Post by noah on Aug 25, 2010 1:08:02 GMT 1
Nickname: Noah
How You Found Us: Site-hopping.
Contact Via: PM me for my AIM.
How You Found Us: Site-hopping.
Contact Via: PM me for my AIM.
What can be found in a name:
Gabe Hughes.
When the day I was born:
19th February, 1960.
The Angels screamed:
Roland Hughes - - Father
Penny Hughes (nee; Carson) - - Mother
And Hell shut its doors:
None.
While creatures retreated:
Muggle-born. (to his knowledge--see family "secret").
To depths unknown:
Ravenclaw.
I hide from them:
I rather enjoy the Astronomy Tower. You never get any large crowds up there, its peaceful to an extent, and the view is marvellous. Oh, who am I kidding? I love the solace and alienation from everyone else. Being alone is how I excel.
Be who they want to see:
Last time I checked, I was 5ft 10, and I don’t imagine I’ve grown much over the course of a year. If you’d be so kind to check the image below for my first-hand appearance; I have crazy dark hair (and by crazy I mean untameable), hazel eyes, pale skin and, so I’ve been told, a terrible dress-sense out of Hogwarts. And, if you must know, I weigh 150lbs. Now, if you want me to expand a little—I don’t care much for up-to-date fashion, because I don’t come from an incredibly rich family. We’re settled and comfortable, but not too comfortable. I wear whatever I blindly pull out of the wardrobe in the morning, and at Hogwarts the traditional robe-wear you all know about that doesn’t really need explaining. If it does, I suggest you take your prone-to-memory-loss self down to the hospital wing. Really, imagine not knowing what the school uniform looks like. Outrageous. I’m quite lanky, especially when you consider my height and weight together. This does pay off in advantage, though, as I find it easy to fit in to small spaces (providing height isn’t an issue), and climbing is considerably easier.
But that leaves no one:
To discover that inside:
Witty. I like being witty. I like being sarcastic, too, but sarcasm seems to be lost nowadays, doesn’t it? You can say something to someone, genuinely not meaning it, and they’ll take it the wrong way and unleash a right hook. I speak from someone who has had this happen to them. It certainly wasn’t my fault, so don’t look at me like that. Coincidentally, that same person had the nerve to stand up and accuse me of being arrogant and selfish. Well, you can’t have everything, I suppose. Arrogance is a trait I have, I’ll admit, but selfish? I nearly always put other’s needs before my own—providing the outcome will benefit me somehow. Chin up, sweetheart; this is how the world works. I’m rather loud, and I am definitely far from the shy group of people. To be honest I don’t know why I’m in Ravenclaw, other than the fact that I’m rather academically gifted. Yes, maybe I’m a little self-absorbed, too, but you can ask anyone and they’ll wager for me; I’m best at schoolwork than I am at socialization. What a muddle you’re getting in to—yes, I am not shy, but I don’t care much for people, either, and like spending a great deal of my time alone. However, I am not one to turn away healthy conversation… just prepare to be slaughtered by dry wit and sarcasm. Now, I also have a bit of a reputation it seems. Hardly my fault. Someone, that same right-hook one, passed around her friends that I favoured two-timing. Funnily enough, she’s wrong and right. I’m not in to long term commitments, so erase any erratic thoughts you may have. Its nothing to do with my disliking most people’s company, but I get bored easily, and I don’t want to be tied down. Shame, I know.
This soulless being:
a good book, confidence, freedom of choice, versatility, magic (clearly—else would I be here?), humour.
Is just as lost:
hypocrisy, attention-seekers, history of magic, incompetence, people with no sense of adventure, stupid elongated questions.
As everyone else:
skilled with comebacks, persistent, confident, fun, able multi-tasker.
In a world that knows only hate:
arrogance, cocky-attitude, inconsistent, low-tolerance levels, commitment issues, lying.
And causes pain for the soulless like me:
I’m scared of the dark. There is no rhyme nor reason for this, other than the fact that I cannot be in a dark room alone, or even with someone. There has to be a light somewhere. This then leads to unbearable claustrophobia, the one thing I spend most of my time laughing at. You see, its all very funny and entertaining when someone else is suffering through it (I don’t deliver these myself, but hearing how people panic does make me laugh), but when I am, its an embarrassing spectacle I don’t wish to be seen. As for my second biggest secret… you have to understand this: I’m too young to have huge secrets. So, I only have ones I’d rather no one know about—someday, I want kids. For me this is a huge secret. I hate the snotty-nosed cry babies, but I’d rather like my own. Yes, called “the project.” How fun!
They left me to die:
all dead.
On a bed of roses:
one cousin. He’s something like thirty, though, and I’m far more interesting to talk about.
Blood seeping through:
I found a wizard in our family tree. I haven’t told anyone, mind you, but my guess is that they all ready know, and its just been hushed up. Like its huge—if anything, it makes me belong to the magical world just that little bit more. Not sure how small the magic history in my blood would be, mind you. Figure it out yourselves.
The satin sheets of fame:
Well off.
What a bitter story of love:
You really are a nosy bunch, aren’t you? And depressing. Who would want to look at old diary entries and photo albums to talk about a history that is just the same as every other person going to this school? I get that everybody’s different, but a lot of us had the same childhood. Nobody wants to know that my parents met at school, or that they’ve been together since they were three. I’m not sure how that works, but according to their ‘when I met your mother/father’ reminiscing days, this is the truth. Nobody cares that I was born at 2.39 in the morning, and to be frank, I don’t either. What is it to you that I grew up completely unaware that magic even existed? Unless you count those idiotic magicians you get at parties who steal all your money just to tie a few balloons together and snatch a pin from under a plastic cup when you’re not looking. That’s right—the only magical contact I had was with a strange man dressed in an even stranger suit, with a top hat that looked like the Mad Hatter’s, and creepy fingers that kept jabbing at stuff. I don’t want to hold your hat whilst you pull out an innocent little rabbit! Ridiculous. They know nothing.
I doubt you care that I’ve lived in this lovely place called London all my life. I only left the place to visit relatives we have out in Devon, but that’s as far as my travelling extended before I got my letter. Ah yes, the traditional ‘I was not expecting it, so I jumped for joy when I received it in the post on my eleventh birthday’. Well, I was not jumping, but I was rather amazed. No more muggle school! How could you express that delight in just words? I hated school, almost as much as I hate writing this ridiculous essay. The people were dull and the children were brats. I’m not saying I’m perfect, but these kids were spoilt, possessive and nasty. I may have a mean streak but you’d think I was the bloody tortoise in calmness and rationality compared to those evil little brats. That’s about the highlight of my childhood, putting up with that pea-pod of people. I hated the community, aside from a few tolerable people, and I didn’t gain many friends by voicing my opinions of them all. Such a shame, because I’d love to wave in their faces what I’m doing now.
Hogwarts was lovely at first sight, and all that ridiculous malarkey. Once I was sorted in to Ravencalw (only God knows why, because aside from my intellect and academic potential I didn’t really posses any of the traits that batty old hat was singing about), I made friends, as you do—you’re bound to meet at least one person who doesn’t annoy you to the point where you want to ‘accidentally’ shove them off the edge of the Astronomy Tower. Speaking of, that place very quickly became a sort of hideout for me. When I didn’t want to deal with the array of people, or I just wanted some peace and quiet, maybe to study properly without being glared at by pug-faced first years, I’d go there. I still do, but I only really started in my third year, when I was busy doing homework at the back of the library and a group of rowdy kids decided to blitz the entire room. Needless to say we were all thrown out and I was not very pleased. We haven’t mentioned how my parents feel about this. Well, they’re proud, obviously, but I haven’t mentioned that somewhere in my family tree there is magical heritage. Not sure where it led to just yet, but I’ll keep you posted. Someone’s not being entirely honest, and I do like a good challenge.
(Usually I write around 1000-2000 words, but it’s rather late, so I apologise if this isn’t up to scratch).
Watching grass grow was always going to be much more fun than sitting in this class. The droning of the teacher’s voice was exactly like the buzzing you get at the back of your mind; something irritating, and extremely inconvenient. To top off his inability to pay any attention to the dullest lesson in the history of magic (what an excellent pun that one was), gabe was rather sleepy. Not just rather, as we shouldn’t sugar coat here, but incredibly. It took a lot of him not to collapse in to his folded arms, despite knowing exactly what was being taught. He had read the chapter, of course, several times. None of those times had his interest spiked, and regardless of his own potential in succeeding, this was one subject he’d be happy to walk out of. However, he’d never actually done that before. Gabe had considered it plenty of times in the long hours spent looking at the intricate designs of the classroom door, wondering how many lines on the wood he’d need to lower himself out of the window, super stealth style—in his mind, alliterations always came out sounding as if they weren’t even words. Similarly, gabe found that staring at his own work in this class for any length of time would make the words gradually go from being fuzzy to looking as if they were misspelled entirely. If he cared at all, the ravenclaw would ask if this happened to anyone else, but it was just another thought that carried him away from the monotony of the teacher’s dreary yet painfully booming voice.
Also, how could one not fall asleep purely concentrating on the sound of the tick, tick, ticking in the background? Wherever that ticking was coming from, gabe was secretly thankful. Now, a part of gabe’s traits enabled him to multi-task, but this wasn’t multi-tasking. This lesson was asking far too much from him—concentration, interest and participation—when he hadn’t even signed up for it. all the times he’d worked up the arugment to complain about the lesson, and he’d been stopped in his tracks by the better and secret part of him that actually wanted to graduate with something to show for it. if that was a grade in a lesson he cared nothing about, then he’d put himself through the boring hours of plain, mindless buzzing just to prove a point. He did love a challenge, after all, whether it be completing a dare or persuing someone just out of enjoyment, or much like before, a dare. Now this was a topic that captivated his entire attention.
Gabe was one for dares; he couldn’t help himself. When someone presented him with an opportunity to do something, and they laid on those extra three words at the beginning, he was given a challenge on a silver platter, and he couldn’t refuse it. think of the challenge as a large, juicy and filling meal on gold plates with gold cutlery, after you’ve been stuck in some dungeon or cell with nothing to eat or drink for days on end. Starvation of such adventure was what put this boy in danger. Not immediate danger, of course, but danger of detention and shame, and why would he want to risk his education? Ah yes, payback for creating this rather uninteresting excuse for a subject. It was easy to think of Hogwarts this way when he was stuck wishing he was anywhere but, though when he was out and free, gabe could think more clearly. Not that he cared much; his arrogance and pride wouldn’t allow him to go back on a dare. Yes, he was rather conceited, but he wasn’t everyone’s favourite person in the world, nor did he claim to be.
The last words were the only ones he reacted to. A fist pump under the desk as students hurriedly packed away their things, desperate to get out to fresh air and sanity. Gabe followed suit immediately. He never really followed anyone, but in this class everyone had nearly the same objective; get out to freedom and common sense. It was like a whole other world in that classroom, one where silence really was golden and laughter was forbidden. Nobody paid any interest and he doubted anyone would. He couldn’t hate the subject entirely, though. There were some aspects he found interesting, but only when they weren’t being taught really long names and dates that ended up as tongue twisters, confusing even the professor who should really know his stuff before relaying it to his students. Nevertheless; gabe was out, and he smirked to himself. He always did this, and nobody quite knew why. It wasn’t even a friendly smirk anymore than it was a knowing one. The dark-haired boy chuckled lightly, and set off in the direction of his favourite cold-spot.
Watching grass grow was always going to be much more fun than sitting in this class. The droning of the teacher’s voice was exactly like the buzzing you get at the back of your mind; something irritating, and extremely inconvenient. To top off his inability to pay any attention to the dullest lesson in the history of magic (what an excellent pun that one was), gabe was rather sleepy. Not just rather, as we shouldn’t sugar coat here, but incredibly. It took a lot of him not to collapse in to his folded arms, despite knowing exactly what was being taught. He had read the chapter, of course, several times. None of those times had his interest spiked, and regardless of his own potential in succeeding, this was one subject he’d be happy to walk out of. However, he’d never actually done that before. Gabe had considered it plenty of times in the long hours spent looking at the intricate designs of the classroom door, wondering how many lines on the wood he’d need to lower himself out of the window, super stealth style—in his mind, alliterations always came out sounding as if they weren’t even words. Similarly, gabe found that staring at his own work in this class for any length of time would make the words gradually go from being fuzzy to looking as if they were misspelled entirely. If he cared at all, the ravenclaw would ask if this happened to anyone else, but it was just another thought that carried him away from the monotony of the teacher’s dreary yet painfully booming voice.
Also, how could one not fall asleep purely concentrating on the sound of the tick, tick, ticking in the background? Wherever that ticking was coming from, gabe was secretly thankful. Now, a part of gabe’s traits enabled him to multi-task, but this wasn’t multi-tasking. This lesson was asking far too much from him—concentration, interest and participation—when he hadn’t even signed up for it. all the times he’d worked up the arugment to complain about the lesson, and he’d been stopped in his tracks by the better and secret part of him that actually wanted to graduate with something to show for it. if that was a grade in a lesson he cared nothing about, then he’d put himself through the boring hours of plain, mindless buzzing just to prove a point. He did love a challenge, after all, whether it be completing a dare or persuing someone just out of enjoyment, or much like before, a dare. Now this was a topic that captivated his entire attention.
Gabe was one for dares; he couldn’t help himself. When someone presented him with an opportunity to do something, and they laid on those extra three words at the beginning, he was given a challenge on a silver platter, and he couldn’t refuse it. think of the challenge as a large, juicy and filling meal on gold plates with gold cutlery, after you’ve been stuck in some dungeon or cell with nothing to eat or drink for days on end. Starvation of such adventure was what put this boy in danger. Not immediate danger, of course, but danger of detention and shame, and why would he want to risk his education? Ah yes, payback for creating this rather uninteresting excuse for a subject. It was easy to think of Hogwarts this way when he was stuck wishing he was anywhere but, though when he was out and free, gabe could think more clearly. Not that he cared much; his arrogance and pride wouldn’t allow him to go back on a dare. Yes, he was rather conceited, but he wasn’t everyone’s favourite person in the world, nor did he claim to be.
The last words were the only ones he reacted to. A fist pump under the desk as students hurriedly packed away their things, desperate to get out to fresh air and sanity. Gabe followed suit immediately. He never really followed anyone, but in this class everyone had nearly the same objective; get out to freedom and common sense. It was like a whole other world in that classroom, one where silence really was golden and laughter was forbidden. Nobody paid any interest and he doubted anyone would. He couldn’t hate the subject entirely, though. There were some aspects he found interesting, but only when they weren’t being taught really long names and dates that ended up as tongue twisters, confusing even the professor who should really know his stuff before relaying it to his students. Nevertheless; gabe was out, and he smirked to himself. He always did this, and nobody quite knew why. It wasn’t even a friendly smirk anymore than it was a knowing one. The dark-haired boy chuckled lightly, and set off in the direction of his favourite cold-spot.
