Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP

Passing time.

2005-08-27T07:05:50Z

You are Fraser!

Which Due South character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Tara Maclay
36% amorality, 27% passion, 63% spirituality, 63% selflessness

What a woman! (Or man, as it may be...)

Tara is a moral, centered, spiritual and selfless person... rather, I
suspect, like you. People like this make those around them love them.

Congratulations! (and stay away from windows, just in case)

If you enjoyed this test, I would love the feedback! Also, you might
want to check out some of my other tests if you're interested in the
following:

Nerds, Geeks & Dorks

Professional Wrestling

Love & Sexuality

Thanks Again!

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 7% on morality
You scored higher than 0% on repose
You scored higher than 42% on spirituality
You scored higher than 84% on selflessness

Link: The 4-Variable Buffy Personality Test written by donathos on Ok Cupid

OOC:

2005-08-16T08:09:17Z

Comment here and I will write you a ficlet and/or make you an icon. It might be of you/how I perceive you, it might be of one of your interests, it might just be something that reminds me of you. You have no say in what I use/make/say.

Then put some version of this in your journal, so I can get a new ficlet or icon, whatever! Please!

So I claimed I wasn't going to post this until I was all caught up, but that was a filthy lie. The Mountie is suitably scandalized.

What is your favorite time of day? Why?

2005-07-27T06:16:53Z

Can you spare five minutes?

Stand up straight, with your weight distributed evenly on both feet. Place your hands in the small of your back, fingers extended, thumbs interlocked. Head and eyes forward. Don't speak. Don't move.

Don't look at the clock. Estimate. Five minutes.

Don't move.

If you aren't used to the position you may already feel a twinge in your shoulders. Ignore it. Ignore the itch on the back of your calf, or your nose, or the inside of your forearm. Put it out of your mind. You have more important things to think about.

Imagine that you're standing in this way for a purpose. Imagine that you're protecting something very dear to you. Imagine that someone is depending on you.

Don't move.

You may be approached. It's an odd thing to be doing. Is someone laughing at you? Daring you to take a step? Coming closer, standing nearly nose to nose? Ignore them. Look through them. Eyes forward.

Touching you? Prodding your arm? Surreptitiously sliding a hand under your coat?

Ignore them.

Remember your duty.

Don't move.

You may assume your five minutes are up, but you would be mistaken. It's longer than you think. You aren't finished yet.

Perhaps a friend will arrive. Perhaps they have something important to tell you, or to ask. Perhaps they are distraught or angry for some reason you could easily refute, with the slightest movement of your head or a single word. Perhaps they are in a terrible rush.

Perhaps they've come to say good-bye.

Don't move.

What were you doing before this? You may have had another important job. You may have been making a valuable contribution to your community. Perhaps you have a long list of impressive accomplishments. Perhaps you're the very best in some worthwhile field. Perhaps you've saved lives.

Frankly it doesn't matter, because this is all you're doing now. The only task with which you can be trusted. Standing still and keeping your mouth shut.

This is all you're good for.

Have you moved yet?

Go ahead. It's time. You're done.

It's a nice feeling, isn't it?

That nice feeling, ninety-six times over, is the best part of my day.

ooc: Fraser really, really hates sentry duty. The length of his shifts is never stated, but if the freaky uber-Mountie in "Vault" can do twelve hours shifts, then Benny can go for at least eight.

[for pixie_viscera]

2005-07-18T23:48:19Z

The wolf finds her first, growling at her shape in the shadows, and Ben follows a moment later, in full toy soldier regalia despite the lateness of the hour.

No pixies as far as he can see, and he's not sure if he should be pleased.

"Thank you kindly for your patience, ma'am," he says, with a tip of his hat.

[florida: fraser & vecchio]

2005-07-12T21:35:02Z

ooc: Set directly after this, concurrent to this, and before this. Delayed due to unadulterated suckage of all kinds (freaking wildfires, man, did we not get rid of all the forests yet?). Although the whole end-of-the-world, rain-of-brimstone thing only really got going these last two days, so before that it was just my own personal suckiness, and I seriously am really, really sorry for holding you guys up.

Also, I ended up writing this from Ray Vecchio's POV, for reasons that, yeah, I don't even know. All italic abuse is totally his doing, though.

There were things in the world that were never gonna change, like his ma's lasagne was never gonna be beat, like the Cubs were always gonna blow, like Fraser was always gonna be Fraser.

Everybody used to act like that was so funny. Silly fuckin' Mountie, won't he ever learn?

Everybody except Ray, because Ray knew the problem was Fraser did learn, Fraser had learned, Fraser already knew everything. He knew everything, he could do everything, he had hit the ceiling already and there was nowhere else to go, so he was just stuck like that, frozen, perfect, like nothing could put a dent in him, not Chicago or Canada or Stella or Stanley, not even Victoria or Vegas or Vecchio himself.

Fraser was a big red brick wall and you could throw things at him, you could throw yourself at him, you could crash your fuckin' car into him and you were gonna be the only one who came out of it hurting. He'd still just be standing there, being red, making you feel like an idiot because he'd been there, he'd been there the whole time minding his own business because it wasn't up to the fuckin' wall to swerve and if that was the kind of thing you expected, then you probably deserved the pain.

Fraser was untouchable. Fraser didn't change.

And maybe it had been a while since Ray Vecchio was a cop, maybe he wasn't as sharp as he used to be, but it still didn't take him longer than a couple frames to realize that something was seriously, sincerely, big time fuckin' different about Fraser now.

He hadn't sounded different on the phone. Kind of cagey, maybe, but that was just Benny. You always had to work to get something outta him, unless it was a lecture. Plus, he could turn any little thing into a three-act drama or a mortal sin, like no one Ray had ever met, and Ray's family was Italian and Catholic.

The big secret, Ray had figured, was that Benny's conscience had finally caught up with him and he was feeling guilty (sometimes Ray really couldn't believe that him and Benny hadn't grown up in the same church) over missing the wedding and he was gonna come down with a present and a big-eyed Mountie apology.

Except he'd shown up empty-handed (unless you counted Stanley which Ray really didn't, ever) and he hadn't prostrated himself in remorse on Ray's living room rug. He hadn't even had the good Canadian graces to toss Ray a perfunctory "sorry".

Ray thought he might've smelled a rat then, but Benny was clammed up so tight Ray was pretty sure he was gonna need a hammer, so it was tough to tell for sure.

Until they got to the bowling alley, where Fraser just cracked like a fuckin' egg. Like nothing he'd ever seen, and Ray was starting to freak out.

Okay, he was freaked out, past tense, completely. He had started to freak out when Fraser had asked him for a beer, when he hadn't even offered. Not that Ray didn't have any manners of his own, maybe he was no Canadian but he wasn't about to let a guy go thirsty. He'd come back to the bench with his own beer and a carton of milk for Fraser because all Fraser ever drank was milk and he knew that, you couldn't miss that. Fraser was basically an advertisement, except from the "does a body good" days, not one of the milk mustache ones because it was Fraser and the milk just wouldn't fuckin' dare.

It made him feel like a total, corruptive deviant but Ray went and got a beer for Benny and for a couple minutes it seemed like that was gonna be that. Benny got up to take his first shot but before he picked up the ball he licked his finger and stuck it in the air, like he was testing the goddamn wind, inside the goddamn bowling alley, and that was classic Mountie. He could've been drinking lighter fluid (although to be honest that might've surprised Ray less than the beer), he was still the same old Fraser.

They shot for a while, kept score by hand and talked about Dief and Frannie and Welsh and the Dragon Lady, and how much it had sucked for Fraser while he was living at the Consulate, except Fraser said it with trademark diplomacy, which was kind of comforting like the wind-testing thing.

Fraser started acting kind of cagey again when Ray pressed him about working with the Polack and there it was, Ray thought. He had it this time.

Fraser was looking to ditch Stanley.

And he'd come to Ray because... because that was what people did when they ditched Stanley.

Ray was the anti-Stanley.

Before Ray could offer to break it easy to the guy for Benny, Benny asked him about stuff with Stella and because the other thing was settled and Ray figured he had the time, he let himself gush.

About how classy she was and how smart, how he'd go to watch her in court and sometimes it was scary, sometimes she scared the shit out of him and all the time she made him feel so proud, that she was so good, that he was good enough to be with her. About how she made him work for everything (like Benny, like Benny except worse, except better) and how she could always put him in his place. About how they fought sometimes and he had never fought with anybody like that, like he was gonna have a heart attack and die because she made him feel so much, even if what he was feeling was pissed and bitchy.

And before he realized it, maybe the whole time, Fraser was just nodding along. Not out of courtesy, either; with this dumb smile like he knew.

Which of course he didn't, because Ray might've gone off a little there but he was sure he'd said more than "scary" and "bitch".

Benny kept smiling for about an hour and he laughed it right off when he missed a shot. Benny missed a shot, and Ray was all of a sudden blowing right past the Freaked Out suburbs and looking for the Panicked off-ramp.

Maybe he was wrong about the thing with the Polack. Maybe it was just Benny. Maybe Benny was dying.

"I give," Ray said. "I give, all right? So just tell me."

"Tell you what, Ray?"

"Tell me what you got behind the door."

Benny looked around like there was a door he'd missed somewhere on the fuckin' middle lane. Ray hung his head.

"Tell me what you're not telling me," Ray said.

"Well, at the moment there's any number of th--"

"I give. All right? Just tell me."

Benny grinned like the top of his head was gonna split off. "I'm in love."

Like that was news. Like that was anything to fuckin' smile about. What the fuck was--

what if--

she--

If Ray puked on the floor, he was gonna have to kill himself, because his word was his bond and anyone who fucked with these floors was going down, as of the first time he had laid eyes on them. "Fraser."

"No," Fraser said quickly, because it must have been obvious. Nobody ever had to work for anything with Ray, it was all right there.

He wasn't sold. "With who, then?" he asked, and, yeah, it came out like a dare.

Not Frannie. He would've heard her shriek all the way from Illinois without a phone. Not the Dragon Lady. Fraser had sounded relieved as hell not to be spending his nights at her place anymore. Jesus, it could've been anybody. The line for Fraser probably stretched all the way down here by now. Pretty soon you were gonna be able to see it from space.

"With Ray," said Fraser, who apparently was skipping the double dare entirely and going straight to triple freakin' dog.

And also was making no sense.

And it wasn't even the normal, harmless, Canadian nonsense.

Because, okay, he was--

except--

ohjesusgod--

"Oh, Jesus. God." Fuck the fuckin' floors, Ray was gonna be sick. He crooked an elbow on the back of the bench and buried his face and the Mountie took his fuckin' turn before he came over to sit beside Ray, who knew a strike when he heard one and groaned.

"Yes, as a matter of fact his feelings are reciprocal," said Fraser.

"Shit, Benny." He wasn't going to look up, one of them was gonna have to die first. "Jesus, fuck."

"Wonderful, yes." Son of a bitch, Ray could hear that smirk. "It really couldn't be better. Thank you kindly."

Puke was one thing but dead Mountie was definitely gonna stain the wood. "Shut up," Ray said. "Shut up, shut up."

"Oh, I'm afraid I'll never be able to thank you enough, Ray. After all, had it not been for your overture, I might never have come to terms with my latent inclinations."

Ray's head snapped up and his eyes hurt from opening so wide, but it was Benny's turn to look obvious. Son of a freakin' sarcastic bitch, when had that started? Jesus, Stanley fucked up everything, Benny had been perfect when Ray left and Stanley had turned him sarcastic. And not to mention, queer.

More queer. Actively queer. Jesus Christ.

"If I hadn't've done it you would've taken a bite outta me one of those days, Benny. Now, would you or would you not have told me if I came right out and asked?"

"I certainly would have been tru--"

"Would you or not?" Ray yelled. Man, Frannie was a nightingale next to him.

Fraser glared. "Probably not."

"Yeah. Yeah, probably not, thank you very fuckin' kindly."

Fraser got up and walked out of sight and Ray was too flabbergasted to turn his head and watch him go. He thought Fraser was gonna leave and he surprised himself with how bad that pissed him off, so he thought, just for a minute, "Okay, maybe it's not that bad, if I don't want him outta my sight maybe it's not that bad," but Fraser came right back with a beer for each of them and sat down closer to Ray on the bench, resting his elbows on the back of it and slouching and looking totally calm and relaxed and like he was getting fucked by fuckin' Stanley. It was that bad, it was so bad. Ray took a beer and closed his eyes.

"Tell me this is not a love-the-one-you're-with type of situation," Ray said, because come on. Stanley Kowalski was the second best thing to Ray Vecchio, Stanley had been the second best thing to Ray for a living.

Ray didn't have to put up his head, he could feel the daggers straight from Benny's eyes. "It's not," Benny said.

"So it's just Stanley. Stanley's just that fuckin' good."

That was sarcasm even the real Benny wouldn't have missed, but this new freak Benny was just nodding doggedly like Ray was finally getting it.

Ray was gonna shoot himself in the head, that was it.

"I gotta sit with this for a while. Okay?" asked Ray. He had to talk to Stella. Like, oh, Jesus, Stanley was talking to Stella. Stanley was telling this to Stella, and, all right, he was not totally without balls, but that didn't mean Ray liked him any better.

Benny leaned over like he wanted to hug him or something but he just said, "Ray and I are going to Disney World," like it meant something.

"Yeah, well, you get arrested there, I'm gonna let you rot."

He went outside to call Stella just in case he decided to pitch a fuckin' fit right over the phone because that was not one-hundred-percent guaranteed something he would not do, but she sounded mostly okay and that made him sound okay. Stella told him Stanley had left -- left like left? left like gone? -- and Ray was supposed to take Fraser back to their hotel, so they could do whatever queer shit it was they did together now, which, all right, Stella didn't say but Ray heard.

Ray drove the long way, took a couple of side streets where you could kind of see the ocean on the right if you squinted, except Fraser didn't know to squint and Ray didn't tell him, so they both just stared straight ahead and were quiet.

When Ray pulled up in front of the hotel Fraser leaned over really close to him again and Ray was stuck with nowhere to go so he just leaned back.

"I'm very happy," Fraser said confidentially.

"I'm happy," Ray said, like it was gonna be a contest because what wasn't with the Mountie? "Stella's gonna have a baby," Ray added, thinking "ha!"

Fraser blinked, tilted his head to one side and stared at Ray, like it was some kind of news that Ray was straight and had straight sex with his wife and was, oh, by the way, had he mentioned, Catholic.

"That's wonderful news," said Fraser, but it was like nothing, it was like he wasn't even trying. Fraser was already pushing open the door. "Please give Ms. Kowalski my best. It really was very nice to see her again. And you, Ray, please let me know when you're--"

Fraser said some more stuff but Ray was pretty much done listening. He knew default Mountie when he heard it, he still knew it all by heart, but he didn't know why Benny was scrabbling and yanking on his seat belt and trying to get out of the car, like, yesterday.

"Sure thing, Benny," Ray said. "Say hi to Stanley."

Benny's head snapped towards Ray and he grinned like Ray had meant it, then Benny put on his hat just to walk from the car to the lobby and he was gone, just like that, he bolted, like he needed to get to the Polack that bad.

Jesus, you know, thought Ray, you thought you knew a guy.

[for ray__k and stella_kowalski]

2005-07-04T01:46:20Z

Benton Fraser stepped out of the blessedly air-conditioned Florida airport and found himself in Hell.

He had worn his dress serge for the flight, despite Ray's insistence that the trip would end in just this sort of pain. The plane itself had been tolerable, comfortable in point of fact. Most anything was comfortable in comparison to light aircraft. He had never been any farther south than Illinois, had really never expected to be, and he watched out the window in boyish delight. Tennessee! Alabama! He rather wished that he and Ray had had the time to drive down instead.

He wished it right up until the moment he stepped out of the airport at their final destination, after which he didn't wish for anything but death.

He was quitting. That was that. No more wool ever.

For the twenty-minute cab ride to their hotel he was practically delirious. It was frankly fortunate, because if he'd had nothing -- no unadulterated agony -- with which to occupy himself he might have lost his nerve. He and Ray checked into their hotel and he manfully accepted his share of "I told you so" as he changed into a t-shirt (red) and shorts (black with a vertical yellow stripe on each side -- all right, possibly he wasn't quitting.)

Fraser did not fully recover his presence of mind until their cab was pulling up in front of the Kowalski-Vecchio residence and by then there was no backing out. Well, most likely none.

"I suppose it's too late to go to Disneyland first," he said to Ray.

What do you look for in a romantic partner?

2005-07-03T05:08:29Z

"I thought your tastes ran more towards... well, towards..."

"Psychotics?"

"Brunettes."

"Ah."

"I suppose it's up to me to mention your kissing the Yank."

Benton Fraser was nearly dozing in the hard-backed chair in front of the fireplace in his father's office. Upon returning from the docks he had taken a long warm shower, a rare indulgence, and changed into dry clothes, but his skin still felt clammy and the foul taste of lake water had seemed to linger no matter how many times he brushed his teeth. He was still cold, a deep bone-cold, and the sensation was peculiarly unpleasant.

If he hadn't been craving warmth, or at the very least a more familiar cold, he never would have gone in there. His father's was the last face he wanted to see. Those words were the last he wanted to hear.

Ben shifted in his uncomfortable seat and muttered, "Go away."

Robert Fraser leaned back in his desk chair. It creaked gently. It had, a moment before, been empty. "Not strictly what I meant when I said a partnership is like a marriage. Trust you to take a body at his word, son."

"No, I wouldn't assume your concept of a marriage places a high premium on kissing. The idea that two people might kiss presupposes that they're in the same room." He might have sounded a bit less harsh if his father had sounded a bit less tickled.

"Ah, you admit it was kissing."

Ben leaned forward, took the poker from its stand and viciously stabbed at a log on the fire. "I admit nothing."

"I may be dead, but I'm not blind, son. Plain as day, you--"

"I performed a necessary life-saving measure."

Robert Fraser nodded in earnest agreement. "You kissed him!"

"Without air, Ray would have died."

"And if you hadn't bit the bullet and done it sometime, you very well might have."

Ben tipped his head back and rolled his eyes imploringly at the ceiling. "How poetic. 'Bit the bullet'."

"I meant--"

"No, it's apt," he said quickly. "Considering my romantic history, it's really quite apt. Thank you, Dad."

His father was briefly, blessedly silent. Then he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk, steepled his fingers and looked Ben over searchingly. "You know, considering your romantic history, I have to admit I thought your tastes ran more towards... well, towards..."

"Psychotics?"

"Brunettes."

"Ah."

Robert Fraser rose from his desk, pulled a chair over to the fire and took a seat beside his son. "You could do worse."

Ben quite simply wanted to die. "Obviously."

"He seems to like the wolf. Probably wouldn't shoot it."

"I'd think not."

"Not really the type for poetry and billowy coats, either. You could do with a bit less drama."

"I could do with a bit less company," Ben said.

"If that were true, you wouldn't be in this mess," his father said mildly. He took the poker from Ben and stirred the fire. From the corner of his eye he watched Ben struggle for a response.

"Ray was married," Ben said finally, as though it should explain everything.

"And you might as well have been. Circumstances change. People change."

"They do not," Ben snapped, like a child.

His father was characteristically undeterred. "He's alone. You're alone. You get on together, when you're not brawling like sailors. Really, it would only make sense."

"What would?"

"The two of you working out some kind of... arrangement."

Ben hung his head and groaned.

"No time for prudishness, son."

"I don't want an arrangement. For God's sake, Dad, I--"

"Well, how do you know? I'm beginning to think you have no idea at all what you do--"

"I want," he said, and for quite some time the words hung alone as a complete sentence. It was enough of an admission in itself. "Ray."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"Really?" his father asked, squinting at him.

"Very much."

"Ah."

"Indeed," Ben said weightily.

Robert Fraser nodded and tended the fire. "What about that nice Catholic girl?" he asked after a few minutes.

"Dad--" Ben laughed in spite of himself.

"Fine mothers, Catholics."

"Be that as it may."

"She's very agreeable. You'll want somebody pleasant to come home to."

"I don't want somebody to come home to." Ben looked at his father, his expression hardening slightly. "I want somebody to go home with. I want somebody who'll be with me."

"Your mother was always with me."

"Oh, yes. In your heart. That's very nice. That did her a great deal of good."

His father watched the fire, looking cold.

"I don't need a wife," said Ben, a handful of moments later, and his tone was a concession if the words weren't. "I need a partner."

He fell quiet alongside his father, listened to the flames crackle and thought about water. He still could taste it.

Hours might have passed before he felt his father's heavy hand clap his shoulder.

"Then I'd reckon you ought to try kissing him on solid ground next time," Robert Fraser said.

By the time he thought to argue that there hadn't been a first time, Ben was once again alone.

ooc: Right, so, I wasn't really sure what to do with this... because Ben has never looked, and when he does find someone it's really not something that can be broken down piece by piece. Anyway, I don't know, this happened and maybe it works. Mostly I just wanted to write something with Bob. I love Bob.

benton_fraser @ 2005-07-01T18:50:00

2005-07-02T00:50:49Z

Happy Canada Day indeed.

Brevity.

2005-07-01T06:19:11Z

Please leave a one-word comment that you think best describes me. It can only be one word.

No more.

Then copy & paste this in your journal so that I may leave a word about you.

Progress.

2005-06-29T02:43:13Z

"The bill will become official once it receives approval in the Senate, likely within days. With it the barriers to gay and lesbian weddings will tumble in Alberta, PEI, Nunavut and the Northwest Territories — the last jurisdictions where courts have not yet struck down the marriage law."

OOC: Benton Fraser fact sheet.

2005-06-27T00:44:58Z

All information is for player knowledge only.

General Information

Name: Benton Fraser. Fraser, for the record, rhymes with razor, not... uh, a word that would rhyme with the name of Kelsey Grammer's character from "Cheers". Except very nearly everyone (including Ray Vecchio) calls him Frasier. Seriously -- everyone. And he never corrects them, even though he really, really, understandably doesn't care for it. The fact that Ray Kowalski pronounces his last name correctly makes him pathetically happy. It gives him big warm Canadian fuzzies.
Nicknames: Almost everyone he knew prior to Chicago called him Ben. Ray Vecchio calls him Benny.
Age: 35. Which is dicking around with canon timelines all over the place, so, sue me.

Psychology

IQ: Um, high. I'm not even going to go there. Scary-high.
Phobias/Fears: Caligynephobia (fear of beautiful women), atychiphobia (fear of failure), soteriophobia (fear of dependence on others), enosiophobia (fear of having committed an unpardonable sin), lutraphobia (fear of otters). And cabbage. Cabbagephobia. Fear of cabbage. Except not really, what he's really afraid of is his father's voice in his head telling him he's going to end up a grade-A nutjob like Uncle Tiberius (the skeleton in the Fraser family closet, who was obsessed with cabbage and died wrapped in cabbage leaves).
Religious Beliefs: Um... inclusive? Bits and pieces of Christianity for the discipline and the guilt, the blanks filled in with shamanism/mysticism/zen kinda inner-spirity stuff that makes for good allegory and pisses off his father with its touchy-feeliness. In a darkest hour kind of moment he went and spoke with the priest at Ray Vecchio's church in the confessional, but he's not Catholic himself, nor was he raised attending services of any kind.
Intolerances/Annoyances: Injustice, immorality, lawlessness, people (not kids, the kids don't really bother him) who fuck around with him or with the uniform while he's standing guard duty, unwelcome advances (being cornered, especially), laziness, pessimism, incompetence, people with no sense of duty or responsibility to their community.
Quirks/Habits: Hahahahaha, um. He uses the same introduction speech with everyone he meets ("I first came to Chicago...") and it's kind of a preemptive strike, like, "This is who I am, this is what I'm about, don't bullshit me, just tell me what I want to know." He's unflaggingly polite and although he really does value good manners and civility that's also a defense mechanism in its own right, another way of keeping people at arm's length. In all honesty "thank you kindly" pretty often means "fuck you sideways." He sees dead people (or he did, when his father was resting not so peacefully) and he carries on full conversations with his deaf wolf -- in front of people. He has several discomfort tics -- when he's, like, mildly discomfited he'll lick his lips, when he wants to dig himself a hole in the floor he scratches his eyebrow and when he cracks his neck he's basically trying not to kill himself. He has an eidetic memory and he's read pretty much every book in existence -- he knows everything about everything, so don't even start. He also has Tales From North Yucktuckfuck for every occasion, his favourite being the one about the spooked caribou on the cliff who kept backing up every time he tried to get near it -- he tells that story all the time. He doesn't carry a gun in the States (he claims it's too much paperwork, but how much could it possibly be and what better stuff does he have to do?) and he has a disconcerting habit of stepping in front of heavily armed criminals and asking them to consider the consequences of their actions and kindly lower their weapons. He has basically no possessions. Spartan is not even the term for Fraser, homeless is the term. He does his best not to get attached to things, places or people. And above the first floor, in a pinch? He will always be going out the window.

Family

Parents: His father was Sergeant Robert Fraser, a legendary Mountie. In Chicago Ben is "The Mountie" -- in the Territories he's still "The Mountie's son." As good as he was a policeman, Fraser Sr was a pretty lousy father and husband. He was rigid and remote and undemonstrative with his feelings -- more than that he was simply never there. Fraser Sr was convinced even after his death that the RCMP motto is "We always get our man," and his pursuits would often keep him away from home for months. According to Ben, even when he was home, he would sometimes sleep out with the dogs, and he once accused his father (well, the ghost of his father) of never really knowing his mother and never being there for her. Fraser Sr was murdered five years ago. In case you missed it, Ben first came to Chicago on the trail of his killers. He also came into possession of his father's journals, and through them he really got to know his father for the first time, and came to depend on them for advice about his work and life in general. After a few months in Chicago, around Christmastime, Ben received his first visit from his dead father, who just showed up in the back seat of Ray Vecchio's car, calmly as anything. From then on, Fraser Sr was pretty much a fixture, whether Ben wanted him to be or not -- he'd pop in at every inopportune moment to offer "advice" or "encouragement" and in any way possible drive Ben out of his mind. Admittedly a short trip. Ben often spoke directly to his father -- who no one else could see -- in public and got a reputation for talking to himself. Fraser Sr built himself an office in the closet of Ben's office at the Consulate, a very cozy cabin-y looking deal that looked out on a huge white Yukon landscape, but if someone opened the door while Ben was in there, they'd just see him standing alone in the plain old tiny closet, talking to himself. Fraser Sr finally went on to his final rest when the murderer of Ben's mother was brought to justice. His mother was Caroline Pinsent-Fraser, and she was killed when Ben was six years old. His father lost it for a few months after that but finally went back to work, and Ben was handed off to his paternal grandparents, George and Martha Fraser-- travelling librarians who were never in one place for long. Ben's grandmother appears to Fraser Sr on one occasion (Ben can't see her) and disapproves of Fraser Sr's "babying" Ben by allowing him to stay in his hospital bed after he's sustained a serious gunshot wound. So, yeah, grandparents, not the easiest-going people, either. Ben found a mentor/father figure in Quinn, a guide who taught him about tracking and hunting, and also about respecting the land and the community and his place in it. It's Quinn's fault that Ben licks things in his tracking. Another father figure is Sergeant Buck Frobisher, Fraser Sr's former partner. They were very close, like Fraser and Ray (um, not exactly like Fraser and Ray) and Buck could also see the ghost or spirit or whatever of Fraser Sr.
Siblings: One recently discovered half-sister, Maggie McKenzie, who Fraser met when she came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of her husband. She's also a Mountie, the total female version of Fraser, except little and cute and blonde, and Fraser and Ray got into a pissing match over her pretty much instantly. But Fraser eventually backed off because of the shared DNA and everything. She's several (um, more than six) years younger than Fraser. Maggie's mother had never told Fraser Sr that she had a daughter, so it came as a surprise to both him and Fraser. Maggie could also see Fraser Sr.
Spouse/Serious Lover: Ray Kowalski. Partner, boyfriend, reason for living, et cetera.
Children: He used to be spooked by the idea of children because his father (post-death) was very keen on the idea of grandchildren and liked to point out suitable, "sturdy" women. But he genuinely would like kids someday, it's just, you know, the process that freaks him out. Fortunately there are alternatives.
Pets: Diefenbaker is not a pet -- he's Fraser's partner as much as Ray is. Um, in the professional sense of the word. Once upon a time, they rescued each other from an abandoned mine shaft in the Yukon and since then Dief has chosen to stay with Fraser of his own free will. Several years ago Fraser nearly drowned in Prince Rupert Sound and Dief jumped off an ice floe to pull him out, and the plunge into icy water caused Dief's eardrums to burst. So he's deaf, although at times it seems to be selective, but he can read lips in several languages. The fact that city living has softened Dief is a point of frequent bitchiness from Fraser -- he doesn't approve of Dief's laziness or how much junk food he eats. Dief's still pretty tough, though -- if he sets out after a car, for instance, he won't stop until he catches it or he'll die trying. He's technically only half wolf, and the other half is never explicitly described, but, I guess, some kind of husky or something? He's not, like, half poodle.

Present Background

Occupation: Constable First Class, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. He's the acting liaison officer at the Canadian Consulate in Chicago, but his formal duties there are basically just guard duty (you know, standing like a statue in front of the building, like those British dudes with the big hats) and paperwork and whatever other menial crap Inspector Thatcher can throw at him. His unofficial partnership with Ray is his real job, so he's pretty much a CPD detective without a badge or a gun or any jurisdiction or, like, reason to be there. He's a professional nosy parker.
Education: Very little formal education. He was home-schooled for the most part by his grandparents, because they moved around so much, and he studied voraciously on his own. He did at least attend grade four in an actual school, and maybe a handful of others, but he mostly just got ridiculously high scores on national equivalency exams, and ridiculously high scores at the Depot (Mountie training academy).
Major: Um, justice?
Activities: Fighting crime.
Home: Ray Kowalski's apartment. Formerly a cot in his office at the Consulate, and before that a decrepit apartment in a lousy neighborhood downtown (his building was burned down by a performance arsonist). And before that, you know, Canada. All of it. Mostly the top part.
Friends: Ray Vecchio and Ray Kowalski. Various other friends and friendly acquaintances, and he's not one to make light of that, but the Rays are the ones that really matter.
Finances: Decent. His salary is pretty modest and he is way charitable but he's got a fairly-sized nest egg socked away. Probably in a literal sock.

Appearance

Height: 6'1 without the boots and hat.
Eyes: Blue.
Hair: Dark brown, frequently disobedient. That's what the hat'll do for you.
Face & Complexion: Fair skin, pretty baby-faced. He'll let himself get a bit scruffy when he's up North, but it takes a while to really get it going.
Build: Big and solid. Muscular but not really cut -- it's out of necessity, for work, for freakin' wrestling bears and climbing mountains, it's not showy gym-muscle.
Defining Marks: Scars aplenty, though the little scar on his right cheek from a tempered glass door is the only usually visible one. He's got a pretty awful scar on his lower back from when Ray Vecchio shot him, he was also shot and stabbed in the right thigh (separate occasions) and of course there's the otter scar on his right shoulder. Those are the biggies but he's had a rough life, so there's more here and there. Also, the fact that he's deadly fucking gorgeous. That's pretty defining.
Dress Style: Red serge, pretty much constantly, neat and pressed and perfect. He used to wear the less dressy brown uniform a lot, too, but he hasn't trucked it out in a while. When he's off-duty -- except, okay, he's never really off-duty, so when he's not in uniform, he wears jeans (really, really tight jeans, seriously, man), red or blue flannel shirts, his brown leather jacket and hiking boots. Very lumberjack. And he always wears the Stetson. It may get knocked off here and there but if you see him totally without the Stetson, then he is dead and probably moving into your closet.
Manner of Speech: Formal.
Manner of Movement: Purposeful. He runs like a freakin' freight train. One of the things I love most about Fraser is, okay, you know how usually in a movie or whatever, if someone tries to run after a car? They'll like jog halfheartedly for a couple meters, if that, and then give up? Fraser will catch the car.

Romantic

Marital Status: Taken.
Sexual Preference: Bisexual.
Past Relationships: Victoria Metcalf. He also had feelings for his commanding officer at the Consulate, Inspector Meg Thatcher, mutual feelings as a matter of fact, and they kissed once but after that she totally shut him down when he even tried to talk about it, and he got over it. Unrequited feelings (he's also more or less over them) and unresolved issues all over the place where Ray Vecchio is concerned, though he'll always be one of Benny's dearest friends (one of, you know, all two of them).
Present Relationships: Taken by/cohabitating with Ray.

benton_fraser @ 2005-06-21T22:25:00

2005-06-22T04:25:48Z

There's a six month window. Place your bets accordingly.

Finally, a constructive exercise.

2005-06-18T19:10:29Z

Comment here and tell me something you don't like about me. Anything. NO HOLDS BARRED.

Five ways Benton Fraser died alone.

2005-06-15T01:42:12Z

ooc: I'm a big fan of Five Things That Aren't True (google 'five things fic' or an equivalent for more) stories, always wanted to write one. So here you go. Each of these accounts is AU, obviously, what with the Mountie being alive, but they're all based on grains of canonical truth -- times that Fraser, for one reason or another, felt more lonely than he ever had before. Warning, if the title doesn't suffice: character deaths.

Twenty-nine years ago.

Ben knelt on the forest floor and struck the stones together until his hands were chafed and bleeding, but he couldn't make a spark.

He tried for hours, tried new flint, new tinder. He tried his best. He tried his very best, and he didn't even stop to wipe his face when he began to cry.

His best had always been good enough.

It got dark and it got cold, and he wasn't going to give up. Frasers didn't give up, ever. Compromising wasn't the same as giving up.

If he couldn't start the fire, then he could find his way home, all by himself. It was dark and it was cold, and the trees were too thick to show him the stars, but he knew the way. Who didn't know their way home? A person just knew. Home was just there.

But it was so dark. It was so cold, and he was so tired.

When he couldn't walk anymore he curled up on the ground under a tree and waited for the sound of footsteps or the dogs. Ben went to sleep thinking about how disappointed his father would be, and in that way it was not different from any other night of his life.

Fourteen years ago.

The glare of sunlight on snow was burning his eyes, making the blood seem just another, duller shade of white.

You can't do this. You can't do this to me.

I don't have a choice.

I'm sorry, Ben. I do.

He wished she had recited the poem one more time before she walked away. He was trying his best, but he couldn't remember any of the words.

Five years ago.

Forty-two open cases. Forty-two. Jesus, it never ended.

Two dead Mountie things in as many weeks. If he didn't at least get some maple syrup outta this deal, Ray Vecchio was going to be one unhappy camper.

Not that it wasn't a shame, because, hey, it was. The guy, Fraser, Fraser number two, he was all right.

It just wasn't like Ray was surprised to get the call, to get the case.

You didn't go running around that kinda neighborhood at night, poking your nose in business that was better left unpoked. You didn't do it unarmed, you didn't do it wearing a big stupid hat.

You didn't do it alone.

The guy, Ray figured, had to've had some kinda death wish.

And y'know, even if he'd had the time? There just wasn't any reasoning with a guy like that.

Three years ago.

"Hey, Benny."

Just like that.

Ray Vecchio was leaning against the wall in his office, surveying the new surroundings, his face familiarly drawn with distaste. He reached up and scratched the back of his head and said, "Jesus. What were you holding out for, the kitchen pantry?"

Every time someone had asked if he was worried about Ray Vecchio -- and they had, much more often than he imagined they should have -- Fraser had given them a placid smile, gestured towards his new blond partner and said, "He seems to be just fine."

He didn't have to worry. He would be the first to hear about it, if something worrisome occured.

He would hear it in the middle of the night, in his cramped, pitiful office, from Ray Vecchio himself.

Just like that.

"Forty-four hundred dollar suit. Freakin' savages." Ray turned around to display the stain -- massive, dark, unmistakable -- on the back of his jacket. "You believe that?"

Fraser swallowed hard. "Would you like me to lend you a shirt?" he asked, a long time later.

Ray grinned. "Yeah, sure, Benny. I'd like that. You wanna know what I'd really like, though?"

Standing up from his cot, Fraser stepped closer to Ray. "I imagine you'd like... you certainly should expect me to... to bring the men responsible for this to justice."

Ray snorted with laughter and ran his palm across the top of his head. He glanced around again, if possible even less impressed. "I just wanna get the hell outta here, all right? I mean, come on. I come all the way back for this?"

"Where do you want to go, Ray?" He already knew.

"No phones, no lights, no motor cars." A smile, a shrug. "Vegas had enough lights, man. Vegas had lights to death."

No matter what the official report said when Benton Fraser was found in his cabin in the Territories many years later, he never spent another day of his life alone.

One year ago.

The adventure ended, and Ray Kowalski went home without him.

Further diversions.

2005-06-13T05:16:24Z

High Risk Foreman
You scored 73 physical value, 65 mental value, 40 social value, and 57 risk factor!

Your physical abilities and skillful knowledge are cherished by the New
World Order, but as we are unsure of your loyalties, you are assigned a
position which, while potentially rewarding, offers risk as well... you
will be a Foreman in charge of high risk projects, involving dangerous
chemicals, high energy experiments, and similar tasks where the society
is unwilling to risk the lives of more loyal citizens with your
skillsets. As such, it is likely that you will be injured or killed in
the pursuit of your duties, but if so you will be remembered as a hero
to the society and - posthumously - a loyal worker. If you prove
yourself truly useful and can show your loyalty really does lie within
the society, you may even recieve such accolades while your brains are
still on the inside of your skull.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 99% on physical value
You scored higher than 99% on mental value
You scored higher than 50% on social value
You scored higher than 0% on risk factor

Link: The New World Order Placement Test written by Krinberry on Ok Cupid

Personality profile.

2005-06-12T22:31:08Z

Advanced Global Personality Test Results

Extraversion	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	36%
Stability	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	63%
Orderliness	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	90%
Altruism	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	90%
Interdependence	\|\|\|\|\|\|	23%
Intellectual	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	83%
Mystical	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	36%
Artistic	\|\|\|\|	16%
Religious	\|\|	10%
Hedonism	\|\|	10%
Materialism	\|\|	10%
Narcissism	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	70%
Adventurousness	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	76%
Work ethic	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	90%
Self absorbed	\|\|\|\|	16%
Conflict seeking	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	56%
Need to dominate	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	63%

Romantic	\|\|	10%
Avoidant	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	76%
Anti-authority	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	56%
Wealth	\|\|	10%
Dependency	\|\|\|\|\|\|	30%
Change averse	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	83%
Cautiousness	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	90%
Individuality	\|\|\|\|	16%
Sexuality	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	50%
Peter pan complex	\|\|\|\|	16%
Physical security	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	90%
Physical Fitness	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	84%
Histrionic	\|\|\|\|	16%
Paranoia	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	70%
Vanity	\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|\|	36%
Hypersensitivity	\|\|\|\|\|\|	23%
Female cliche	\|\|	10%

Take Free Advanced Global Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Stability results were moderately high which suggests you are relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic.

Orderliness results were very high which suggests you are overly organized, reliable, neat, and hard working at the expense too often of flexibility, efficiency, spontaneity, and fun.

Extraversion results were moderately low which suggests you are reclusive, quiet, unassertive, and secretive.

trait snapshot:
clean, secretive, does not make friends easily, observer, hates large parties, risk averse, perfectionist, reclusive, solitude loving, more practical than abstract, does not like to stand out, high self control, intellectual, mind over heart, very cautious, takes precautions, respects authority, irritable, emotionally sensitive

[for ray__k]

2005-06-10T07:59:26Z

After obtaining Inspector Thatcher's grudging consent, Fraser set out fresh water for Diefenbaker and changed into his street clothes before heading out the door to wait for Ray. Standing just outside the gate, in the usual denim, flannel and leather, he felt a bit like he was loitering, but the uniform simply wouldn't be at all appropriate for the public perpetration of a misdemeanor.

And Fraser, well. Had his heart quite set on one.

Heart's desire.

2005-06-04T01:00:41Z

She drove the getaway car.

She and two men robbed a bank in Alaska. One of them died, the other fled south and she came across the border in a light airplane. It was forced down due to weather, and the pilot abandoned her. I tracked her to a place called Fortitude Pass.

A storm had been blowing for days. The whole world was white. By the time I found her I'd lost everything. My pack, my supplies, everything. She was huddled in a crag on the lee side of a mountain. Almost frozen, very near death. I staked a lean-to with my rifle and draped my coat around it, and I held onto her while the storm closed in around us like a blanket, until all I could hear was the sound of her heartbeat. Weakening.

I kept talking to her to keep her from slipping away. It snowed for a day and a night and a day, and when I couldn't talk anymore, I took her fingers and I put them in my mouth to keep them warm.

I don't remember losing consciousness, but I do remember being aware that I was dying.

And then I heard her voice. She was reciting a poem, over and over. I couldn't make out the words, but I couldn't stop listening. She had the most beautiful voice. The most beautiful voice you've ever heard. It was as though I had known her... forever. Across a thousand lifetimes.

The storm finally broke and we were alive. A day later we found my pack and we ate everything I had in one meal, and it took us four days to reach the nearest outpost. We camped that night just outside the town, within sight of the church's steeple. I held her in my arms.

And she asked me to let her go.

You see, no one knew that I had found her. The police didn't even know her name. I could just... let her go. And she could walk away that night.

She pleaded with me, but the voice which had guided me back from the brink of death could not sway me from my duty. I was a Mountie, more than that I was my father's son. I convinced myself it was the only choice.

It simply was the easiest. I was terrified of what I felt for her. I was terrified of what I might become if I let her go, because I knew I would have no choice, literally none, but to follow.

And she knew it, of course. She warned me that I would regret the decision, as though I needed to be told. I regretted it from the moment I saw her. With all my heart I regretted it for the ten long years which followed.

When she was released from prison she took her turn to track me to the city of Chicago, and proceeded to very quickly and efficiently destroy everything I had, everything I loved. At first I was blind to it. She had come back to me, and all I could see was white, and her.

She burned my father's cabin to the ground and planted ten thousand dollars from the robbery in Alaska on the scene. With another two hundred thousand dollars in the same sequentially numbered bills she set up Ray Vecchio; Internal Affairs went after his blood with ferocious enthusiasm. She took my father's service revolver from the locked trunk in my apartment and shot Diefenbaker with it, killed a man with it and framed me to perfection for the murder.

You may call it revenge, but you don't know her. The things she did, she did out of love. Or her version of it. She was cutting my ties, eliminating my choices... she was doing all she could to make it easy for me.

"You don't have much to stick around here for," she explained when she asked me, once again, to let her go. To go with her. "You won't like prison."

The steps she took were, to say the least, unnecessary. I had no interest in saving myself. It was much too late for that. Ray Vecchio was my friend, certainly, my best friend, but I wouldn't have allowed him to stop me. From the moment she and I stood face to face again, I would have done whatever she asked. I would have followed wherever she led, and damned duty gladly. She was all I wanted, whatever that was bound to mean.

In the end she stepped onto a train bound for New York and I stood on the platform and watched it pull away. From one side I heard Ray Vecchio and our back-up, a calvary of our friends, approach. From the other I heard her voice, calling for me. I saw her hand, reaching out.

"Ben, come with me. Come with me!" God, her voice. The way she said my name.

I was frozen.

"You're going to regret it if you don't," she finally called out, and no other words could have made me run the way those did.

Where there was only an empty, outstretched hand, Ray Vecchio saw a gun. It would be an unspeakable hypocrisy if I were to fault him for his mistaken perception. Just as I reached her and climbed aboard the train, Ray fired. My body shielded her. To this day I'm grateful that it did.

I fell and as I lay bleeding on the platform I recited the poem with which she had saved my life, a decade earlier. I couldn't stop. Not because I wanted to live -- it was an uglier death than the one I should have had on the side of that mountain, but I would have welcomed it all the same -- but because it was all I had left of her, and I couldn't let it go.

The life that flashed before my eyes wasn't mine, but ours.

There was the rational version; crime, desperation, obsession and pain, over which I couldn't bring myself to feel guilt.

Beyond that there was the dream I allowed myself in my weakest moments. A cabin where no one could find us, blanketed by snow and hard white light on all sides, a fire in the hearth and a bed. We could have survived with less. We could have survived.

Since that night at the train station, I've often wondered how much of myself really did.

ooc: Fraser tells the Victoria story twice in canon, almost verbatim each time. In his head, that is just how the story goes, and I really couldn't have him tell it any differently. So everything before the cut is taken pretty much word for word from the show, and I left it out of the word count.

Another exercise.

2005-06-03T08:41:58Z

A - AGE: 35
B - BAND LISTENING TO MOST RECENTLY: I don't often recognize the music Ray plays in the car.
C - CRUSH: I wouldn't use that term.
D - DAD'S NAME: Sergeant Robert Fraser.
E - EASIEST PERSON TO TALK TO: Diefenbaker. Please don't argue the point, he's overly sensitive.
F - FAVORITE ~~BAND~~ MUSICIAN: Stan Rogers.
G - GUMMY BEARS OR WORMS: Worms.
H - HOMETOWN: Inuvik.
I - INSTRUMENT: Piano and guitar, primarily.
J - JUICE: Apple.
K - KIDS: Not as of yet.
L - LONGEST CAR RIDE: I don't believe I've ever taken a car ride which could reasonably be considered long.
M - MOM'S NAME: Caroline Pinsent-Fraser.
N - NUMBER OF SIBLINGS: One half sister, Maggie.
O - ONE WISH: ~~Seeing Victoria again.~~ That justice might prevail at every opportunity.
P - PHOBIA (S): ~~Seeing Victoria again.~~ I suppose I have what might popularly be termed "abandonment issues".
Q - FAVORITE QUOTE: "We see things not as they are, but as we are." John Milton.
R - REASON TO SMILE: Having no reason not to, I suppose.
S - SECRET(S): I keep them very well.
T - TIME YOU WAKE UP: Five-thirty.
U - UNKNOWN FACT ABOUT ME: I spent a considerable portion of my youth fully intending to become a professional hockey player.
V - VEGETABLE YOU HATE: Cabbage. I don't care at all for cabbage.
W - WORST HABIT(S): "Ah."
X - X-RAYS YOU'VE HAD: I'm afraid I've lost track.
Y - YUMMY FOOD: Pemmican. Maggie, God bless her, sends some down for Dief and I regularly.
Z - ZODIAC SIGN: Scorpio.

OOC: For any interested parties.

2005-06-03T00:16:36Z

3x01 - Burning Down The House (AVI, 350 MB)

In which benton_fraser and ray__k meet.

benton_fraser @ 2005-05-29T01:37:00

2005-05-29T07:37:56Z

So the mun has issues with Paul Gross' voice. Let's not make a big thing out of it.

Listen to Fraser tell an Inuit story!

Fraser and Vecchio sing. And keep singing (my personal favorite). And sing a little more. While Fraser has a head injury.

Fraser distracts a group of sailors.

The best song about a shipwreck on the Great Lakes that you will ever hear. Seriously. This was on the second "due South" soundtrack and featured pretty heavily in the episode Mountie On The Bounty. The title of which I just like to say.

At the behest of a prisoner, Fraser entertains a cell block when he and Ray (Kowalski) visit a women's penitentiary. Another prisoner wanted to "taste [his] musical ride", so, yeah, he went with the singing.

Ride Forever. Enough said. Fraser sang this on the show, also.

Man On A Bicycle. Paul Gross and David Keeley. Love! This song is... interesting.

Voodoo. So is this one. Also it's hot.

Kiss You Till You Weep. Not as hot as this one... which I will be the first to admit is wildly cheesy but redeems itself by being kind of dirty.

Random dialogue clips: Fraser and Ray tuck in on the floor, Fraser gets an unexpected visit from his father, Fraser gives Ray a little help mirandizing a suspect, Fraser is concerned about having told a lie, Ray has a very keen eye, Ray also has his priorities in order, wolf vs. turtle.

If you would be so kind.

2005-05-27T01:27:01Z

01. Who are you?
02. Are we friends?
03. When and how did we meet?
04. Do you have a crush on me?
05. Would you kiss me?
06. Describe me in one word.
07. What was your first impression?
08. Do you still think that way about me now?
09. What reminds you of me?
10. If you could give me anything what would it be?
11. How well do you know me?
12. When's the last time you saw me?
13. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
14. Are you going to put this on your page and see what I say about you?

If you could meet any famous person and smack them in the head with a large trout, who would it be?

2005-05-25T08:15:18Z

At the age of ten I was struck in the shoulder with a dead otter by a schoolyard bully.

In addition to being more painful than one might imagine -- certainly more painful than I had imagined, although I'd like to believe I would have stepped forward and attempted to reason with the other boy either way -- it was a singularly shaming experience, and I wouldn't wish its equivalent on anyone. I'm not, by my nature, a violent person, and such a blow can inflict a significant amount of damage, outward as well as inward. I was caught by the teeth of the otter, well caught, and perhaps it's simply the grandeur of childhood memory but it seems to me that it bled more profusely than any wound I've sustained since, and only my first gunshot wound matched the shock.

Of course a trout, unless perhaps it was frozen, is somewhat more yielding than an otter, but in essence, as far as I'm concerned, it's the same. Why I should care to impose such an ordeal on some arbitrary celebrity -- whom the question presupposes I have never met, who has done me no personal ill -- is altogether beyond me.

I'm afraid I'm doomed to continually fail the purpose of these exercises. They seem to be designed exclusively for those who are not, as my partner would put it, freaks.

Hmmm.

2005-05-15T04:42:10Z

Mattress
You scored 58 Softness and 61 Solidarity!

Yes, that's you... All too often people pounce on you without thinking
of your feelings, but it is only because you are so comfortable for people
to "rest on" and "depend on" when they need relaxation, excitement, or
just a good place to lay. Be careful who you let on you and into your
realm, but never lose that good heart of yours. That's what makes
people love you!

My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 99% on Softness
You scored higher than 99% on Solidarity

Link: The What Bed Item Are You? Test written by qtgrrlalecia on Ok Cupid

Cynical Idealist
You Consider Love To Be 85% Idealistic, 0% Positive, and 0% Important.

You are the Cynical Idealist. You see love as negative yet also
idealistic. For example, you may feel that there is probably more to
love than just a physical connection. Not only that, but you probably
feel that sex should always involve love. You also probably associate
love with much heartache, pain, and negativity. Thus, while you view
love as something ideal and perfect, you also feel it is quite painful.
As a result, you also feel that love is not very important. You have
written off love because it is so painful, and no doubt find pleasure
through other things in life. Most likely, you have been burned before
in a relationship, and this has given rise to your negative view of
love, despite your tendency to retain an idealistic outlook in regards
to the nature of love.

To sum up:

You think love is more IDEALISTIC, NEGATIVE, and UNIMPORTANT than others.

Please note that your percentage scores for each variable (found at
the top) are a much more accurate reflection of your love attitude than
this category description, which is highly speculative.

The other categories:

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 99% on Idealism
You scored higher than 0% on Optimism
You scored higher than 0% on Importance

Link: The Love Personality Test written by saint_gasoline on Ok Cupid

Well. That's rather discomfiting.

[for ray__k and victoria_gray]

2005-05-15T04:14:14Z

Fraser phoned Ray and Miss Gray with the pertinent details, finding himself connected to a message service each time and unable to forbear wondering if only a single call would have been strictly necessary. The restaurant had been recommended by the Consulate's executive secretary, and he arrived early the following afternoon, feeling somewhat underdressed as he secured their table. Boots, blue jeans, red flannel -- all buttoned up and as neat and crisp as flannel possibly could be -- under his beaten brown leather jacket. Fraser's wardrobe was basic, to say the least; it was more or less this (occasionally substituting blue flannel) or the uniform. It hardly seemed to create a problem, but it did put Fraser slightly off his ease as he waited for his friends to arrive.

To be fair, the city as a whole, while interesting and lovely and everything else he would say if someone asked, put Fraser slightly off his ease.

How will you DIE?
Name / Username
You will die	by drowning
At age	35

This fun quiz by Confused_Pete - Taken 527786 Times. </a>