Bio Post
MUN INFO
Name: Fox/ Foxeh/ Heyyouoverthere!
Age: 16
Journal: 30xfoxglovex05
Time zone: GMT+8 (Malaysia)
MSN: madam_rosmerta_hp@hotmail.com (Don’t ask. I was 11 and obsessed with Harry Potter.)
Email: The above.
Anything else: Er... I don't think so. :]
CHARACTER INFO
Name: Hong Qiu-Yu (紅秋雨)
Country: Hong Kong Special Administrative Region of the People's Republic of China
Gender: Male
Age/Year: 19, 2nd Year.
Description: Yu is, put simply, not a bad looking fellow but not really outstandingly good-looking either. He stands at an average 5'6", and placed beside the multi-national students of Hetalia University, he fades quietly into the background; a dark-haired, dark-eyed shadow compared to people like the golden-haired, blue-eyed, larger-than-life Alfred Jones. The only thing that marks him out plainly is his ethnicity. As a Hong Kong national, Yu has the fine-boned face and black hair typical of someone of Asian descent. His nose is a thin blade between his small, stoic mouth and his dark brown eyes, and his straight black hair is short in the back and falls in longish bangs that frame his face. Thick eyebrows that are usually half-hidden by his hair tend to make him look brooding, what with his generally expressionless mien. This young man tends to dress in an odd assortment of English and Chinese clothing as and when he feels like it. On most days, he sticks to western clothing; shirts, vests, ties and slacks. Occasionally though, he’ll decide to be different and don one of the many mandarin-collared silk shirts he owns.
Personality: Yu is most often seen as a stoic type of guy. His expression under most circumstances hardly varies, with only one or two miniscule indicators (the twitch of an eyebrow or the faint quirk of the lips) to indicate his feelings. Yu does not like to waste words; preferring to let pregnant pauses and pointed looks get the point across if he thinks someone is being particularly stupid. When he does speak, it is short, to the point, and- surprisingly- with the hint of an English accent. He is particularly adept at (and takes a more than slightly wicked pleasure in) making snide or sarcastic comments to people and seeing if they catch it. It amuses him when they don’t, though it isn’t too surprising; Yu has gotten so good at delivering his sarcasm with a perfectly straight face and deadpan voice that he sometimes almost believes it himself. He is a very independent fellow, and dislikes having to rely on others for anything. Even so, Yu is realistic enough to realise that he does need other people. He just doesn’t have to like it. When it comes to displays of temper, Yu... doesn’t. His temper only shows itself in a further tendency towards being silent around the person who has incited his ire, no matter what that person attempts to say to him. If it is particularly bad, Yu will just walk away. It isn’t that he is particularly non-confrontational (He can be very quick to retort at times); it’s just that he believes that loud explosions of anger are rude.
History: Hong Qiu-Yu was born as the third and youngest child of a wealthy couple residing in the Kowloon district of Hong Kong. His father was a civil servant who served under the British Government before the handover of the Territory of Hong Kong to China. His mother was a doctor. Both had little time for their children, though it could not be doubted that they loved their two sons and one daughter dearly. As Yu was growing up, he wasn’t very close to his family, being a very independent child. It wasn’t unknown for him to wander off on the streets of Hong Kong and disappear for hours on end, only to appear at home at the end of the day looking as unflappable as ever. Eventually, his siblings just learned that worrying about him was futile. He was a smart enough child that he would remember to be careful.
It was on one of these solitary forays that he met Wang Yao, a Chinese boy who became sort of an older brother to Yu. His own brother was hardly what would be considered a perfect sibling, so eventually little Yu took to tagging along after Yao whenever he came to Hong Kong from the Mainland as he went about his business. It was from him that Yu learned about the fun to be had in playing with firecrackers, thus founding a fascination that would last a lifetime. He occupied his days testing different types of firecrackers, and lighting one under someone’s chair and their face when they heard the crackle of the lit fuse was the only thing that would induce the stoic, unruffled Yu to burst into peals of unrestrained laughter. This lasted until Yu was 13, whereupon he was shipped to America like so much baggage to study. It was there that he met and made the acquaintance of a British boy named Arthur Kirkland, several years his senior, who was studying there. Of course, if one knows Arthur, then one is bound to have at the very least met Alfred Jones. When Yu found out that both Alfred and Arthur were also at Hetalia U, he couldn’t find it in him to be surprised.
Yu learned very quickly the ins and outs of living alone. He wasn’t really too bothered with the solitude, and grasped independence easily. After all, he had managed to navigate the streets of Hong Kong as a child; the walk between his rented flat and the middle school that he attended was hardly rocket science. During his stay in America, the near-silent boy grew into a stoic young man, though he began to speak more often as he grew (but his ‘more often’ was still very little compared to others). He developed a rather sarcastic sense of humour along the way, but he never quite broke the habit of testing people’s reactions to the hiss and crackle of firecrackers under their chair.
When Yu finished high school, he applied to Hetalia University and was accepted without too much fuss. It isn’t really known why he decided to pursue a career in psychology, but he did and his reasons are his own. For now, he’s content to attend classes, lounge around his room, light the odd firecracker here and there, and stay as far out of the scope of the social scene as possible.
Anything else: For a person who doesn’t speak much, if at all, Yu has a talent for languages. He speaks four Chinese dialects, and four other languages fluently, two not so fluently, and can read and write in two others. And he keeps a stash of fireworks under his bed. For special occasions.
First-person sample:
I think I broke my alarm clock.
When the horrible thing started beeping this morning (I hate alarm clocks that beep. They should never have been invented. It makes me want to bury each and every one of them in a big hole in the ground where they can’t annoy anyone. The earthworms won’t be bothered. They’re deaf.), at 6 o’clock, I reached out to press the button, as I do every morning. Instead, I swept it straight off my table... as I do perhaps once a week. In hindsight, maybe it isn’t very much of a surprise that the clock broke. There really is only so much battering it can take. I’ve had it for nearly a year now anyway.
I sighed in annoyance as I dropped the useless alarm into the waste bin I was passing. This meant that I would have to go and buy myself a new one if I wanted to be on time for any of my morning classes. It also meant that I would have to brave the hardware store and that woman. I don’t understand how she can just talk and talk and talk. No matter how unresponsive I am, she continues to yammer at me in that horrible butchering of dialects. Sometimes I truly do not understand what she is saying (quite something, considering my language skills); she speaks in such a strange blend of Hokkien and Teochew.
Lazily, I take a sip of my chamomile tea and check the time on my watch. I still have a little over three hours before my next class, and nothing to do before then. It would be easiest to get the trip to the store out of the way... But I wanted to borrow that new book on body language that I saw the other day. I also have three other books to return to the library (one of which is already overdue). Hmm... Library or Store.
Bah. I should get the alarm first. After class I won’t have time.
Zhen hai ma fan. It really is troublesome.
Third-person sample:
The bell above the shop door tinkled merrily as Yu stepped through it, prompting a startled but cheery ‘nin hao!’ from the woman behind the counter. The dark-haired young man only nodded curtly, not bothering to reply as he browsed through the shelves. He was looking for the section that sold clocks. He knew it was in there somewhere, but Yu had never gone looking for a clock before. A hammer, yes. A few nails, yes. An ice pick... also yes, though that one purchase had a story behind it. Unfortunately, those few trips had already apparently endeared him to the shop owner, who never failed to engage him in very lively, very incessant, very unnecessary chatter when he eventually would stop at the counter to pay.
Yu didn’t know whether it was because she was happy to see a fellow Asian, or whether she had a thing for younger guys, or if she was just like that all the time. But whatever it was, he only wished that she would leave him alone. He rarely responded beyond what courtesy demanded, but that seemed to not deter her in the least as she just kept going on and on about how Yu reminded her of her son, blah blah, how he was so clever to earn a place in Hetalia University, yadda yadda.
Really, it was enough to drive Yu batty. As such, whenever he needed anything from the store (which was the only one within twenty minutes’ walk of the campus) he treated it much like US Marines must treat a retrieval mission. Get in, grab the item, get out, as quickly and painlessly as possible.
’Where are the clocks...? Do they not sell alarm clocks in this place?’ It wouldn’t really make sense if the shop didn’t stock the one thing that managed to get University students to class on time. Yu was just frowning at a display of table lamps when the distinctive sound of a cuckoo clock reached his ears. He turned quickly and made a beeline for the sound; finally coming across a reasonably decent selection of timepieces. Not really caring which he chose so long as it was cheap worked, Yu grabbed one of the first items that his hand reached; a small red clock with old-fashioned bells on the top. After a moment, the young man shrugged and made his way to the cashier, hoping that for once the woman would simply ring up the purchase and let him leave.
No such luck.
The woman smiled at him as she picked up the clock, and Yu braced himself.
It was going to be a while before he got out of that horrible little shop.
Name: Fox/ Foxeh/ Heyyouoverthere!
Age: 16
Journal: 30xfoxglovex05
Time zone: GMT+8 (Malaysia)
MSN: madam_rosmerta_hp@hotmail.com (Don’t ask. I was 11 and obsessed with Harry Potter.)
Email: The above.
Anything else: Er... I don't think so. :]
CHARACTER INFO
Name: Hong Qiu-Yu (紅秋雨)
Country: Hong Kong Special Administrative Region of the People's Republic of China
Gender: Male
Age/Year: 19, 2nd Year.
Description: Yu is, put simply, not a bad looking fellow but not really outstandingly good-looking either. He stands at an average 5'6", and placed beside the multi-national students of Hetalia University, he fades quietly into the background; a dark-haired, dark-eyed shadow compared to people like the golden-haired, blue-eyed, larger-than-life Alfred Jones. The only thing that marks him out plainly is his ethnicity. As a Hong Kong national, Yu has the fine-boned face and black hair typical of someone of Asian descent. His nose is a thin blade between his small, stoic mouth and his dark brown eyes, and his straight black hair is short in the back and falls in longish bangs that frame his face. Thick eyebrows that are usually half-hidden by his hair tend to make him look brooding, what with his generally expressionless mien. This young man tends to dress in an odd assortment of English and Chinese clothing as and when he feels like it. On most days, he sticks to western clothing; shirts, vests, ties and slacks. Occasionally though, he’ll decide to be different and don one of the many mandarin-collared silk shirts he owns.
Personality: Yu is most often seen as a stoic type of guy. His expression under most circumstances hardly varies, with only one or two miniscule indicators (the twitch of an eyebrow or the faint quirk of the lips) to indicate his feelings. Yu does not like to waste words; preferring to let pregnant pauses and pointed looks get the point across if he thinks someone is being particularly stupid. When he does speak, it is short, to the point, and- surprisingly- with the hint of an English accent. He is particularly adept at (and takes a more than slightly wicked pleasure in) making snide or sarcastic comments to people and seeing if they catch it. It amuses him when they don’t, though it isn’t too surprising; Yu has gotten so good at delivering his sarcasm with a perfectly straight face and deadpan voice that he sometimes almost believes it himself. He is a very independent fellow, and dislikes having to rely on others for anything. Even so, Yu is realistic enough to realise that he does need other people. He just doesn’t have to like it. When it comes to displays of temper, Yu... doesn’t. His temper only shows itself in a further tendency towards being silent around the person who has incited his ire, no matter what that person attempts to say to him. If it is particularly bad, Yu will just walk away. It isn’t that he is particularly non-confrontational (He can be very quick to retort at times); it’s just that he believes that loud explosions of anger are rude.
History: Hong Qiu-Yu was born as the third and youngest child of a wealthy couple residing in the Kowloon district of Hong Kong. His father was a civil servant who served under the British Government before the handover of the Territory of Hong Kong to China. His mother was a doctor. Both had little time for their children, though it could not be doubted that they loved their two sons and one daughter dearly. As Yu was growing up, he wasn’t very close to his family, being a very independent child. It wasn’t unknown for him to wander off on the streets of Hong Kong and disappear for hours on end, only to appear at home at the end of the day looking as unflappable as ever. Eventually, his siblings just learned that worrying about him was futile. He was a smart enough child that he would remember to be careful.
It was on one of these solitary forays that he met Wang Yao, a Chinese boy who became sort of an older brother to Yu. His own brother was hardly what would be considered a perfect sibling, so eventually little Yu took to tagging along after Yao whenever he came to Hong Kong from the Mainland as he went about his business. It was from him that Yu learned about the fun to be had in playing with firecrackers, thus founding a fascination that would last a lifetime. He occupied his days testing different types of firecrackers, and lighting one under someone’s chair and their face when they heard the crackle of the lit fuse was the only thing that would induce the stoic, unruffled Yu to burst into peals of unrestrained laughter. This lasted until Yu was 13, whereupon he was shipped to America like so much baggage to study. It was there that he met and made the acquaintance of a British boy named Arthur Kirkland, several years his senior, who was studying there. Of course, if one knows Arthur, then one is bound to have at the very least met Alfred Jones. When Yu found out that both Alfred and Arthur were also at Hetalia U, he couldn’t find it in him to be surprised.
Yu learned very quickly the ins and outs of living alone. He wasn’t really too bothered with the solitude, and grasped independence easily. After all, he had managed to navigate the streets of Hong Kong as a child; the walk between his rented flat and the middle school that he attended was hardly rocket science. During his stay in America, the near-silent boy grew into a stoic young man, though he began to speak more often as he grew (but his ‘more often’ was still very little compared to others). He developed a rather sarcastic sense of humour along the way, but he never quite broke the habit of testing people’s reactions to the hiss and crackle of firecrackers under their chair.
When Yu finished high school, he applied to Hetalia University and was accepted without too much fuss. It isn’t really known why he decided to pursue a career in psychology, but he did and his reasons are his own. For now, he’s content to attend classes, lounge around his room, light the odd firecracker here and there, and stay as far out of the scope of the social scene as possible.
Anything else: For a person who doesn’t speak much, if at all, Yu has a talent for languages. He speaks four Chinese dialects, and four other languages fluently, two not so fluently, and can read and write in two others. And he keeps a stash of fireworks under his bed. For special occasions.
First-person sample:
I think I broke my alarm clock.
When the horrible thing started beeping this morning (I hate alarm clocks that beep. They should never have been invented. It makes me want to bury each and every one of them in a big hole in the ground where they can’t annoy anyone. The earthworms won’t be bothered. They’re deaf.), at 6 o’clock, I reached out to press the button, as I do every morning. Instead, I swept it straight off my table... as I do perhaps once a week. In hindsight, maybe it isn’t very much of a surprise that the clock broke. There really is only so much battering it can take. I’ve had it for nearly a year now anyway.
I sighed in annoyance as I dropped the useless alarm into the waste bin I was passing. This meant that I would have to go and buy myself a new one if I wanted to be on time for any of my morning classes. It also meant that I would have to brave the hardware store and that woman. I don’t understand how she can just talk and talk and talk. No matter how unresponsive I am, she continues to yammer at me in that horrible butchering of dialects. Sometimes I truly do not understand what she is saying (quite something, considering my language skills); she speaks in such a strange blend of Hokkien and Teochew.
Lazily, I take a sip of my chamomile tea and check the time on my watch. I still have a little over three hours before my next class, and nothing to do before then. It would be easiest to get the trip to the store out of the way... But I wanted to borrow that new book on body language that I saw the other day. I also have three other books to return to the library (one of which is already overdue). Hmm... Library or Store.
Bah. I should get the alarm first. After class I won’t have time.
Zhen hai ma fan. It really is troublesome.
Third-person sample:
The bell above the shop door tinkled merrily as Yu stepped through it, prompting a startled but cheery ‘nin hao!’ from the woman behind the counter. The dark-haired young man only nodded curtly, not bothering to reply as he browsed through the shelves. He was looking for the section that sold clocks. He knew it was in there somewhere, but Yu had never gone looking for a clock before. A hammer, yes. A few nails, yes. An ice pick... also yes, though that one purchase had a story behind it. Unfortunately, those few trips had already apparently endeared him to the shop owner, who never failed to engage him in very lively, very incessant, very unnecessary chatter when he eventually would stop at the counter to pay.
Yu didn’t know whether it was because she was happy to see a fellow Asian, or whether she had a thing for younger guys, or if she was just like that all the time. But whatever it was, he only wished that she would leave him alone. He rarely responded beyond what courtesy demanded, but that seemed to not deter her in the least as she just kept going on and on about how Yu reminded her of her son, blah blah, how he was so clever to earn a place in Hetalia University, yadda yadda.
Really, it was enough to drive Yu batty. As such, whenever he needed anything from the store (which was the only one within twenty minutes’ walk of the campus) he treated it much like US Marines must treat a retrieval mission. Get in, grab the item, get out, as quickly and painlessly as possible.
’Where are the clocks...? Do they not sell alarm clocks in this place?’ It wouldn’t really make sense if the shop didn’t stock the one thing that managed to get University students to class on time. Yu was just frowning at a display of table lamps when the distinctive sound of a cuckoo clock reached his ears. He turned quickly and made a beeline for the sound; finally coming across a reasonably decent selection of timepieces. Not really caring which he chose so long as it was cheap worked, Yu grabbed one of the first items that his hand reached; a small red clock with old-fashioned bells on the top. After a moment, the young man shrugged and made his way to the cashier, hoping that for once the woman would simply ring up the purchase and let him leave.
No such luck.
The woman smiled at him as she picked up the clock, and Yu braced himself.
It was going to be a while before he got out of that horrible little shop.