#//thanks to one of my friend for suggesting the cover redraw

[lcs-scar]

Jerry's emo phase

Inspired by this response from Evan Dorkin -

[ihopesocomic]

Hi! New reader here! I just got to the part where Hope tries to open her injured eye. It was portrayed as rly cloudy, but I’m not sure how it got that cloudy so fast? It had happened Very recently, and while Vicious’s claws definitely damaged the cornea, idk if that was enough time for scar tissue to have accumulated so thick. It was more likely that it would have been swollen or misshapen, but not opaque/milky yet. As well, though the scar/injury definitely would make her ‘legally blind’ in that eye, it’s highly unlikely even w that damage that she would lose 100% of her vision. Corneal Opacity obstructs light/vision, but it’s quite likely that she would still be able to see brash lights and shadows, maybe some shapes (likely clearer toward the edges of vision, but perpetually out of focus there)

I point this out as someone who is blind in one eye myself from an injury as a child, and that generally we don’t really like the portrayal of “cloudy eyes=blind” in media. It’s usually used as visual shorthand, but bc ppl see it used that way, they think that’s what all blind ppl look like. I’ve gotten ppl who’ve tried and ‘caught’ some of my friends as ‘not blind’ bc their eyes weren’t white/cloudy, which is generally, not the case unless there is serious injury or disease in the eye. As for the 100% vision, we also get ppl who will wave or clap in our faces to try and ‘catch’ us (bc for some reason ppl just think ppl fake being blind for ‘benefits’—what benefits??) and we will always flinch bc 1) that’s the normal reaction, it’s sound and air close to your face, your body will instinctively flinch away from it. And 2) bc many of us still have some amount of useable vision, and getting that close is something even someone w very low percentage of useable vision could detect.

Not gonna ask you to redraw it of course, that’s entirely up to you, and it’s an ongoing, high-intensive webcomic and the page in question is quite a bit back there, but if we see it again plus the POV of Hope’s vision, if you drew a rough lining of that half of the picture, then filled it in with intense white/gray grittiness, more concentrated in the middle and a bit less on the extreme sliver of the outer eye (in Hope’s case, I doubt there would be too much of the eye that wasn’t covered by the scar tissue, Lion claws are huge and thick and at this point she’s had plenty of time to form a significant scar) and the vague impression of light/shadow, that’s a more accurate portrayal of blindness. The eye itself is almost guaranteed to be misshapen, that is, the iris and pupil, not the orb itself (it would have had to puncture through the cornea, and if that was the case she’d not really have an eye) something like a droopy part near the direction of the scar, and a bit more of an oval-ish shape (pics for reference can help if you can do that, otherwise not making it too extreme but enough that it’s visibly a scar and injury in the eye. These are all just suggestions! If you decide you’d like to do a more stylized version of this, just making the iris a bit raised and a little wider at the ends of the scar, and for POV just airbrush w a gritty texture and put some vague shading.

I really love this comic, and it’s portrayal of disability (Hope is just. I’ll cry) but that was just something that nicked me a bit. It’s hard to do everything right, and really hard for a personal project! You’ve done amazing, and honestly this is nitpicky of me I think, I just thought with the positive rep of limb loss I thought I’d give a little advice ig on blind rep, from a partially blind person myself. (thank you SO. MUCH. For not making her ‘mourn’ the limb she doesn’t have. She just doesn’t have it, it’s who she is. She’s not lesser or in parts bc of it, she deals w it, and though it’s still a disability and affects her as such, it’s not something she needs to cry over. She’s always been this way, and she’ll make it through.)

So, first of all: thank you so much for giving an informative and detailed input on this aspect of Hope's character. We truly appreciate it.

We've always intended to show Hope's eye injury gradually changing condition from her POV and her being able to open the eye slightly eventually, so we're not through with representing blindness or partial blindness through her.

As for your comments regarding what we've already shown, Cat did refer to references on that particular front as she did endeavour to get things accurate. While she is willing to admit that she may have got things wrong, the issue of people stereotyping blind individuals based on one form of how the condition presents itself doesn't mean that one form is not accurate or valid, if you feel me? The true issue here is people's ableism towards blind or partially blind individuals and assuming that a disability must present itself in a certain way to "count" (i.e. in a way they're familiar/comfortable with when stfu it's not about you?) when disabilities in general do not work like that.

But I also completely get that there is a need to break down the assumption that all eye conditions work like this. I know what it feels like to be held to a certain standard by my disabilities and it sucks. If there's one thing worse than just flat-out intolerant ableism towards disabled individuals, it's ableism under the guise of 'i understand your condition better than you do bc i saw it on TV once' ugh But yeah, we've put a pin in the helpful description you've provided and will take this on board moving forward because - like you've pointed out - this is how eye injuries actually work. We especially needed this input since we planned on having Hope being able to have the eye open eventually too. Cat certainly wants to go in and fix that panel with her eye opening in the relevant panel and make it not-cloudy, and what you said about the greyscale and filter idea for the panel afterwards where it's her POV will also be implemented. Thank you again for this advice and for explaining it so well, we always appreciate input like this. <33 And thank you again (again) for the kind comments on Hope's character. It's exactly why we opted to not have her injure the limb like Nothing did and have her be born with the condition instead. Not that we're opposed to that kind of representation, as we intend to cover it somewhat with Bronze and the loss of his limb and how he and the other lions of the Thundering Mountains adapted to it. But yeah, we felt like doing things differently a tad with our main protagonist. c: - RJ

[stygianflood]

Like the Shoreline and the Sea (Ethan x F!MC)

Summary- Ethan is asked out on a date right after Miami in Book 1. Ethan’s PoV

Genre, rating, words- Angst, teen, 2k

Open Heart fanfic tropes- birthday, office.

March Challenge Day 13 prompt Someday; April Challenge Day 9 prompt Smell of the Rain 

A/N: nor’westers-  violent thunderstorms in northern plains of India, before the onslaught of monsoon.

Title inspired by Leonard Cohen’s Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye.

‘This will improve our understanding of adiposity and sarcopenia in this population, help identify thresholds predictive of metabolic risk, and ultimately prevent or ameliorate… ’

Better prevent than ameliorate.

‘...ameliorate the long-term impacts on health and…�� 

Twenty five years should be long enough.

Hers is a singsong voice, the warm, trilling kind. Mellow sun dances on the frills of her dress. The yellow one. 

The man at her side twirls her on the empty kerb. Dips and kisses her. Her laughter is all that is pure and golden.

A child follows them, embarrassed. She bends down to kiss him, and he is furious. 

The scene shifts.

The child is on the front porch, eyes set somewhere beyond the wild bergamot bushes. 

Tear tracks on pink cheeks mingle and dry with dust from his afternoon’s exploits. Something like a steely resolve troops in his eyes.

Ethan Ramsey has been staring at the same sentence for fifteen minutes now.

Whoever coined the term ‘nostalgia’ from the Homeric nostos and algos was speaking of anguish caused by an inability to return. But they failed to discern the inevitable tethering of reminiscence with habituality.

That is more or less the case with him. Louise Ramsey walked out on her husband, and eleven year old son some twenty five years ago right before his birthday. For a very long time now, home is not about apple crisps or kitchen gardens. 

About this time every year, a crevice in his mind he likes to call the amygdala dwells on the same days. 

Almost as a ritual. 

He is a scientist. A rationalist. And like every year, he reminds himself there is work to do.

Unless there’s a knock at the most unpleasant hour.

He never returns to the article. Never manages a come in. The distraction walks in, messy hair knotted with a pencil. Probably because she has lost another hair tie. 

He mustn’t be that aware. 

But she talks too much. 

‘Dr. Mukherjee.’ He sounds gruff. They’re supposed to be redrawing their boundaries, even if he is the only one making an effort. ‘I thought your shift ended-’

‘Two hours ago.’ Rigours of a sixteen hour shift mark her visage. Her smile is a little too conniving for his comfort. ‘I had work afterwards.’ 

She starts shuffling papers on his desk, permission be damned. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and manages an exasperated sigh. Since when have interns started walking into his office with… birthday cakes?

‘What do you think you’re- It’s not my-’

‘I heard rumours that Dr. Ramsey had to cancel a date.’ She sounds amused. He does not miss the split second glance she shoots his way before continuing. ‘On his birthday, too. Such a shame.’

He scoffs.

‘No one knows it’s my birthday.’

‘Oh, they do. They’re just too afraid to… ah, invoke the wrath of Dr. Ramsey.’

Of course, she is not one of them. She has absolutely no regard for the immutable drill he has observed for nearly four decades. And why must she, when her sole intent is to swivel the rusty axis of his life.

Ethan has never known the first shower of an Indian monsoon. It is sudden and torrential, just as it is feared and revered. It smells like summer, and mango blossoms. 

Ethan has never known one until this year.

‘I’m thirty seven, Rookie,’ He manages weakly. 

‘And I would’ve bought the candles accordingly if I knew that.’ 

The tealights she arranges look so much better, he thinks. The cake is a simple blue and white affair. Not the ones that have more icing than cake, he notes. Not the ones he disapproves of.

Happy Birthday, Dr. Terminator

‘I could’ve whipped something up without sugar,’ She rambles, suddenly starting to blush. ‘Or ordered one. But I only just came to know it’s your birthday. And there wasn’t a lot of-

‘Thank you, Apu.’ Tresses of warmth curl about his chest and the gravel of his voice.

Ethan has avoided birthday cakes for a decade now. Unless it’s Naveen’s birthday, he thinks with a pang.

In his time with Harper or his brief involvements in med-school, no one has ever convinced him to do birthdays. He checks himself. This is just an intern being kind.

But interns aren't kind to Dr. Ramsey, are they. 

She assures him the photos are not for social media. They settle on the couch, it’s his first birthday cake in over a decade. 

He is glad for an innocuous reason to look at her, laugh at jokes that in any other company would draw his scorn. She is oddly comforting. Unlike most interns who avoid his office at all costs, she moves about it as if she was meant to be here all along. 

He must have stalled birthdays worth twenty years only to spend it on a couch with her. 

The plates are disposable. It is nothing like the restaurants that come with his status, for there is an endearing simplicity about it. 

It almost feels like… home.

He steals occasional glances at her. It has been four agonisingly long days after their return from Miami. And for all his attempts to redraw their boundaries, it has been a non-return of sorts. 

Aparna drives him to distraction, flouts each and every one of his rules. Seeks him out in supply closets and muddled dreams. And every time he breaks her heart a little more, he finds himself floundering in his own squalor.

The German counterpart to the English ‘nostalgia’ is ‘sehnsucht’. Like ‘nostalgia’, it has the charm of what has been. But unlike it, it also has the enigma of what has never been. Miami will remain the swansong to an ideal that slipped through Ethan’s fingers. 

A surge of anguish ripples through him as he realises all of this is his for the asking, and he will have none of it. 

‘It wasn’t a date,’ He blurts out.

He wouldn’t tell her that if he wants her to move on. Not truly.

‘You don’t have to-’

‘She is Declan’s associate in Panacea. She suggested signing the contract with the Diagnostics Team over dinner tonight. So…  just business.’

Claudette Wilson is the most promising young face of Panacea, and Ethan needed less than a minute to know why. 

Sleek, dark hair styled at her nape played up her high cheekbones. The ruby of her pliant lips, almost risqué for a meeting such as this, always lingered a little longer on the rim of her coffee mug. Even the measured spoons of her laughter came with an all too enticing lilt.

Ethan has met the other type. Vacuous and synthetic. But the steely glint in her eyes came with a weighty intelligence. An unfaltering wit. And when a perfectly manicured hand brushed the contours of his cuff, he knew it was never meant to be just business. 

She was irresistible. And so was he.

That afternoon, the bitterness in his mouth had nothing to do with coffee. He learnt he would refuse Claudette even if her pay checks did not come from Panacea.

Aparna falls silent, almost as if discerning in his words everything he left unsaid.

They have run out of jokes and topics for a harmless chat. He is getting terribly comfortable with her again, he realises alarmed. And she is fidgeting with the ring on her finger.

She’s nervous too. He knows. He could define every twitch and turn of those fingers. 

Somewhere in their conversation they have edged so close that her knee juts into his thigh. The couch is surprisingly small for two people. Minutes pass, and despite himself, he does not want her to leave. 

His fingers rest on her flustered hands, it’s a deep-rooted reflex. Looking down, she weaves his hand in both of her own. Even as the adrenaline surging in his blood incites him to flee, the delirious part of him emerges stronger and more naive.

He thinks she is leaning in. Soaking up the mayhem in his eyes. The slight movement causes wisps of errant hair to slip from the messy bun. There’s new growth around her brows, a faded scar on her forehead. But it’s her eyes that still hold sway over him. 

They stroked him with a strange, silent awe on a balcony on the shores of the Atlantic.

She is nothing like interns that hover around him year after year. Sucking up for recommendations. Sometimes more. She can devour him, and just as easily cast him aside without batting an eye. 

And yet she is here. Snuggled in his office while her friends call it a night with cheap beer and rowdy escapades. 

But she is different tonight. The quiver in her eyes tentative, even wary.

His hand rises of its own accord, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. Inadvertently, it brushes her face, lingers a little longer against her cheek.

She caressed his face as the ocean crashed around him. It was like falling from the top of a precipice. Tumbling into the amorphous, a terrifying weightlessness. He waited.

‘It’s getting late.’

She smells like the hospital, muted shades of honeysuckle, and like herself. 

The cool breeze hummed a steady rhyme against the tumble of her midnight blue dress. Bits of the moon bounced off the dark curtain of her hair, plunging into her eyes. Ethan had never seen such fathomless eyes.

‘I should go.’ She leans into his palm, eyes fluttering close. 

‘You should.’ 

And then she caught him. It was the hollow of her neck. It was soft. Like the rest of her. 

Neither of them move today, silently imploring the other to charge. Or retreat. The battle drum in his chest is a dull ache. Throbbing and inconsolable.

The ridges of her collarbone bore traces of his ruin. Traces she covered every morning and stripped every night, like the rites of a godless liturgy.

His free hand is still laced in hers, the other drawing her face nearer. 

Her lips are inches from his own as he draws a languid finger across them. Her warm breath spills on his lips, warring and mingling with his own ragged ones. 

Her mouth was stained with wine. Numbing and inciting. He was battered, and bruised. Marooned at her side. And she was warm. So warm.

His hand traced the pummelling of her heart, kneading the softness of her chest. Her tongue jousted with his own as the ocean lapped at its shore. Tireless and persevering.

She was wild. Like her Gangetic nor’westers on a sultry afternoon. He was bewitched. She was doing something good to him.

Suddenly the air around them is ripped by the sound of his phone. 

It’s his father.

The two of them recoil to their own spaces, Ethan horrified that he let himself stray so far yet again. Silencing the still erring device, he faces Aparna bracing for another apology.

‘I know.’ 

Her smile is placid, all traces of vulnerability gone. He is vaguely aware of the gentle pressure on the hand still clasped in her own.

‘Happy Birthday, Ethan. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ 

She is gone before he can marshal his thoughts.

Ethan flops back into the couch, shivering and alone. The incandescent glow from the solitary lamp drenches the office in a soft, ethereal haze. She might not have been here at all but for the little things she scatters around him every time she forays into his life.

Today she leaves with him a caesura. It thwarts the cadence of a life he has been putting together since Miami.

After a minute, or perhaps a staggering nightmare, when he rises to pack the rest of the cake, he sees it. 

She must have forgotten her hair tie was in her pocket after all. 

It stares up at him from the floor, the silken, mute witness of his transgression. He gingerly picks it up, and turns it in his hand as though it houses some ancient sorcery. 

Laying it on his desk, he considers texting her. But scarcely does he scroll down to her name when he stops himself. And pockets it. 

Somewhere in the Atlantic, waves still crash upon the rocks, moistening, but never quite lingering. 

The waves are relentless. Someday, the rocks crumble into fine sand.

Thank you for reading this! Let me know if you’d want to be added or removed.

[peach-the-owl]

Maybe one with Kima and Allura? The reader is an artist and one day they start to leave little notes with sketches for them in random places where they can find them and it's just them being a good friend trying to make them smile during the day.

Aww, I love Kima and Allura so much, their relationship is just so precious 🥰 I hope this turned out well

Also might’ve let myself get carried away with the idea, it’s a bit long 😅

Little Notes

Allura & Kima & Artist!Reader (Platonic)

You were making your way over to Allura's for a visit knowing she had been stressing out over Kima being missing from her mission in Kraghammer and hoping to calm some of those nerves. You walk up to the doors of her tower and give a knock, after a small wait the door opens to reveal the arcanist herself.

"(Y/n)! It’s been awhile, how are you?" She asks slightly surprised by your sudden appearance.

"Hello Allura, sorry about not informing you of my arrival." You sheepishly scratch at the back of your head in apology. "Do you mind if I come in? If not I can just-"

"No no, it’s alright." She stops you and steps out of the way for you to enter the tower. You welcome yourself in and go to sit in your usual spot whenever you’d visit. "I’m actually glad you decided to pop in, I’ve needed a distraction what with everything going on." Allura admits. At this point you pull out your sketchbook and pencil you always carry with you and start to add some fine line work to a piece you’d been working on for weeks now, never seeming to get it quite right.

"I know you’ve been stressing over this, which is exactly why I wanted to come over. So why don’t you tell me about what you’ve been up to recently." You suggest, not looking away from your drawing. You knew this wouldn’t bother Allura because for the years you've known each other, while it looked like you weren’t paying attention to the conversation you actually were, listening very carefully to every word being spoken to you. Allura went on to tell you about her work with the council and some of the worries she has for Kima, you adding in your own thoughts to the conversation every now and again. She then told you about her allies, the adventuring group known as Vox Machina that she asked to help find Kima, you knew about this group and what they did for the royal family but didn’t know them as personally as Allura did.

"I just hope nothing terrible has happened." Allura finally concludes after her long rant. You give an amused hum and sigh, taking proper notice that you’d wandered away from your project and had several random doodles covering the page. However instead of hindering you this placed a wonderful idea into your head.

"Relax Ally, if these people are as capable as you say then they’ll find Kima in no time. Just relax and breath, alright." You look up at her this time seeing her nod and take a few deep breaths. While she was distracted with that you carefully tear out some of the doodles, writing little messages of encouragement on the back of them and stand up. You sneakily slipping one of the notes between the cushion of the chair having it stick out just enough to be noticeable but not too obvious. "It’s been lovely, thank you for having me over but it’s getting late. I should really be making my way home."

"Allow me to walk you out." Allura offers which you happily accept, sneakily hiding the little drawings along the way in various places for Allura to hopefully find later. "I really appreciated the visit, helps to confide in a friend. You’re welcome back anytime." Allura gives you a quick hug that you return before the two of you part ways until next time.

It had been a while since your little visit and felt it only fair to check in and see how everything was going. When you arrive you’re relieved to see that Kima had returned in one piece, while Allura was occupied with thanking Vox Machina for their efforts you quietly shuffle over. You then watch as Kima and Allura share a small moment by staring at each other before they run into each other’s arms, you smile a little at this before deciding to quickly jump in.

"No it’s fine, just pretend I’m not here." You joke gaining everyone’s attention, you walk over to the two and without missing a beat Kima gives you a playful punch in the arm. "I swear to Bahamut Kima, you’re gonna break my arm one of these days." You slightly hiss from the pain.

"Nah if I meant to do that, it'd already be broken." Kima says slyly, you roll your eyes before properly hugging your friend, slipping a little note you’d made into her armour.

"Well now who’s this one?" The red Dragonborn asks. After some proper introductions with the group Allura invites everyone into her tower for tea, you hang back a second unsure if you should join them or just head home early.

"Don’t just stand there, the offer stands for you too." Allura gives a warm smile and ushers you inside.

"I know I just didn’t want to feel like I was overcrowding the place, plus I’m sure you’d like to catch up with Kima." You say meekly. You make your way up and automatically go to sit in your usual spot, pulling out your sketchbook as both a distraction and to continue on a commission for a client you’d received. Enjoying some tea and listening to the conversation between everyone else, Kima leans over your shoulder to look at your work.

"The hell is that supposed to be?" She asks quietly, staring at your drawing.

"Art." You reply cheekily. You catch her rolling her eyes at the corner of yours.

"I know what it is, but what is it?"

"The client asked for something abstract, so this is the result so far." You precede to erase and redraw a few of the lines you’d made until you felt satisfied.

"I don’t get it." You stifle a laugh, Kima didn’t really have an artistic eye but you appreciated that she at least tried to understand your craft whenever the two of you got to interact with each other.

"Shouldn’t you be involved in this conversation? Not to be rude or anything but it sounds important." You look up at Kima now to which she scratches at the back of her head, you can now see the blush on her cheeks.

"His questions were making me a little uncomfortable." She gestures over to the goliath, Grog. You give a reassuring pat her on the shoulder, sneaking another note into her armour before you realize something.

"Sorry to interrupt but what time is it?" After some fumbled reply’s Allura gives you her best estimation. "I have to go, I’ve got client to meet today and sooo much work to do. Thank you for the tea Allura, it was lovely to meet you all and thank you for safely bringing Kima back." You give a bit of a rushed goodbye as you gather up your things and hurry out of the tower, pausing briefly at the door to hide one more note for Allura to find later.

Time came and went, work piled up leaving you busy to no end, the only contact you had with your friends being the letters you’d write each other telling of what you’d been up to. However once the dragons came your world went crashing down, you had longed for a break away from all the work on your shoulders but not like this. Your home was in shambles, your hard work that took you months to complete destroyed in seconds, you considered yourself lucky to have made it out alive. Now you were but another refugee in Whitestone praying for a miracle while doodling in your sketchbook, the only thing that survived with you albeit slightly charred at the corners.

"Oh my gosh! You’re alive!" You hear a familiar voice call, looking over to see Kima run up to you. You give each other hug and once you let go Kima punches your arm.

"Every time I swear." You sigh with a small laugh, rubbing your arm.

"Gotta keep that arm strength up for your art stuff." Kima jokes, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "Anyways, do you know where Ally is?" You shake your head.

"I don’t, but I assume she’s alive, that woman’s a tough cookie." Kima nods in agreement.

"Would you like to help us?" Keyleth asks.

"Me? No I couldn’t, I’ve never really been the adventuring type, I much prefer swinging around a paintbrush over a sword." You politely decline the offer. "But I would like to advise one thing," you pat Kima's shoulder, once again slipping in a note you’d made into her armour in hopes of bringing encouragement. "Don’t do anything rash that could get you killed." Kima gives a quiet "yeah I know" and with that you watch the party continue on their way.

You did what you could with what little resources you had to build up and regain some normality to your life, starting a little side business of making motivational cards for anyone needing an extra pick me up. Folks seemed to really like it, each card having a personalized picture and message written on it, doing what you could to help keep hope alive in these trying times. When you met up with Kima and Allura again Allura was relived to see you were still alive and standing strong. They invited you over to the abode they were staying at together, which put a new idea into your head. Before you arrived for your visit with them you had made more of your little notes for them, this time making a few that you hoped would help spark the romance between the two you’ve seen since day one (secret wingman). When you arrived they gave you a quick tour of the place, leaving opportunities for you to slip the notes into various places around the house, making you wonder if this time they were doing it on purpose having finally caught on to your little gimmick. You all sat down and sipped away at some tea or coffee while talking about the actions going forward, as the evening came you bid your friends a goodnight and made your way back to your temporary living quarters…

More time flew by, the Chroma Conclave was since defeated and Emon was slowly rebuilding itself, a time of peace finally setting in and you had a lot of work ahead of you if you were ever going to be able to buildup your home from scratch. The only downside was you didn’t have the gold to pay for everything, your work as an artist didn’t always pay a lot but it was enough to keep you stable but having to pay to acquire materials for the house and art studio was another story entirely. Your then approached by two very familiar people.

"Allura! Kima! So good to see you both again. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to write or visit often lately, been quite busy trying to re-establish myself." You greet your friends and notice the large bag Kima's carrying.

"It’s alright we’ve been rather busy ourselves with everything going on. We actually wished to talk with you." Allura gives you a gentle smile.

"Well I’d normally like to welcome you into my home, but as you can see it’s… not much of a home yet." You half-joke gesturing to the still ruined state of your house, the broken paintings you once had all having been stripped away when the Cinder King still ruled.

"That was actually one of the things we wished to speak with you about, Kima if you would." She turns to Kima who in turn hulls the bag over her shoulder letting it clatter to the ground, and you can hear the jangling of coin inside. "I believe this should help accommodate everything you need for your home and work." You stare jaw dropped at the bag filled to the brim with gold.

"I-This is very generous of you. I simply can’t just take your money." You say out of shock at the large gold pile in front of you.

"Think of it as payment for all you’ve done for us." Allura smiles and gives you an expectant look.

"All I’ve done? I haven’t really done anything to help."

"Sure you have, back when Kima was missing finding those papers with the little drawings and messages really helped keep me calm and cheer me up through all the stress." Allura explains.

"Yeah, or the ones you managed to slip into my armour. Little distracting at first but invigorating when I was in a tough spot in battle." Kima jumps in. You just smile, all you were doing was trying to be nice and encouraging to your friends unknowing of the effects it apparently lead to.

"Still, not all is from us." Allura suddenly cuts into your thoughts, you look at her confused. "That was the second thing we wanted to talk with you about. Some of this is a sort of upfront payment for a few commissions from our friends, half now to help you and half later once you've completed their requests."

"There’s more!?" You were almost lightheaded from the information, but shake it off and refocus yourself. "I’d love to, please fill me in on all the details."

"First off Keyleth asked for a landscape piece of her home in Zephrah, Keyleth will easily help bring you to and from her home whenever you’re ready. Next Percy wanted a portrait made for castle Whitestone, he said he’d fill in the rest of the details upon your arrival. Finally," Allura gives a bit of a sigh, "there’s Taryon… he wants a, and I quote, 'self portrait made with nothing but the finest oil paints you can get your hands on for the Slayer's Cake.'"

"So basically the plan is to visit Whitestone once my home's rebuilt. That should be fine, one question though, who’s Taryon?"

"Trust me, you’ll know who he is when you meet him."

"Sounds like quite the character." You say with a hint of nervousness. "Well if that’s everything, I should get to work. Thank you again for everything." You go to collect the heavy bag of gold only to pause when you hear Kima speak up.

"Ally did you still wanna… you know ask about the thing?" She had leaned closer to Allura to ask but you still heard her.

"What thing?" You question to which Allura perks up a bit in realization.

"I almost completely forgotten. Right, there was one more, very special request." You look at the two in silence, Allura walks up to you and takes one of your hands in hers. "(Y/n), Kima and I have a very important and special request of you." You just nod and wait for her to continue. "We were wondering if you could make us something special for… for our wedding." You stare wide eyed in awe.

"You two are getting married? That’s amazing! About time too." You cheer.

"Not so loud please, we just want a simple and private wedding you know, a few eye witnesses for the event. You don’t have to make anything grand, if anything we’d like what you make to be similar to the notes you’ve always left us." You press your hands together and hold back the urge to just scream to the heavens in happiness for them. When you manage to calm yourself enough you look back that the couple and give them a large smile.

"I’d be honoured to make something for your wedding." You give them both a hug and reset your sights on your shambled home. "Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a house to get built."

"Hold on, I still have one more thing for you." Kima interrupts this time. Before you can ask you feel a punch impact your arm, you suck back the pain as you rub the spot she hit. "Alright now your free to start." She gives you a smug look.

"Every. Single. Time." You playfully glare back. You had a long road ahead of you and you were certain it’d only be a matter of time before the peace is disturbed again but for now you wanted to focus on the present. Like you said, you had a lot of work to do.

[votederpycausemufins]

Red: ch 3 Berries

This story is also posted on Ao3

Chloé visits Marinette’s home and designing happens.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Chloé did her best not to look nervous as she approached the Dupain-Cheng bakery. She may have been invited, but going to her former rival’s home was different to say the least, not to mention she was on Sabine’s bad side as far as she knew, and Marinette mom was someone you did not want to be on the bad side of.

    Chloé took a breath before opening the door to the bakery. The bell chimed and Sabine looked over. “Hello welcome to- oh, hello Chloé.”

    The blonde was surprised at the unexpected warmth in Sabine’s voice. Her best guess was that Marinette had told her mother that Chloé would be visiting, but it was still surprising there wasn’t a hint of anger in Sabine’s voice.

    Marinette came down the steps, nearly falling. “Chloé you’re here! Come on up!”

    Sabine turned to look at her daughter. “Would you like me to bring any treats up? I’ve got a fresh batch of strawberry crumble.”

    “Oh that’s perfect Maman! I’m actually designing a line based on different berries!”

    “You will have to show me when it is finished.”

    “I will Maman.” Marinette replied with a smile before dragging Chloé upstairs all the way to her room, which was tricky on the ladder.

    Chloé looked around the bedroom. The place was very… pink. In the one episode of Fill my Shoes, Chloé had seen Marinette’s room appear, and it looked pretty much the same, but the area around her computer looked different. “It looks empty over there.”

    Marinette briefly looked upset. “I’m uh… redecorating that area.”

    That’s right, Chloé recalled, that’s where Adrien’s pictures had been. Another sign about how Marinette liked Adrien, but of course she didn’t anymore after what he had done. “Well maybe you should put your sketches there.”

    Marinette tilted her head as she looked at the area. “You’re probably right. Could you grab my sketchbook?” Chloé didn’t move and after a few seconds staring at the wall, Marinette turned to look and the blonde. “Oh right, you’re not Alya. It’s fine if you don’t want to help.”

    “No, I would grab it for you, but not only don’t know where it is, I also still remember last time I tried taking it.”

    Marinette covered her mouth. “Oh that’s right! I completely forgot!”

    “Here is it Marinette!” Tikki came flying over dragging the sketchbook along in the air.

    “That looks heavy” Chloé commented, grabbing it from the kwami to give to Marinette.

    “Just a little. I’m stronger than I look.”

    Chloé gave a nod as Marinette carefully took out some pages. “Those don’t look like some of your best work, why bother putting them up?”

    Marinette shrugged. “I guess I��m just paranoid with everything that’s been happening. It’s better if I put out the worse stuff in case someone tries stealing it.”

    “That’s pretty clever. Like with your signature that looks like a design.”

    “Yeah, I started designing them with that after Adrien’s birthday.”

    Chloé’s eyes widened. “So that scarf was made by you! Of course his father wouldn’t wouldn’t give him a present like that. Ugh, he’s as bad as Hawkmoth sometimes.”

    Marinette gave a small laugh. “I actually thought he was Hawkmoth until he was akumatized.”

    “Right. So, you said you’ve been doing some designs?”

    “Oh, yes!” Marinette smiled and opened her sketchbook to near the back. “I’ve finished blueberry, strawberry and raspberry. I’m still working on cranberry.”

    Chloé looked at the designs. She had to admit, they did look nice. “These mainly seem more feminine. Anything a bit more masculine?”

    “Well, the berry theme seems more oriented to dresses and other ‘feminine’ styles.”

    Chloé studied the designs for a little bit more before handing the sketchbook back. “Maybe counterpart outfits, like bilberry and bramble berry.”

    “Oh! That’s a good idea! What about strawberry and cranberry?” Marinette asked, grabbing a pencil and quickly writing some notes.”

    Chloé pauses, thinking for a bit. “Well currant for cranberry, but strawberry is a bit harder. Maybe… lychee? Do you know what that is?”

    “Yes, my uncle has made some recipes with Lychee, though not too many. It’s mainly for deserts. But that’s a great idea for the counterpart to strawberry!”

    “Now if there were only something yellow.” Chloé said quietly, though loud enough Marinette heard.

    “Well, bananas are classified as berries actually.”

    “Look, yellow is okay, but actually picturing a banana is a line I will not cross!” Chloé states firmly, crossing her arms.

    “That makes sense. And I know it’s not yellow, but I may have made a design or two for you. I’ve done at least one for everyone in the class. Well except Lila.” Marinette gave a quick shrug and grabbed a different sketchbook. “It’s got some purple in it, but I could recolor it if I make it.”

    Chloé took the sketchbook that was handed to her. It looked… nice. The design had her with a long sleeved dress shirt with the cuffs slightly rolled up. Over it was a vest like shirt. It was a light lavender and in the middle there was a white and purple diamond design. The pants were a simple middle grey tone. The shoes were the same color or a little darker with lavender and white accents in the same diamond pattern.

    “This is… amazing. Can you make this for me actually?” Chloé looked up from the sketchbook. “But change the colors. The purples make yellows and the white in the designs can be lavender.”

    Marinette looked shocked. “Wait, really?”

    “Well various magazines say changing how you dress can help change how you act.”

    “Alright, I guess I’ll redraw it with those colors. I might change the design to better fit them, so if I do, I can send you a picture! But wait…” Marinette turned to look at Chloé after turning to her designing area. “I don’t have your phone number.”

    “Ugh, that’s right… fine, give me a piece of paper. Just make sure you get rid of it once it’s in your phone. I don’t want anyone else getting it. Adrien and Sabrina are already enough. I want to block Adrien, but it might be suspicious.”

    “You could just do it anyway.” Marinette suggested.

    “No, no. It could make him worse. Besides, who knows if it could be useful in the future. Now, let’s stop talking about him. So, you’re working on those berry designs?”

    “Right! Designing!” Marinette grabbed her sketchbook but fumbled with it, somehow managing to smack it, flinging it towards Chloé and hitting her in the face.

    “Dupain-Cheng!” Marinette flinched at the yell. “How are you so graceful as Ladybug and so clumsy as you?!”

    Marinette gave a small sigh of relief that Chloé wasn’t being mean then listening as the blonde continued. “Look, we’re friends now I guess, so I’m not going to be too mean outside of school. But at school I will be mean. I have appearances to upkeep.”

    “Is that why you acted mean when you invited me to your table?” Marinette raised an eyebrow.

    “Yes, exactly. I’m known as a bully, especially yours, and if I was suddenly just nice, it would be worse than half nice.”

    “I guess, though you don’t really have to pretend to completely like me.”

    “What’s that supposed to mean?!” Chloé glared at Marinette before her eyes softened. “Oh, you mean that. Look I’m still getting used to having a real friend. Which we have only been for a day.”

    “Maybe, but you’ve been nicer to me than anyone else in our class in the past week.”

    Suddenly Tikki flew away and hid as the trapdoor opened to Sabine. “Here are the treats girls.”

    “Thank you Mme. Dupain-Cheng.” Chloé thanked Sabine and took the platter from her.

    “I’m just glad Marinette has someone coming over again.”

    Chloé nodded and took the treats over to Marinette as Sabine went back down. As the designer picked up one piece, Chloé picked up another. “To new friendships I suppose.”

    “Right, to new friendships.” Marinette nodded, then pressed her piece against Chloé’s for a moment as if they were clinking glasses after a toast before she took a bite.

    Chloè took a bite of her own and was amazed at how it tasted. She barely ate anything from the bakery if she could help it, but she had to admit, everything they made was delicious. “This is amazing!”

    Marinette laughed. “It must be if you’re talking with your mouth full.”

    “Oh shut up!” Chloé said, failing to stifle a laugh, proceeding to playfully push Marinette a little. It took her back to their first year of school together. Well it wasn’t quite school. It was a day of daycare while their parents were working together on something. It was the first and last time they were together before Chloé really started to act like a bully. Just before her mother left for her nearly permanent move to America.

    “Thanks Marinette. For letting me have the chance to be your friend.”

    Marinette gave a small smile. “I’m glad you’re willing to change.”

    The two gave a quick hug before continuing their time together, eventually losing track of how late it was getting, leading to Chloé calling her father to say she was staying over, which was fine since tomorrow they didn’t have school.

    Chloé was surprised to find that Marinette had some Queen Bee pajamas, though she seemed to have a set for each of the heroes. Marinette dressed herself in what was likely her regular pajamas. The designer then set up a place on the floor with plenty of blankets and pillows. “There, I can sleep here and you can have the bed.”

    “Thanks Marinette.” Chloé smiled before getting into the bed. They were just getting situated and ready to sleep, when out of nowhere, there was a knock on the door. The door to the balcony.

[modmad]

holy shamoly there are so many things to play with here AAA (also Gladstone doesn’t have friends like OOF anon ouch right in the kokoro)- imma waffle about possibilities for a bit so feel free to read or ignore

Oh man I’m super into this thank you anon whoever you were.

This is the original from the comic scan! Regarding your observation of it not relating to marriage, I think that’s covered by the Don Rosa original explanation in Sign of the Triple Distelfink that it was designed specifically for the coming of a new child. Taking that packaged on top of the fact that it was in fact his mother who received that particular hex effect, and that Gladstone inherited it after the fact, I suspect there’s room for a shift in how the luck functions. Also this is like, happy fun duck comics land so I’m not gonna get too bogged down in technicalities (also going to talk about the theme of isolation in this later).

I do like that you pointed out it has stuff to do with familial love and is different from the symbol for friendship- that works all too well! Gladstone loves his family a lot, but even then his actual friendships with and within the family aren’t all that great! He loves Scrooge, and doubtless (deep down) Scrooge loves him, but they don’t always see eye to eye and in terms of ‘friendship’ it isn’t easy to say that they have a good relationship. Same with Donald; ultimately, they’re cousins, and would never hurt each other seriously in any way, but they fight all the time! Donald in particular is very open about the fact that he hates Gladstone, and while I don’t believe I’ve ever read Gladstone saying he hates Donald, he certainly enjoys being his rival and getting on his nerves!

The one-instead-of-three tulips is particularly laden with possibilities; with how you described them, I would say it fits Gladstone very well! Gladstone has absolute faith in his luck; in fact it’s when he doesn’t that it sometimes stops working for a time. If we take that as ‘faith in what one does’, that erases ‘faith in oneself’ and ‘faith in ones fellow man’- which half works, because he doesn’t trust others (perhaps with the exception of his family, but even then in O Lucky Man we see he was suspicious of Donald using him too), but then Gladstone is very arrogant and confident, so does that negate the first? So perhaps we have to cancel out ‘faith in what one does’ and THAT fits in the sense that, even if it always benefits him, he doesn’t have any control over his luck and effectively is hostage to its whims. Moreover, as in this particular comic, it’s suggested that he feels frustrated and guilty that it doesn’t matter whether or not he tries to achieve something good, it just happens to him. Basically, the thing that he lacks is faith in his worth as an individual: however, is that ‘faith in oneself’ or ‘faith in what one does’? I’m not actually sure! But he certainly doesn’t have faith in all of those three aspects, so one tulip sounds just right.

In terms of the birds, that is to say the ‘distelfinks’, there are several ways to interpret their positions and behaviour, but I can only make these guesses as an outsider based on what you’ve said and other symbolisms I’m more familiar with (there are so many little tie-ins to heraldic, alchemic and tarot symbolism with this image but I’ll try not to deviate).

From your statement it’s unusual for them to be facing each other, and hex signs are usually applied to households, marriages, or friendships; i.e. situations that involve multiple people. This along with ‘inward facing’ creatures to me implies a statement on inwardness, and an inward channeling of the power it is meant to summon. Gladstone’s luck may have a slight umbrella effect, but what is repeatedly enforced in the comics is that it only benefits him. There’s some amount of his luck ‘rubbing off’ on people, whether by literal touch or simple proximity, but the hex only affects him to the absurd degree we’re used to (which makes it entertaining as a character feature, but has proven to be distressing both for him and others). 

We can, again, take this imagery as a depiction/description of Gladstone’s selfishness, or it could be a conscious decision on the part of the hex maker to restrict such a high level of supernatural luck to one entity only. Imagine if that level of luck happened to everyone who was within shouting distance of Gladstone, or everyone who happened to walk past that particular barn, or stayed with people who’d made contact with him etc. The results would be impossible! Dangerously so. With inward facing distelfinks, it leads to a supposition that the only beneficiary of the hex is someone who it explicitly refers to; it worked for Daphne, obviously, as she was the person it was made for and was born directly in front of that symbol, and it works for her son who was born on her birthday. My redraw excludes that specification of the ‘newborn child’ image in the heart, and I’m starting to think that I’ll have to fix that! Because this is so obviously an inherently important aspect of the symbol- this hex can only be received as a birthright. In this sense, the spell is purposefully isolating itself from outsiders, and that reflects perfectly with how Gladstone has done the same to himself; in that vein, it could be said that Gladstone’s self centred personality is not only inevitable as a side effect of being so lucky, but is a necessary form of self-defence to cope with the mechanics of his luck.

As for ‘staring down’ at the tulip and the heart (which I take to be a symbol of the hex’s receiver), it could again be seen as a literal depiction of the distelfinks having a position of superiority and control over the subject. In my redraw I attempted to keep it close to the original, but I took the liberty of making it look even more like the tulip is viscerally connected to the heart. It could be seen either as a tulip growing out of the heart, or being forcibly inserted into it by the distelfink- either way it is a slightly uncomfortable concept. It also struck me that the birds were clearly holding onto the tulip, and the centermost bird is in a slightly aggressive stance- leaning over the flower, looking right out at the viewer. In other symbol language, a symmetrical creature gazing front on to the viewer is often a warning or a confrontational statement; again, a form of exclusion, and a statement of something that should not be interfered with. I wish I knew what the four flowers in the design were, and whether they have some inherent symbolism too...

SO yeah that’s my little analysis. It has to be said all of this is complete speculation on my part! Whether Don Rosa had any of this in mind when he was making the design is anyone’s guess, but he has a long history of depicting very accurate research and I strongly suppose that he knows a lot more on distelfinks than I ever will. Whatever the case this sign is certainly one that could stand more exploration in the canon! There’s just so much to play with!

Anyway, this was fun- now I have to work. Oops.

[horistans]

hello friends uwu it’s been some time!

Been filling up the queue every once in awhile and I’ve updated the blog’s theme! Please feel free to take a look at it! I am using a glenthemes theme.

I am still in the process of updating everything (such as adding announcements, properly making a change log, etc)

It’s quite an unceremonious return, but I can’t wait to share stuff with you all again!! 

I might be asking for feedback on this blog (specifically in regards to tagging) if that’s okay. If you have any suggestions for me, I’d love to hear them! The interface hasn’t seemed to change TOO much since I left, but with the new characters, I’m wondering if I should change the tags again...

If you’re interested, keep reading to get details on what I have done so far and what I’ve been up to during my hiatus!

On the desktop theme, I’m planning on keeping a similar format! With links on the side to where you can read GSNK, the taglist, and my fanfics. I intend on updating the announcements page for important dates (when gsnk ch are released on GanGan, when the most recent CMC chapter was released, character birthdays, etc). The News container will later be updated to contain blog changes (so, a change log) at some point.

I removed the submissions feature on this blog, since it was never used!

I’ve already updated the About page and was surprised to be reminded of the original intent of this blog! It won’t be happening anytime soon, but if we can host more events in the future, I think it would be very fun.

When I read the old About, I was reminded the original purpose of horisexual was actually to host fanfic competitions! Your love and engagement with my old fics made me really nostalgic, and a few on the GSNK discord convinced me to jump back into tumblr. I am glad that everyone is still so friendly and nice!

Re: the submissions feature (mentioned above), if we ever get to a point where we host a fanfic contest, I will likely be using the submissions as the way to submit.

(Speaking of events, will you be participating in GSNK Week? I’ve planned out what I want to draw already and I’m super excited~~)

I have also updated my Fanfics page using code from namjooneh but will continue to work on it so it fits horisexual better. I might have implemented this new format, but the filters don’t seem to work, so I’ve already found a backup that I just need to enter the fic information into.

You may also note that none of the long chapter fics are in there (except for one) because I’ve only decided to rewrite one of them (for now! We’ll see where that motivation goes, haha)

That being said, are there any ways you would like the fics to be filtered? I don’t believe the new format has a filter system, but it would be nice to know what information you would like me to add to the blurbs and previews!

As for an explanation for my hiatus:

I was receiving a lot of hate on my personal blog around mid-2016. A lot of the attacks were about information I overshared, which as a minor, I should have been more mindful of. I am ashamed of how I acted back then (refusing to simply ignore/block and instead kept responding && the information that I was freely giving out), but I’d like to think I’ve healed a lot since then. I have since went in, deleted all my posts on my personal blog from 2016, deleted the few remaining hate messages still in my inbox from that time, and am ready to start again.

What I’ve been up to:

In the past 4 years, I’ve been attending university within my state! Our GameDev program is apparently one of the best programs nationally, but no one seems to know that outside of our university (we were told to put it on our resume and bring it up in cover letters haha) so it’s a bit weird to talk about. I have made some games! This is a link to my portfolio if you want to know a little about them.

I’ve also started a ko-fi page! I used to be a dual major until recently, so I am taking an extra semester (plus this summer semester) to finish up my credits as I graduate. Graduating later than 4 years isn’t a big deal, but it’s very hard financially. Student loans are no longer willing to help support me, I will be a part-time student in the fall (little to no financial aid), and I’ve been barely been able to support myself as of late since my job assigned me on a project with a $2 pay cut from my regular rate.

I also got accepted into an internship program in Japan! As mentioned before, financing the rest of my tuition is hard enough, and now I need to be able to afford my plane ticket, the program fees and living expenses. I am currently studying Japanese for the N3 certification, but we’ll see how that goes (I’m going to stay hopeful!! I still have time!!)

If you want to know more about Ko-fi and the program I’m doing, I made a YT video a month ago. It also briefly explains why I find this internship so important to my professional development. If you have the time, resources, and would like to support me, I would greatly appreciate it! I even have a sticker club reward for monthly supporters, and a portion of those sales goes to Project COVID-19, a fundraising project by a few of my colleagues who are raising money to purchase PPE for health facilities nationwide (US). 

I would like to explain more, but covering the past 4 years is a long time (haha)... and you’re here for the GSNK content! I am sure there will be loads of more opportunities to talk about myself (apologies if I do so...) so I will end it here. 

Thank you for being a follower of horisexual for so long. And if you’re new here, welcome!

I am currently taking summer courses and working (remotely), so I do not know how active I will be, but I will definitely return to fill up the queue a few times a week- if not every day. I have a few asks from before I left/received during hiatus. You can still submit prompts to me via ask and I will try to get to them!

If you want to talk I am also on discord ( JamKats#9424) and twitter @/jamkataclysms (note my twitter is mostly art & games). I also have a ko-fi account where I post GSNK fanart sometimes! https://ko-fi.com/jamkats

I hope you have a great day! As a reward for reaching the end of this long post, here’s a recent redraw of one of the gsnk omakes! (from vol 10)

If you’re in the GSNK server, you’ve probably seen it already, so I guess it’s not that good of an award...The other (the first) redraw I did has been queued so it will go up sometime this week!

I spent all night studying, so I’ll probably go to sleep now <3 thank you again :)

[thegladelf]

Killian Jones and The Girl Who Lived 6/8

Ahhhh....we’re in the home stretch! I hope everyone has enjoyed it so far. I love hearing from all of you... A great big thank you to @icecubelotr44​ for being such an awesome beta. Also a shout out to @prongsie​ and @jemmingart​ for being such great artists and cheerleaders. I’ve loved getting to see what their brains come up with to complement my crazy, little story.

As usual, this chapter is up on FF.net and Ao3 if those are your preferred platforms. 

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: G

First Chapter | Previous Chapter

Chapter Six: Nicholas Flamel

“You’re sure?” Mary Margaret asked.

The Great Hall bustled with activity as students slid into their places at the tables. Every now and then, the vocal exuberance of a reunion would punctuate the air. Students had been arriving at Hogwarts all day, most of them glad to see friends and excited for the second half of term.

Mary Margaret leaned over the table, her hand practically in the middle of a bowl of pudding as she quizzed the three of them.

Emma sighed, exchanging a long-suffering glance with David. “Is it possible to transfigure yourself into someone else?”

“That’s not transfiguration,” Killian supplied around a mouthful of biscuit—the kind that had rarely crossed the threshold back home, with decadent icing and sprinkles.

David squinted at Mary Margaret. “Are you positive about that? Because Mary Margaret sort of sounds like McGonagall on pop quiz day.”

“I just want to know if you found anything,” Mary Margaret said. She sat back with a huff, not even muttering as Killian reached for another treat.

“We already told you what we found.” Emma glanced around, her eyes lingering on the teachers—who looked considerably less excited than the students—as they ate their meals at the head table. “Nothing. We must’ve checked dozens of shelves off our list, but we didn’t find a single word on Nicholas Flamel.” On the last two words, her voice dropped even lower, so that even from right next to her, Killian read the words on her lips more than he heard them.

Mary Margaret pouted. “Well, that’s disappointing.” She stabbed her fork into her dinner, pushing her potatoes around like the answer was hiding somewhere among the butter and gravy. And then she smiled. “But at least I’ll be able to be here now if you find it. Emma, you said you’ve been checking off the shelves? I need those back if I’m going to redraw them and come up with another plan. We’ll definitely find it now that I’m here to keep you three on task.”

David rolled his eyes.

Killian gave him a look that said it was better to just accept it and reached for his third biscuit. He had a feeling he’d need the sugar buzz to keep up with Mary Margaret.

The first few weeks of term went much like that. They searched and searched, but found nothing new. At the same time, their teachers assigned more and more homework. Killian didn’t know how Mary Margaret managed to do that and pour over the diagrams of the library every night. The mystery of Nicholas Flamel and whatever was in that room gnawed at him, until it was all he could do to focus on his homework.

And then to add all that, Emma sloshed in from Quidditch practice one with disturbing news.

 "You look like a drowned rat." David, who was sprawled on his back on the nearby sofa, lifted his eye to give Emma a chagrined once over as she ducked into the common room. His assessment wasn’t wrong. Her robes were soaked through and her hair had mostly come out of its braid, hanging around her face in loose, stringy waves. He patted his pocket where his rat probably slept. Sleeping was all the rat seemed to do. "No offense, Scabbers."

"A drowned rat that's just had its tail cut off," Killian added. He budged over at the table, sliding his school books well out of the reach of Emma's dripping uniform. She actually squelched as she sat next to him. "What's wrong, Swan?"

"Snape is refereeing the next match."

Mary Margaret's head snapped up from her homework. "He's what?"

"Shhh." Emma pressed a finger to her lips, which were tinged blue, and gave a quick rundown of what went down in practice.

"Well, you can't play,” Mary Margaret said, turning back to her books like that solved the matter.

"They won't let her sit out for no reason," David said.

"She could fake being sick," Killian suggested.

"Or she could fake a broken leg," Mary Margaret said.

David sat up. "She could really break her leg."

“That’s a terrible idea,” Mary Margaret hissed at the same time that Killian smacked the back of David’s head and snapped, “No!”

Emma tilted her head, as though that was the best idea she’d heard so far.

Before Killian could tell her how ridiculous that idea was—especially since Madam Pomfrey could just regrow the bone with Skele-Grow, one of David and Killian’s roommates quite literally hopped in, drawing the stares of the entire Gryffindor common room.

"Taking his last name a bit seriously, isn't he?" David asked.

Emma whacked David on the side opposite from where Killian had bopped him. "Don't be so dense."

The boy, who bore the unfortunate name of Archibald Hopper—though everyone except the professors called him Archie—finally lost his balance and toppled over onto the carpet. It was then Killian realized what Emma meant.

Archie was the unlucky victim of a Leg Locker Curse.

Mary Margaret scoffed as the rest of the room burst into laughter, silenced David's chuckle with a venomous look, and hurried forward as she slid her wand from her robes in one smooth motion.

David and Killian followed, extending their hands to him once Mary Margaret reversed the curse and helping him onto shaky legs.

"What happened?" Emma asked. Their books had been stacked on an empty chair, but she cleared them away quickly as Archie wobbled his way over.

"Regina was looking for someone to practice on." He sank into the chair gratefully, taking his glasses from Mary Margaret and putting them back on.

Emma's hands curled into fists. "You should tell Professor McGonagall. Regina shouldn't get away with something like this."

Archie twisted his fingers in his lap, pale eyes flicking to each of them. "She'll think I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor. No, don't deny it, I know you all think it too." He clutched at his bright orange hair. "I think you might be right."

"Nonsense," Emma said, hands on her hips like she meant to fight him until he agreed with her.

Killian thought that sounded like a very Emma thing to do.

"The hat put you in Gryffindor and as far as I can tell it hasn't made a mistake yet." Emma patted her pocket, pulling out a chocolate frog—her last chocolate frog from Christmas—and handing it to Archie. "Here. Candy always makes me feel better."

Archie stared at the box and swiped under his eyes with his thumb. "Thank you."

"You're worth twelve of Regina," she said.

"Thank you," Archie repeated in an even smaller voice as he carefully unwrapped the frog. He looked at the card for a moment as he munched on the chocolate and then held it out to Emma. "I've already got this one, do you need it?"

She plucked it out of Archie's hand with a smile. "Thanks, Archie."

He blushed so red his hair looked like tongues of flame and ran off to the boy's dorm.

"Odd chap," David said, "you know—ow, Emma, what?"

Emma was poking him repeatedly—and forcefully—on the arm, waving the card from Archie in her other hand.

"I found him!" she howled. "I knew I read it somewhere!"

"Found who?" David tried to grab the card from Emma, but Killian got there first.

His eyes widened as he read the sentence. "She’s found Nicholas Flamel—"

"Give that back." Emma snatched the card away, rolling her eyes at Killian. When she spoke again, it was much softer, "Listen...'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with Nicholas Flamel'!"

Mary Margaret actually clapped her hands together and bounced in delight. She jumped to her feet and her homework fell to the floor, but she didn’t pay any attention as her scroll full of cramped writing unrolled itself on the plush carpet. She spun, ran halfway to the girls’ stairs, spun again, and ran back to them.

"Stay here," she said and she took the stairs two at a time.

"What just happened?" David asked.

Killian crossed his arms. "I'm betting she has some book up there."

"Sounds reasonable."

She did indeed return with a book. A massive, dusty looking thing with yellowed pages and a worn cover.

"Blimey," David said, "you could kill someone with that thing."

"I got this from the library ages ago. For a little bit of bedtime reading you know." Mary Margaret flipped the book open, rustling through the pages faster than Killian would ever have dared with such an old book.

"That's what you consider bedtime reading?" David asked.

Emma nodded. "You have no idea."

Killian admitted the book was a bit thick, even for his tastes, but Mary Margaret paid them no mind whatsoever.

"Aha!" she cried, tapping a page with her finger. "Here we are, Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

Emma, Killian, and David all said, "The what?"

Which was a mistake on their part.

Mary Margaret's face brightened. “The ancient study of alchemy…”

“Alche-what-y?” David cut in. “I thought we were talking about rocks.”

“Hush!” Mary Margaret wagged her finger at all three of them, glaring at Killian and Emma as though they had interrupted as well. She cleared her throat and started reading again, her voice soft, but official. “The ancient study of alchemy— ” she paused here, eyes drilling into David, “—is concerned with making the Sorcerer’s Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.

“And here’s the important part.” She tapped the page with her finger, though the writing was too cramped for anyone to read it without pushing her aside. “There have been many reports of the Sorcerer’s Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist.” She shot another look at David, the I told you so written plainly on her features. “Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a               quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle, six hundred and fifty-eight.”

There was a lengthy pause when she finished and closed the book with a flourish.

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Are we allowed to talk now?”

Mary Margaret nodded and Killian felt suddenly that he needed to raise his hand before speaking.

"Six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday?" David asked with incredulity.

"That's quite impressive," Killian added. He leaned around Mary Margaret, scanning the paragraph, sure that she hadn't left anything out, but wanting to see for himself.

"Well, that's one thing solved," Mary Margaret said. "Now we just have to figure out what to do with Emma and the Quidditch match."

Emma shrugged. "We've don't have a reserve Seeker. Gryffindor forfeits the match if I don't play."

# # #

David and Killian showed up at the Quidditch pitch early on the morning of the match, slipping into their seats while the stands were still mostly empty. Killian didn’t know what they could do from all the way over in the Gryffindor box, but he clung to the rail as though he could protect Emma by mere proximity. From the grim set of his jaw, David felt the same.

The stands started to fill and they scooted further apart, saving space for Mary Margaret. The wood groaned horribly and they looked behind to find Hagrid taking a seat in the back, his binoculars hanging around his neck. Killian felt in his pocket for the spyglass Liam gave him.

“Am I climbing over you two? Or are you going to budge over, David?” Mary Margaret’s imperious voice asked. She looked rather chipper for someone whose best friend would likely meet a grizzly end today. “Oh, don’t look so glum.”

She plopped down next to them.

David held his hand out to Killian. “Can I see your spyglass, Killian?”

“What? Why?” Killian clutched it tightly, eying David.

“I want to see if she’s done anything nasty to our least favorite professor.” He squinted at Mary Margaret. “I mean, I know she’s an incurable teacher’s pet, but for Emma she might forget that.”

Mary Margaret sighed. “I haven’t done anything.”

She waited, lips pursed together. Finally she bumped into David’s shoulder. “You’ll never guess who I ran into on my way here.”

“Well, you want to tell us, so spit it out.” David glared.

Grin broadening, she pointed to the teachers’ box.

Carefully navigating his way past Professor McGonagall and Leroy Jordan was a tall, thin figure in purple robes and a tall hat.

“Blimey,” David breathed. “Is that…”

“It is,” Killian confirmed, his eye pressed to the sight on his spyglass. He swung it about, seeking out the  foreboding, black figure. The glass gave him a perfect view of Snape’s cold, black eyes fixed on the teachers’ box. Good. He had noticed too. “No way Snape tries anything with Dumbledore here.”

“Nope.” Mary Margaret sighed. “Emma’s safe.”

“For now,” David muttered, “but what happens after the game, when Dumbledore isn’t watching?”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Killian said, stowing his spyglass safely in his pocket.

David jerked forward. “Ow!” He glared behind him, rubbing at the back of his head.

“Oh, sorry, Nolan,” Regina said, daintily picking her way through the stands. Mal and Ursula were hot on her heels. “I didn’t see you there.”

Mary Margaret patted David’s shoulder. “Just ignore her.”

David exhaled slowly and obeyed.

Killian nodded, staring grimly forward as he watched Emma. Even with Dumbledore’s presence, there was a lot that could go wrong in a Quidditch game.

“Aw, c’mon,” David shouted as Snape awarded a penalty to Gryffindor because Happy hit a Bludger and it just happened to go in Snape’s direction.

“You know,” Regina drawled behind them, “I think I’ve figured out how Gryffindor picks their players. It’s certainly not based on talent, that Swan girl can barely stay on a broom. Remember last game?” She paused, waiting for her friends’ laughter, which was long and loud and turned into cheering when Snape awarded Hufflepuff yet another undeserved penalty. “But, of course, she’s got no parents, so they had to let her on the team. And then there’s Harold Nolan… his family has got no money. I bet he just boo-hooed a little and Wood let him on.”

A hand landed on Killian’s shoulder.  He jumped, whirling to see Regina, a look of false pity on her face.

“Maybe you should ask to get on the team, Jones.”

Killian turned back around with gritted teeth. “I’m worth ten of you, Regina.”

“Jones, I’m just trying to help you have a little fun. Who knows how long it’ll be before you’ve got a room next to dear old mum at St. Mungo’s.”

“Shut up, Regina,” Killian muttered. His hand closed around the spyglass in his pocket, gripping it tightly to keep from lashing out. Emma. He looked up in time to see Emma make a spectacular dive. People jumped to their feet cheering and gasping. Killian gripped the rail with his free hand, his breath caught in his throat.

“No wonder you two get along,” Regina crowed. “She’s as crazy as you are.”

Something inside Killian snapped. He whirled on Regina, pouncing on her and wrestling her to the ground. She shrieked and clawed at his face, her nails tearing down his cheek and drawing blood. His fist collided with her nose. And then Mal and Ursula were on top of them, too. Someone—Killian didn’t know who—landed a solid punch to his gut. His breath whooshed out. He heard David bellow and jump in the fray.

Mary Margaret was screeching now, but he could only make out some of the words. “David—Killian!!! Where—over! Emma—Gryffindor---“

“Oh, fer heaven’s sake,” Hagrid’s gruff voice cut through all the fighting.

Killian’s feet left the ground. He looked up to find Hagrid staring down at him with disapproval. Regina hung from Hagrid’s other hand, kicking and thrashing the air. Killian, however, stopped fighting, staring at the boards beneath his toes as Hagrid shook both of them.

“My mother will hear of this!” Regina screeched.

“Let her,” Hagrid said. “Now, off with yeh. I don’t want to see no more foolin’ around.” He set the two on them on their feet and glared until Regina and her friends started off.

“Hagrid, I—”

“No, Killian, I heard what she said about yer mum. Just don’ let it happen again.”

And then Mary Margaret had a vice grip around his neck and David was clutching his other shoulder shouting, “We won! Emma did it!”

“Come on!” Mary Margaret cried, tugging at both their arms.

They raced down all the way back to the castle, joining the herd of Gryffindor students as they headed to the dorms. Several voices shouted the password all at once and then they were all piling inside. It was only a few minutes before the other players trampled in, yelling and pounding each other on the back.

Emma wasn’t among them.

They waited for what felt like hours. Twice Killian stood up, determined to go find her, but both times, David tugged him back down onto the couch.

"She's probably fiddling with that broom of hers," he said. "You worry too much, Killian."

Mary Margaret looked like she agreed with Killian, though. "Maybe Wood will know where she is. Dumbledore could have pulled her aside or something."

"Right." He didn't know why he hadn't thought of that first. He ducked through the crowd, trying and failing to find the Keeper. He could hear Oliver Wood’s voice mixed with all the other noise, but there were so many older students he couldn’t see a thing.

“There you are!” A familiar voice called as someone grabbed his arm. “Come on. Where is David?” Emma dragged Killian and Mary Margaret in the direction they indicated, refusing to say a word until they were all standing outside the common room.

“I followed Snape…”

“You what?” Killian and David snapped at the same time.

“Oh hush, he didn’t see me this time.” She leaned forward, her hands moving broadly through the air as she spoke. “He was meeting Heller in the woods.” She shot a look at Mary Margaret before she could say that they weren’t supposed to go near the forest. “He wanted to know if Heller had figured out a way past Fluffy and there was something about needing a piece of magic from him.”

“So Professor Heller is the only standing between Snape and the stone?” David snorted. “He’ll have it by next week.”

# # #

Now that the Mystery of the Thing beneath the trapdoor was solved, Mary Margaret moved on—to exams. She stopped to press her ear to the door on the third floor whenever they passed it and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Fluffy's snores, but she blatantly refused to worry that a professor was plotting the theft of the most powerful object in the school.

"We've only got ten weeks," Mary Margaret declared, dragging all of them into the library.

Truly, she only had to drag Emma and David. Killian was determined to be at the head of the class. He wanted Liam to feel he hadn’t wasted money on all those books and supplies. His feelings at the beginning of term—the desire to stay home with his brother—seemed a distant memory. Now he couldn't imagine going back to a time when he didn't know Emma or David or Mary Margaret.  And chances were that he'd get to see quite a bit of Emma at least over the summer. The few details Killian provided in his letter appalled Liam and he replied that he would talk with Dumbledore and see what could be done about Emma's situation. She wouldn't be going back to the Dursleys if his brother had any say about it.

Which Killian considered as good as saying Emma would stay with them over the summer.

He was discussing that very fact with Emma over One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi when he a thump and a shuffle caught both of their attention.

Hagrid had bumped into a table on his way past them.

"Hello, Hagrid," Killian said. "What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid seemed to notice them for the first time and his eyes narrowed. "What am I doin'? I should ask what yer doin'... Not still looking for Nicholas Flamel, I 'ope."

"Oh, we already know who he is." David sat back, hands behind his head, textbook forgotten in his lap. "And we know that dog's guarding the Sorcer—"

"Shhhh!" Beneath his beard, Hagrid looked about the same color as a marshmallow and he was sweating a little around the hairline.

"We did have a few more questions," Emma said. "Like..."

"I said SHHHHH!" Hagrid hissed. He looked from Emma to David to Killian, even to Mary Margaret who had only glanced up from her books. "Listen—if it'll end this nonsense, come see me later. I'm not promisin' to tell yeh nothin' mind...but yeh shouldn't be chatterin' about it here."

"Alright," Emma said, turning her thousand watt smile on him.

He turned away in an awkward, clumsy movement, trying to keep an object hidden behind his back.

Killian raised his eyebrows at Emma and David. "Is it just me, or was he hiding something?"

"Hold on," David said, hopping out of his chair, he caught the book in his lap just in time. "I'll be right back."

Killian got up to follow, but Mary Margaret tugged at his sleeve.

“He’d said he’ll be back,” she said, “and you two are supposed to be looking up the uses for dittany.”

Emma huffed and plopped down next to him.

David didn’t make them wait long. He came scurrying around the corner a few minutes later with more books in his arms than Killian had ever seen him carry before. He dropped them on the table with a thunk, catching even Mary Margaret's attention.

"Dragons!" he hissed.

Killian took a book from him, examining it. "So Hagrid likes dragons. It's not exactly surprising." After all, a dragon was only a few steps up from three-headed dogs.

In answer, David yanked one of the books from the stack, drawing an annoyed hiss from Mary Margaret as the rest tumbled on top of all their homework.

"Look!" David waved the book under Killian and Emma's noses.

Exasperated, Emma snatched it up, her eyes on the gold foil title. It read: From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide.

She shrugged. "Hagrid's always wanted a dragon. He told me so the day we met."

"It's illegal," Mary Margaret whispered.

"Yeah, dragon breeding was outlawed at the Warlocks' Convention of 1709." David glared at Mary Margaret, who looked surprised he knew such a specific fact. "What? I do know some things, you know."

"Of course you do," she replied in a tone that did nothing to contradict her surprise.

David threw one last dirty look at her and continued, "Anyways, can you imagine if every wizard..."

"Or witch." Mary Margaret added.

David sighed. “…or witch could have a dragon? Muggles would have known about us centuries ago. Kind of hard to keep a giant, fire-breathing lizard under control.”

“Well, he can’t have gotten a dragon’s egg if it was illegal,” Emma said, “so you’re worrying for nothing.”

Killian thought that sounded reasonable.

Just to be sure, they headed down to Hagrid’s hut later that afternoon.

Hagrid had a dragon.

Well, Hagrid had a dragon egg, sitting in his fireplace, blue and orange flames licking all around its sides. Killian caught a glance of it as the big man hurried the four of them into the hut. On such a warm day, the heat was stifling. He bustled about for a good while, until all four of them had a steaming tea cup in front of them. Killian took his more as something to hold than to drink... No way was he drinking that with the hut so hot.

"Stoat sandwich?" Hagrid asked, holding out a plate.

“No thanks,” Emma said, waving the plate away. “We just ate lunch. We’re all absolutely stuffed.”

Hagrid nodded, as though he expected that answer, and snagged a sandwich for himself. "Now, I think yeh had a question for me."

Well—” Killian started.

Emma cut him off. "What's guarding the sorcerer's stone besides Fluffy?"

Killian shot her a look, annoyed that she hadn't buttered Hagrid up a little first. Emma crossed her arms, staring up at Hagrid.

"Even if I could tell yeh that," he replied, "I wouldn't. You four don't need to be snoopin' around there anymore then yeh already have. The stone's here for good reason."

"Oh, of course," Mary Margaret said. Her teacup clinked against the plate as she set it down. "But surely you know something. After all, Dumbledore did trust you to bring the stone from Gringott's." She held up a hand as Hagrid started to deny. "We don't need to know the exact spells guarding the stone, we just were wondering who had a hand in doing the spells."

Hagrid, whose chest had swelled a little at the mention of Dumbledore's trust, narrowed his eyes at her, the gears turning in his mind. "I don't suppose that could hurt. Well, he borrowed Fluffy from me and he had some of the teachers whip up some enchantments." He rattled off a list of names, ticking each one off on fingers the size of sausages. “Let’s see…Professor Anton and good ol’ Doc. McGonagall o’ course and Professor Heller. Dumbledore did somthin’ himself and then—I’m fergettin’ someone. Oh, Professor Snape…”

"Snape?" Emma screeched.

"Professor Snape. Yes." Now it was Hagrid's turn to cross his arms and look belligerent. "Don' tell me yer still on about that, Emma."

Killian exchanged a glance with Mary Margaret and David. The three of them clearly shared Emma’s thoughts. If Snape helped Dumbledore with the defenses, figuring out the other professors’ spells was probably a piece of cake. All but Heller's, it seemed.

Emma didn't push the issue.

"You're the only one that knows how to get past Fluffy, right?" At Hagrid's nod, she went on, "And you would never tell anyone else. Not even one of the other professors?"

"Course not," Hagrid rumbled. "Only other person that knows is Dumbledore."

She seemed to relax at that.

Mary Margaret, however, took that as her cue to go on the offensive. "Hagrid, how did you get a dragon egg?"

The big man jumped, knee knocking into the table as he tried, belatedly, to shift his chair in front of the fire. Mary Margaret tilted her head, lips pressed tight together. Killian recognized the look. David and Emma were often on the receiving end of it when they chose to goof off instead of studying.

"Won it," he mumbled, ducking away from Mary Margaret's judgment. "Las' night. Chap seemed to be grateful fer me to take it off his hands, if I'm honest."

"And you're trying to hatch it?"

Hagrid practically glowed.

"Been doin' some readin'." He leaned across the hut and pulled a thick book from beneath his pillow. Killian struggled to read the title from this angle, but his friends’ eyes widened, so he had a good guess as to what it was about. "Got this outta the library. The mothers breathe on 'em, so I've gotta keep 'im in the fire and then when it hatches I gotta feed it brandy and chicken blood." He flipped the pages with delicacy, a surprising feat with such meaty fingers. "I've got a Norwegian Ridgeback. Rare breed, them."

He beamed at Mary Margaret.

She blinked at him, jaw agape.

"Hagrid," she said very slowly, "you live in a wooden house."

"Pshaw." Hagrid got up to stoke the fire again. "If I can handle Fluffy, I think I can handle a baby dragon."

And he turned away from her, humming as he stoked the fire. The four children finally gave in and said their goodbyes.

"Well, we tried," Mary Margaret huffed as they left the hut. "Now whatever happens is on his head alone."

"I wonder what it's like to have an easy life," David muttered as they trekked back up to the castle to the sound of Mary Margaret chattering about study schedules.

# # #

For the next several days, Mary Margaret refused to talk about Hagrid or the egg or the stone.

She refused to talk about anything, really, but what was on her color-coded exam review schedule. Any time Emma, Killian, or David brought up the dragon or the stone, she huffed and buried her nose deeper in her book. Killian found himself being dragged away from their books over and over again so they could have a conversation without Mary Margaret clearing her throat every few seconds.

She wasn't even phased when Hedwig appeared at breakfast a few days later with a note from Hagrid.

It's hatching, it read.

"We've just got Herbology," David said. "Sprout won't care if we skip."

"We're almost at the end of term," Mary Margaret snapped. "And you need all the lessons you can get if those essays you have me reading are any indication."

"Well, they'd be better if the professors didn't drown us in homework."

"I'm with Mary Margaret, mate," Killian said.

David looked at him like he'd grown a third head. "So you think the chance to watch a dragon hatch comes around on the regular?"

"Shhh!" Emma flicked her eyes at Regina, who was leaning toward their table, listening so hard it was a miracle her ears hadn't turned red.

Mary Margaret ignored David's needling and Emma eventually caved to her wisdom as well. Killian decided he might as well have skipped, though, he was so preoccupied with whether or not the dragon had hatched that he hardly heard a word Professor Sprout said.

As soon as the lesson was over, he, Emma, and David—Mary Margaret refused to go with them—rushed down to the hut and were greeted by a bright-eyed, red-faced Hagrid.

"Yer just in time," he said and ushered them inside quickly.

Through the deep cracks in the egg, Killian saw something moving, heard a clicking. He drew a chair up to the table and held his breath. The “something” inside the egg scraped against the shell and then it split open and a small, black dragon fell out of it with a squelch.

Emma raised an eyebrow, leaning into Killian. "It looks like a crumpled umbrella."

Killian hid his laugh behind his hand.

Hagrid dabbed at his eyes. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

“Hagrid, how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow?” Killian asked, jumping back as the little dragon snapped at Hagrid’s fingers.

“Well—” Hagrid froze, staring behind Killian.

“What? What is it?”

“There was someone lookin’ through the window.”

Sure enough, when Emma, David, and Killian peeked out the window, they caught a familiar figure rushing back up the slope. Killian’s blood iced up, despite the sweltering heat.

“Regina,” Emma growled.

[writers-leir]

soulmate!soonyoung

guess who got a huge burst of inspiration during class today!!!

soulmate!soonyoung where whatever your soulmate draws appears on you as well

you love drawing

ever since you were like 4 you’d been drawing

on the walls, on the sidewalk, on paper, and on your skin

and soonyoung grew up with the little drawings appearing on his skin from seemingly nowhere

it started off with little doodles of stick figures which then evolved into scribbly flowers and patterns

and now that he’s in seventeen his soulmate has started to draw complete landscapes with details he’d never consider

if he looked hard enough, he’d even be able to see the waves moving and the trees rustling and even the birds taking in deep breaths before letting out its song

he’s always so proud of his soulmate he’d show off to the rest of the team like jun!!!!!!!!!!!!!look !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!when is your soulmate ever going to be this talented!!!!!!!!!!!!!

you on the other hand never really like what you draw

there always seems to be something wrong with the drawing

whether it be because you drew one feather more round than the other or because you added one more line to the tree trunk than necessary

honestly you always find something wrong with your drawings no matter how often your friends tell you that you’re the best artist they know

you assume it’s just the artist in you

even your professor is like “you have the skill you just need to be more confident with what you draw”

one day you’re having a particularly bad day

you needed a model for your mid-year project but they bailed on you last minute

and now you need to find another model and finish the painting in three weeks and you’re super stressed

when you get home you realize that there are some scribbles on your arm

“are you okay????????????”

turns out your soulmate is so used to seeing your drawings on his arm every day that when you failed to draw something he got worried

your heart kind of swells because awe,,,,,,,,that’s so sweet,,,,,,,,,, :’^)

you tell soonyoung what happened and he’s like awe ): i’m sorry i wish there was something i could do for you ):

he talks to you until the sun rises the next day and you’re like omg,,,,,,,,i’m so sorry i didn’t realize time had passed so quickly

he wishes you luck as you start getting ready for your classes and the next thing he knows, he’s asleep in the dance studio with empty pens scattered around him

seungcheol scolds him for a good ten minutes about falling asleep with the air conditioner on but he’s honestly not listening

(probably too busy thinking about you)

you talk to your professor that day and they’re totally understanding of the situation

turns out your model actually had bailed on various art major students several times

(they apparently once bailed on their best friend the week before a major film festival)

your professor gives you an extra week to try and find a model

now that you have time you feel so relaxed compared to the night before you decide to go to a cafe off campus and treat yourself to a latte and a treat

inside the cafe you start doodling on your arm again

you draw little details from the cafe such as the indoor garden they have in the innermost corner or the bookshelves stacked to the brim

but there’s still something wrong and you still can’t figure out what

so you decide to stop for the day and just enjoy your treats

you get home and realize that underneath your drawings are scribbles from your soulmate and you’re like !!!!!!!!!!!!!! super excited to talk to him even though you don’t even know his name

he asks you how you’re doing and you’re like i’m!!!!!!!!!!actually doing great my professor gave me an extra week!!!!!!!!!

and he gets so excited for you his handwriting gets even messier and it’s so cute

you two officially introduce each other and you’re like i’ve,,,,,,,definitely heard the name kwon soonyoung somewhere,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

and you’re stuck trying to figure out where you’ve heard his name from until one day you’re talking with your friend who’s a dance major and they’re like !!!!!!!!!!!!!!kwon soonyoung????????as in hoshi from seventeen????????????my dance idol!??!?!is your souLmaTE???????????

you’re sitting in front of them at the cafeteria like oh,,,,,,that’s where i heard his name from,,,,,,,,,,lmao,,,,,,,,

you tell soonyoung about you friend who idolizes him that night and he gets so embarrassed

“are you sURE they were talking about mE and not minghao or someone”

“no no i’m absolutely sure they called you hoshi”

soonyoung starts freaking out about it and you’re like hEY who’s soulmate are you

the next thing he asks you throws you off completely

“why do you not like your drawings?”

and you’re sitting there like wait,,,,,,,,,,,i’ve never told you about that,,,,,,,,,,and that was quite the change of topic,,,,,,,

you ask him what the question is about and you can literally picture him shrug as he starts writing again

“i’ve seen a lot of angry scribbles on my arm and you know,,,,,,,,most people only do that when they get frustrated”

you tell him that you just never liked your art and how there always seems to be something wrong with it no matter how many times you redraw it and how many styles you’ve tried

“but your drawings are amazing!!!! you have no idea how many times i’ve shown off your art to my teammates this month!!!”

you’re internally screaming like,,,,,,,,,is my art really so amazing that he’s shown,,,,,,,,,all his group members,,,,,,,,

he continues writing but his handwriting is so small you’re like squinting,,,,,,,,,

“maybe you should stop drawing for yourself,,,,,,,,”

and you’re super confused about this statement like who else would you draw for?

“you could draw for me instead”

you feel the blood rushing to your face like aksjhdgkjldsLSKAJDGSDA how is he so CHEESY

you don’t know how to reply other than agreeing because????????what else do you say??? no???????

after that though everything seems to run by extremely smoothly

you found another model, finished the painting in less than two weeks, and handed it in before everyone else in your class

and you’ve even stopped trying to find something wrong with your artwork all the time

you focus more on the compliments and suggestions you receive from soonyoung and it feels like a weight has been completely lifted off your shoulders

one day as you’re sitting in your go-to cafe, you notice someone walking in wearing a cap and sunglasses and you’re like but it’s,,,,,,,,,raining,,,,,,,,,,,,,,?

they order and then take a seat nearby you

you shrug it off like whatever people can wear whatever they want

you go back to doodling on your skin

and you notice the person is also writing on their arm but you don’t take much notice of it because soonyoung’s talking with you

until you take a closer look at the person’s arm and realize,,,,,,,,it’s covered in your doodles

and the person’s also noticed your arm

and you two stare at each other like,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,wait,,,,,,,,,that person’s my soULmate

he instantly jumps out of his seat and slides into the chair in front of you and you’re like ajksdghkasdljg wAIt i’m still processing

he shoves his hand towards you while taking off his glasses and you’re like ahdjsgkdalsg he’s,,,,,,,really attractive,,,,,,,,,,

you take his hand and shake it and then the both of you are just sitting there still processing

you speak up first much to your own surprise

“thank you,,,,,,for cheering me on,,,,,,,,,i know i didn’t support you a lot but,,,i’m extremely grateful for your encouragement,,,”

he grins and you’re like ajdhgkalsjgdsg he’s so cute what the frick

“thank you for your concern too!!!!!!! i know you’ve had an extremely stressful month”

and you feel lowkey bad because he’s an idol,,,,,,,,he’s probably way more busy than you are but he still manages to comfort you about being stressed,,,,,,

you two kind of sit there just enjoying the silence and each other’s presence until you notice the time and you’re like,,,,,i loved meeting you but,,,,,,i have to go i have an essay due tomorrow for my contemporary art course,,,,,,,,

soonyoung’s like oh of course!! i’ll walk you back :))))))))

and you’re like you don’t have to,,,,,i know that you have things to do too

but he’s like nOnsense i’m walking you back. i’m not scared of jihoon

he says that but you can see him paling at the thought of lee jihoon and his guitar

he ends up walking you back to your dorms anyways and you’re like thank you,,,,,,,i’ll see you around?

but then he’s like wAiT i don’t have your number,,,,,,,,,,

you exchange numbers and when you get inside your room you’re like should i,,,,,,,,,send him a message?

ten minutes later you finally send him a simple “good luck with practice!”

and he sends you like 812357125 heart emojis back and you’re like ajhsdkglasdg he’s so intense,,,,,,but i like it,,,,,,,,,,,,

he starts sending you photos of him with the rest of seventeen or derp photos of his teammates and you’re like pftttt soonyoung you’re gonna get yourself killed one day

you get a series of photos one day

the first one is soonyoung holding a sharpie in his hand with jihoon sleeping in the background

the second one is jihoon’s sleeping face covered in drawings (rip his soulmate,,,,,,)

the third one is soonyoung taking a selfie with jihoon who’s eyes are opened,,,,,,,rip kwon soonyoung 1996-2017,,,,,,,,,,

you open the fourth one and it’s a picture of vernon with his hands up in a peace sign

and in the background is your soulmate being sat on by an extremely angry jihoon who’s gotten hold of the sharpie

you instantly call him like nOOoooOo doN’t DrAW ON HIM JIHOON PLS I HAVE AN INTERVIEW IN TEN MINUTES,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

jihoon let him off that time (“only because i like your soulmate better” “whAT do you mean jihoon we’re TEAMMATES. I’VE SEEN YOU IN THE SHOWER” “that’s,,,,,,,disgusting,,,,,,,,,”) but soonyoung left that fight with more than a few bruises

you’ve stopped getting frustrated with your drawings and soonyoung thinks it’s because you’ve started to become more comfortable with it but in all honesty it’s because you’re really drawing for him,,,,,,,,shhh don’t tell him that he’ll never let you live if he finds out

[infinitum-imaginaerum]

Model Type // Johnny - NCT

“Heyyy, buddy,” Taeil called, rolling up into the room. Johnny was the only one there, so there was no mistake Taeil was talking to him. Johnny looked over, eyebrows raised, ready to hear what Taeil could possibly have to say that caused him to sound so nervous.

The older male scratched the back of his neck as he continued to approach Johnny. “Yes, Taeil? Got something to say?” he asked.

“Do you want to make an easy five hundred bucks?”

Johnny squinted hard as he looked at Taeil. There was no such thing as an easy five hundred bucks. He waited for Taeil to explain, but he literally was just going to stand there looking like a dork until Johnny conjured a response.

“What’s the catch, Taeil?” he asked.

Taeil’s nervous smile wasn’t easily hidden and he tried to turn away so the younger wouldn’t be able to see it. “It’s a modeling job. They’re looking for physique models; an artist… you have to sit still for a while.”

Johnny looked at Taeil, waiting for more. He could tell by the hesitation that there was a lot left to say, plus he was being really vague about the whole thing.  “You know them, obviously. You don’t come up to me so nervous asking me to sit in front of someone with my shirt off if you don’t. You wouldn’t be asking me in the first place,” Johnny explain, squinting again, very suspicious of Taeil’s behavior.

“Fine! She’s a friend of mine, she’s trying to get a designing job but she’s having a hard time with bulkier dress because she’s never had practice drawing those types of people. No cameras, no paperwork, she won’t even remember you,” Taeil finally explained, but he could feel the red paint his face the more he talked.

“Five hundred dollars and all I have to do is sit there,” Johnny stated, asking for confirmation with the look in his eyes.

“Five hundred, just sit there, still, patiently,” he responded.

Johnny was the shy type when it came to things like that. He wasn’t a huge proponent being shirtless around anyone. So, he sat there and thought about it, staring blankly at the wood of the coffee table, following the grooves.

“When?”

“Later today… I know it’s really last minute, I’m sorry—”

“I guess it won’t give me time to change my mind. I’ll do it for five hundred,” Johnny replied, interrupting Taeil who emitted a sigh of relief and thanked him kindly before leaving the room, no doubt to go tell his friend that it was good to go and that Johnny would be there later that day.

The day seemed to pass with no problem. Oddly enough, Johnny didn’t feel anxious at all about this. It was one-hundred percent anonymous other than the fact that she’d straight up know that he knew Taeil. No names, no contracts, no pictures, just art.  

He rolled up to a sketch brick building, but it held the address scribbled down on the paper clutched in his hand. A few more times his gaze switched between the paper and the building before he pushed aside his reservations and went in. It was chilly out his hands shoving immediately into the pockets of his hoody as he entered, trying to beat the cold. “Studio B, studio B, studio B,” he muttered to himself as he walked down the hall. The rooms appeared to be numbered in no particular order so finding Studio B appeared to be harder than he thought.

He finally arrived to a solid wood door, a sign on it that signified his destination. His hand wrapped around the bronze handle and now he was having second thoughts. “This whole thing is so sketch,” he commented to himself, but the door was opening and he was stepping in before he knew it.

There was an easel at first view, he could see jean clad legs sitting behind it and that had to be Taeil’s friend.

Johnny cleared his through, “Hello.”

“I’m so sorry; I didn’t hear you come in! You must be Johnny,” you supposed, scrambling out of your chair to greet him.  “I’m really glad you could come; I have been having such a hard time finding a model and I just—”

You paused when you finally had a chance to look up at him after cleaning your hands off. His hair was a little disheveled from his hood, but other than that, you were particularly speechless. You blinked hard a couple of times to make sure he was real which had him turning his head away from you in embarrassment.

“Forgive me for staring,” you commented as immediately as you could, trying to shake yourself back into reality and get down to business. You jutted your hand out containing the wad of cash promised. “If it’s more comfortable, we can do a couple of sketches with a shirt on so you can get the hang of posing for a while,” you suggested as he hesitantly took the money from you, shoving it into the back pocket of his dark jeans.

No words passed from Johnny’s lips as you directed him to a stool where he could sit under the proper lighting before you dashed behind your easel, turning it to face to his left and positioned your stool for the proper head swivel. “We’re just going to do a couple of quick sketches, but still try to find a pose that’s comfortable,” you suggested.

He shifted without words, covering a majority of his face with a large hand after hiking a leg up to rest his foot on a rung of the stool enough to he could rest his elbow against that. It was the arm furthest away from you so it didn’t really matter. The other was bent, his hand shoved halfway into his pocket and the leg supporting him was straight out, shoe planted firmly on the hardwood.

“Is that good?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied dryly.

“O-okay,” you stuttered. You could definitely tell he didn’t want to be there; but he had already agreed and you had already paid him so you weren’t about to let him go so easily. You threw down his basic shape with a hard pencil—your sketch lines were light, but you wouldn’t want them to be too noticeable if it were to be a completed piece. After getting the basic shape you began with his torso, measuring his broad shoulders with a thumb marker on your pencil as you held it out to him.

He watched you jot down quickly on your paper pad, watched the way your tongue would peek out to swipe across your lips, watch the way your brow would draw together when something was just a little bit off, and the way your leg bounced as you focused. Your foot stopped bouncing, shoe hitting hard against the wood which almost jolted him as you reached your pencil out towards him again, unable to properly match the angle of his shoulders with the angle of his hips and the way you couldn’t match the curve of his back just right.

Johnny was definitely different proportions than you were used to drawing. He was much taller with much longer legs, much broader shoulders than any man you were used to. It was going to be a bit of a struggle, and you knew that, but you weren’t adjusted to just how much of a struggle it was.

He listened to the way your teeth clicked together as you thought, erasing and redrawing, erasing and redrawing.  He listened to the way your pencil tapped the easel; the way your shoe clicked on the floor again.

“Not trying to tell you how to do what you do, but I think you’re trying to visualize what a body is supposed to look like, instead of visualizing it as just lines that go a certain way,” he spoke, just loud enough for you to hear. You didn’t want to admit—in all the years you’d studied art and taken art classes, that was the most basic of all basics when it came to drawing anything. Don’t focus on what it’s supposed to look like, just focus on the lines that it is.

“You’re right,” you replied and took a deep breath. Part of it in actually was that you were having a hard time looking at him without getting distracted. Taeil failed to inform you just how easy on the eyes he was and now it was coming back to haunt you.

You did your best to finish up the page of sketches, getting stuck half way in some of them and deciding to just move on and start over. You filled up a whole page with the same sketches here and there. It wasn’t long before you just had enough.

“I’m done for now. I’m going to step outside and get some fresh air. There’s water and cokes in the fridge, feel free to help yourself,” you mentioned to him, setting your pencils nicely back into their case before you disappeared through the door.

Thankful, Johnny stood from the hard wooden stool, able to stretch his legs again and retrieve a water just to mosey to the comfy looking couch on one side of the room. He plopped down on it, a little low for his liking, but did his best to relax. His bent legs were too long for the futon, and the only comfortable way for them to go was out. His knees spread further apart as he fell into his own mind. He wasn’t thinking about much, but it was enough to distract him for quite some time.

“Okay, I think I’m—Nope.”

The same second you came in the door, you were out of it again. Just seeing Johnny on the couch so lounged out was enough to make you scream. It wasn’t helping that you’d been single for who knows how long and any sight of an attractive man had you wild, but Johnny didn’t need to sit the way he was.

He scoffed which turned into a chuckle, having every idea what was going on. “How are you going to draw me with a shirt off if you can’t even stand me when I’m clothed?”

But it wasn’t long after that you collected yourself again. You came back in, this time without uttering a word and made your way to the fridge to grab water for yourself. You quickly twisted off the cap and took a long swig. “Okay,” you finally said, making your way back to your easel and flipped the page.  “Mr. Seo, when you’re ready, please,” you commented, prompting him to get up from the couch with a raised eyebrow.

“Can I stand?” he asked.

“If that’s more comfortable for you,” you replied. “Just remember, it’s going to be a while.”

He nodded, setting his water on the futon, his hoodie following as he pulled it over himself. You wanted to audibly hiss at the sliver of skin that peeked out from under his shirt, the curve of his back from his hips right above his sneaky underwear had you looking away. Which was unfortunate, because a second later it was exposed for good when he peeled away his black tee as well, tossing that onto the futon before moseying back to the stool.

He planted both hands down on it, gripping it, showing off every curve of every muscle in those thick arms of his as he straddled the stool, kicking both feet up onto the rungs. “Is this good?” he asked you, totally facing your direction so there was no way he’d miss when you were checking him out this time, as he’d have to keep his eyes in your direction for the duration of the drawing.

Your mouth felt dry, your fingers were shaking. “I was hoping for something a little more natural,” you replied.

The way his thick lips pulled into a grin had you out of your mind. You couldn’t look at him, it just was self-torture. He shifted full rear on the stool but he still sat facing you. His arms crossed over his chest and head fell slightly to the side, pulling those luscious bangs out of his eyes. He gave you a questioning eyebrow raise.

“I guess that’s better.”

“Then let’s get started,” he smiled, eyes shutting as it was better to drown in his own thoughts and let the time pass than to be fully aware of how slow it was ticking by. But he still heard the same noises—your pencil tapping your easel, your foot on the ground, your teeth clicking, all ticks he found absolutely adorable.

He found himself smiling, biting his lip as he thought about you and how your hair cascaded down, shrouding your face in just the right manner; your eyes and the way they gleamed and glimmered; the way your lips moved when you spoke—it wasn’t so bad being here after all.

“Stay still, please,” your voice interrupted him and he tried his best to go back to resting face.

They were only thirty minute sketches or so, any position wouldn’t have felt too bad, not after assuming they were going to be close to two hours each pose.

“Don’t be weird, but I want to get a good pose of your arms, if that’s possible,” you said. Johnny had no problem moving the stool, letting his back hit the wall which still resided in good light and lifted both his arms to tuck his hands behind his head. He stood on one leg, giving his hips a sassy angle.

“Wow, okay,” he barely heard you mutter, but the fact that he could get to you like that was a victory in his mind. You went to work immediately, trying your best to focus on your pencil and paper and less on the way his eyes tore into you like a hungry lion.

Soon it became not long enough. Soon it became he was leaving already. Soon he as shaking your hand as you thanked him for his service after he had clothed himself and was ready to head out the door. He headed back to the apartment, ready to tell Taeil all about it and perhaps ask him more about you.

When he pushed the door open, it was almost as if Taeil was anticipating him.

“How did it go?” he asked as if he was Johnny’s mother asking how a first date when or his first day of school.

“She’s cute,” Johnny said and Taeil’s jaw dropped.

“I don’t think that’s what I asked,” he said, following Johnny into the kitchen as he raided the cabinets for a snack.

“It was fine, Taeil. Just business,” Johnny replied, pulling a box of crackers from the top shelf where only he and Doyoung on a good day could reach them. “Though, she did try to undress me before I undressed,” he laughed, moving Taeil aside to head back into the main room.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means she thinks I’m real easy on the eyes, catch my drift?”

“What are you—”

“I’m saying, if she’s interested, I’d like to take her to dinner. Capisce?

“Ca-Capi-Pea-shh?”

“If she asks for my number, give it to her; I swear sometimes you’re five years old.”

A week had passed since that day. Johnny was sitting on the couch as he normally was, Taeil had just gotten up to get something to drink when the younger noticed the elder’s phone light up. Curiously, he looked over. The name, he recognized. The message…

How come Johnny hasn’t…

He couldn’t see the rest.

“Yo, Taeil; you’ve got a message,” he called but Taeil didn’t reply. He checked for Taeil thoroughly, making sure he was nowhere in sight as he snatched the phone up and unlocked it, having seen him put in his password a thousand times to open the message.

How come Jonny hasn’t messaged me? You gave him my number right?

Johnny’s mouth fell open slightly, almost appalled. Taeil, that slimy little—he plucked his phone from his pocket, typing down your number quickly and locked Taeil’s phone, tossing it back on the couch as he heard the older male coming. It was just before he sat down that Johnny sent you a message.

All this time he was supposed to give me your number… and I just found out he was hiding it from me.

“Don’t hurt her, Johnny,” Taeil commented, not bothering to look to his phone or to the other male or anything. He just looked at the TV. “She’s very close to me, and I will be very upset with you if you break her heart.”

“Nothing’s even happened yet—”

“Johnny, I know you. You’re the type of guy she’s gonna fall really hard for. So, be careful what you do. I know there’s chemistry. She told me all about you trying to get her all flustered, ass,” he said, throwing in that last part for decoration.

Johnny chuckled, thinking back it probably wasn’t the best idea, but it was far too late now.

“I just want to take her out and see what’s up. I’m not the type to play games, Mr. Johnny–I–know-you.”

“Be good to her!” he called as Johnny rose from the couch, taking his phone with him as he went off to his room.  A small conversation ensued between the two of you, starting right away with him insisting he take you out and you trying to reject, but ultimately it didn’t take much for you to fall victim to him.  

It was less than a week later that he had you sitting across from him looking over a dessert menu.

He watched you, watched the way your hair fell into your face despite the number of attempts you gave to hold it back through all of dinner. You’d been playing with his hands nearing the end of dinner as he talked, so it didn’t seem all too unnatural for him to reach over and tuck that strand deep behind your ear. It had you looking up at him.  

“What?” you asked after a couple moments of silence as he just looked at you.

“You stared at me plenty a week ago, I think it’s only fair that I return the favor,” he said, tilting his head as he talked to you, watching your eyes shift from his to his lips. Your tongue flicked out to wet your own, mostly subconsciously.

“Are you still looking for dessert?” he asked you. “Or have you found it elsewhere?” he teased with a flick up on his eyebrows.

“Leave me alone,” you teased back, eyes darting back down to the menu.

“I’d be happy to give you both,” he smirked, especially when you tapped his leg with your foot, a gentle but warning motion.  You ended up ordering Crème Brule which Johnny insisted he didn’t want any of, but ended up taking a couple of bites off your spoon after pleaded glances. After that he quickly paid the check and whisked you out of the restaurant.

It was a casual date, so both of you were in shoes suitable for walking, which was ideal since Johnny was leading you every which way. He walked side by side with you, moseying to milk the most of your time together. His hands were nervously shoved into this pockets, your hands clasped in front of you, not sure what else to do with them.

“Can I hold your hand?” he asked you quietly.

“I’d love that,” you replied, listening to his large hand scrape against the denim of his jeans as he pulled it out, offering it to you and you took it upon yourself to lace your fingers with his. He swung your hand between the two of you which brought a soft blush to your cheeks just as you stepped into some tall grass. You’d arrived at a park.

“I know you gotta get home soon, but I just wanted to take you somewhere quiet for a minute,” he admitted, leading you over to a bench, allowing you around it first to take your pick of the best seat. He sat next to you with a tug on his hand, letting your laced hands rest against his leg as he sat next to you.

He was getting ready to start before you butted in, “Thank you, Johnny. For everything,” you told him, and it closed his slightly ajar mouth to bring it up into a smile.

“You’re welcome; thank you for spending time with me,” he replied as he looked at you. You glanced at his shoulder and he scooted over a little more, picking up slightly on your cue so you could lean your head against him.

“What do you think about a second date?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean, do you see this going somewhere?”

You squeezed his hand and pushed a little harder into his shoulder. “If the fact that I’m totally comfortable with you like this right now isn’t enough, I don’t know what to say,” you told him. “I’d love to see you again,” you added.  

“May I kiss your cheek?” he asked. You shyly lifted your head from his shoulder, enough that he could crane his neck just so far to place a kiss on your flushed cheek. You bit your lip, you cheek burning where his pecked you as you reached up to touch it.  “Let me take you home,” he said. You didn’t have words to reply, just let him tug you to your feet until the two of you wandered in the direction of your place.

[survivor-themyscira-blog]

Raymond left, I'm extremely happy about that since he comes off as a huge comp threat and not at the hindrance to my own tribe! Premerge I want comp threats with me but he wasn't with me! This challenge I really want the reward, I have the effing clue, if I we get it, I can get Madeline to burn her searches to give me more insight on the island for my searches.

Oh boy this challenge is about to be.......... not fun. 1/3 of our tribe is present. 1/2 are asleep and the other 1/6 is Madison and she's NEVER HERE jfkldsjflas I can't wait to lose!!!!!!!!!! Logan and I are gonna try to pull this out anyway but

who tf designed this challenge! it makes me mad. i better get some sort of advantage outta this grr.

We stan being the only one awake! LOL but it's fine I'm gonna stay up late and chat with my friends I haven't talked to in a while. But this game... I love it! I love all comps. So cute. But also ... tag yourself ready: On 10/20/17, at 10:10 PM, charlotte (themyscira host) wrote: > f4 On 10/20/17, at 10:10 PM, jaiden nolan wrote: > fact On 10/20/17, at 10:10 PM, Jack (Ginga) wrote: > fast On 10/20/17, at 10:10 PM, Emily wrote: > free On 10/20/17, at 10:10 PM, rhone (ios host) wrote: > fork On 10/20/17, at 10:10 PM, Jordan Pines wrote: > fate All of these ... tell a lot about a person. I'm a psychic. This means things. Jack is fast and this has been proven with this challenge. Emily is free meaning ... I don't know but it's very me. Rhone is a fork and I think that suits him and Jordan is fate because like idk. It just SAYS THINGS about us okay Also I feel bad volunteering Amanda to sit out but :-/ she's less active than the boyz and Andreas will help out once he wakes up. I'm silly to think that the Europeans wouldn't be able to help this round! Because they can cover the graveyard shifts for us hehehehehehehehehe HA I LOVE IT thank u europe

I love this challenge! And right now, we just passed Hippolyta and we're two points away from passing Antiope. This is great! Like we're so close! And right now, we're not going to tribal! But we still have until 10PM tonight... Hopefully we can just build up more of a lead and keep ourselves safe. I'm scared!!!!!!!!!!!

On 10/21/17, at 12:55 PM, Ruthie wrote: > loser On 10/21/17, at 12:55 PM, Jordan Pines wrote: > Loser what they’re gonna be by 10PM tonight hehe

HONESTLY, I know this was last challenge but I'm still pissed about the music video challenge. HOW WE GOT DINGED ON PARTICIPATION WHEN WE HAD OUR ENTIRE TRIBE IN IT MAKES NO SENSE TO ME. OR CREATIVITY. OR PROPS. I MADE SLIME, I GOT A SLOTH PUPPET INVOLVED, WE MADE BLOOD, WE HAD WIGS. IT WAS A SPOOKY SONG FOR HALLOWEEN. We were robbed and whoever this Kayla person is I'm literally coming for you.

Yeahhhhh we probably lost this one. I can just hope the bond I sparked with Jaiden holds true, Madeline will work with me I know,(we swapped actual phone numbers so we can't be quoted when we talk bout the vote, iconic) and Toph should be on board as long as it isn't him. I'm looking at taking out Billy or Ruthie

God F U C K I N G damn ITJDFJCSAKFJLSK;D I LITERALLY SAID THE SECOND I DECIDE TO ACTUALLY TAKE A SHOWER AFTER WAITING OVER AN HOUR FOR THE NEXT LETTER WORD COMBO...... THE HOSTS WOULD SEND IT AND GUESS WHAT THEY DID? THEY SENT IT RIGHT WHEN I GOT INTO THE SHOWER AND IM SO ANGRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but this is still fun u know I'm just pissed the heck off

Just send us to tribal already, this challenged f**ked our sh*t up fam.

I really hate feeling like I'm giving 120% on challenges and everyone else on my tribes aren't and I DIDN'T EVEN REALLY MEAN TO SIGN UP FOR THIS SO IT MAKES NO SENSE TO ME.

Word Up should just be named whose the fastest cheater. NO ONE KNOWS A 17 LETTER WORD STARTING WITH Q OR SOME SH*T. It just makes this whole thing cater to a lack of sportsmanship but it does show whose willing to cheat and that is telling for later in the game.

My tribe right now- [10/21/17, 7:20:00 PM] jaiden nolan: SHE says she thinks a pipe burst and that’s why the ceiling was leaking......not at all that she flooded a fucking bathroom....... [10/21/17, 7:20:12 PM] Ian Layne: WHO FLUSHES PAPER TOWELS? [10/21/17, 7:20:34 PM] jaiden nolan: okay but who flushes less than five paper towels and has it clog [10/21/17, 7:21:06 PM] jaiden nolan: like I know for a fact I’ve accidentally flushed things like paper towels, baby wipes, makeup wipes, etc and not had anything happen [10/21/17, 7:21:26 PM] Ian Layne: She took a mega dump and was embarrassed, I'm calling it [10/21/17, 7:21:53 PM] Madeline The Juicy Goose: Sounds like when I had a green bagel on st Patrick’s day [10/21/17, 7:22:06 PM] Ruthie: oh yikes [10/21/17, 7:23:19 PM] Ian Layne: I once drank too much at a bowling alley and had to get rid of my underwear so I flushed it, fun fact

Everyone is saying we can come back, we can come back! No it's mathematically impossible for us to comeback, never mind the variables of the other tribes do you really think 12 points is possible in one hour? We didn't defend a 13 point lead on Man Lips. We going to tribal Hippos

So! We thought for sure that we'd have to go to tribal, but as GOD would have it, we don't have to!! Menalippe? More like men-a-leaping to conclusions am I RIGHT

i am so sad that we lost i just need to make sure i'm not on ANYONE's bad side so i can stay :)

i am sad that we lost immunity, but now is the time to vote someone out. i think we need to vote out madeline because she is such a big threat to my game and i am pretending to talk on call about what i am reading this makes no sense also i think that she is going after billy too strong hehe

Me because no tribal: https://tmblrsurvivorextra.tumblr.com/post/166663831976

Hello my sunshines! WHAT IS GOING OOONNNNNNNNN! "Not much." "OK, cool." So, what happened this round? Not much. OK, cool. But really, the 24h challenge was cool, but Emily really carried our tribe. I got to chat a bit with Kai, finally, and he suggested that both of us should stick together with Emily - something I wholeheartedly agree with. Even if I don't trust Kai very much. We also agreed that SHOULD our Tribe lose, we'd go after Madison, since she's kinda invisible. Logan is in a similar position like me, not too revealing, but there and involved. I don't worry much about Amanda atm. She isn't participating much atm, so both our tribe and her old tribe would agree to vote her out at merge or something surely. She isn't a valuable ally to me either. I feel like I'm in a good spot atm and I hope that Ian and Billy survive todays Tribal Council! So I'll just leave you with my favourite quote from the last challenge: "Andreas scores for Menalippe with Circumcision!" SCORE!

Emily just suggested an alliance of me, Kai, and herself. Perfect. I won her over a little bit, and I think I got her to trust me a little more. I told her Dan and Raymond were my closest allies and they both got early boots, which they didn't deserve (true!), but I also told her I want revenge. That means Amanda and Jaiden are first on my hit list, next comes Jordan Pines. Not only did he probably help kill Raymond (fuck if I watch tribal) but he's also a MASSIVE threat. So gotta go. Updates to come~

Ian is taken way too long to respond to my simple question of ‘is billy still the plan’ what the heck

Well this vote is gonna be a rollercoaster ride for me due to Billy and Toph scrambling, but at least going forward(as long as I don't go tonight) Ruthie sold Jaiden down the river to Billy and not me about throwing Billy's name out. Seems like Madeline and I have protected ourselves well enough for this vote, but we shall see.

What is even HAPPENING why am i listening to JAIDEN

Nervous poop central, now boarding. I got a little mixed up in the chaos of pretribal anxiety because we were so close to having a stress-free vote, and Billy started scrambling. I crack so easily under pressure and for some reason, I just can’t stand being voted out so I did what I had to do in order to keep my name off the chopping block. I guess this includes forcing a clean vote to get messy and getting everybody to draw a colored rock... I think Ruthie is down for that. I told her to vote Toph with me and Billy in case of an idol and I don’t know if she IS or isn’t. But either way, my game will be damaged after the tie happens. My alliance will know I turned and my only escape route is to draw rocks with them involved ... fuck. I don’t know what’s gonna happen. The trust I established with them is thrown out the window if we tie. Idk what Ruthie’s intentions are but we’ll see :/ I’m scared. So scared.

[10/22/17, 9:14:04 PM] jaiden nolan: Ruthie. If you draw the bad rock I’ll play my advantage on you. I doubt we will go back to rocks [10/22/17, 9:14:15 PM] jaiden nolan: I love Ian and Madeline too but like, we can be a tbreesome with Billy if he stays JAIDEN IS INSANE WHY THE HECK DID I LISTEN TO HIM

I can't believe my number one in this game is going to be JAIDEN i don't understand how i trust him so much all of a sudden, this was not who was supposed to be my ride or die but here i am about to draw a ROCK.

I........ Jaiden said I was going to be safe in the redraw and DOT DOT DOT it's okay, it was fun I'm glad I got to go to rocks without being safe even though I hate that one was drawn for me! I've had fun playing this season and can't wait to see who wins the game!

GUESS I GOTTA ADD EVERYONE ON HIPPO TO MY HIT LIST HUH

My tribe? Assholes. Ruthie did not deserve that at all. And what's worse is none of them have my back. I want to hope Jaiden does, but he was just as on board for me to go until rocks was an option. I'm here to cause chaos now, and the silent people on my tribe better pray to god that I don't find an advantage or something. The best is, they made me sit out. And then I was targeted for not pulling my weight. Fuck. Y'all. Like mccuse me? It wasn't my fault that THE TRIBE decided I would sit out. I didn't ask to. And then THEY LOSE. THEY. FUCKING. LOST. UGH then they're all gonna lie to me. Where's that lasso of truth when you need it?

Fuck you and all your flash games R U T H I E W A S R O B B E D and I can’t believe I’m going to tribal in two days HUH SKSBSJSHEJ

I can’t believe that just happened. Honestly, poor Ruthie. She didn’t deserve to go out to rocks. For a moment I really thought that maybe my messy moves would work out for once, but NOPE LOL. I dunno, as sad as I am for Ruthie, I’m living for the utter chaos around camp. I can’t say I didn’t do something wild and reckless for the sake of having fun, and although this will probably send my ass out premerge, I played the messiest move I could think of. Unfortunately it was at Ruthie’s expense, but you win some and you lose some. There’s gonna be a LOT of heat on me the next few days. I’m gonna continue to do my best in the challenges and hopefully we’ll get a good immunity streak going until a swap happens. Tonight was the most fun I’ve had in a while, tbh.

This is literally me right now. http://78.media.tumblr.com/5180e47f3f3a1ad0bd0f04a6742989cd/tumblr_oxoavge6N71qd49gbo2_540.gif They're not gonna like me now that I'm frosty.

MY FIRST TRIBAL AND MY FIRST ROCKS AND I'M THE FIRST ONE SAFE.