or will change someone else's emotion if she is very emotional around those she doesn't know

Family History: example, a certain mental illness or physical disease runs in the family: N/A

History, Background, and Future:

0-4: Happy; Her grandparents seemed kind enough

5-8: She understands more but her parents will protect her

9-11: Age ten, her parents are killed when a piece of construction from the new garden house mysteriously falls in. Her paternal grandparents care for her when her maternal side isn’t doing so; both begin to train her rigorously

12-14: Is trained to beating and pain, she loathes both sides as she knows they caused the “accident”

15-Present: Moves to Japan after getting into U.A

Did they like their upbringing: Loved it until her parents’ death

How has their upbringing shape them: She has become lowkey bitter to older people unless shown they are kind

What did they enjoy most about their childhood?: Cooking with her mom, playing piano with her father, running through the garden

What did they hate most about their childhood?: The pain of loss and the burden of becoming great

Current Dream: be the number one pro-hero, run a successful company, etc.: Be pro-hero with proud parents

Long-term goals for Future: get married, have kids, be successful, be a pro-hero, etc.: Pro-hero married with kids

Home:

Home Life as a Kid: abusive, supportive, neglecting, etc.: Happy then abusive

Home Life Now: abusive, supportive, neglecting, etc.: Generally quiet until moves into dorms and now it’s very supportive and loud

Relationships:

Parent(s): Chiara (Carriedo) Arlovskaya, Ivan Arlovskaya

Sibling(s): N/A

Relative(s): Carmella Carriedo and Antonio Carriedo, Natalya Arlovskaya and Dmitri Arlovskaya

Best Friend(s): Midoriya Izuku, Momo Yaoyorozu, Ochako Uraraka

Friend(s): Iida Tenya, Tsuyu Asui, Kirishima Eijirou

Crush(es): Todoroki Shouto, Katsuki Bakugou, Midoriya Izuku

Pet(s): A Husky named Chi-Chi and a German Shepherd named Vanny (both named after her parents)

Rival(s): N/A

Enemy: Villains, Mineta

Extra:

Smells like Strawberries and Vanilla

Works in a bakery

Social media queen

Amazing photographer with cell phone

Hates snack cakes

Theatre Nerd

Speaks Portuguese, Belorussian, English, and Japanese

Has met Gran Torino and is unofficially his granddaughter

I have edited @izukulove ‘s oc form but nevertheless, it is still theirs and I hope they do not mind my using and editing it! This is the newer, updated version of Mariska! I will number each post by order of release.

#bnha oc #mari #admin opal has spoken

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mulansays · 6 years ago

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Hello, my dear readers!

So, I’ve been a little missing in action this week, haven’t I? Well, I can’t say much on the topic without losing my job... Let’s just say, there may or may not be a debut in the works for a few of the kids at the company I work for. This means I’m spread out fairly thin and working at weird hours of the night on minimal sleep, so please be patient with me as I try and balance my job and this blog!

Enough about me. It’s been almost a week since the MGA’s episode four, and boy do I have some things to say.

Let’s start with Team A as usual. I had mixed feelings about this team, mostly because I’ve never tried to hide my disliking of a certain member here. While he turned me off of the group, I still do especially enjoy the rest of the members! In the last episode, we really got to see Jinhee shine as a dancer and leader, but with this performance, I realized that her vocal ability is really average… I guess it’s okay because she’s such an extraordinary dancer. I was shocked with her wig though; was she trying to be Hannah Montana or something? It was kind of lame. If you’re going to go for pink hair, commit to it like Junmyeon and Jonghyun did instead of doing some odd wig show. I’ll be honest, a lot of this team didn’t leave an impression on me, which is sad because last week I mentioned how amazed I was by Jeno and Hyunjin’s dancing. There was nothing special about the choreography. I have to say though, Hyunjin articulates very maturely for such a young kid. His speech inspired me, and if he were to grow older and join an idol group, that’s some leader-worthy pep talks right there. He also pulled off a tough rap decently, so I think I like this kid. I was relieved when Jeno was eliminated rather than him (sorry, Lee Jeno!) I thought Jonghyun should have been the one to go home instead, but I’m not exactly going to she tears over the decision.

Team B was… such a mess. While Guanlin was cute with his heavy accent, he impressed me with how much his pronunciation while rapping had improved. It wasn’t perfect, but it was certainly better than before (and maybe even better than my Korean had been within the first few months of moving here). Kim Bora really deserved the leader title here, and I hate this whole “leaders can’t be repeated” because obviously, if you appoint someone who’s unfit to lead, your team is screwed. God, my blood has never boiled more than when I saw Junhoe’s attitude. Being a group leader is no joke, but he treated it as if it didn’t matter? I wanted to slap him and send him off the show. When you’re an idol, you can’t act like that, especially in the public eye. There’s a fine line between being mysterious and being a dick, and he crossed that by miles. I’m happy Bora whipped him into shape, but even then, to me it felt like he was trying to have all the spotlight. Besides that, I felt bad for Donghyun and I hope his foot is okay. He really can’t dance though, so thank God they did an easier choreography (yet he still managed to mess that up but whatever). Oh, I almost forgot to mention Wonwoo LOL! Seriously, he got no screen time and he has negative stage presence, so can you blame me? I was hoping for him to get eliminated this week, but then this team ranked 3rd… I was disappointed. I don’t think that weak performance deserved to rank that high. The song choice was fun though.

Team C… Okay, this is going to sound real bitchy, but like, has anyone else noticed how weirdly Yoongi talks? It stuns me every time, and I know it’s not his fault, but sometimes I just want to plug my ears when he opens his mouth. I was pleasantly surprised, though, to see him evolve from an awkward guy begging Hyuna for help, to a proper leader. Though, she carried him through it like a baby, but still, he was standing on his own two legs by the end. Speaking of Hyuna, can she just stick to rapping instead of mediocre singing? I know people were freaking out about it but she’s really just… LOL. I’m really glad Minhyung got eliminated this week. Compared to the rest of his team, he’s so lacking, and I hate using age as an excuse, but he was too young and immature to be in the competition. There are others around the same age, but they have mental maturity, whereas this kid runs out when he gets frustrated? He would never last long in the industry with that mindset. I hope he fixes that before trying again. Other than that, you know I just have to comment on Kim Doyeon. She looks like a natural on stage, and she really has it all: a pretty face, perfect proportions, charisma, vocal ability, and she’s a good dancer. Share that, please, Doyeon? As for Moon Bin, I think he deserved more screen time. Maybe he’s just boring, I don’t know, but I was sad. He has a lovely voice and stage presence. MNET, do the kid some justice!

You guys probably know that one of my least favourite contestants was in Team D. Yes, I’m talking about Minatozaki Sana, and this episode really didn’t give her a redemption arc in my heart. She still has an attitude about losing out to someone else on her team and doesn’t even try to hide it. It just makes the whole team atmosphere feel awkward when she sulks, and it made me uncomfortable to watch. Even when Haknyeon tried to cheer up (so sweet, by the way, and was he flirting a little or am I imagining things?) she was so… I don’t want to dislike her. Sana is a good dancer, but she just feels really fake and bratty. Pfft, and MNET tried to edit Yerim to have that personality but they edit Sana so you feel bad for her. I won’t be fooled though. This team also had another case of poor leadership. Jungkook had the title, but he treated it exactly like that—as if it was only a title and didn’t hold any responsibility. I’m pretty sure I said this last time, too, but he has no stage presence whatsoever! As a dancer, that’s so vital, and it’s probably the biggest flaw to have. I wasn’t surprised to see him eliminated. Oh, and Choi Youngjae… He’s such a good vocalist, but he can’t dance, so I wonder why the team chose such a dance-centered song. On a happier note, Longguo’s cat is so cute. Him and Haknyeon being cat ladies made me smile because it’s so relatable and their friendship is adorable. I really like Joo Haknyeon. He’s a flower, quite fitting with the concept. Not only was he a sweetheart to every contestant on the team, but he also gave his best. Even though his nose bled, he kept practicing by himself to make sure his performance was perfect. I’m amazed.

I don’t really have much to say about Team E. They barely had any screen time. There wasn’t anything memorable from these participants (whether scandalous or not), despite the fact that they chose such a powerful song. Maybe that’s where they went wrong. Choi Yoojung danced and rapped well, Kyungri held her own while dancing and singing. Lee Luda was really naive at the beginning, thinking the dance would be easy. At least she wasn’t the worst dancer in the group though—I think she’s rather average, enough to blend in. Plus, she doesn’t need to dance when she can sing like a goddess. Taehyung was really lacking. He was an okay leader, but all he can do is rap. His dancing was atrocious; why did he agree to such a hard choreography anyways? Personally, I think he should have been eliminated instead of Juyeon, because out of everyone, Juyeon was the most well balanced in every aspect. I’m sad to see him go, and I wish him the best of luck.

Can we just talk about Team F’s introduction? Ha Sungwoon called himself “bananappa” and that made me cringe so hard. Was he on crack? LOL kidding, but seriously. That’s so weird. His nickname aside, I think he made a really good leader. The thing with Sungwoon is that he really supplied a positive atmosphere with the group. Watching their interactions, you could see they were genuinely happy and friendly, whether they were practicing or not. It was quite refreshing, really, which I guess is why they gave themselves the name “Fresh and Fruity” or whatever it was. I’d like to see this group of people debut together, in all honesty. They have a good balance: Sungwoon as the main vocal and leader, Mingyu as the main rapper, Jinsoul and Yerim as lead vocals and dancers. It’s also a perfect ratio of females to males, so they could be kind of like the co-ed group KARD? Anyways, there’s not much to say about them because they were so good and I really enjoyed the performance (another story within a choreography, Sungwoon seems to be good at that). I definitely think they could have been third place; I don’t know what’s wrong with the CEO’s. The dance to Shine isn’t all that hard. Rather than being a good dancer, you just need charisma to pull off the trendy moves in the chorus, and everyone in this team (especially Jinsoul) have enough. Shout out to Yerim, though, who MNET decided not to evil edit this time, instead cutting her out completely. We see you and your hard work. All in all, I thought this team was doomed since Lee Minhyuk pulled out of the competition last minute (you’re really going to let your group members down? Okay), but they did well.

Buckle in for the wild ride that Team G will take you on. I really wasn’t ready. So, there’s an obvious elephant in the room: Lee Sungyeol. In my last post, I talked about how I thought he was too old to be an idol now, and I still stand by it. If anything, this episode only solidified my opinion. Really, what kind of an aspiring idol has a fucking kid? And he so shamelessly showed it off on television for the whole nation to see. Has anyone ever seen an idol that’s freshly debuted, have a toddler? It’s insane! If you have one, at least try to hide it. Already, his age sets him apart from everyone else, along with his lack of skill (Sungyeol is an average singer at best, he can’t dance, and he barely has stage presence). But like, dude, you really want to pursue a career as an idol when you have a kid to take care of? You’ll have no time for the kid, will barely see them, and idols don’t exactly make the most money unless you hit it big, which he definitely can’t do. You need a steady, reliable source of income or else your kid will suffer. Kick him out of the show already!

Now, we’ll tackle the next problem of this team: Kim Chungha. I was really rooting for her, but she’s not much different from Sungyeol. She so blatantly exposed her relationship with Koo Junhoe, as if she wanted to brag? I know she was crying and all, but at least call a female friend and vent! Or if it’s a male, let it be someone who’s not a contestant! Or vent away from the cameras—this is ridiculous. I’ve never been so speechless. And all this after seeing Junhoe’s slacking off makes me wonder, was he late because he was fucking Chungha in the bathroom or something? LOL! They both lost my support. Soojin was my favourite leader out of this episode; she showed dedication to helping Sicheng with his vocals, while still keeping it light and fun. She can dance and sing as well, which we all know I love a woman with many talents. Sicheng was a really good dancer as usual, and Somi too (both their vocals are still lacking though so I hope they work on that). The performance was good overall, so I’m okay with them ranking second. By them, I mean Sicheng, Somi, and Soojin: the three S’s. The other two are such a big NO from me.

I can’t dwell too much on Team H. Not only am I exhausted and sleep deprived, but my heart broke with this team (I think you guys know why). Yongsun seemed to be a really good leader. She’s very funny and likable, not afraid to make a joke out of her weakness in dancing. Plus, she’s one of the best female vocalists on this show. Her and Daniel dancing together was hilarious, I have to admit. They have good chemistry as, like, the Beagle Line of a group. I was also surprised that everyone on this team can play instruments? It’s a coincidence you don’t really expect, and the fact that they utilized this surprise is so surreal to me. I don’t know why. I think it’s because I have a thing for bassists and Kang Daniel plays the bass (what fate is this)? And the bass line for Deja Vu is so sensual—control yourself, Naomi! Can you imagine my reaction to Hyunjung and Daniel acting all cute and flustered together like some puppy love? I almost cried. Almost. Maybe if I learn to play an instrument he will love me too? No hard feelings though, Hyunjung. You’re too talented for me to hate, and you’re pretty. If you make Kang Daniel smile and I get to see that smile, that’s all that matters. Anyways lol that hug and his blush. Wow, the kids on the MGA’s are really acting wild, aren’t they? I hope they all clean up their acts, or at least make it less obvious, by the time they become idols. Overall, this team’s performance was good and faintly reminiscent of H.A.M, so I believe they deserve their title as first ranked for this week. It was something new, something unexpected, something covertly sexy that I really enjoyed (rest in peace to Minho, though, who got no screen time despite killing the rap, the dance, and being super attractive).

I guess that’s all for now, guys! I’ll try not to be as late with my next post, though I can’t make any promises with how hectic work is at the moment. This was also fairly rushed, but I hope it was worthwhile! If not… Well, then, feel free to exit my blog. To those that enjoyed my thoughts, feel free to follow me on twitter @naomiwj and send in your reactions, opinions, and/or fangirl with me !!!

Thanks for reading, fellow netizens! See you next week!

♕ Naomi Wang ♕

#*ep4 #*mga4 #*blog

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surveysonfleek · 7 years ago

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832.

5000 Question Survey Pt. 49

4701. What is your reaction to beggers and homeless on the streets? Are they lazy? Why? i feel bad for them. they may have put themselves in that position, they may have not. no one can judge until you hear their story. 4702. Does pure altruism exist? Why or why not? not in my world. 4703. Is 'You like me and I like it all' an attitude you might have? nope. 4704. Finish the words. Ch: air An: al Ge: ar So: ul Ne: ver Bo: il Wi: ll E: ye

4705. What's your favorite science fiction movie? Make it a double feature. What's your second favorite? does black panther count? definitely that. second fave is probably the xmen series. 4706. If you had a remote control for people who would you set on mute? haha no. i’d just avoid them. 4707. When have you felt like you were living in the twilight zone? no. 4708. Do you have penis envy? Do you have vagina envy? haha no. 4709. The maker doesn't want it; the buyer doesn't use it; and the user doesn't see it. What is it? idk. 4710. A child is born in Boston, Mass., to parents who were both born in Boston, Mass. The child is not a U.S. citizen. How is this possible? this boston, mass must not be in usa. 4711. Before Mount Everest was discovered, what was the highest mountain on Earth? mount everest. unless there’s still one undiscovered somewhere. 4712. If you had to choose between being 3ft. tall or 9ft. tall which would you be? probably 3ft. 9ft is huge. 4711. If you could know the answer to any 3 questions, what would they be?: idk. 4712. If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the body or the mind of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want? probably the mind. you could still do a lot with your mind even if you’re frail. 4713. Would it disturb you much if, upon your death, your body were simply thrown into the woods and left to rot? Why? it depends. it would if i knew about it. 4714. Would you like to know the precise date of your future death? hell no. if it’s sooner than i expected i’d freak. 4715. Would you be willing to give up all television for the next 5 years if it meant 1,000 starving children in Indonesia would eat and get medicle care? if i could still stream shows and movies on my laptop i’d do it in a heartbeat. 4716. Name a close friend of the opposite sex: ok. Imagine they are from another country, visiting yours. Their visa is almost expired and if they get sent back to their country they may never get another visa to leave again. Would you marry them if after two years you could divorce them and they would be allowed to stay in your country? yes, i’d marry them. i chose my boyfriend lol. 4717. Do you always call/email in when you take a day off from schol or work? i always call at work. otherwise it’d be written down as an unexplained absence. 4718. A fatalist believes that the future is mapped out in a pattern. A causalist believes that every event is tied to a previous event. Neither believes in free will. An indeterminist believes in total free will. Which are you? not sure... a causalist i guess. 4719. Would you rather have a masters degree in ecconomics or creative writing? economics. 4718. Do you feel the need to defend the honor of your family and demand respect? always. they’re important to me. 4719. What do you think about that no one else thinks about? around my circle of friends... probably doing surveys lol. 4720. Which of the following best describes you: A laid back person who enjoys watching sports and playing with computers. An apathetic person who is open minded and passionate about music. A fiesty person who lacks an attention span. <----- this. Avant garde and over confident. 4721. Why are so many letters silent in French? that’s just the way it is? 4722. For all the freedoms that people in the United States enjoy what are some of the ways that these people oppress themselves willingly and why? idk. 4723. What, besides genetics and besides your environment and experiances, makes you what/who you are? i feel like that’s exactly what makes us who we are lol. 4724. What bands do your parents listen to that you: hate? anything hip hop. like? pop and older music. 4725. What do you find: impressive: a lot of things. skills, talents, knowledge. unimpressive: number of instagram followers lol. 4726. How easily do you understand Shakesphere? about halfway there. 4728. Translate into regular english: 'Romeo Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?' romeo romeo, why are you romeo? 4729. What's your favorite girl scout cookie? Is it made from real girl scouts? never tried them sadly. 4730. How do you open your car door when it freezes shut? it’s never been frozen shut. 4731. Why is it that 95 percent of the letters in french words are not pronounced? idk. 4732. What are you Dreading? work. 4733. When will your ship come in? what ship? 4734. Do you craete your art for free? i have before. 4735. The Pope's recent message to George Bush is 'Go into Iraq and you go without God'. What do you think of this quote? quite truthful. 4736. Have/would you ever taken a botany (plants) course? nope. 4737. Are you using your own computere or someone else's to take this survey? mine. 4742. Is it true what they say about Star Trek movies, that only evey other one is worth seeing? never seen any, so i can’t say. 4743. Someone once said, 'Every possible outcome of something takes place in a parallel universe. So there is free will, but your choises only determine which of those parallel universes you live in.' Your reaction? ok cool. 4744. Why do you think a man 25 or above might date a teenager? Why do you think a woman 25 or above might date a teenager? Any moral objections? i think it’s a weird territory for both sexes. i think it’s wrong until we’re all adults. 4745. Is there a difference between what is legal and what is ethical?Should there be? i think there is. 4746. Point out something obvious: we all make mistakes. Point out something that isn't obvious at all: there’s good and bad in everyone. 4747. How do you stay so thin? haha i don’t. 4748. When looking at a clear night sky what constallations can you locate? southern cross. 4749. What movie has the worst ending ever? The best ending ever? lol idk. 4750. Are you feelin' groovey? no. 4751. Oh the tangled web we weave when: idk. 4752. Do you own anything velevet? If yes, when you wear it can you keep from touching it? nope. 4753. Who have you been friends with the longest? How long have you two been friends? probably mel. 23 years. 4754. Who do you feel like you are in competition with? no one. 4755. Is american culture more like mexican culture or more like japanese culture and why do you think so? it can be a mix of both. i’m not american so i can’t say. 4756. What subject are you so familliar with that you could you write an FAQ (frequently asked questions) list about it? travel. What would one question on that list be? book everything myself or with a travel agent? What is the answer to that question? yourself, duh! 4757. 'Don't use the rules. They're not for you - they're for the fools and you're a fool if you don't know that. So use the rules you stupid fool' How do you feel about these Clash lyrics? cool. 4758. Are you for or against: Unconditional Religious tolerance? for. no religion preaches hate. World Peace Under One Government? against. Total Freedom? in between. Feminism? for. Love For all Creatures and People? for. Organized Religion? against. The Freedom to be Homophobic? i mean if you don’t go about spreading hate then whatever. The War on Terror? against. The Green Party? idk. 4759. Have you read any of Anne Rice's Sleeping Beauty books? If yes, what did you think of them? nope. 4760. Can you do any voices or impressions and if yes, what ones? no. 4761. Guys, is it true that gentlemen prefer blondes? Girls, do blondes really have more fun? no. 4762. Do you enjoy sneaking up on people? to scare them, sometimes. 4763. Do you often break plans? haha not usually. 4764. "Angry" and "hungry" are two words that end in "gry". There are three words in the English language. What is the third word? Everyone knows what it means and everyone uses it every day. Look closely and I have already given you the third word. What is it? hmm i don’t see it. 4765. Does anyone smoke in your home? If yes, does that bother you? just me. 4766. Have you ever actually seen a pink elephant? no. 4767. The answer to 4764 is "language". Did you get it? Get it now, then? nope. 4768. What was the most embaressing or crazy thing you ever dreamed? idk lol. 4769. Are you depraved (marked by corruption or evil; perverted)? no. 4770. Who or what comes to mind when youhear the words: the dangerous objects factory? the dude who says dude? the man in black? the catastrophy involving food? the duct tape incident? lame. 4771. In blackjack, do you often double down? only for 9, 10 or 11. 4772. Who's the big winner? idk. 4773. Who do you care more about, your close friend in elementary school that you lost touh with or your first lover? first lover. 4774. What's your favorite part of a cat? tail lol. 4775. What was on the last cd you burned? no idea, it’s been years. 4776. If you wanted to learn a new language would you consider buying a Disney movie in that language to pick up pronunciation? What Disney movie? aladdin. 4777. Is there a modern plague? What? flu? 4778. Are your baths and showers so hot that your skin gets red? no. 4779. When you dry your body after a shower do you dry your parts in the same order each time, almost automatically, or do you dry your prts in a random order each time, thinking about it while you're doing it? same parts like a routine. 4780. Do you feel like those who are speak a language around you that you can't understand are making fun of you? nah unless they’re obviouslly looking at me. 4781. If you were blindfolded and your love/partner was placed in a line of fifty people could you pick him or her out only by: touching the face of each person? yes. feeling one elbow of each person? no. smelling the breath of each person? no. licking the neck of each person? no ew lol. listening to the breathing of each person? no. psychically sensing each person? maybe. 4782. Close your eyes and turn your head towards the room you are in. Open your eyes. Describe the first object you see without telling what it is: it gives me cold air. 4783. What three questions will you never say NO to? do you want some money? do you want to eat? do you want me to drive? 4784. Would you like to see an American in Paris? haha why. 4785. Are you more of a couch or a scratching post? Is there a difference? couch. idk lol. 4786. What is more important, imagination or knowledge? knowledge at this point in time. 4787. Would you consider modern life to be rubbish? depends on how you’re living. 4788. What's the most sinful food? fried shit. 4789. Name one thing about yourself that you are excessivly proud of: idk lol. 4790. If you went to Hell (imagining there is one) rank these punishments in order of the one you would most prefer to the one you would least prefer. being broken on the wheel: being put in freezing water: being force fed rats and snakes: being smothered by brimstone and fire: being dismembered alive: being boiled in oil: being thrown into snake pits: no thanks. In my mind hell is not like this. It's just a place where all the interesting people go to drink, talk and tan. 4791. What other windows or websites do you have open on your computer right now? youtube, itunes. 4792. What kind of student were you in kindergarten? i was a troublemaker, curious but always willing to learn. 4793. What misjudgement do many people make about you? i’m mean. 4794. If you had been named according to your personality what would your name be? haha idk. 4795. What is made for kids but you love it anyway? board games. 4796. Do you believe that China shuld cease to occupy Tibet? idk. 4797. What is your opinion about the north american free trade agreement? idk much about it. If you don't know go here: http://forums.transnationale.org/viewtopic.php?p=502 4798. Dedicate a song to someone now. What song? no. To who? What line from that song most makes you think about this person? 4799. Can you live completely in the moment giving no thought to past or future? sure. 4800. Can you honestly say that nothing bothers you? haha hell no.

#survey #surveys #quiz #bored #questions

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