I saw how awesome was Tumblr, and I'm transfering all of my blog posts to http://www.terrification.tumblr.com/
I will be updating that one.
Thanks, all!
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
My Interview with an Orc
This is an Interview I wrote with a famous Interviewer and an Orc. I get to play the Orc. :D
English Orc Interview
Introduction
Hello, this is , on .
Tomorrow, at four ‘o’clock, we have a very special guest, yet it’s not a celebrity, nor an activist, not even a poor yet helping neighbour.
We are proud to present a greatly misunderstood creature, a mixture of monster and man, a bold and warlike personality,
For the first time ever, we invite you to join us to speak with the unspeakable, to converse with the unconversable, to talk with the untalkable—an Orc.
Script
Interviewer: Hello Olumba, I am so glad to have you on . First, I would like to introduce your species—Orcs—to the audience. First thing first is that you have probably heard of Orcs as Goblins. ‘Orc’ is simply a different word that hobbits used. Hobbits are Halflings, about three feet and a half tall. Orcs have always been the foot-soldiers of the enemy and in Middle-Earth, both Saruman and Sauron used them for their evil purposes. Originally they are said to be Elves who we were corrupted by Melkor before the beginning of the First Age. Is it true?
Olumba: Thank you so much, . This means a lot for me. Yes, it is. Melkor wanted to create and rule others; he was an ambitious and power-hungry antagonist.
Interviewer: (nods) Yes. Would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?
Olumba: No! Not at all, that is what I’m here for, yes?
Interviewer: (agrees) Quite. The first question that I would like to ask is about your lifestyle. What do you eat, what’s your style?
Olumba: (pause) We’re not particularly picky. As long as it’s not elven cuisine, or... vegetarian, I think we’re fine. However, we rather do enjoy eating flesh. (licks lips) Mmm... I love human flesh, my mother makes it taste delicious. She finds these herbs, and she adds a bit of toad to it... She usually serves it when I’m down. As for style, what I’m wearing today is really what’s in fashion. These black robes are uber fashionable. These rags and fur--- great! It took me a lot of time for me to save up to buy it.
Interviewer: Uhh, I’m sure you worked very hard and that you deserve it. (checks watch, and looks crestfallen). The black really matches you.
Olumba: (giggle) Thanks! (looks down)
Interviewer: No problem! Okay, next question: Are orcs misunderstood?
Olumba: Now I’m glad that you asked me that one! This is my chance to get facts straight.
We are NOT evil.
Interviewer: (uncomfortable) Glad to hear that.
Olumba: Now, all, you must be thinking, why did we side with Sauron and Saruman? Well, they needed a big army of blood-thirsty and war-worshipping creatures. They took a glance at what was open, and they knew that Orcs were perfect.
We didn’t WANT to join. They just scared us into linking arms with them. They even bread orcs for them to use! Can you believe it?
Interviewer: I’m sure it was very hard on you and your people.
Olumba: (nods) Yes, rather. So nice to have someone understand us!
Interviewer: J I’ve heard that Orcs have their own weaponry, can you describe it for us?
Olumba: Yes! My father is an orc blacksmith, and he hopes that I will learn from him. You see, I our blades are much more dangerous than normal blades, for they have poison in it as well. They are straight the whole way, however, at the top the weapon has a part sticking up to increase the swing of the weapon. Also, if the sword was held backwards, it would still increase pain and likeliness of the enemy's death. We are very crafty with our hands, we can make anything, and believe you me, and I am NOT exaggerating!
Interviewer: Wow! I’m sure you’re not. Anyway, I was wondering, could you perhaps teach us a bit of Orcish? That is the word, isn’t it?
Olumba: Well, Orcs don’t really have a language. We’ve more or less stolen words from the Black Speech. Black Speech is a language spoken in Mordor, by the way. I can say simple things that come in handy. “Thrak agh krimp.” That means “Drag and tie him.” I used that last night when I saw dwarf trespass. *looks proud*
Interviewer: Uh... isn’t that splendid. What did you do with him?
Olumba: Oh, we ate him for dinner.
Interviewer: I was wondering, if you could change your life, what would you change?
Olumba: I’ve always wanted to be a Hobbit, with their little short legs, and furry feet. They’re so different and funny! They live in holes under the ground, but not wet muddy things, not dry ones made out of sand. They’re very comfortable, so I’ve heard. At any rate, they eat basically everything which is simple, such as bread and meat. I’ll tell you all a secret too—
Interviewer: (leans in closer)
Olumba: I love mushrooms! just like hobbits!
Interviewer: Wow! I’m not sure this is what anyone expected.
Olumba: Probably not. *gruffly* Zuzar ugh Nar Thos.
(Someone brings a peice of paper that says “ ‘I’m a scoundrel and a no sack” (Insult)’ on it and walks in front of Olumba and Interviewer)
Olumba: One more question, please.
Olumba: Sure! Go ahead! I’m not very busy today.
Interviewer: (forced smile) What was your most difficult time with plastic wrap?
Olumba: *laughs* A couple of days ago, I was making myself a delicious sandwich, for I was about to go and chop some wood for dinner. It was so flavourful, I remember, with human flesh, some sneaked mushrooms, even some toad! So, I grabbed the nearby plastic wrap. A couple of minutes later, I was completely wrapped inside it, nearly unable to move. It was so terrifying! I felt as if I had to stay there forever, in till some accursed Lul Gijak-Ishi (a direct translation would be ‘Flowers in Blood’, that’s a rude word for an Elf, or pussy) would come and kill me in a swift motion of their sword.
However, I managed to get short dagger and I plunged it into the wrap. I could feel it screaming and trying to escape my wrath. I ripped it up and took a small piece of the wrap, wrapping my delicious-o-so sandwich-o and shoving it in my backpack.
Interviewer: *laughs* Well! Wasn’t that an adventure!
Olumba: Quite.
Interviewer: I’m dreadfully sorry, but I’m afraid that we’ve run out of time. Thank you so much, Olumba.
Olumba: No, thank you. This meant so much to me!
Interviewer: Glad to hear it. We’ll be right back with Lúthien Telrúnya an Elf-Princess, after this short break.
Olumba: Elf?! I’m out of here! Anyway, I am hungry, I need to hunt some human flesh.
Interviewer: SECURITY!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
I'm Sorry
I was already lined up for science, waiting for my teacher to come.
I was early—I had stayed in to help one of my friends with Geography.
One of my other friends walks up beside me. “Hi Max,” I great him, my tone obvious that I was bored.
“Hey,” he responds. “You missed all the drama at Lunch.”
I couldn’t care less. Drama, gossip, rumours? I only prompted him about what had happened because I needed to stay in date. People already stared at me as if I was the first hobbit that had entered the land of Gondor.
“Jane got slapped by Duncan.” His voice was casual enough, as if it was normal.
Quick pause for a moment.
Jane is one of my closest friends, an innocent girl with a pure and good heart. You’d think people would be nice to her.
Wrong.
She’s bullied, and I watch out for her, protecting me. So I guess it wasn’t that big of a shock.
Except for that Lunch recess, I was helping Shona.
I drop my stuff with a large bang and I run off towards her locker, running over about three students and a teacher.
I can see her sobbing in her locker beside Duncan who’s in his own locker, sobbing as well.
“Jane!” I cry. At my voice, she looks up, her eyes bloodshot red.
I console her, telling her that everything will be fine.
I turn to Duncan and I could swear that I saw him flinch slightly.
“Come on guys. Pull yourselves together and let’s go to science. We’ve got science and homeroom.” I tried to put on my most consoling and kind voice.
A couple of minutes later, as Jane sits in her chair, she starts sobbing. I run urgently towards her, telling her that everything will be fine.
For the moment, I thought that it would be useful for a box of tissues. I glare at Natalia (she sits beside Jane) and Michael (he sits in front of her) and they start comforting her as I run off to get them.
We ran out, so I break away to get one from the IT room. Unfortunately, they were suffering with lack of tissues, so I scrambled to the office.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Duncan and my Math teacher talking, Duncan sniffling.
I continue on my way, grab the last tissue box and run down, avoiding his gaze.
I offer her the box and she gratefully takes it.
I’m sorry, Jane, that I wasn't there to help you.
I will next time.
And that’s a promise.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Science Notes-- Chapter Four, Pure Substances and Mixtures
I decided to post my science notes. Anyone can use them, as long as you mention the name, "Frege" in it.
Science—Chapter Four: Pure Substances and Mixtures: /37
Yeah, so you guys can use these notes as well. The underlined parts are IMPORTANT parts, on which you will be marked on. It’s out of 37.
Defintions: /32
Matter: Anything that takes up space, has mass, and is made up of particles. /3
Properties: The characterisitics of materials. Every materiall has it’s own unique set of characteristics. Ex. Colour, odour, density. /5
Mixture: A material made up of several different types if materials; in a mixture, each material retains its own properties. /3
Heterogeneous: Made up of parts that retain their own properties that are not visable to the unaided eye. /3
Homogeneous: of materials, having only on set of properties. Every part if the material is the same through out. /2
Mechanical Mixture: A substance made up of more than one materials, in which they can easily be identified. /2
Solution: A homogeneous mixture of two or more substances; the distinct properties of the different substances that make up a solution are combined into one set of properties. /3
Pure Substance: A material that is composed of only one type of particles. Ex. Gold, oxygen, silver, copper, water, sugar, salt. /8
Particle Theory of Matter--- /5
Defintion: A scientific model of the structure of matter. /2
Points:
All matter is made up of extremely small particles. /1
Each Pure Substance has its own kind of particles, different from the particles of other pure substances. /2
Hope this helps!
Geography Notes, Chapter One
I decided to post my geography notes. They're in French, and anyone that understands them can use them. As long as you mention the name, "Frege" in it.
Geography Notes, Chapter One
Pages G6à G21
Defintions
Emplacement: Site etudie selon les caracterisitiques physiques et humaines unique a ces site.
Site : Lieu geographique.
Geographie : Science qui etudie la surface de la Terre et la relation entree celle-ci et les gens.
Meridien : Qui est au sud.
Localisation relative : Description d’un emplacement par rapport a d’autres emplacements a l’aide de points de repere, de distances ou de directions.
Localisation absolue : Emplacement exact d’un lieu sur la surface de la Terre.
Hemisphere : Moite d’une sphere ou de globe terrestre.
Latitude : Distance vers le nord ou vers le sud, a partir du l’equateur.
Longitude : Distance vers l’est ou vers l’ouest, a partir du meridien d’origine.
Quadrillage alphanumerique : Lignes qui divisent une carte en cases. Chaque case est designe par une lettre et un chiffre.
Rose de vents : Symbole a quatre ou a huit pointes qui indique les orientations principales.
Mouvement : Flux de prsonnes de produits, d’information et d’elements de la nature.
Flux : Quantite de personnes, de produits, et l’information et d’autres elements qui se deplacent dans un système.
Transport en commun : Système de transport qui comprend les autobus, les metros, les tramways, et les trains de la banlieve.
Système de transport de marchandises par conteneur : Système qui permet de transporter des produits a l’aide de boites metalliques de mettre dimenstion qui se fixent sur des camions, des trains et des navires.
Notes
Page 6 : Les emplacements sont uniques
-chaque endriot sur la Terre possed des caracteristiques qui lui sont propres.
- Chaque emplacement est une combinaison inuque de caracteristiques physiques (e. des reliefs et d’eau) et des caracteristiques humaines (e. des routes).
Page 7 :
-Les geographes etudient aussi les conditions qui existent en difficiles emplacements.
- geo (la Terre) et graphica (description)
Page 8 : Ou est ce ?
-La localisation relatice utilise des directions comme « a droit », « au gouche » ou « droit devant».
- La localisation absolue utilise la localisation exacte d’un emplaement. Ex. latitude et la longitude.
- Des lignes imaginaires de latitude et de longitude indique la localisation absolue de deux villes.
- Les geographes diviesnt la monde en demis. Chaque demi se nomme « hemisphere ».
-Latitude=parra lleles a l’equateur.
-Latitudes Nord à 0° à 90° Nord.
- Latitudes Sud à 0° à 90° Sud.
- Longitude a du pole Nord a pole Sud.
- Se sont situees a l’est ou a l’ouest du meridien d’origine.
- 0à180°
-La localisation alphanumerique est un autre facon de determiner la localisation absolue.
-C’est la quadrillage allphanumerique (co-ordinates)
Ex. 
Page 14 : Un monde en mouvement
-Le mouvement etablit un lieu entre des emplacements.
- Les geographes examinent le mouvement de deux facon :
- ils observent des systemes (par ex. moteur)
- Le flux (Ex. Personnes)
Le système de transport de marchandises par conteneu :
- Les produits sont rangees dans des conteneurs metalliques.
- Ces conteneurs sont ensuit empiles sur le pont d’un navire ou fixes sur des wagons surbaisses ou des semir emorques a plateau.
-Des monte-charges deplacent les conteneurs d’un mode de transportat a un autre/
Avantages :
-La securite : Les conteneurs restent vernouilles en tout temps.
- Le cout : le contenu du conteneur n’a pas a etre manipule, ce qui permet d’epargner du temps et des ressources humaines.
- Le temps : Les marchandies sont livrees plus rapidement.
- Le suivi : les ordinateurs permettent de suivre les deplacements d’un conteneur.
- La mondialisation : les conteneurs on tous la meme dimension. Le contenu n’a donc pas a etre charge dans des conteneurs differents quand il circule d’un pays a un autre.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Background
I'm sure you've all probably realized that the design of this webpage has changed, for better of for worse. I would really appreciate it if you wrote your thoughts about the new design.
To keep my random space on the interwebz randum and personalized, I shall try to update it. I have a poll page for y'all to vote for your favourite background.
Contest Details
The contest shall be every month. I shall post three backgrounds, one a week.
On the third week, the poll will be open, and you will vote. The one on display will be included. The winner for every month shall get an extra week.
After eleven months, the winners will compete. The winner will get ONE MONTH.
It will start in the month of April. I will reput the one before this one, as well as introduce a new one.
Sooo....
GET VOTING! :)
To keep my random space on the interwebz randum and personalized, I shall try to update it. I have a poll page for y'all to vote for your favourite background.
Contest Details
The contest shall be every month. I shall post three backgrounds, one a week.
On the third week, the poll will be open, and you will vote. The one on display will be included. The winner for every month shall get an extra week.
After eleven months, the winners will compete. The winner will get ONE MONTH.
It will start in the month of April. I will reput the one before this one, as well as introduce a new one.
Sooo....
GET VOTING! :)
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Badminton
Hey, guys!
I have finally decided to be more active in school sports. That means signing up for a school team, of course.
My chance has come. I will go on a journey to try and get into the badminton team.
Gosh, I’m going to fail.
So, wish me luck!
:/
I just felt like announcing that.
By the way, you guys can wait for the following posts:
- About my planned future.
- Background
- Lollipop
The above will not be in that order.
Kay, well, I must go practice my badminton skills.
See ya!
Saturday, March 19, 2011
What animal am I?
One day, I decided to do a 'what animal am I' quiz. These are my results.
'Shrew
Genus and species:
Sorex araneus
Collective Term:
A lament of shrews
Careers and Hobbies:
Paramedic
Journalist
Librarian
Salesperson
Actor
Traveling
Computing
Thrift Store
Shopping
Famous Shrews
Leona Helmsley
Tammy Faye Baker
Leona Helmsley
Tammy Faye Baker
The diminutive shrew is the archetypal insectivore. Intelligent, thrifty and self absorbed, it knows how to get what it wants regardless of who stands in its way. Cursed with an overactive metabolism, the shrew is unable to stand still for even a minute. Whether it's picking up the kids, shopping at a garage sale or poking its nose into other people's business, it just keeps going and going. If its outta-my-way attitude provokes resentment from friends, that's just too bad. A shrew's gotta do what a shrew's gotta do.
Sharing does not come naturally to shrews, and they are typically the last to pay their portion at a group dinner. It's not that shrews are greedy, rather they're responding to a compulsive need to save for the future. In this respect they are much like their cousin the mouse, who takes planning for the future to extremes.
With the conviction that it knows what's best for everyone, shrews are always ready with free advice. They seem to delight in butting into other people's private affairs. Sometimes the shrew turns this hobby into a career as a gossip columnist, movie critic, or TV evangelist. But more often than not, it retains its amateur status and practices on its long-suffering friends.
Because shrews are constantly on the move, careers that require concentration and sober thinking are unsuitable. They perform best in chaotic jobs and thrive on the unpredictability of disorder, making them natural production assistants, circus performers, wedding organizers or emergency room technicians.
Their predilection for collecting and organizing things would also make them good librarians or or bookkeepers, while the desire to keep moving makes them suitable for any job requiring travel and creativity.
Shrews' sharp eyes have a knack for spotting the hole in the fence, and with their ability to make instant decisions they impetuously seize the moment and scuttle on through. Their smart mouths and high energy are put good use in the workplace, and they excel as salespeople and journalists. But sometimes their reputation precedes them and they encounter built-in resistance to their pitch even before they've opened their mouths.
Sharing does not come naturally to shrews, and they are typically the last to pay their portion at a group dinner. It's not that shrews are greedy, rather they're responding to a compulsive need to save for the future. In this respect they are much like their cousin the mouse, who takes planning for the future to extremes.
With the conviction that it knows what's best for everyone, shrews are always ready with free advice. They seem to delight in butting into other people's private affairs. Sometimes the shrew turns this hobby into a career as a gossip columnist, movie critic, or TV evangelist. But more often than not, it retains its amateur status and practices on its long-suffering friends.
Because shrews are constantly on the move, careers that require concentration and sober thinking are unsuitable. They perform best in chaotic jobs and thrive on the unpredictability of disorder, making them natural production assistants, circus performers, wedding organizers or emergency room technicians.
Their predilection for collecting and organizing things would also make them good librarians or or bookkeepers, while the desire to keep moving makes them suitable for any job requiring travel and creativity.
Shrews' sharp eyes have a knack for spotting the hole in the fence, and with their ability to make instant decisions they impetuously seize the moment and scuttle on through. Their smart mouths and high energy are put good use in the workplace, and they excel as salespeople and journalists. But sometimes their reputation precedes them and they encounter built-in resistance to their pitch even before they've opened their mouths.
You know you're obsessed with PJO when...
YOU KNOW YOU’RE OBSESSED WITH PJO WHEN…
-You repeatedly read page 203 in The Battle of the Labyrinth
-You are completely convinced your math teacher is a fury (IT'S TRUE!)
-You say, "OH MY GODS!" and "What the Hades?" on a regular basis
-You blame Poseidon for bad weather
-You go to the Empire State Building and you ask for the 600th Floor
-There’s a thunderstorm going on and you scream, “CALM DOWN, ZEUS!”
-Every time you use the Internet, you thank Hermes
-When you see Harry Potter, you think of Percy with glasses
-You burn food to see if it smells good
-You see an owl, you go, “Hi Athena!”
-You’re in a swimming race and you pray and sacrifice to Poseidon
-You think that your favorite singer is a child of Apollo
-Someone close to you dies and you give them money (LOTS of it) just in case…
-Everyone else is creating a Twilight family and you create a PJO family
-You go on a cruise and you hope the boat isn’t The Princess Andromeda…
-You’re on a boat and you pray that Poseidon is in a good mood
-You’re in the air (hang-gliding, cliff-diving, bungee jumping, flying in a plane, etc.) and hope Zeus won’t blast you out of the air
-You go to Aunty Em’s and say you’re camera shy.
-You find your true love and thank Aphrodite for sending him/her to you (aw!)
-You bring a blue plastic hairbrush with you everywhere
-When something bad happens, randomly blame Kronos
-You sometimes try to control water
-You don't read anything but PJO for 3 months (they're the best 3 months of your life)
-You've gone to Google maps and looked up Camp Half-Blood’s address
-You carry a ballpoint pen in your pocket.
-When you go to Office Max for pens, you ask for one that turns into a sword
-Every time you play dodge ball, you bring a suit of armor
-Whenever your internet slows down, you yell at the sky and say, "HERMES! WHY DO YOU LOVE ANNOYING ME?!"
-You swear, "OH STYX!" then look apologetically at the sky (better safe than sorry)
-Whenever you go to a PJO site in the US (such as the Hoover Dam or the Air and Space Museum) you yell "PERCY'S BEEN HERE!" to the tourists
-Demand your family to have a group hug every week (Hera's watching...)
-Blame Athena for bad grades
-Ask the flight attendant if Zeus is in a good mood before entering the plane
-Glare at donut store chains and blame it on the Hydra
-Carry “Hermes” vitamins whenever you go get a pedicure as a safety precaution
-You start a conversation with guinea pigs (they used to be men, after all)
-Whenever you see a spider, you curse Arachne
-You buy everything you see with an owl or trident on it
-You yell “Burrito Fight!” whenever you’re in a Mexican restaurant
-You checked to make sure your vice-principal doesn’t have a tail
-You go to the Hallmark store and say you need to get a father’s/mother’s day card for your godly parent
-You start hearing Percabeth in every song you hear
-You started calling your dog Mrs. O’Leary
-You know who your godly parent is
-You never looked at a ballpoint pen the same way again
-When people ask you to play capture the flag, you ask if magical items are allowed
-You refuse to lie down on a waterbed
-You ask suffers in Bermudas if they know Poseidon
-You go to CVS and ask for Hermes vitamins in gummies
-You know more about PJO than most sane people
-You’re nodding and smiling when you read this
-You have done at least 10 (Or more) of the above things
-You are so obessed with the couple Percy-Annabeth, that you are proud to call yourselves supporters of Percabethism! (Amen!)
-You could think of at least 20 more things to add to this list
-You're convinced that all anti-PJO fans have taken a dip in the river Lethe, which explains their brainwashed views on PJO
-You dream of Percy and other PJO characters every night
-You think this list could go on into infinity
And there you have it! I could think of a ton more, but I'm out of room! :) I did NOT make all of these up! Special thanks to InAthena'sCabin and LONG LIVE PJO!!!
(:(:(:greenplanet:):):)
-You repeatedly read page 203 in The Battle of the Labyrinth
-You are completely convinced your math teacher is a fury (IT'S TRUE!)
-You say, "OH MY GODS!" and "What the Hades?" on a regular basis
-You blame Poseidon for bad weather
-You go to the Empire State Building and you ask for the 600th Floor
-There’s a thunderstorm going on and you scream, “CALM DOWN, ZEUS!”
-Every time you use the Internet, you thank Hermes
-When you see Harry Potter, you think of Percy with glasses
-You burn food to see if it smells good
-You see an owl, you go, “Hi Athena!”
-You’re in a swimming race and you pray and sacrifice to Poseidon
-You think that your favorite singer is a child of Apollo
-Someone close to you dies and you give them money (LOTS of it) just in case…
-Everyone else is creating a Twilight family and you create a PJO family
-You go on a cruise and you hope the boat isn’t The Princess Andromeda…
-You’re on a boat and you pray that Poseidon is in a good mood
-You’re in the air (hang-gliding, cliff-diving, bungee jumping, flying in a plane, etc.) and hope Zeus won’t blast you out of the air
-You go to Aunty Em’s and say you’re camera shy.
-You find your true love and thank Aphrodite for sending him/her to you (aw!)
-You bring a blue plastic hairbrush with you everywhere
-When something bad happens, randomly blame Kronos
-You sometimes try to control water
-You don't read anything but PJO for 3 months (they're the best 3 months of your life)
-You've gone to Google maps and looked up Camp Half-Blood’s address
-You carry a ballpoint pen in your pocket.
-When you go to Office Max for pens, you ask for one that turns into a sword
-Every time you play dodge ball, you bring a suit of armor
-Whenever your internet slows down, you yell at the sky and say, "HERMES! WHY DO YOU LOVE ANNOYING ME?!"
-You swear, "OH STYX!" then look apologetically at the sky (better safe than sorry)
-Whenever you go to a PJO site in the US (such as the Hoover Dam or the Air and Space Museum) you yell "PERCY'S BEEN HERE!" to the tourists
-Demand your family to have a group hug every week (Hera's watching...)
-Blame Athena for bad grades
-Ask the flight attendant if Zeus is in a good mood before entering the plane
-Glare at donut store chains and blame it on the Hydra
-Carry “Hermes” vitamins whenever you go get a pedicure as a safety precaution
-You start a conversation with guinea pigs (they used to be men, after all)
-Whenever you see a spider, you curse Arachne
-You buy everything you see with an owl or trident on it
-You yell “Burrito Fight!” whenever you’re in a Mexican restaurant
-You checked to make sure your vice-principal doesn’t have a tail
-You go to the Hallmark store and say you need to get a father’s/mother’s day card for your godly parent
-You start hearing Percabeth in every song you hear
-You started calling your dog Mrs. O’Leary
-You know who your godly parent is
-You never looked at a ballpoint pen the same way again
-When people ask you to play capture the flag, you ask if magical items are allowed
-You refuse to lie down on a waterbed
-You ask suffers in Bermudas if they know Poseidon
-You go to CVS and ask for Hermes vitamins in gummies
-You know more about PJO than most sane people
-You’re nodding and smiling when you read this
-You have done at least 10 (Or more) of the above things
-You are so obessed with the couple Percy-Annabeth, that you are proud to call yourselves supporters of Percabethism! (Amen!)
-You could think of at least 20 more things to add to this list
-You're convinced that all anti-PJO fans have taken a dip in the river Lethe, which explains their brainwashed views on PJO
-You dream of Percy and other PJO characters every night
-You think this list could go on into infinity
And there you have it! I could think of a ton more, but I'm out of room! :) I did NOT make all of these up! Special thanks to InAthena'sCabin and LONG LIVE PJO!!!
(:(:(:greenplanet:):):)
What am I? A nerd, dork, or geek?
Well, I did the test, being the retard that I am, and these were my results:
Your result for The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test ...
Tri-Lamb Material
65 % Nerd, 48% Geek, 74% Dork
For The Record:
A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in Nerd and Dork, earning you the coveted title of: Tri-Lamb Material.
The classic, "80's" nerd, you are what most people think of when they think "nerd," largely due to 80's movies like Revenge of the Nerds and TV shows like Head of the Class. You're exceptionally bright and smart, and partly because of that have never quite fit in with your peers or social groups. Perhaps you've realized, or will someday, that it is possible to retain all of the things that you like about being brilliant and still make peace with the social cliques around you. Or maybe you won't--it's really not necessary. As the brothers of Lambda Lambda Lambda discovered, you're fine just the way you are and can take pride in that. I mean, who wants to be like Ogre, right!?
Congratulations!
Your result for The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test ...
Tri-Lamb Material
65 % Nerd, 48% Geek, 74% Dork
For The Record:
A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in Nerd and Dork, earning you the coveted title of: Tri-Lamb Material.
The classic, "80's" nerd, you are what most people think of when they think "nerd," largely due to 80's movies like Revenge of the Nerds and TV shows like Head of the Class. You're exceptionally bright and smart, and partly because of that have never quite fit in with your peers or social groups. Perhaps you've realized, or will someday, that it is possible to retain all of the things that you like about being brilliant and still make peace with the social cliques around you. Or maybe you won't--it's really not necessary. As the brothers of Lambda Lambda Lambda discovered, you're fine just the way you are and can take pride in that. I mean, who wants to be like Ogre, right!?
Congratulations!
Football Defintion
WTF is football? Here's a definition from UrbanDictionary.
A name given to two different sports in which America and the rest of the world use to waste their lives away constantly arguing over which is better. Honestly, I'm an American. And I love the game of American football. But notice how I haven't said that I hate football (aka soccer). In fact, I love that sport, too. I just totally suck at it. Haha. C'mon, be real ya'll. Both games are cool. Even rugby too. It's cool. I have no idea how to play it, but I enjoy trying. It's all preference. For all ya'll that say football is whack cause we wear padding, go ahead and say whatever the fuck you want to say. That padding protects us so we can stay a little safer to enjoy the game a little longer. I don't care if I don't use it, I've tackled mofos twice my size without any padding on. The point I'm trying to make; All three games are great. They all require stratedgy, strength, speed, and endurance. So just shut the fuck up, grab the ball that suits you, and play your damn game already. You got that? Kay, just helping out. I'm just a 15yr old from a small town. Yeah, yeah... What do I know? Honestly? I know it's fucking pointless for ya'll to fight over sports. So just save your shit for someone who's still too much of a punk to simply enjoy a game of American football, football, or rugby. Peace people! Damn. Haha.
(just writing to fill in this shit :P)
(damn, now i gotta write "football" too. there, ya happy you fuckers?)
That was the funniest post I have ever read in Urban Dictionary.
YET ANOTHER POST! :D
A variety of games that which Europeans and Americans tend to argue over pointlessly till the end of time as to which version is "right" never minding the fact that due to Cultural Mutation different words can mean different things in other places
Typically Americans profess love for the version that involves padding and an ovoid ball in which the point of the game is to move the ball ten yards down the field at a time through either rushing or passing before passing into the plain of the "End Zone" placed at either ends of a 100 Yard Field to score points
Europeans tend to extol the virtues of a much simpler sport that only requires a pair of goals placed at either end of a field and is played with a checkered Spherical Ball
American: Hey, lets go play Soccer!
European: HEY FUCK YOU! ITS CALLED FOOTBALL YOU IGNORANT YANK!
Rest of World: Oh for fuck's sake stop arguing and just play dammit!
This is what I think:
WHY THE F*CK IS AMERICAN FOOTBALL CALLED FOOTBALL, HUH? YOU DON’T EVEN KICK THE GODAM BALL THE F*CKING MUCH! PLUS, THE ‘BALL’ ISN’T EVEN A BALL! IT’S A GODAMN EGG WITH GODAMN LACES! WTF ARE LACES DOING ON IT?
*pants* Woah, I think my ‘lecture’ really made me tired. It was worth it. Now the world knows what I think! :D
A name given to two different sports in which America and the rest of the world use to waste their lives away constantly arguing over which is better. Honestly, I'm an American. And I love the game of American football. But notice how I haven't said that I hate football (aka soccer). In fact, I love that sport, too. I just totally suck at it. Haha. C'mon, be real ya'll. Both games are cool. Even rugby too. It's cool. I have no idea how to play it, but I enjoy trying. It's all preference. For all ya'll that say football is whack cause we wear padding, go ahead and say whatever the fuck you want to say. That padding protects us so we can stay a little safer to enjoy the game a little longer. I don't care if I don't use it, I've tackled mofos twice my size without any padding on. The point I'm trying to make; All three games are great. They all require stratedgy, strength, speed, and endurance. So just shut the fuck up, grab the ball that suits you, and play your damn game already. You got that? Kay, just helping out. I'm just a 15yr old from a small town. Yeah, yeah... What do I know? Honestly? I know it's fucking pointless for ya'll to fight over sports. So just save your shit for someone who's still too much of a punk to simply enjoy a game of American football, football, or rugby. Peace people! Damn. Haha.
(just writing to fill in this shit :P)
(damn, now i gotta write "football" too. there, ya happy you fuckers?)
That was the funniest post I have ever read in Urban Dictionary.
YET ANOTHER POST! :D
A variety of games that which Europeans and Americans tend to argue over pointlessly till the end of time as to which version is "right" never minding the fact that due to Cultural Mutation different words can mean different things in other places
Typically Americans profess love for the version that involves padding and an ovoid ball in which the point of the game is to move the ball ten yards down the field at a time through either rushing or passing before passing into the plain of the "End Zone" placed at either ends of a 100 Yard Field to score points
Europeans tend to extol the virtues of a much simpler sport that only requires a pair of goals placed at either end of a field and is played with a checkered Spherical Ball
American: Hey, lets go play Soccer!
European: HEY FUCK YOU! ITS CALLED FOOTBALL YOU IGNORANT YANK!
Rest of World: Oh for fuck's sake stop arguing and just play dammit!
This is what I think:
WHY THE F*CK IS AMERICAN FOOTBALL CALLED FOOTBALL, HUH? YOU DON’T EVEN KICK THE GODAM BALL THE F*CKING MUCH! PLUS, THE ‘BALL’ ISN’T EVEN A BALL! IT’S A GODAMN EGG WITH GODAMN LACES! WTF ARE LACES DOING ON IT?
*pants* Woah, I think my ‘lecture’ really made me tired. It was worth it. Now the world knows what I think! :D
Writing: Raining Forever
Introduction
A family of five was walking on a hard dirt path. The father was tall and well built. He was strolling beside his wife, a pretty perky woman. Her hair was straight and fiery red, and was tied up in a tight ponytail. Her sky blue eyes seemed to bore into her surroundings: a forest that encircled the path, the sky colored the salmon-pink of earthy dawn.
“George, Victor, Amalia, hurry up!” She called from the front. The result was immediate; two twins with identical features ran up to walk beside their mother.
However, the youngest, a little girl was bent down, examining a slowly crawling earthworm. She giggled as she brushed away a strand of golden hair of her face. When her mother saw what Amalia had picked up she blanched. “Amalia,” she scolded. “Put that filthy thing down, and come here.” Amalia sighed as she carefully set the worm down in the grass. After making sure that it was fine, she trotted happily to her father, “Daddy,” she whispered, tugging on his arm. “Are we really going to the Quidditch World cup?”
Her father looked at Amalia with a warm smile. “Yes, and we’ve got pretty good seats, too.” Amalia beamed a gap-toothed smile.
“Amalia,” came her mothers’ voice. “Go play with your brothers.” Amalia nodded and fell back.
“Harold, why in the world did we bring her along?”
“Fresh air. Healer McRealler told us she needed it. We’ve been through this before, Rose.” He looked gravely to his wife.
“And I’ve told you that she gets plenty of fresh air when she degnoms the garden!” Rose exclaimed.
Harold sighed. “But does she even enjoy it?”
“It doesn’t matter!” Rose snapped loudly.
Amalia froze. She knew that her parents were talking about her. “Ah!” Harold said, picking up a worn Styrofoam coffee cup, “Here it is!” Everyone gathered around the coffee cup and touched it. Suddenly, the world began to spinning. Amalia felt her feet leave the ground. After a few dizzying moments, Amalia wearily opened her eyes. Everyone was lying on the ground. In the distance, music was playing. She sat up straight and stood, walking towards the music, her family behind her.
They had arrived!
The Vision
There was simply too much to hear, see and smell, Amalia decided, turning around to see everything.
Harold made a campfire and set up a brown, camping tent. “Everyone, get in.” he instructed.
Eagerly, Amalia ran in the tent and gasped, while her brothers ran in and whistled. “Sweet!”
It was huge. From the outside, it was a normal-sized tent, about three people could fit in quite comfortably, but in the inside… it was the size of an apartment! Amalia walked over to a small bed and placed a small messenger bag on it. She sat on the bed, a look of satisfaction on her young face.
She sat there for a moment or two, before her father got up with a wild smile on his face. “It’s time.”
Amalia could hardly believe it. It was basically a dream come true. She outstretched her tiny hands for her father and her brother, Victor to hold. He gripped his little sisters’ hand tightly as they made their way to the pitch. To Amalia’s surprise, her family were still together as they sat down on the crimson red velvet seats.
Then, the world stopped. Time slowed down.
Amalia opened her eyes and she felt like she was being pushed vigorously. She glanced around, but no one was touching her. She flitted her eyes back to the pitch, where a game was going on. In a flash, Amalia saw the whole game in front of her. “240, China wins to Scotland, 60!”
She blinked and everything was back to normal. Amalia scanned the pitch, but it was empty. Weird, Amalia thought to herself. Did I just see an entire Quidditch match go by my own two eyes? But the answer zoomed to the back of her head. I think I just saw the future. The thought secretly terrified her, but then she had another idea: Why not take advantage?
“Daddy?” Amalia asked, fighting for her fathers’ attention. “I’ll make a bet with you,” Her father searched eagerly around, as if to see if anyone was watching. He keened in closer. “Yes?” He replied, his voice close to a whisper.
“Give me a galleon plus my allowance if China wins, 240 to Scotland, who has 60.” Her father nodded in agreement, and they shook hands on it,
Suddenly, the crowd went silent. The match had begun.
“Hello, everyone!” A voice announced. “Welcome to the Quidditch World Cup! I’m Elizabeth Jane Huntingford, your host for today. First up, we’ll have the nimble China!”
Seven small and skinny wizards with brooms in their hands walked up the pitch, nicely co-ordinate. Amalia thought that they looked like solders, marching into battle.
“Liu! Mai! Ying! Beh! Po! Kat! Aaand McIlwraith!” The crowd clapped loudly as the seven got in to order. “Scotties, forward! Morrison! Paterson! Mitchell! Young! Ross! Clark! Aaaand Taylor!” To Amalia’s amusement, the Scots were nearly exactly the opposite of the Chinese. They were large and well built-- nearly twice the size of the Chinese Quidditch players. Amalia watched every single detail as the two captains, Liu and Morrison shook hands. They both looked at each other as if passing a secret message.
You’re going down, Asians!
Going down, ha! We maybe be small, but we’re gonna whip you guys so bad, you’ll fly all the way back to your wittle mummies!
The referee blew the whistle and they were off, soaring threw the sky. The Scotish Beaters looked like they could tackle the whole Chinese team. However, China was fast and soon scored.
“Liu has it! She’s making her way towards the Scottish side! She throws! And she scores! 10 nothing to China! ”
Amalia had to admire Liu’s skill and fast thinking. Liu was her hero, and she wanted to be a chaser, just like her, not the stinking keeper that her brothers made her play. The game continued, Amalia watching intensely, learning new moves and new strategies. The game went by fast, or so Amalia thought so. Wasn’t there a saying, “Time flies when you’re having fun,”?
She saw a glint of gold sweep by one of the Scotland beater’s ear, and McllWraith went zooming passed him. The beater only later realized what was happening, and it was already too late. The match was over, and China had won.
Amalia got up and cheered with the rest of the crowd, grinning broadly as Elizabeth Jane Huntingford’s voice ran through the podium. “240, China wins to Scotland, 60!”
Amalia looked at her father proudly, her hand outstretched. “I’ll give it to you at the end of this week, when I give you your weekly allowance, alright?” Amalia couldn’t say anything; she was too busy smiling to herself.
This was a dream come true for Amalia, a lonely girl, age seven, who's only dream is to play Quidditch.
It was all a dream
Amalia woke up with a start, sweating and gasping for breath. Her eyes flitted from her ceiling to her best friend, Savita who slept on, undaunted.
She leaned on her bed and took her crystal ball that one of her friends, Kyle had given to her as a Christmas present. She gazed into the orb, but the only thing that she could see was Hogsmeade under snow. Amalia sighed and put the crystal ball away. Not long ago, she had spoken with Kyle and Scott, and they had decided together that she was a Seer; she had even seen a prophecy in which Scott and she were to take part off.
How could the best time of her life become a nightmare? But Amalia wasn’t quite sure about it. It seemed more like it was warning her. Something important, she was sure of it but what?
Amalia pulled herself back underneath her warm, comforting silk covers. She turned around to face her neat desk; a stack of parchment nearly in a corner; her eagle quills in a metal cup. She closed her eyes, an effort to sleep. She sighed and opened her eyes after a few moments.
This was not working.
Amalia got out of bed and walked to her bookshelf, taking out “Quidditch Through the ages”. Amalia began reading, but her heart simply wasn’t in it. She put the book away in disgust. When Quidditch couldn’t take her mind off things, it was very, very sad.
Amalia put her night dress on, and went downstairs to the common room, with a glass of hot chocolate and whipped cream. She sat on the armchair next to the blazing, hot fire that was still going, despite that it was three ‘o’clock in the morning. Amalia sipped the warm drink and hugged her knees. She loved this drink, her father would always fix it up for her when either she or the weather were feeling down.
Amalia sat there for a long time, lost in thought, Even after the chocolate and cream was long gone, she sat there, untouched, her thought now in her future.
Tears
Weeks later, a beautiful Sunday afternoon, Kyle, Amalia, and Savita went to Hogsmeade.
They were strolling down the snowy streets, bundled up in scarves, cloaks, hats and mittens. The village cottage-like houses were dumped with snow, looking more like a Christmas card. The snow itself was falling lightly down on to the villagers below. Amalia giggled as one fell on her nose.
She was happy. Her nightmares were long forgotten. Oh, so happy! She didn’t have a care in the world.
But that was going to change, in a matter of seconds.
"Amalia! Amalia!"
Amalia turned around, frowning. In front of her, she saw a woman with brown hair and eyes. She had a tall figure, and was holding several bags.
Amalia looked at the woman in confusion. "Um, do I know you?" As if on cue, her friends tilted their heads and looked at the woman. Do we attack?
The woman laughed richly. "Of course you don't. The last time you saw me was when you were two years old!"
Amalia blinked. "What?"
The woman smiled kindly. "Why don't we go to the Three Broomsticks? There's much to discuss."
Amalia stared at the woman as if she was insane. "Are you out of your mind? I'm not entering a cafe with a stranger!"
The woman shook her head. "I am Amalia too. Your mother's best friend."
Amalia looked at her in confusion. "Rose?"
Amalia Jr. shook her head once more. "Helena. You're adopted, Amalia. Rose is your foster mother. After Helena and Benjamin were forced to put you away in an orphanage, Helena and Benjamin both told me that I was to watch over the child. And I did."
Amalia peered at the woman. "Why don't I remember you?"
"Because a memory charm was casted on you when you were young."
“Holy shit,” said Savita. Without her comment, you could have heard a pin drop. This made Amalia feel much more comfortable. It reassured her that her friends were still there, and they were going to stay there no matter what. Amalia looked at her feet, in the awkward silence. Should I go, or not?
She debated in silence, and it was a great surprise when made up her mind. "Alright," Amalia said, bitterly. "Let’s go."
They foursome made their way to the Tree Broomsticks, a nearby pub. It was filled with Hogwarts students, either standing or chatting happily, or sitting at the tables, their heads put together. Amalia Jr. led them to a table in the corner.
Amalia sat down at a table, facing Amalia Jr. "Alright then," she said as she ordered four butter beers. "Start from the top."
"Your parents were very young when they had you. It was only a year since they had graduated from Hogwarts. They were happy together and you, but it wasn't enough to keep the family together. They became so poor that they didn't want you to live such a life. They gave you away, promising that they would work hard to earn you back again, so you will live with your parents again.
As we were saying good-bye to you at the orphanage, your mother pulled me close and told me to watch you. I agreed to do so. Your father then pulled out his wand and cast the spell that changed your life forever.
I've watched you ever since then."
There was a sickening silence, and Amalia buried her head in her arms. Tears were streaming down her face, which made her friends uncomfortable. They didn’t exactly know what to do if she cried, because, well, she never did.
It was too much to take for her. She felt her friends comfort her, saying that everything was going to be okay. If
a) Realizing that the family that you’ve lived with for your whole life wasn’t your real family is okay
b) Being told by a total stranger that you were being watched is okay
c) Your parents were much too poor to raise you is okay
d) Now those exact same parents want you back is okay
e) All of the above okay√
Then sure! Everything was going to be just fine.
Her mother's best friend got up and put a slip of paper on the table and left, her cloack swaying behing her. It had two addresses on it.
Benjamin and Helena Gredlune,
48 June st.
London, EN
Amalia Nurp
307 Bendazaa Rd.
London, EN.
Amalia didn't look up in till most of the pub had disappeared. The snow had stopped falling, and the sky was dark.
Amalia had never felt more alone in her life before, yet her two best friends were at her side, comforting her.
The End.
A family of five was walking on a hard dirt path. The father was tall and well built. He was strolling beside his wife, a pretty perky woman. Her hair was straight and fiery red, and was tied up in a tight ponytail. Her sky blue eyes seemed to bore into her surroundings: a forest that encircled the path, the sky colored the salmon-pink of earthy dawn.
“George, Victor, Amalia, hurry up!” She called from the front. The result was immediate; two twins with identical features ran up to walk beside their mother.
However, the youngest, a little girl was bent down, examining a slowly crawling earthworm. She giggled as she brushed away a strand of golden hair of her face. When her mother saw what Amalia had picked up she blanched. “Amalia,” she scolded. “Put that filthy thing down, and come here.” Amalia sighed as she carefully set the worm down in the grass. After making sure that it was fine, she trotted happily to her father, “Daddy,” she whispered, tugging on his arm. “Are we really going to the Quidditch World cup?”
Her father looked at Amalia with a warm smile. “Yes, and we’ve got pretty good seats, too.” Amalia beamed a gap-toothed smile.
“Amalia,” came her mothers’ voice. “Go play with your brothers.” Amalia nodded and fell back.
“Harold, why in the world did we bring her along?”
“Fresh air. Healer McRealler told us she needed it. We’ve been through this before, Rose.” He looked gravely to his wife.
“And I’ve told you that she gets plenty of fresh air when she degnoms the garden!” Rose exclaimed.
Harold sighed. “But does she even enjoy it?”
“It doesn’t matter!” Rose snapped loudly.
Amalia froze. She knew that her parents were talking about her. “Ah!” Harold said, picking up a worn Styrofoam coffee cup, “Here it is!” Everyone gathered around the coffee cup and touched it. Suddenly, the world began to spinning. Amalia felt her feet leave the ground. After a few dizzying moments, Amalia wearily opened her eyes. Everyone was lying on the ground. In the distance, music was playing. She sat up straight and stood, walking towards the music, her family behind her.
They had arrived!
The Vision
There was simply too much to hear, see and smell, Amalia decided, turning around to see everything.
Harold made a campfire and set up a brown, camping tent. “Everyone, get in.” he instructed.
Eagerly, Amalia ran in the tent and gasped, while her brothers ran in and whistled. “Sweet!”
It was huge. From the outside, it was a normal-sized tent, about three people could fit in quite comfortably, but in the inside… it was the size of an apartment! Amalia walked over to a small bed and placed a small messenger bag on it. She sat on the bed, a look of satisfaction on her young face.
She sat there for a moment or two, before her father got up with a wild smile on his face. “It’s time.”
Amalia could hardly believe it. It was basically a dream come true. She outstretched her tiny hands for her father and her brother, Victor to hold. He gripped his little sisters’ hand tightly as they made their way to the pitch. To Amalia’s surprise, her family were still together as they sat down on the crimson red velvet seats.
Then, the world stopped. Time slowed down.
Amalia opened her eyes and she felt like she was being pushed vigorously. She glanced around, but no one was touching her. She flitted her eyes back to the pitch, where a game was going on. In a flash, Amalia saw the whole game in front of her. “240, China wins to Scotland, 60!”
She blinked and everything was back to normal. Amalia scanned the pitch, but it was empty. Weird, Amalia thought to herself. Did I just see an entire Quidditch match go by my own two eyes? But the answer zoomed to the back of her head. I think I just saw the future. The thought secretly terrified her, but then she had another idea: Why not take advantage?
“Daddy?” Amalia asked, fighting for her fathers’ attention. “I’ll make a bet with you,” Her father searched eagerly around, as if to see if anyone was watching. He keened in closer. “Yes?” He replied, his voice close to a whisper.
“Give me a galleon plus my allowance if China wins, 240 to Scotland, who has 60.” Her father nodded in agreement, and they shook hands on it,
Suddenly, the crowd went silent. The match had begun.
“Hello, everyone!” A voice announced. “Welcome to the Quidditch World Cup! I’m Elizabeth Jane Huntingford, your host for today. First up, we’ll have the nimble China!”
Seven small and skinny wizards with brooms in their hands walked up the pitch, nicely co-ordinate. Amalia thought that they looked like solders, marching into battle.
“Liu! Mai! Ying! Beh! Po! Kat! Aaand McIlwraith!” The crowd clapped loudly as the seven got in to order. “Scotties, forward! Morrison! Paterson! Mitchell! Young! Ross! Clark! Aaaand Taylor!” To Amalia’s amusement, the Scots were nearly exactly the opposite of the Chinese. They were large and well built-- nearly twice the size of the Chinese Quidditch players. Amalia watched every single detail as the two captains, Liu and Morrison shook hands. They both looked at each other as if passing a secret message.
You’re going down, Asians!
Going down, ha! We maybe be small, but we’re gonna whip you guys so bad, you’ll fly all the way back to your wittle mummies!
The referee blew the whistle and they were off, soaring threw the sky. The Scotish Beaters looked like they could tackle the whole Chinese team. However, China was fast and soon scored.
“Liu has it! She’s making her way towards the Scottish side! She throws! And she scores! 10 nothing to China! ”
Amalia had to admire Liu’s skill and fast thinking. Liu was her hero, and she wanted to be a chaser, just like her, not the stinking keeper that her brothers made her play. The game continued, Amalia watching intensely, learning new moves and new strategies. The game went by fast, or so Amalia thought so. Wasn’t there a saying, “Time flies when you’re having fun,”?
She saw a glint of gold sweep by one of the Scotland beater’s ear, and McllWraith went zooming passed him. The beater only later realized what was happening, and it was already too late. The match was over, and China had won.
Amalia got up and cheered with the rest of the crowd, grinning broadly as Elizabeth Jane Huntingford’s voice ran through the podium. “240, China wins to Scotland, 60!”
Amalia looked at her father proudly, her hand outstretched. “I’ll give it to you at the end of this week, when I give you your weekly allowance, alright?” Amalia couldn’t say anything; she was too busy smiling to herself.
This was a dream come true for Amalia, a lonely girl, age seven, who's only dream is to play Quidditch.
It was all a dream
Amalia woke up with a start, sweating and gasping for breath. Her eyes flitted from her ceiling to her best friend, Savita who slept on, undaunted.
She leaned on her bed and took her crystal ball that one of her friends, Kyle had given to her as a Christmas present. She gazed into the orb, but the only thing that she could see was Hogsmeade under snow. Amalia sighed and put the crystal ball away. Not long ago, she had spoken with Kyle and Scott, and they had decided together that she was a Seer; she had even seen a prophecy in which Scott and she were to take part off.
How could the best time of her life become a nightmare? But Amalia wasn’t quite sure about it. It seemed more like it was warning her. Something important, she was sure of it but what?
Amalia pulled herself back underneath her warm, comforting silk covers. She turned around to face her neat desk; a stack of parchment nearly in a corner; her eagle quills in a metal cup. She closed her eyes, an effort to sleep. She sighed and opened her eyes after a few moments.
This was not working.
Amalia got out of bed and walked to her bookshelf, taking out “Quidditch Through the ages”. Amalia began reading, but her heart simply wasn’t in it. She put the book away in disgust. When Quidditch couldn’t take her mind off things, it was very, very sad.
Amalia put her night dress on, and went downstairs to the common room, with a glass of hot chocolate and whipped cream. She sat on the armchair next to the blazing, hot fire that was still going, despite that it was three ‘o’clock in the morning. Amalia sipped the warm drink and hugged her knees. She loved this drink, her father would always fix it up for her when either she or the weather were feeling down.
Amalia sat there for a long time, lost in thought, Even after the chocolate and cream was long gone, she sat there, untouched, her thought now in her future.
Tears
Weeks later, a beautiful Sunday afternoon, Kyle, Amalia, and Savita went to Hogsmeade.
They were strolling down the snowy streets, bundled up in scarves, cloaks, hats and mittens. The village cottage-like houses were dumped with snow, looking more like a Christmas card. The snow itself was falling lightly down on to the villagers below. Amalia giggled as one fell on her nose.
She was happy. Her nightmares were long forgotten. Oh, so happy! She didn’t have a care in the world.
But that was going to change, in a matter of seconds.
"Amalia! Amalia!"
Amalia turned around, frowning. In front of her, she saw a woman with brown hair and eyes. She had a tall figure, and was holding several bags.
Amalia looked at the woman in confusion. "Um, do I know you?" As if on cue, her friends tilted their heads and looked at the woman. Do we attack?
The woman laughed richly. "Of course you don't. The last time you saw me was when you were two years old!"
Amalia blinked. "What?"
The woman smiled kindly. "Why don't we go to the Three Broomsticks? There's much to discuss."
Amalia stared at the woman as if she was insane. "Are you out of your mind? I'm not entering a cafe with a stranger!"
The woman shook her head. "I am Amalia too. Your mother's best friend."
Amalia looked at her in confusion. "Rose?"
Amalia Jr. shook her head once more. "Helena. You're adopted, Amalia. Rose is your foster mother. After Helena and Benjamin were forced to put you away in an orphanage, Helena and Benjamin both told me that I was to watch over the child. And I did."
Amalia peered at the woman. "Why don't I remember you?"
"Because a memory charm was casted on you when you were young."
“Holy shit,” said Savita. Without her comment, you could have heard a pin drop. This made Amalia feel much more comfortable. It reassured her that her friends were still there, and they were going to stay there no matter what. Amalia looked at her feet, in the awkward silence. Should I go, or not?
She debated in silence, and it was a great surprise when made up her mind. "Alright," Amalia said, bitterly. "Let’s go."
They foursome made their way to the Tree Broomsticks, a nearby pub. It was filled with Hogwarts students, either standing or chatting happily, or sitting at the tables, their heads put together. Amalia Jr. led them to a table in the corner.
Amalia sat down at a table, facing Amalia Jr. "Alright then," she said as she ordered four butter beers. "Start from the top."
"Your parents were very young when they had you. It was only a year since they had graduated from Hogwarts. They were happy together and you, but it wasn't enough to keep the family together. They became so poor that they didn't want you to live such a life. They gave you away, promising that they would work hard to earn you back again, so you will live with your parents again.
As we were saying good-bye to you at the orphanage, your mother pulled me close and told me to watch you. I agreed to do so. Your father then pulled out his wand and cast the spell that changed your life forever.
I've watched you ever since then."
There was a sickening silence, and Amalia buried her head in her arms. Tears were streaming down her face, which made her friends uncomfortable. They didn’t exactly know what to do if she cried, because, well, she never did.
It was too much to take for her. She felt her friends comfort her, saying that everything was going to be okay. If
a) Realizing that the family that you’ve lived with for your whole life wasn’t your real family is okay
b) Being told by a total stranger that you were being watched is okay
c) Your parents were much too poor to raise you is okay
d) Now those exact same parents want you back is okay
e) All of the above okay√
Then sure! Everything was going to be just fine.
Her mother's best friend got up and put a slip of paper on the table and left, her cloack swaying behing her. It had two addresses on it.
Benjamin and Helena Gredlune,
48 June st.
London, EN
Amalia Nurp
307 Bendazaa Rd.
London, EN.
Amalia didn't look up in till most of the pub had disappeared. The snow had stopped falling, and the sky was dark.
Amalia had never felt more alone in her life before, yet her two best friends were at her side, comforting her.
The End.
Writing: Demigod Stories #2: Felix Faust
Felix Faust
Chapter One
Light shined though a glass window. Birds sung happily in a merry tune.
In a huge room, a light-blue four-poster bed was against a rich cream coloured- wall. In it, a bump stirred and moved. The door suddenly opened and two maids dressed in a black dress with a white frilly apron barged in. One was tall and skinny, with blue eyes and blonde hair in a tight bun. The other wasn’t as tall, but was just as pretty, with shiny cropped red hair and kind green eyes. There names were Miss. Ancilla and Miss. Morwen respectably.
Miss. Morewn was holding a silver tray with grourmet breakfast foods. She walked over to the the bed and carefully set it on the bedside table as Miss. Ancilla nudged the lump.
“Mr. Fasut,” she crooned, carefully shaking it. “Wake up, sir.” Miss. Ancilla said as she pulled the covers away. A young boy was laying there, his brown hair over his eyes. He rubbed his eyes and sat up straight, smiling. “Good morningm Miss. Morwen, Miss. Ancilla.” The maids sunk into a deep respective courtesy. Miss Morwen straightned up and put the breakfast tray in front of him.
“Eat up,” she said with a kind smile, “You have a big day ahead of you.” Felix faust groaned as he drank his apple juice. “Don’t reminde me!” Starting highschool certantly was important.
“Alright, dear,” was the answer.
***
Felix was sitting nervously in his father’s limosine, with bodyguards on either side. His crossbow was slung on his shoulder. You see, Felix was a demigod. His father, Adrian Faust won the lottery—twice in a row, causing the goddess of luck and chance, Tyche to fall in love with him. Then, love took its course. The goddess helped the young man to make his way slowly from a lottery winner, to a millionaire, and now finally, to a billionaire. Before leaving, Tyche bore him a child—Felix. During the summer, he would go to Camp Half-Blood, a camp for training demigods like him. They train for monsters, killing them when they appear. Monsters can die, but they don’t have spirits, like mortals. Filex found the crossbow lying in the weapon box, down at the bottom. He found it by luck, actually. He and a friend were throwing a coin to see who would get which weapon; a silver, beautiful sword that comes with a scabbard; or a dusty crossbow. His luck power failed, and he ended up choosing the crossbow. Felix insists that it was fate that led him to his crossbow.
Felix cautiously opened the door of the limousine and opened the door to the higschool. The other kids were staring at him with shock and envy. I get that from everyone, just because I’m rich., he thought bitterly.
He was led to his new locker and he put his books away and made his way to his registration class. There was standing a beautiful young lady, with golden hair and intelligent blue ideas. She was fit, yet model like, but when she saw Felix, she gave him a creepy smile.
“Hi,” he said, responding the smile uneasily.
“Welcome to room 312, Felix Faust.”
Chapter One
Light shined though a glass window. Birds sung happily in a merry tune.
In a huge room, a light-blue four-poster bed was against a rich cream coloured- wall. In it, a bump stirred and moved. The door suddenly opened and two maids dressed in a black dress with a white frilly apron barged in. One was tall and skinny, with blue eyes and blonde hair in a tight bun. The other wasn’t as tall, but was just as pretty, with shiny cropped red hair and kind green eyes. There names were Miss. Ancilla and Miss. Morwen respectably.
Miss. Morewn was holding a silver tray with grourmet breakfast foods. She walked over to the the bed and carefully set it on the bedside table as Miss. Ancilla nudged the lump.
“Mr. Fasut,” she crooned, carefully shaking it. “Wake up, sir.” Miss. Ancilla said as she pulled the covers away. A young boy was laying there, his brown hair over his eyes. He rubbed his eyes and sat up straight, smiling. “Good morningm Miss. Morwen, Miss. Ancilla.” The maids sunk into a deep respective courtesy. Miss Morwen straightned up and put the breakfast tray in front of him.
“Eat up,” she said with a kind smile, “You have a big day ahead of you.” Felix faust groaned as he drank his apple juice. “Don’t reminde me!” Starting highschool certantly was important.
“Alright, dear,” was the answer.
***
Felix was sitting nervously in his father’s limosine, with bodyguards on either side. His crossbow was slung on his shoulder. You see, Felix was a demigod. His father, Adrian Faust won the lottery—twice in a row, causing the goddess of luck and chance, Tyche to fall in love with him. Then, love took its course. The goddess helped the young man to make his way slowly from a lottery winner, to a millionaire, and now finally, to a billionaire. Before leaving, Tyche bore him a child—Felix. During the summer, he would go to Camp Half-Blood, a camp for training demigods like him. They train for monsters, killing them when they appear. Monsters can die, but they don’t have spirits, like mortals. Filex found the crossbow lying in the weapon box, down at the bottom. He found it by luck, actually. He and a friend were throwing a coin to see who would get which weapon; a silver, beautiful sword that comes with a scabbard; or a dusty crossbow. His luck power failed, and he ended up choosing the crossbow. Felix insists that it was fate that led him to his crossbow.
Felix cautiously opened the door of the limousine and opened the door to the higschool. The other kids were staring at him with shock and envy. I get that from everyone, just because I’m rich., he thought bitterly.
He was led to his new locker and he put his books away and made his way to his registration class. There was standing a beautiful young lady, with golden hair and intelligent blue ideas. She was fit, yet model like, but when she saw Felix, she gave him a creepy smile.
“Hi,” he said, responding the smile uneasily.
“Welcome to room 312, Felix Faust.”
Chapter Two
Felix nervously sat down at a desk in the middle row. He managed to mumble back a greeting as he took hoa crossbow (now in a shape of a sharp mechanical pencil). The teacher’s smile nearly vanished, but she pointed to the board.
“I’m Miss Sirenium,” Miss Sirenium smiled pleasantly at her new students. “I’m looking forward to k-uh, I mean, teaching you all,” She stammered, her gaze lingering over Felix’s classmates and himself.
“I do not tolerate any rule-breaking, and if you do so, you will be punished. On that happy note, why don’t we do the attendance now?” She smiled sweetly at Felix, who suddenly couldn’t take his eyes of her golden hair, her beautiful blue eyes, her cheekbones…
The list went down to the ‘f’s. “Faust, Felix?” She looked at him pointedly. Felix politely raised his hand and said, “Here.”
After attendance, it was time to get to know each other.
“Hi, I’m Lisa Ketorpi,” said a brunett. “My parents are business people.”
Another said, “My father is a lawyer, and my mother is a doctor.”
When it was Felix’s turn, he mumbled a bit before answering. “My father is a multi-bilionaire,” he said simply as there was sound of interest go through the class. “What about your mother?” Someone prompted.
Felix was dumbfound. What should he say? “She, she died.” He managed to say. Miss Sirenium licked her lips, and it was the turn of another.
After the whole class of twenty-five was introduced, they went on a tour of the school. Felix’s jaw dropped as he discovered the three gyms, two auditorians, five computer rooms, two cafterterias and an Olympic-sized pool.
When the tour was over, they went back to their lockers for lunch. Felix tookout his lunch box and made his way to the lunchroom which was for the juniors.
Felix sat down with the rest of his class, alone. He began eating his gourmet sandwhich which included the finest white bread, pork, fresh tomatoes, lettuce aand expensive cheese from France. The boy that had asked him about his mother came towards him. “Hi,” he said shily to Felix. “Can I sit here?”
Felix nodded and moved to make room. “Sure. I’m Felix.” Felix said. The boy nodded. “I know. I’m Jesus Gonselo.” Jesus smiled pleasantly. He had ddirty blonde hair with bright, intelligent-looking blue eyes.
“How did your mother die?” Jesus softly wondered out loud.
“Oh, um, child-birth.” Felix thought quickly.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He said, looking at Felix through his big eyes. “What was her name?”
“Ty- um, sorry, Tamara. Tamara Faust. What about your family?” Felix replied, changing the subject.
It turned out that Mr. Gonzelo was the school board’s president, and Mrs. Gonselo was a French chef.
Hence, Jesus Gonzelo and Felix Faust became best friends.
Chapter Three
Felix nervously sat down at a desk in the middle row. He managed to mumble back a greeting as he took hoa crossbow (now in a shape of a sharp mechanical pencil). The teacher’s smile nearly vanished, but she pointed to the board.
“I’m Miss Sirenium,” Miss Sirenium smiled pleasantly at her new students. “I’m looking forward to k-uh, I mean, teaching you all,” She stammered, her gaze lingering over Felix’s classmates and himself.
“I do not tolerate any rule-breaking, and if you do so, you will be punished. On that happy note, why don’t we do the attendance now?” She smiled sweetly at Felix, who suddenly couldn’t take his eyes of her golden hair, her beautiful blue eyes, her cheekbones…
The list went down to the ‘f’s. “Faust, Felix?” She looked at him pointedly. Felix politely raised his hand and said, “Here.”
After attendance, it was time to get to know each other.
“Hi, I’m Lisa Ketorpi,” said a brunett. “My parents are business people.”
Another said, “My father is a lawyer, and my mother is a doctor.”
When it was Felix’s turn, he mumbled a bit before answering. “My father is a multi-bilionaire,” he said simply as there was sound of interest go through the class. “What about your mother?” Someone prompted.
Felix was dumbfound. What should he say? “She, she died.” He managed to say. Miss Sirenium licked her lips, and it was the turn of another.
After the whole class of twenty-five was introduced, they went on a tour of the school. Felix’s jaw dropped as he discovered the three gyms, two auditorians, five computer rooms, two cafterterias and an Olympic-sized pool.
When the tour was over, they went back to their lockers for lunch. Felix tookout his lunch box and made his way to the lunchroom which was for the juniors.
Felix sat down with the rest of his class, alone. He began eating his gourmet sandwhich which included the finest white bread, pork, fresh tomatoes, lettuce aand expensive cheese from France. The boy that had asked him about his mother came towards him. “Hi,” he said shily to Felix. “Can I sit here?”
Felix nodded and moved to make room. “Sure. I’m Felix.” Felix said. The boy nodded. “I know. I’m Jesus Gonselo.” Jesus smiled pleasantly. He had ddirty blonde hair with bright, intelligent-looking blue eyes.
“How did your mother die?” Jesus softly wondered out loud.
“Oh, um, child-birth.” Felix thought quickly.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He said, looking at Felix through his big eyes. “What was her name?”
“Ty- um, sorry, Tamara. Tamara Faust. What about your family?” Felix replied, changing the subject.
It turned out that Mr. Gonzelo was the school board’s president, and Mrs. Gonselo was a French chef.
Hence, Jesus Gonzelo and Felix Faust became best friends.
Chapter Three
Miss Sirenium was their swimming teacher, as well as registration, so Felix and Jesus saw her every morning, as well as every other day, at third period. They saw her in the halls, her smile as she greeted, her high heels clicking against the marble ground.
Felix liked swimming. Miss Sirenium had taught him not only front crawl and back crawl, but also dolphin kick, breast stroke, and how to dive.
A couple of months passed , and Felix was one of the best. Mr. Faust became proud of his son on scoring ninety-seven percent in his report card.
Meanwhile, he had told Jesus of his real heritage, even though he could not see through the Mist (a magical illusion that makes mortals see what they want to believe).
One cold March afternoon, the class was having free time. The girls were playing a massive game of monkey in the middle, and the guys were playing basketball. However, Felix and Jesus were swimming laps.
A soft humming sound floated across the pool. Felix stood up straight, treading the water in a bicycle motion. He looked towards the sound. Miss Sirenium was smiling and he began swimming toward sher.
Jesus stopped and looked up. He had never seen Felix swim quite so badly. But then, he looked at Felixs’ tranced face, and he knew that he had to get the crossbow.
Jesus swam to the edge, dodging a group of girls in bikinis playing volleyball. He pulled himself up and wobbled to the change tooms, water dripping from his red plad shorts.
Meanwhile, Felix was having difficulty staying aloft. The view disappeared, and all he saw was himself, in front of Echidna, but the form was shimmering, changing into the worst monsters... Cyclops... Talos... the Minotaur... a Gegenee... He saw himself take his crossbow, and yell out, “I am Felix Faust, son of Tyche, defender of Camp Half-Blood, and the reason why your friends are <i>not</i> here! Fear me!” Whichever monster it was, it growled. “Good luck, young hero.” Stubbornly, Felix responded before firing, “I am the son of Tyche! I’m simply oozing with luck!” The vision melted away, and Felix was standing in front of a siren. She was a vulture, with black feathers and gray talons, but her head was still the same; the wavy blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes.
Then Felix’s head went underwater.
He gasped for breath, but all he got was a mouthful of chlorine. Felix struggled in the water, fighting to find the surface.
Suddenly, the humming stopped, and Felix was bobbing in the water.
On deck was Jesus, the crossbow in his arms, another arrow notched in place. Where the monster was perched, there was only a smell of sulphur, and what seemed like yellow sand.
Felix knew, however, that Miss Sirenium was history.
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