Accidentally sent some customer to the warehouse instead of the department today and she came back and sought me out to be a bitch. Like. Woman. I didnt do it for the giggles. It was a genuine fuckig mistake, no need to walk away grumbling what a, and I quote, inept bitch I am.
Thanks for the question, Anon! I had to combine the “10” with the “more than 10” because I ran out of space! Hope it works.
For me I have a lot of health issues and can’t work because of it, and family issues as well, but if it was a perfect world, I would choose two kids. That way they have each other.
Ranyatinwe would be the prettiest bitch ever if she went back to Aman.
Remembers everyone who ever talked shit about her sitting two Masteries, and makes to achieve four more to rub it in their faces.
Casually drops that she outlived every single one of the houses of Finarfin and Fingolfin, except Galadriel but she doesnt count since she hasn't even seen battle in two ages while tinwe was constantly at every big warfront.
Most decadent noldorin hairstyles bc she also has the most beautiful hair. No Galadriel doesnt count. She has 0815 golden shiny hair while tinwe only shares hair colour with one other elf (miriel) and it's even shinier than Galadriels. Nobody admits it bc then they would be complimenting an unapologetic kinslayer.
Every single fucking thing achievable she does and rubs it in everyones faces. She wont ever let them forget they were mean.
Fingon does not play often anymore. Rarely does the mood strike him, and mostly when he is alone, his heart is sorrowful. But at the Mereth Aderthad some merriness of the crowd strikes him, some warmth of the liquor, and he picks up the harp and plays, unthinking, a drinking-song from bygone days. Around him elves laugh and dance, an ocean of swirling silk, and he hears little his own music.
“You have lost the touch,” Maglor says, “you were better.”
Fingon looks down at the joints of his fingers, where feeling has not returned since the ice, and says naught.