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eduminatti · 1 year

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WHAT ARE THE BEST ACTIVITY-BASED PLAY SCHOOLS IN CHENNAI

At the age of 6-9 years, children go through a lot of changes. Children need a lot of time to play in order to grow and thrive in these early school years. Play aids children's development in a variety of ways.

Play and games with simple rules, for example, can help your kid adjust to the more formal learning frameworks she will encounter at school.

As per research conducted by schools in Bangalore this type of play also teaches your child how to take turns, which is essential for forming and maintaining friendships. Your youngster may discover new hobbies and interests through play at this age.

For example, your youngster may begin to read more and love books and periodicals on topics that interest him, such as motorcycles, horses, bugs, and other such topics.Another survey done by schools in Pune shows that these kind of activities empower your youngster to pursue his own passions and learn on his own.

Play and games with simple rules, for example, can help your kid adjust to the more formal learning frameworks she will encounter at school. This type of play also teaches your child how to take turns, which is essential for forming and maintaining friendships.

Your youngster may discover new hobbies and interests through play at this age. For example, your youngster may begin to read more and love books and periodicals on topics that interest him, such as motorcycles, horses, bugs, and other such topics. These kind of activities empower your youngster to pursue his own passions and learn on his own.

Some of these unstructured play activities might appeal to your school-aged child:

Outdoor play: your child can ride bikes and other wheeled toys (with trainer wheels if necessary and a helmet), run about in the park, or go for a walk with you and some friends.

Art and craft: your school-aged child can express his imagination using basic or natural materials. Feathers, leaves, bark, sticks, coloured papers, crayons, fabric scraps, glue, paints, beads, and other objects can be used. Build a puppet, make a collage, or simply sketch and paint with your youngster.

Dress-up games are wonderful for pretending to be someone else. They allow your youngster to experiment with different emotions and roles, such as pilot or doctor. Your child only requires some old clothes and simple props like as hats or handbags.

Activities such as jumping and dancing to music, or building and playing modest homemade instruments, are excellent for expressing emotions and imagination.

Usually, one or two planned after-school activities will suffice to keep your child occupied. However, if you want to get your child involved in more structured play, it's a good idea to find activities that you and your child can do together. This is something your child would enjoy: playing outdoor games such as football, soccer, netball, or backyard cricket doing puzzles and jigsaws or simple card games, board games, or memory games using craft kits.

WHY CHENNAI

Chennai, historically Madras, is the capital of Tamil Nadu, a state in southern India, located on the Bay of Bengal's Coromandel Coast. Chennai, sometimes known as the "Gateway to South India," is a key administrative and cultural centre in the country.

In 2001, the city had a population of 4,343,645 people while the urban agglom had a population of 6,560,242.

Before the arrival of the British in 1639, Armenian and Portuguese tradesmen lived in the San Thome region of what is now Chennai. Near 1639–40, the British East India Company established a fort and factory (trading post) in the fishing village of Madraspatnam, which became known as Madras.

Cotton fabric weaving was a local industry at the time, and the English recruited weavers and native merchants to reside near the fort. Fort St. George's factory was acknowledged as a presidency (an administrative unit administered by a president) by 1652, and the corporation increased its influence between 1668 and 1749.

EDUCATION IN CHENNAI

Schools in Chennai are either managed by the Tamil Nadu government or privately, with some receiving government funding. English is the primary medium of instruction at private schools.

Government-run schools provide instruction in both English and Tamil. The Tamil Nadu State Board or the Tamil Nadu Matriculation Board are mainly linked with private schools.

The national CBSE board, the ICSE board, the NIOS board, the Anglo-Indian board, and the Montessori system are all associated with a few schools. The International Baccalaureate and the American systems are also available at a few schools.

Schooling starts when a child is three years old with two years of kindergarten, followed by ten years of primary and secondary education. Before being eligible for college education in a general or professional field of study, students must complete two years of higher secondary school in one of two streams: science or commerce.

SOME BEST ACTIVITY-BASED PLAY SCHOOLS IN CHENNAI

Indus Early Learning Centre (Besant Avenue)

KiwiLearners (Neelankarai)

Vruksha Montessori (Alwarpet)

Vael’s Billabong High-Kangaroo Kids (Neelankarai)

Alphabet Play School (Alwarpet)

SEED Academy (Kottivakkam, Adyar & Anna Nagar)

Amelio Early Learning Centre (Sholinganallur)

Kangaroo Kids (Velachery)

Learning Tree (Adyar)

Alacris Preschool (Adyar)

#education #study #student #parents #schools

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zaraaiman-unit06 · 2 years

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Colours —why I didn’t use colour in my project

This colour was used in my art to represent trauma, but I wasn't satisfied with it. For example, in one of my poster designs, I looked into colours associated with mental health, such as green and teal.

Teal is a bright green colour that is named after a bird and also refers to the combination of cyan and green. This colour is associated with trauma, and it represents one of the most common forms of depression that children face while in war.

My subject matter is children in war, which is a very sensitive topic. I decided not to use any colour in my work because I'm communicating their stories through jigsaw puzzles. My illustrations and graphics will all be black and white. And I want to focus on the lives of innocent, vulnerable children who become victims of conflict, removing colour from my work would add emotion to my artwork. Because children's lives are devoid of colour, having black and white artwork will represent and reflect on their lives. Their chances of having a healthy childhood, making memories, and playing with friends are diminishing. I'm using colour to express this concept. I'm removing colour from this project like children who have lost their childhood.

We use bright colours to communicate our happy movements and dark colours to hide ourselves when we are unhappy or dissatisfied with our lives. I'm applying this connotation to my art in order to meet the brief requirements and communicate myself as a designer while also raising awareness about global issues.

#research #practicalskills #reflectivepractice

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kimabutch · 2 years

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OC questions I’ve asked my friends & TTRPG players...

... Ranging from somewhat profound to intensely inane. Thought I’d share them in case anyone else can get some use out of them!

What was the last time they pulled an all-nighter, if ever?

What's the weirdest place they've ever slept?

If they were living now, what type of face mask would they wear — ie, plain black, patterned, with words, etc?

As a young kid, were they particularly attached to any comfort items, like stuffed animals or a blanket?

What do they think of abstract art?

When going out in cold weather (say under 0C/32F), what kinda outfit do they wear?

Are they afraid of heights?

Are they a fast/slow/average reader?

Are there any foods that they really fucking hate?

On a scale of 1-10, how bothered are they by the sight of blood?

When's the last time they laughed so hard they cried, if ever?

Do they prefer baths or showers?

What's a reoccurring dream/nightmare that they have, if any?

When they visit museums, do they go slowly, reading everything, or go through quickly?

Do they ever cry at movies/books/shows?

Have they ever kept a journal?

Are they good at jigsaw puzzles? Do they enjoy them?

What's the most physically uncomfortable situation they've ever been in?

What do they do when they've got a song stuck in their head?

Favourite type of baked goods? Are they good at baking?

Are they a good kisser?

How much do they follow the news? Has this always been the case, or has it changed over time?

Favourite ice cream flavour?

Do they ever cry because something is too cute?

Do they have any superstitions?

How consistent/regular is their sleep cycle?

If they were to play D&D, what race/class would they pick?

Do they sing in the shower?

Can they play an instrument? Which one?

Can they ride a bike?

Favourite meal of the day?

What do they smell like?

Do they like to doodle?

What’s one of their guilty pleasures?

Do people usually notice their eye colour?

What are their lying “tells”? Are they aware of these tells?

A friend whips out a camera unexpectedly and goes "say cheese!" — what pose do they strike?

What would be the worst quality that someone could attribute to them, in their own mind? As in, what would they think is the worst thing someone could think about them — that they're selfish, lazy, violent, cowardly, stupid, etc.?

How do they mark their place in a book?

Big spoon or little spoon?

How much time/thought do they put into their outfit on an average day?

What’s the most ridiculous thing they’ve ever spent money on?

What’s a funny story that a stranger has about them?

What do they consider the kindest thing someone has ever done for them?

What's the cruelest thing they've done that they don't regret?

What’s their least favourite chore?

The person they care about most/their best friend asks them to hide a dead body. How willing are they to help, no questions asked?

What's the favourite way to eat potatoes?

If they were a plant, what would they be?

If they had to give an impromptu hour-long lecture on any subject, what would they talk about?

What would be/is their most-used/favourite emoji?

What would/do they put as their computer/phone wallpaper/ background?

Have they always had their current hairstyle? If not, what’s another hairstyle they’ve had in the past?

When they can't fall asleep, what do they do?

What do they consider the best decision they've ever made?

What do they wear for a day out at the beach?

How do they feel about babies? How would they deal with a friend's baby being put in their arms?

Most embarrassing situation they’ve ever experienced?

How do they feel about rollercoasters?

Have they broken any bones and if so, how?

Do they consider themself a good liar?

Would they rather have very cold weather (under -20C/-4F) or very hot weather (over 30C/86F)?

How good are they/would they be at Monopoly?

Do they like musicals?

Have they ever been blackout drunk? Under what circumstances?

What genre is the book that they’ve read the most times in their life?

What's something they (at this moment) think/hope they'll never have to admit to someone else?

How good/bad are they/would they be at assembling IKEA furniture?

What’s something that really scared them as a kid?

Ae they allergic to anything?

What’s the longest they’ve ever gone without sleeping, and why?

Feelings on spicy food?

How much do they jay-walk in cities?

Do they have any tattoos or piercings? Do they want any/more?

Preferred way to eat eggs?

Do they consider themself an optimist, pessimist, or realist?

If they're served a food they don't like (at like, a restaurant or someone else's house), will they eat it anyways or leave it to the side?

Would they describe themself as funny?

How physically flexible are they?

What’s the most bored they’ve ever been?

What's one book you've read that you think they would also like?

What’s a scent that never fails to make them nostalgic?

What’s the worst thing they’ve done on a dare?

How did they celebrate their coming-of-age?

#ttrpgs #number 38 is my favourite in terms of revealing things about a character #also these are directed mostly towards modern or future scifi OCs #may not fit your average dnd campaign #my stuff

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un2-verse · 3 years

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BILLY — Kim Taehyung (1)

》 News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right? 《

pairings: john kramer!taehyung x female reader

warnings: dark themes, angst, yandere, murder, torture, self harm, suicide, stalking etc.... (will add more when i know lol) although it is rather innocent in the first couple chapters(?) so idk it could be slow burn but i guess we’ll find out as i write it >< ,, it’s my version of saw if saw was a fucked up love story lol. Please don’t read if any of the topics mentioned trigger you!! 18+

this fic is exactly that, fiction!!!! the au does not represent the characters mentioned irl......

synopsis: you end up lost on the other side of town, where you cross paths with a handsome stranger, kim taehyung, only.... are you a stranger to him?

[a/n: daffodils represent; love me, sympathy, desire and affection returned...]

word count: 3k

series masterlist

part two

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Hiding behind a mask was something you were accustomed to. Your friend group and family were clueless to the torment you endured from simply existing. You were confident your masking had convinced the world you were happy with yourself. Unbeknown to you, one other person saw straight through your façade.

You wanted to end your life.

He needed you to cherish your life.

Nothing looked familiar. The café you frequented was nowhere to be found. Your usual hangout was most definitely not on the side of town you found yourself in. You felt anxiety slowly curl its way around your body, you were frigid. You tried and tried but couldn’t find it in yourself to run.

You lived in the more friendly part of town (so to speak) – where houses were colourful, gardens pristine, warm-hearted neighbours who would treat you like family and white picket fences are what surrounded you. That was your norm, sure, you weren’t exactly loaded but you weren’t exactly poor either. It was a healthy balance in the middle. That’s not to say you hadn’t lived or seen this side of town before.

Your Mother and Father had grown up on this side of the fence. Two young people brought up in the rougher, more unfortunate areas. Your Mother was tough; she looked like a naïve, weak girl, albeit that was not the case. She was strong willed, used to life on the streets and doing anything she could to get money to make sure there was at least some food on the table. While your Mum was the leader, your Dad was more of a sheep. He was easily influenced and was dragged into the wrong crowd (had his fair share with drugs and street racing). That was their life for a few years till they crossed paths and your Mum helped your Dad get back on the right track.

They didn’t tell you much about their childhood and adolescence but they told you enough to make you appreciate what you have and to always work hard for it. To stick with the right people, be wise and conscious of your decisions. Be kind to those around you.

Your family owned a garage; your Dad was the head mechanic. This was the sole reason you were here. You knew it wouldn’t be simple when you agreed to go to this side of town to get a few bits for your Father’s shop. However, you didn’t expect it to be this difficult. How could you be so stupid? Why didn’t you just ask Hoseok and Yoongi to come with you like your father told you to? Or at least tell them where you were… yet you decided today of all days to be stubborn and venture on yourself, knowing full well how unsafe the area was. There were rundown businesses on either side of the road, beggars at every doorstep; drug dealings happening in broad daylight, no one even trying to hide it.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, you took it out and sighed a breath of relief once you’d read the texts.

14:37— From Papa: U ok munchkin ??? Did u get the stuff ?

14:39— From Papa: its ok if u didnt. Yoongs rang said hes got majority this morning lol so be safe n get home soon . Love u

14:40— To Papa: ohhh ok pops, i couldn’t find the shop anyway lol i’ll head back soon, love u too x

*LOW BATTERY*

“Fuck, trust me to forget to charge the bastard.” You rolled your eyes as you stuffed the phone back in your pocket.

Muffled shouting was heard around you. People ran across the street, bumping into you as they ran past. You gathered yourself and moved further down the path. “Great!” you exasperated, “honestly I’m so fucking stupid! Yoongi’s gonna kill me for this, I knew, I knew I should’ve told him I was coming over here but no,” your head was hung low as you dragged your feet across the pavement, “maybe I could tell Hobi, he wouldn’t be as angry right? I’m sure he’ll come,“ A sudden scream ripped you out of your chuntering. You whipped your head to the right, you could make out some figures bustling about in front of you, a group of men were quite clearly fighting… your anxiety struck you and you held your breath as you saw a man pull a knife from the waistband of his sweatpants. All thoughts and common sense seemed to leave all at once. Statue like, feet stuck to the ground. You watched on as the group rushed towards the brown haired man, you scanned his figure: tall, broad, confident… he exuded an intimidating aura even when you were this far away from him.

How could someone be so sure of themselves? It was one against five, surely the loner had no chance?

The glistening of the knife brought you back to your senses. Fucking hell. How do you always end up in these situations when you’re alone? Why me? Why? Good Lord, I need to run. Just as you were about to leave, the group who were arguing charged past you; one gripped his side as another supported his weight. Holy fuck, did he stab him? you stood frozen, yet again, your mind raced a mile a minute. Panic bubbled in your chest.

“You okay there Doll?” His voice was deep, velvet-like. It flowed so smoothly you doubted it was real, it was so soothing like it had wrapped itself around you, embracing your body. You heard his footsteps before he planted himself beside you. His shoulder reached the top of your head, his hand brushed yours. Swallowing your nerves you dared a glance up. He was fucking breath-taking, like a fallen angel. The stranger shot you a small smile that you would’ve easily missed had you not been staring at his features… a blush crept up your neck as you nodded. His smile slowly twisted into a smirk.

Cute, Taehyung thought to himself. Couldn’t help but adore the way you slightly trembled under his gaze, the way your hands gripped and twisted your sweater paws. Almost like a puppy. He cleared his throat and reached his hand to yours, “Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Taehyung.” you took his hand into yours, apprehensively you greeted him, “I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, Y/N. I haven’t seen you round here before, you new or something?” Taehyung cocked his head to the side, his eyes seemed to stare right through you.

“Uhm, I don’t live here. I live over the other part of Town… I was just grabbing some stuff for my Dad but, my phones about to die. I have no idea where I am or how to get home, I’m sorry, I promise I didn’t see anything!” a deep chuckle cut you off, Taehyung smiled and beckoned you to follow him.

“Come on Y/N, you’re not suited for this side of Town, I’ll walk you back. A pretty little thing like you, you’re easy prey to these guys.” your feet fell into a cautious pace behind him, he glanced over his shoulder, “hurry up Buttercup, I don’t bite.” Taehyung flashed a boxy grin in your direction, which caused you to speed up ever so slightly.

You were unsure how you felt about letting a complete stranger walk you home, Yoongi would definitely kill you for this. Especially with the recent news of some serial killer named ‘Jigsaw’, Yoongi and Hoseok had been very stern and their usual, overprotective selves when the news had broken out. “It’s on every headline Y/Nie! No more leaving the house on yourself, you need to go anywhere you ring either of us. Got it? Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know either. There’s some dodgy fucks about recently.” Although, you loved them dearly, sometimes their protectiveness was a...little overbearing. You already felt suffocated from your parents (you didn’t need it from your best friends as well). They were happy and believed you to be too; but that was exhausting, faking happiness. You had a constant façade, acted like a happy normal teenager with a happy family; when that was far from the truth.

Drowning. That’s how you’d explain the way you felt. Breathing was difficult and brought you more pain than it was worth. Growing up was tedious, you had grown differently to your peers which only brought ridicule and embarrassment for you. You had struggled with your speech (sometimes you still do), you often stuttered, mispronounced words, the list was endless. That was one of the first reasons you were a castaway. As you grew, the ridicule worsened. Verbal abuse turned physical from your classmates. They made you feel like you were a waste of space. The names they called you, you soon started to believe them. Ugly. Weird. Freak. Stupid. They took root in your brain, slowly they grew and grew till your head was overgrown with twisted, rotten weeds.

Eventually, you sought comfort in blood. You didn’t care that it hurt you; you were almost happy to feel pain. Like you deserved to.

By age 14, you had started to skip school. Only ever there for exams and a couple of art classes you had with Jeongguk. He was what you would’ve called a best friend, he supported you and was by your side till you left school. He went away to college and like always with school friends, you drifted apart. Nevertheless, he still texts you now and then to check in.

Although you were (once) close with Jeongguk. He never knew of your inner demons, the same with Yoongi and Hoseok. You didn’t want to feel like a burden and worry your friends when they had shit to worry about themselves.

Why devastate flowers that flourish beautifully with weeds that manage to twist their way around every crack?

You had walked for a few minutes now, having chatted absentmindedly about anything and everything. The roads still didn’t look familiar to you and you just wished they did, you didn’t want to be away from your home any longer, your feet were starting to ache, your phone was on 10% battery and it was fucking cold. You just wanted to be back in bed tucked up watching Lady and the Tramp or 101 Dalmatians for the millionth time. You felt safe and content when you indulged in your comfort films. Far away from the real world and wrapped up in the false reality. They easily distracted you and that's when you truly felt at peace. Your mind was always too busy thinking about how cute it was when Tramp calls Lady, Pidge or how in love Pongo and Perdy were.

Majority of the time you fantasised about having a love similar, but then again, why would you wanna make yourself vulnerable like that? Is the risk of being hurt (more than you are now) any good? Of course it’s not. Fuck that, life isn’t nothing like those shitty romance films or novels… It’s real and painful.

As you and Taehyung rounded the corner, a little cafe caught your eye, a dainty blue and pink building. Fairy Lights strung up around the windows, you could see a handful of people inside, busy sipping their drinks and chatting away to one another. ‘Aroma Mocha’ hung above the doors. It looked so cute and simple. Your previous thoughts left your mind as quick as they had come. You wanted to go inside, it had an enticing atmosphere.

Taehyung hadn’t realised you’d stopped walking until he couldn’t hear the soft thud of your footsteps behind him, he turned as he called out to you, your eyes still fixed on the cafe. He chuckled to himself, “Fucking adorable, like a kid at christmas,” he walked back over to you. “Hey Doll, you wanna go in?” He felt his heart quicken when you looked at him with those pretty eyes, “We’ve plenty of time to get you back before it’s dark angel.” You answered him with a nod as you turned your head from Taehyung to look back at the alluring little cafe.

Not a second had passed before Taehyung grabbed your hand and pulled you across the road to the entrance; you ignored the warmth of his hand as it intertwined with yours; you ignored the way your tummy erupted with butterflies. Taehyung had stopped to hold the door for you, you murmured a small, “thank you,” looking up at him, the heat that crept up your cheeks making your face resemble that of a doll’s he thought to himself. Once he ushered you fully inside, he placed his hand to rest on the curve of your waist as he guided you to the back corner of the room, where a quaint table for two was unoccupied, a little pot of Daffodils sat atop. How fitting...

Taehyung was quick to pull the chair out for you to take a seat, you pulled it in as you sat down and sent a shy smile his way, “I’m sorry, I know we just met Taehyung but this place is so fucking precious! I hope I’m not bothering you, if I am we can just carry on walking or, I could ring a Taxi? Is this weird? Oh god, I can’t believe--”, Taehyung threw his head back as he laughed, a sound that seemed to wrap its way around your soul, twisting around your heart in the nicest of ways, it was almost like a killer to the weeds taking over your body. A temporary release. You felt like you could really breathe in those short seconds of his laughter.

“Angel, if you were bothering me, I’d have kept on walking. That, or I would’ve called you a Taxi myself, it’s no problem honestly.” You ducked your head as he sent a wink your way, fuck sake Y/N get it together! Why are you acting like a fucking schoolgirl?

“Well I uh, appreciate it so, yeah thank you?” You don’t know what to do, you’re here with the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid your eyes on… yet you have no clue if what you saw was real, did Taehyung stab someone? Could someone have had the knife who wasn’t Taehyung? Was he even the person you saw in that altercation? Did you imagine everything that had gone off?

Before you had chance to overthink it, a light bubbly voice greeted your ears, “Hi! Welcome to Aroma Mocha, I’m Jimin and I’ll be your server today. Is there anything I can get you?” Jimin held his gaze on you as he flashed you a friendly smile, Taehyung turned around at the sound of his best friend, “Oh, Tae! I wasn’t expecting to see you today, what are you doing here? And who’s this pretty little lady?”

“This is Y/Nie, she was in the neighbourhood so we thought we’d nip in for something to drink before I take her back to hers.” you sent a warm smile to Jimin which he gladly returned, “I’ll have my usual and can you get Y/Nie a Strawberry Iced Tea? Thanks man.”

Once Jimin had disappeared to make your drinks, you shot your eyes to Taehyung, “Uhm, how’d you know I like Strawberry Iced Tea?” Taehyung didn’t even look in your direction as he scrolled through his phone, eyes glued to the screen. A minute passed by and he’d still not acknowledged your question so you let it slide, it wasn’t that big of a deal right? Your mind drifted. Your fingers rested atop of your lap, hidden from the sight of onlookers, picking around your nails as anxiety flooded your body. You felt like you were about to suffocate. You shouldn’t be talking to anyone, you shouldn’t let anyone close. You were only going to fuck everything up in a heartbeat. It’s only natural. Self deprecating thoughts devoured and made their way through your veins, poisoning yourself further; your whole body felt as though it was alight.

Jimin brought you your drinks, placed them carefully in front of the pair of you as you both said your thanks.

The click of Taehyung’s phone being locked and the clearing of his throat brought you back to your senses. “The drink I ordered for you is popular here so, I assumed you’d like to try it. You wanna talk about what’s bothering you?” your eyes shot up to meet his, your head tilted a little to the left as your tongue wet your lip, so puppy like...

You stared incredulously, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Taehyung.” You leant forward slightly as you wrapped your lips around the straw and took a sip.

Taehyung saw the way you sucked your drink up through your straw, his eyes darkened. Thankful to have worn sweatpants that day, he shifted himself discreetly, “I’m not stupid Angel, I know what you’re doing under the table. I’m here, so talk to me. I’ll listen to whatever you gotta say.”

You stuttered as you wracked your brain for something to say, “I-I only met you like forty minutes ago, I don’t even tell my friends what’s wrong. Not that there is, everything’s fine.”

You met me just short of an hour ago, he thought to himself, “You don’t have to lie to me Y/Nie…” he grabbed your hands that were laid near the cup of your Iced Tea. His thumb rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. You looked small and fragile, like the Daffodils on the table; one little pluck and you’d be ruined. He wouldn’t admit it to you just yet but, Taehyung fucking loved how delicate you seemed as you sat across from him.

How easy it would be to take your life away. How easy it’d be to pull those weeds up that are poisoning you, torturing you every single day. He shook his head, as he cleared those thoughts. No, only Y/N can make that decision. I’m just going to help her choose.

Live or Die.

You visibly winced, “You don’t know me. Think whatever the fuck you want about me, it doesn’t matter.” your eyes flashed hurt as you went back to picking your skin. You knew it, this whole encounter was too good to be true. A complete stranger (well acquaintance technically) had just presumed shit about you, the fact he was right is what hurt more. You didn’t want anyone to know how you were feeling. Or how you were dealing with it.

You couldn’t exactly tell him to piss off, you still needed his help home and so you tried to distract yourself from the unsettling gaze that watched your every move. You let out a breath as Taehyung went back to his phone. Your eyes drifted as you picked up the local Newspaper, your eyes skimmed over the headline, ‘Jigsaw Traps Continue’. Taehyung noticed you staring at the front page, and chuckled, “you scared of Jigsaw Angel?”

You shook your head, why would you be scared of some nutjob who’s targeted criminals and drug dealers? You’re a nobody. “Of some psychopathic puppet?” if anyone did anything to you that would threaten your life, it would be you. Taehyung just laughed in return as you skipped the article and skim-read the other pointless stories.

You were fucking clueless as to who he was while he knew every little thing about you. He had watched you for months… His precious little Y/Nie… Oh how silly you were, taking your life for granted.

You hated yourself that much, you were willingly marking yourself up. Tainting your skin… oh your skin, how fucking beautiful and soft it looked, even with all the scars it still looked perfect… Taehyung wanted nothing more than to whisk you away and lock you inside with him. Forever. He didn’t want anyone touching what was his.

He knew you wore a mask when in public, too afraid to show your real self. Little did you know, he wore a mask himself...only he wore it to better other people.

He had a plan.

And you’d soon find out.

Let the games begin.

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ninacarstairss · 3 years

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ALASTAIR AND KAMALA HEADCANONS

THOMASTAIR WEEK — day 6, favorite friendship dynamics of thomas and alastair @youngreckless

alastair is super afraid of spiders. kamala finds out when she walks into his room once and finds him standing on a chair with a tense look on his face.

“what the hell are you doing there?” she asks.

“uh. nothing” alastair says in a fake casual tone. “theres— uh. there's a spider. somewhere.”

kamala laughs, kills the spider with her shoe and never lets alastair live that down. “a grown ass shadowhunter standing on a fucking chair because of a teeny tiny spider!”

alastair thinks he might kill her. but he gets back at her when she starts running around the training room once because a bee came in through the window.

when kamala broke up with anna she was heartbroken and alastair whisked her away for a couple of days and took her to italy. he got a hotel for a couple of nights and they visited rome. kamala's smile came fully back for the first time underneath il trionfo in palazzo barberini.

alastair's tell for when he's anxious is in his shoulders. when they became friends kamala started noticing that every once in a while alastair would move his shoulders in small circles or he would clench his muscles or shake his shoulders ever so lightly it was barely noticeable to inattentive eyes and that was a sign that alastair was stressed. whenever kamala notices this she moves closer to him and touches his hand or his arm, a contact she knows steadies him, and asks whether he wants to vent about what's stressing him or if he wants to be distracted from it.

at first, they learned in baby steps how to be around each other. neither of them had been too great at friendships or relationships before, but when they met something clicked, like a jigsaw puzzle coming into place. despite this they were always too careful at first, always worried to say the wrong thing or do the wrong move. then, one day kamala strode in the room and asked alastair if he wanted to be her friend for real because she was tired of the tenseness. alastair laughed and ever since that moment it became clear kamala was bold enough to stay by his side and he was steady enough to stay by hers.

they love going to the movies and they made it a habit to go at least once every two weeks and try out a different type of popcorn or candy every time. so far they've tried them all twice and everyone at the movie theatre knows the two friends that come every other thursday and pick a different snack every time.

kamala likes to get piercings on her ears and alastair always goes with her for support.

alastair gives kamala her first lesbian flag and even though she can't hang it in her room because her parents probably wouldn't support her if she came out, she tucks it under her pillow and keeps her close when she sleeps. alastair knows she's proud and happy to be herself and she wanted to have a little sign of comfort around even though it had to stay hidden most of the time.

people generally have coffee or shopping dates, they instead have skating platonic dates. there's a skating ring close to kamala's house and they ended up there once by mistake while looking for food, but alastair convinced kamala to try so they rented skates and started spinning. kamala wasn't too good at first and kept falling down, alastair instead seemed to be born to do that.

when they go off to college they get a flat together and they have the best time as roommates.

alastair cooks the best breakfasts and kamala always has music playing in the apartment.

soon after they became friends, they started teaching each other their mother tongues. kamala taught alastair marathi/hindi and he taught her farsi and now they can both speak and understand the languages well enough that they can sometimes talk to the other in their mother tongue. it's a way for them to stay connected to their roots, especially for kamala since she never used her mother tongue at home after she was adopted.

kamala bought some saris when she moved out from home and alastair helped her pick the designs and colours. he was so happy to finally see her be able to regain contact with the culture she loved but had to leave behind for years.

kamala is an art student and alastair majors in history.

they have tons of canvases and drawings in the house painted by kamala and alastair loves them.

they also constantly have books of all kind lying around they house. there are like five books on the couch that are alastair’s readings for the semester and three books on his nightstand that he’s currently reading for his own pleasure, a couple more books on the kitchen counter that kamala is reading or planning to read and another stack on a small table where they keep the plants that were supposed to be placed on the shelves and organized by author but never made it there.

they have a little corner in the living room where they set a table and bought different plants to look after with a carefully developed system of watering and care.

when they first started living together they bought a board to use for assigning chores and schedules to do them but it literally lasted two weeks before they decided that kamala hated doing the dishes but could vacuum and dust the furniture with no problem and alastair preferred to be in charge of food shopping and doing the dishes.

near the end of their first year of college they meet the lightwood siblings. alastair asks thomas out as soon as he sees the tall boy trip on his own feet and spill half of his coffee on his shirt when he lays eyes on alastair. soon enough they're the strongest and cutest couple out there. it takes a while longer for kamala and eugenia to realize they like each other and both tom and alastair realize before them, so they organize a couple of double dates for them without knowing it and soon after they get together.

thomas had never seen his sister so happy and alastair is so glad to see his friend being finally in love again.

they have a shared love for thrift shops and they pop there every once in a while to stash on cool hats and jackets even though both their wardrobes are full and about to give out under the weight of clothes.

tag list: @cordaisya @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @surrounded-by-exquisite-clutter @stxr-thxif @icycoolslushie @writeforjordelia @gabtapia @fair-childd

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Text

The Painting

This was started from a challenge I stumbled across what seems like ages ago.

The word was ‘blushing’ and can be found in a prompt list from @creativepromptsforwriting - here.

But anyway, have over 3000 words of frustrated Virgil, worried Scott and concerns over the possibility of Virgil/Kayo.

Warnings: Yep, this is the Virgil/Kayo fic I was babbling on about a while back. Not Warm Rain, but completely new.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Virgil Tracy was a seasoned emergency responder. Scott had seen him rescue people in front of entire crowds, seen him speak to police, and even the press. Hell, there was the time Scott had been caught up on the other side of the planet and Virgil had rescued the President of the United States, for crying out loud. It was on film, recorded for history and no doubt would end up in their future grandchildren’s school textbooks.

At no point had his brother ever looked fazed at any of the PR tasks required of him.

Sure, he wasn’t as smooth at it as Scott and if he had a choice, he would avoid it and handball it off to his big brother. But that was more a case of Virgil thinking he had better things to do.

He’d refused the award offered by the President for that reason. Saw no need for accolades for just doing his job - Scott had tried to talk him into that one, but no, Virgil just didn’t seem to care.

So there was no warning, no real indicator that this was going to happen.

Looking back with the benefit of hindsight, Scott had to admit that perhaps that was a lie.

Virgil had been edgy from the first mention of this project. It was Penny’s fault, of course, but it was Gordon who had egged her on when Virgil said no initially.

Penny had succeeded with John in the past, so why not tackle another Tracy brother? And it wasn’t like Virgil was socially shy like their astronaut. The man had stripped naked and posed for life drawing classes on multiple occasions and as previously noted, had no trouble with the PR tasks required of him.

Virgil was the cool, calm and sensible Tracy brother.

Who was now standing in front of the podium bright red and frozen solid as holocam lights buzzed about him.

The press was a mass of voices they hadn’t really expected on opening night, and had Kayo in a furious mood, her satin green dress spinning as she strode over to possibly throttle one of her security contingent. He must keep an eye on that.

Virgil had only meant to welcome everyone to the gallery with a short speech, but the questions about his artworks had begun firing the moment he stood up there and apparently displaying his art was not as easy as Scott thought it would be.

He regretted encouraging this exhibition when he had known Virgil hadn’t been confident. But he had thought it was just nerves and his brother had only needed a little push.

He would never have thought Virgil could freeze like that.

Scott stepped up to the podium beside his arty brother. Virgil blinked at him, more fear in his eyes than Scott had seen since the time Scott had fallen into an ice crevasse and his heavy lifting brother had jumped in after him, only barely managing to grab him before certain death.

Apparently, Virgil needed saving this time.

Scott eyed the crowd and in particular the person responsible for the question.

His eyes narrowed in on Kat Kavanaugh. He let out a breath. “Now, now, Kat, when I said you could ask questions, that did not include my brothers’ sex lives.”

Kat smirked up at him. “Fair’s fair, Scott Tracy. He did paint that, after all.” She gestured towards the most popular painting in the gallery. There had been an argument earlier over who could purchase it. An informal auction managed by Penny had sprouted up and the sum it finally went for would fund Tracy Industries’ charity line for some time to come.

Virgil’s eyes had been saucer-wide at that news.

But the painting itself was a mystery. Scott had no idea what it represented other than it was all flesh coloured curves, greens, reds, blues and greys. It obviously meant something to Virgil, but it might as well have been spilt paint to Scott with the minor exception of maybe one eye and a flower. He much preferred the aerial dogfight painting he had nabbed off his brother before he could assign it to the exhibition - Virgil frowned at him and squawked a bunch of art jargon that translated as ‘Virgil hated it’. But Scott liked it and had hung it in his rooms.

Virgil glared at it every time he saw it.

But this one, this Picasso jigsaw puzzle, meant something to Virgil. Yet for some reason he had thrown it into the exhibition anyway.

And now it meant something to a bunch of people? It had prompted so many questions, most inappropriate, and now looking at it Scott could see vaguely where they were coming from, but really?

But Virgil had flushed red and frozen, giving credit to the question of who had broken his heart.

Scott hadn’t noticed anything. Virgil had never brought the topic up.

And this was definitely not the place.

“This is an art exhibition, Ms Kavanaugh. Please keep your question to the subject at hand.”

“I could argue that what is on these walls is exactly the subject at hand, Mr Tracy. Your brother has painted with his heart and now it is up for sale.”

The whole gallery fell completely silent as the centre of Scott’s cardiovascular system fell into his boots.

When he didn’t answer immediately, she took it upon herself to fill the silence. “In fact, one of the biggest questions on everyone’s lips is why only one out of four of the most eligible bachelors on the planet has a romantic interest. These paintings prove he is not alone, but apparently Virgil is not as lucky.”

Scott stared at her. it would have helped if he knew what she was talking about. Virgil hadn’t mentioned anything...

Scott held back the urge to look at his brother and instead bore a hole into Kat Kavanaugh’s head with his glare. “I repeat, my brother’s personal lives are not up for discussion.” Holocams stared at him.

“And what about yours, Mr Tracy? Are you still dating that pilot?”

“You know what? This is an art exhibition to raise money for victims of disaster, for the people International Rescue couldn’t save. How about you focus on that.” She opened her mouth again. “Because if you don’t, I will have you and anyone else inclined to discuss our private business, escorted from the building.” He put every ounce of commander he had into his words.

She stopped talking, but the smirk on her face that replaced her vocalisations set Scott’s blood boiling anyway.

He clamped down on the emotion. “Now, regarding the artworks. All of them are painted by my talented brother Virgil, as you know. He has kindly donated them to raise money for those affected by disaster. So, please reach into your pockets and donate for those who need it most. Thank you.”

He turned away from the podium as the silence dissolved into chatter, mostly likely with nothing to do with artworks at all.

Finally he was able to catch Virgil’s eye and non-verbally direct him to follow.

The acquiescence in Virgil’s expression hurt Scott even more.

He led his artistic brother past a concerned-looking Gordon who was helping Penelope manage the crowd.

Alan was frowning fit to burst a blood vessel, but Gordon grabbed him and pulled him away.

John knew enough to only catch Scott’s eye with an expression of ‘here if you need me’ as he stood off to one side talking to Brains. The fact both were half-hidden by a promotional banner was no doubt no error on their part.

Both had declared they would attend in support of Virgil. Didn’t mean they had to like it.

Scott pulled Virgil into a backroom, shut the door and turned to face his brother.

Virgil was looking down at his hands.

“I know I’m clueless on the art front, but apparently the crowd out there isn’t. Is there something you haven’t told me?” He drew in a breath in an attempt to calm himself.

Virgil glanced up at him with such sadness in his eyes, Scott’s widened and he put both hands on his brother’s shoulders. “What is it?”

It was Virgil’s turn to let out a sigh. It appeared to come from somewhere ever so deep as it visibly deflated him. “It was nothing.” And he looked away.

“Doesn’t look like ‘nothing’.” He squeezed those hunched shoulders gently. A nudge of his head in the direction of the crowd outside the door. “They don’t think it is ‘nothing’.”

Virgil looked up. “Well, it is nothing. That’s why that painting is out there. Nothing has happened. Nothing is going to happen.”

“But you wanted something to happen?” It was like bobbing for apples, but painful. He had never seen Virgil so unsure of himself. “Can I ask who?”

Virgil opened his mouth, but closed it before he could say anything.

Scott hesitated. “You know you can tell me anything. That I’m here for you.”

Again Virgil opened his mouth, but again something stopped him from saying anything. He only nodded, blinking.

Scott’s heart lurched. What couldn’t Virgil tell him? They shared everything. How could his brother been hurting this much and Scott not know anything about it?

But then did he know?

He scoured his memory for indicators.

Virgil straightened suddenly. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to happen. That...that ship has sailed.”

Who had Virgil fixated on? He ran through their list of friends, acquaintances and came up blank regarding any extra regard his brother might have shown anyone.

Of course, Virgil was kind to everyone they knew, polite beyond reason sometimes, well known for putting others above himself.

Hell, just last week he had flown Kayo halfway across the planet in Tracy Two while he was supposed to be on vacation and resting. Shadow was out of commission at the time and Kayo needed to be in London with Penelope and Rigby. She had protested, but even Scott knew Virgil had a soft spot for his sister and would do...anything for her.

He stared at his brother.

No...really?

Scott blinked as his brain pulled up all the most obvious indicators. Virgil always hovered when their sister was in action. Scott knew he hated it. It was one of the reasons Scott reprimanded Kayo for straying beyond IR’s mandate. The family worried about her, but, in particular, Virgil fretted when his...sister...was in danger.

Aw, hell. Looking back, it was now obvious. Damn, how had he missed it?

Again, Virgil cared for everyone, it was in his nature.

Shit.

Scott must have let something of his thoughts into his expression because Virgil looked up at him and his eyes widened. “Scott-“

“It’s Kayo, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, I...no, it’s nothing...I-“ Virgil was obviously scrambling to deny everything.

“She’s a good choice.”

Virgil froze, staring at him.

“What are you afraid of?”

Virgil spun out of his grip and turned away. “It doesn’t matter what I think. She’s not interested.”

“How do you know?”

Brown, hurting eyes glared at him. “What? You haven’t noticed Captain Wayne Rigby?”

Scott blinked. The GDF officer was definitely on his radar, but more on a professional level, IR Commander to GDF representative. He frowned as he assessed what he had seen of the man’s conduct towards Kayo, his big brother priorities coming into play.

Sure, he could look at their relationship that way. Kayo didn’t seem to mind spending time with the man, but only as the mission required?

That question mark only emphasised the fact he needed to spend more time with his family where an emergency situation was not involved. He was clearly out of the loop on too many things.

Virgil wandered over to a lounge in the corner and sat down, his suit immediately rumpling as he dropped his head into his hands.

Scott shoved his own failures in this matter to one side and tackled the immediate issue - his upset brother.

“Have you spoken to her?”

The strangled scoff of a laugh was muffled by his brother’s hands.

Scott took that as a ‘no’.

“Why not?”

That at least got Virgil looking at him again. “Oh, sure, It comes up in conversation all the time. ‘Hi, Kayo, great to see you. By the way, I’ve fallen in love with you. Is that okay?’” His brother’s eyebrows crushed together and he looked down, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It could destroy so much.”

“I really think she would love you either way, Virgil.” And he was back to scouring his brain for indications of Kayo returning Virgil’s regard.

“What? You don’t find it weird that I’m in love with my sister? It’s a breach of trust.”

“Virgil, she grew up with us. She is a beautiful, smart woman. No one could be faulted for finding her attractive. Hell, I will admit that I can see why you would be interested.”

That had Virgil staring at him again.

Scott held up his hands. “Hey, I’m happy with pilot lady.”

That stare boggled a bit. “‘Pilot lady?’ Don’t you even know her name?”

“Thank you for giving me zero credit. Of course I know her name. She just likes me calling her ‘pilot lady’.” Scott grinned strategically.

“Oh god, TMI. Ugh.”

Scott chuckled as his brother groaned. Mostly because he was happy to have achieved his target of lightening Virgil’s mood at least a little.

“You should talk to her.”

“Why? She’s obviously gone on Rigby.” The name was said with as close to a snarl as Scott had ever heard his brother make outside of a rescue. “You want me to ruin what relationship we already have trying to pursue something she doesn’t want?”

“How do you know that?” He stepped closer to his brother. “You haven’t given her a chance.”

“She’s known me for years.”

“I’ve known you since you were born and I didn’t know you had a thing for her. How the hell do you expect her to know?”

Virgil leapt off the couch. “I don’t want her to know!”

“Why not?”

“Because...”

“Because you could get hurt? I never figured you were one for backing away because of that. I’ve seen you risk death to save lives, including mine. Why deny yourself the chance for happiness? Her the chance?”

“Because I love her too much to ruin it!” Scott’s eyes widened as Virgil literally exploded in front of him. “How could our relationship recover from that? How could she bear to look at me if she didn’t...care for me the same way in return? How could I? No, she likes Rigby. She will be happy with him. That’s it. The boat has sailed. And I wish I had burnt that damned painting.”

Scott swallowed. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

Virgil’s derisive scoff said everything. “I’ve got to get back out there before they start thinking I’m ready to kill myself due to unrequited love.” He strode towards the door.

“Virgil-“

His brother held up a hand. “I’m fine. I’ll handle it. Just let me get through the night so I can go home.” And with that, he threw open the door and stormed out into the noise.

Damn. Scott thumbed his collar. “Gordon?”

“Yes, oh great leader?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Run interference for Virgil, please.”

“FAB.”

Gordon and Penelope would do what was necessary to get the press off Virgil’s back. Scott sighed as he strode towards the door Virgil had almost slammed behind him and threw himself out into the crowd after his brother.

-o-o-o-

Cartwheels across the gallery floor hadn’t quite been what Scott had in mind, but if he was honest with himself, it worked. Gordon already had a reputation of being the ‘fun’ Tracy and the press ate it up.

The fact Gordon could do a backflip midair and land on his feet wasn’t really that surprising to Scott, but the media loved it. The reports switched from lovelorn Virgil to crazy Gordon and that was pretty much that.

Penelope was ever so tolerant.

Scott didn’t let Virgil out of his sight the rest of the night. His artistic brother put up a great front and only the fact Scott was his big brother allowed him to see that touch of hesitancy in his handshakes and the fakery of his smiles.

What Scott did do was surreptitiously get a good look at the painting responsible for this mess.

It was a Picasso-esque mishmash of flesh, colour and bone. On one hand it could be considered creepy, but there was something about that one single green eye staring out from its midst that said something. Something painful.

The white daisy in the bottom left corner was a familiar motif in Virgil’s paintings. Mom’s favourite flower often turned up when his brother dove deep into his art. But that eye...

Realisation set in like a lightning strike. It was Kayo’s eye. The only part of the painting recognisable, if only for its colour and intensity. Like Kat had said, all the pieces fell into place once that eye belonged to someone. The painting screamed desolation and loneliness.

Aw, hell.

Virgil was on the far side of the room glaring at Gordon, most likely for the acrobatics. The media were still babbling beyond the security Kayo had deployed. Scott had no doubt Virgil knew exactly what Gordon was doing, but that wouldn’t stop the lecture.

Scott owed Gordon for this one.

“Permission to expel the media?”

Scott jumped. Kayo had appeared out of nowhere.

Her smile was an amused one.

He glared at her momentarily before letting his shoulders drop. “I wish.”

“How is Virgil?”

His gaze flickered to her, abruptly realising his brother’s secret was now his to conceal as well. “Getting there. You know how sensitive he is about his art.” That’s it, cover it up with artistic sensibility.

She arched an eyebrow. “I was surprised he consented to the exhibition.”

“Me, too. But Penelope pulled out the charity big guns and you know how Virgil just wants to help people...”

Kayo smiled. “Genetic trait.”

His grunt was non-committal.

“Well, it certainly has been a successful exercise. I think just about everything has been sold, even beyond the star of the exhibition.” She gestured at the painting responsible for so much.

Scott swallowed. “Yeah, Penelope will be happy.”

“What about Virgil?”

“Yeah, he’ll be happy, too. He’s helping a lot a of people.” Scott mentally considered whether whisky on the balcony and some one-on-one commiseration time might help his brother relax.

“Oh, you should know that while you were talking to Virgil earlier, I had to remove Kat Kavanaugh from the building.”

Scott blinked, suddenly realising the absence of the woman. It was a sign of his distraction that he hadn’t realised she was missing. “Why?”

Kayo’s lips twisted. “Well, aside from harassing Virgil,” she said it with gritted teeth and obviously hidden expletives, “I caught her eavesdropping on your conversation, outside the door.”

He straightened in alarm.

“Don’t worry, I nabbed her before she could discover anything...important.”

Scott stared at her.

“She and I had some...polite words, and I doubt we will be seeing her again.”

“Kayo-“

Green flickered up at him. “Just doing my job, Scott.” She lent in a little closer. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I...”

But Kayo smiled. “So can I expel the rest of them? I think they’ve had a fair enough go, don’t you?”

Another blink and he nodded.

Her hand brushed his arm and squeezed ever so gently. “Don’t worry. Everything is under control.”

Didn’t feel that way. Across the room Virgil was gesticulating wildly at their fish brother, very adamant about something.

“Kayo?” She looked up at him. “Take it easy.”

Her lips curled into a small smile. “FAB.”

She walked into the crowd, green dress sparkling in the lights, as she spoke into her comms and gestured to her team. He was left wondering what the hell had happened, what she knew and what she was going to do.

But then the feeling was familiar around his sister, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

Gordon stopped their engineer brother’s tirade by grabbing him into a hug mid-rant.

A perfect tactic to derail Virgil that had worked many a time before.

As predicted, their brother couldn’t resist and gruffly returned Gordon’s embrace.

The fish certainly had his ways.

The crowd volume increased as reporters started protesting security herding them out of the building. He watched as his sister worked, her team as smooth and as capable as she.

And then he watched Virgil watching her, too.

Scott grabbed a champagne flute off a nearby server and sculled it. Whisky on the balcony was looking more attractive by the moment.

He needed one.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #kayo kyrano #Gordon Tracy #Penelope Creighton Ward #virgil/kayo #gordon/penelope #Pen and Ink #nuttyfic #creativepromptsforwriting

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slytherinsnekxvii · 3 years

Text

a few snippets from my wip that i feel kinda proud of, actually

"Malfoy's lapdog, Evans' bitch," Black spits at Severus, incensed even though he's been knocked onto his hands and knees and his arms tremble with the strain of keeping himself upright. "You get off on bending over for—"

He makes a strangled noise as his elbow buckles and his upper body dips, hitting the ground with a dull thud. Lily watches him attempt to push himself off of the floor with a shaking arm and feels no sympathy.

and

Tuney gets the new things, and Lily gets the things that aren't wanted anymore, the things that are no longer of interest, the things that no longer meet Tuney's standard of maintenance when she's finished with them. Sometimes, they've been fixed, restored to some semblance of their original condition even if Tuney's left her mark on it as she always does, accidentally or otherwise. Sometimes, Lily gets them as they are.

Written next to number three on Lily's list of things that she owns, the things that belong to her and her alone, in her very finest penmanship just like the others, is the name of a boy who'd come to her first, before Tuney, calling her a witch and looking for all the world like a colouring book with half the pictures already filled in, an arithmetic workbook with dog-eared pages and indelible writing in the answer sections, a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces.

and

And then, of course, there's the matter of Severus himself. He'd been content before—and Lily did take pride in that, she took care of her things—he'd never seemed like he really needed anything besides her, and yet, Lily'd stepped into Hogwarts and found herself competing with Dark Magic itself while he drifted away, slowly but surely beginning to orbit around Mulciber and Avery and all the rest of his Housemates, picking up their bad habits and listening to all their Death Eater nonsense.

and

"Foolish little girl, who forgets herself and communes with the dead and plays with the Dark Arts when she knows nothing of what they can do," the voice mocks, and Lily feels something cold wisping over her shoulders.

She stares at the vaguely humanoid shapes reaching for her, coloured in shades of black and white and mottled grey and flinches when hastily stepping away from one allows another to reach into her, it feels like, and wrap around her spine in a frigid grip.

"You intend to deprive us of a companion, it's only fair that we take something of yours in exchange. We have no business with the living when they cannot pay our price."

and

"I'm dead, Lils. This is the exact opposite of what healing spells are supposed to do."

"Well, do you have a better idea?" she asks. "Madam Pomf—"

She falls silent when she catches sight of Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew turning into the corridor they're walking along. She waits to continue speaking, expecting the four of them to pass her and Severus by, but they slow to a stop and she sighs.

"Listen," Potter starts, but Lily doesn't want to hear it.

"What's wrong, Lupin?" she asks, instead, choosing to aim her attention at the boy shrinking away from her gaze. "You look spooked."

"Seen a ghost?" Severus taunts from his place at her shoulder, and she crosses her arms and leans back to watch their hackles raise.

#and it's still going #gotta love it #fic #this isn't in chronological order #and idk why i like these bits as much as i do but ye #lily evans #severus snape #sirius black a lil bit #necromancer lily evans #anyways this was supposed to just be a short lil oneshot and it is slowly turning into uh #i think i hit 21k a little while ago and now im wondering if i should break it up into smaller pieces #hmm #i feel the visceral urge to rewrite this entire thing #like i don't think i will bc i already did and that's how we ended up here but it exists #vaguely threateningly #and very loudly #in the back of my head lmao

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chcnce · 3 years

Photo

guess the TWENTY FOUR YEAR OLD OCTOBER baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because HWA YOHAN / CHANCE HWA is just as CRISP as the month of OCTOBER. wait, why do they remind me of BANG CHAN? beyond that, they seemed RELIABLE AND PASSIONATE upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of SELF-CONSCIOUS AND CAUTIOUS though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX # 4 / APARTMENT # 1 / FLOOR # 2 ; HE seem(s) to have a lot going on with HIS job as STREAMER.

hi! i’m lu and i’m really happy to present to you to my mess of a son. he’s certainly a hard pill to swallow but he’s not as bad once you get to interact with him. chance is his real english name, but also the persona he’s crafted to remain popular and relevant to the masses. he’s blunt and brutally honest, but mostly when he’s streaming. all in all: a whole ass mess, i insist.

without further ado, here are his basic stats, a trivia and wanted connections under the cut. however you can find his background and plots linked accordingly ( i’ll add other pages eventually ). i’m really fine with talking either here or discord, so whichever works fine for you, works fine for me too! i’ll be reaching to everyone go gives this a like soon enough <3

basic information

― full name: hwa yohan / chance hwa ― nicknames: yohwa ― age: twenty four ― date of birth: october 3rd, 1996 ― birthplace: cheonan, south korea. ― hometown: sydney, australia ― current location: seoul, south korea ― living arrangements: dallyeog / complex # 4 / apartment # 1 / floor # 2 ― ethnicity: korean ― nationality: dual, korean (natural born) and australian (naturalized) ― gender: cis male ― pronouns: he / him ― orientation: demiromantic, heterosexual. ― religion: atheist ― occupation: streamer ― language(s) spoken: korean (fluent), english (fluent) ― accent: heavy australian accent

physical appearance

― faceclaim: bang chan / christopher bang of stray kids. ― hair: naturally brown, though he often dyes to a variety of colors, mostly black and blue. right now, it’s a purple color that’s already fading. ― eye colour: coffee brown ― height: 171cm ― weight: 56kg ― tattoos: none at the moment. ― piercings: lobe and upper lobe on both ears. anti-tragus, orbital and rook on the left one. double helix on the right one. ― clothing style: regularly techwear when he goes out and athleisure at home.

personality

― label: the cynical ― positive traits: attentive, dependable, reliable, passionate, brave, energetic, honest, humorous, clever, versatile, truthful, affectionate, sociable ― negative traits: self-conscious, cautious, opinionated, arrogant, detached, critical, tactless, stubborn, loud, quick-tempered, harsh, unfiltered, cynical, restless, ambitious, ― hobbies: baking, collecting enamel pins and funkos, jigsaw puzzles, skateboarding, reading, listening to music, curating playlists when he has time, learning origami. ― habits: obsessively organising, borrowing books and rarely ever returning them (he forgets who they belong to ok), really bad road rage, awful at keeping track of time, people watching, always wears a black ring on his left index finger, always hugs something when sleeping, gets easily impressed by things, quotes movies and shows in regular conversations, knuckle cracking, snacking between meals, eye rolling without noticing, squinting when concentrated, crossing his arms over his chest, running hands through his hair, slouching, rolling his shoulders. ― zodiac sign: sun libra, moon gemini, ascendant libra. ― mbti: infp-t “the mediator” ― enneagram: 8w7 “the nonconformist”. ― temperament: melancholic ― hogwarts house: ravenclaw ― moral alignment: chaotic neutral ― primary vice: greed ― primary virtue: diligence ― element: air

trivia:

― he’s played all kind of games and his twitch channel was created 9 years ago (whew) and it currently has over 5 million subscribers. currently, he streams mostly genshin impact, valorant, league of legends, overwatch, spider-man: miles morales, cyberpunk 2077 and the witcher iii. every now and then he makes charity streams. he also makes special lives with other gamers and figures where they play games like among us, minecraft, fortnite (though he absolutely hates it), party animals, fall guys and other party games. ― despite the rumours around him and his parents, he’s never talked about them to the media. it’s not like chance hides the information, after all it’s online, but he swerves questions about them and pretty much decides to not say anything about them just to avoid controversy. his parents didn’t mind until last year the company they worked at offered him a sponsorship and yohan turned it down. it’s safe to say they were pretty hurt over this and they haven’t talked much recently. ― yohan is, in his words, the biggest fan of spiderman (not really) but he’s his favorite heroe of all times and he collects everything and anything that has him in it. his biggest collection is funko pops with over 30+ figurines. he collects funkos of various other interests of him as well as enamel pins. ― lowkey a weeb. he likes watching anime in his spare time and if he likes it too much, he’d buy the manga and read it as well. his latest obsessions are kimetsu no yaiba, boku no hero academia, haikyu and jujutsu kaisen. ― won’t ever admit this out loud, but almost every ghibli movie makes him cry his eyes out, even when he’s watched the same one over and over again. he prefers to watch these on his own. his favorite one is grave of the fireflies. ― it took him a while to get used to korean culture, a part of him is still trying to. luckily, his family would speak in korean in their household most of the time and this helped him not struggle as much when it came to the language. his streams are most of the time in english to cater to a bigger audience, but recently he’s got himself a small team of an editor and a translator that’s helped him add subtitles to the videos he uploads in youtube. ― his current setup is completely sponsored except for a few extra things he’s bought himself and he has minimal experience when it comes to builds, though he’s really interested in learning and has recently researched more about the whole topic, hoping to get his first custom build by the end of the year. ― has terrible road rage and this is the reason why he doesn’t own a car or a driving license, even being in the backseat makes him anxious and would much rather prefer to use the bus, a bike or his skateboard to commute between places. taxis and other rides are his last option, if he’s quite honest. ― as a neighbour, he’s polite and tries to be mindful just to avoid needless problems. the first thing he did was soundproof his office in order to not disrupt others, but sometimes this doesn’t work as well due to how loud he can be. chance will try to greet every neighbour he encounters either with a wave or a simple nod. ― loves dogs but doesn’t feel he’s responsible enough to take care of one yet, though he will certainly volunteer to pet-sit his friends’ dogs.

wanted connections:

― life in seoul: he’s been wanting to start a podcast that has nothing to do with his main channel, aka a podcast about the culture in seoul from different perspectives, he wants to know about other people’s experiences. can be people that have lived all their life here or foreigners that, like himself, are pretty much new or can’t get enough of the city. it’d be a pretty chill podcast and anyone can participate! ― people that know about him and lowkey follow his streams (or just play them in the background while doing other stuff) ― or people that know about him but dislike him because he’s said stuff before about other public figures you’re a fan of. or he just simply rubs you the wrong way. ― people who absolutely hates when he streams late at night and he’s full on screaming at the screen (he tried to soundproof his streaming room but someone he can be way too loud, sorry) ― he’s always up for a good collaboration regardless of the topic: food, art, random tags and challenges. even if it's not up to his alley, he's likely to always say yes just for the laughs. ― the group of friends yohan met in different ways. they're not all strictly gamers, streamers or anything of the sort, but whenever they get together to play some games, it's a total chaos. and he wouldn't change it at all. ― the one person that always gets his packages delivered by mistake to your place instead of his. or the other way around. ― more: friends, enemies, a penpal, a platonic soulmate, workout buddies, etc.

#dallyeog:intro #𝐜: \ \ ooc

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teacup-crow · 3 years

Text

The Christmas Runner

On the 12th Christmas Eve after the world ended, Molly and Carena told someone the story of the Christmas Runner. Major end of S3 spoilers, very minor spoilers for early S5.

I spent all day in bed and this happened? Will probably go on AO3 once I polish it (and when it’s actually close to Christmas). Promise it’s wholesome!

(In my headcanon here Carena is 15, Molly is 13 and Sara is 7)

“Sam’s givin’ you how much to watch her?” Carena Skeet spluttered, towering over the younger girl, leaning her hands over her head on the brick wall of the housing block. The moon was a sharpened, thin crescent, and lights winked in the guard towers. Over in the main barn, they could faintly hear the twanging of a slightly out-of-tune guitar and some tipsy singing, suggesting the grown-ups’ Christmas Eve party was already in full swing.

Everyone said that Molly Harrison was the prettiest girl in Abel, with blonde curly hair and eyes blue enough to knock out zoms, but right now she was shifting foot-to-foot, looking more irritated than anything else.

“A loaf of crusty bread and a pot of blackcurrant jam, and… you’re not having any of it, Caz.”

“Dr Cohen only promised me a bloody book!” Carena pouted, but avoided stomping her foot. She’d about grown out of that. Nobody would dare call her pretty, but she was too, in a fiercely intimidating way. It was two months until she turned sixteen and could finally start Runner training, and she’d already begun practicing first thing every morning, tearing around the training shed when the sun had barely risen. Where Molly was soft and homely, she was angled and muscular. “You can read it if you let me have a spoonful.”

“That’s a rubbish trade and you know it! I won’t always go along with everything you tell me to do, you know, it’s not fair-“

“Oh blah blah blah, quit whinin’, let’s just get the job done before they realise they double-booked.” She dropped her hands and stalked away. Her foster dad’s old fireman jacket was too big on her, but wearing the king’s clothing added to her swagger.

“You don’t like kids,” Molly pointed out, stumbling a little behind her as she strode off to the front door.

“Kids is fine. Kids is kids. I have, like, fifteen siblings. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yes, and you don’t like any of them. And they’re all the same age as you!”

“What can I say, I’m not good at sharing.” She turned and gazed pointedly at Molly, who shrugged it off. “It doesn’t take two people to babysit a seven year old.”

“Yeah, so go away, Caz. You don’t even want a book.”

“Gotta get on Dr Myers’ and Sam’s good side if I want to be recommended for Runner, don’t I? Janine respects their opinion more than anyone else except Runner Five.”

“So go and sit on guard duty with Runner Five and earn their approval.”

“You jokin’? Five’s batshit.”

“They’re also the only reason we’re not dead, so maybe you should be a bit more respectful.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t try to tell me what to do, Molly Harrison...” Carena’s tone was affronted, teetering on nasty. Then she stopped herself. “But yeah, you’re right. Five’s batshit bonkers, but they’re awesome.”

“And scary?” Molly added.

“Yeah, if you’re a wuss.”

They’d reached the green wooden door of Maxine and Paula’s apartment, a wreath on the outside, a menorah in the window. Sara had hung paper chains all down their part of the corridor. It made both the teenagers smile for a second or two.

Carena knocked, to no reply. She tried again.

“That’s weird,” she muttered.

“Sara, you in there?” Molly tried, peeking through the window.

“Sara, we brought chocolate!”

This caused a patter of feet to charge towards the door. Carena grinned. “First rule of kids is lie through your teeth.”

“MOLLY!” Sara sprang through the door in a bright blur of red sweater and green trousers, and jumped into Molly’s outstretched arms. “Did you bring Galileo too?”

Years before, when Archie Jensen had lost Mildred van der Graff to an explosion, Five had managed to get their own chicken back to Abel relatively unscathed. Molly, already interested in animals even as a small child, had adopted Galileo Figaro, a now-geriatric menace with a beak that had lasted longer than anyone expected. The hen had strong memories of her dinosaur roots, and, apart from Molly, Five and Sara, would attack almost anyone who dared enter the coop.

“Galileo’s an old hen, she’s resting.”

“She went cluck-cluck-cluck over the rainbow bridge to Ed Harrison’s stomach, you mean.”

“Caz! Dad would never!” Molly looked scandalised as Carena burst out laughing at her own joke. Thankfully, it went over Sara’s head as she dropped down from Molly’s arms and stared up at Carena’s jacket in awe. Caz ruffled her mop of springy hair affectionately. She liked this kid, at least. It was very difficult not to.

“Hello, baby Sara, how’s it goin’?”

“Good, Princess Caz! I’m making a jigsaw puzzle. It’s got a million trillion pieces!”

“Sounds like an absolute riot. Tell you what, Molly can finish it with you and I’ll heat up the rations.”

Molly nodded despite herself, taking the pudgy little hand in hers and stepping into the cosy apartment. “Okay, let’s go, hopefully we have all the pieces...”

“Daddy had to remake some of the missing ones but he said you can barely tell the difference, sort of! Anyway, you said you had chocolate?”

This was still one of the oldest housing blocks in Abel, but instead of enough bunks for eight people the two rooms comfortably housed the little family of three, bathroom splitting a bedroom on one side and a family room on the other with a table and a bookshelf and warm candle-lit lamps too high for Sara to knock over on the mantelpiece. Woollen throws covered the kind of battered armchairs you sank into and artwork lined the walls. There was even a tidy kitchen corner with a kettle and a camp stove and a stack of chipped plates and mugs. It was one of Carena’s favourite places: better even than sharing a room with some of the roller girls on a rare trip to see her foster dad in London; much better than her own springy bunk in the children’s dorms, the wall behind her chequered curtain plastered in pictures and photos and plans but still not private enough to block out the whining and crying of the little ones all night. It was nice to see a place where a real family lived. When she stood in the centre of the room, she could squeeze her eyes shut and almost picture the faces of her real parents, her actual bedroom, the kitchen they’d had with a white-tiled floor. Or was it sand-coloured tiles? She wasn’t quite sure, not that she’d admit it. Whenever anyone asked, she always said she remembered the pre-zombie world perfectly.

“Caz? Are you heating up the food or...?”

“I’m getting to it!” She stomped towards the stove, where Sara’s parents had already left a few crumbling Tupperware containers of pea soup from the kitchens, and Molly had brought a bowl of eggs to hard boil if they felt snacky. Not particularly inspiring, but then food had been limited for the last week as the kitchens saved all their supplies up for Christmas Day. And none of them knew how to be fussy: Sara and Molly did not remember a time when food was plentiful, and Carena’s last remnants of pickiness had been starved out of her when the Ministry occupied Abel. She’d been nine, and her stomach hadn’t stopped rumbling for that whole terrible ten months. It ached again a little just thinking about it. She wondered if that had left her weaker, permanently damaged her chance to become a Runner or a roller-girl. As if her asthma wasn’t enough of a handicap. Well, she’d do it anyway. Nothing was going to get in her way, least of all the legacy of those who had hurt her foster father.

“Three bowls of green soup, coming up!” She added a lick of salt, and stirred the metal pot. The ruckus from the square was louder now, almost matched by the younger girls playing with the puzzle behind her.

“I can’t tell if this is supposed to be a man’s face or a rat.”

“Daddy’s not a very good draw-er.”

“I mean… he could use some practice, to be honest. Any clue on where this piece should fit, Caz?”

Carena doled out the bowls and spoons. “Looks like a squiggle with earmuffs to me. Sam’s crap at art.”

“Don’t swear in front of Sara!”

“She’ll be fiiiine,” Carena rolled her eyes. “Lighten up, Molly.”

“Yeah, lighten up, Molly!” Sara echoed jubilantly. “Crap, crap, crap.”

“Okay, you can cut it out now. Eat your dinner.”

Molly changed the subject, sensing another mischievous outburst of swearing on the horizon. “Are you excited for Christmas, Sara?”

“Yeah! Did you hear that we’re going to have a hog roast and potatoes?! And games! And, and, Ms Marsh knitted me a hat and mittens!”

“How do you know about that?” Molly admonished. Sara immediately looked caught in the act.

“I… maybe heard her and Mama talking about it.”

“Did you ‘maybe hear’ or were you spying on your Mama?”

“I wasn’t spying! People just think kids can’t hear stuff!”

“Hey, spyin’ is a great skill, don’t knock it, Mol. Don’t worry, we won’t tell.”

“I wasn’t spying!” Sara drank down the last of her soup, licked the bowl, and pouted adorably. It was hard for the babysitters not to laugh.

“You know, I think that piece might actually be a clockwork mouse. I think it goes down at the bottom…”

They finished the jigsaw with only four missing pieces. “It’s… a big man in a red coat with a white beard! With lots of toys. I’m going to call him Mr Bob.”

“Sara, that’s Santa. Do you not know about Santa?”

“Father Christmas?” Molly tried, although she wasn’t completely confident either. Sara looked blank.

“You know my father is called Sam Yao?”

“No, baby, Santa Claus is different. He brings things to good children at Christmas.” In the back of her mind was an image of Ed in a terribly cobbled together Santa suit, a tiny Molly on his shoulders. A good memory in a flock of bad ones. It twinged in her chest.

“He’s a Runner?”

Carena sighed. “Basically. Yeah. Santa Claus is just another name for the Christmas Runner. Every Christmas Eve, he goes from township to township, leaving gifts for all of the children.”

“How does he get through the gates?”

“Well, duh, he lets the township leaders know what time he’s going to come on Rofflenet first. And he’s really fast, so he doesn’t need to worry about Raiders or zoms. He’s got a big sled drawn by nine dogs for all the presents!”

Sara’s eyes sparkled. “What are the dogs called?”

“Well, the main one is Rudolf, and he’s an, an Irish red setter. Or he wears a red jumper, like you. Something to do with red. The other ones…” she looked to Molly for assistance, and realised the blonde girl was just as enraptured. “The other ones aren’t important.”

“Caz!”

“Fine! Dasher, Dancer, Prancer… Victor?”

Her mind drew a complete blank. Somewhere in her subconscious, a woman’s voice read the words of Twas the Night Before Christmas, but she couldn’t quite make them out. “Um… Gold, Frankincense, Myrrh and Spam?”

Molly snorted in surprise, her face contorting and shoulders shaking as she tried to hold back a peal of laughter. At least Sara seemed satisfied. “Okay, so how come I don’t hear them all?”

“He sneaks in with magic and only when you’re extremely tired so it’s, like, impossible to stay up to hear. But if you leave a sock on the end of your bed he’s guaranteed to put sommat cool in it.”

“How will he know what I like?”

Molly looked thoughtful. “Maybe you should leave him a list? But you like a lot of things.”

“And my socks are quite small.” Sara looked pensive, kicking her feet in the air to check the size of them. “You two should write lists as well!”

“I’m too old to write one-“ Carena tried, but Sara was already insistently jabbing a pencil and an old receipt at her from a scrap paper drawer in the cabinet.

“These big long lists from the olden days are perfect, we can use the back.”

Carena’s eyes flitted over the receipt. Morrisons. Mango, papaya, hummus, avocadoes. All words she didn’t recognise, foods she would never get to try, and, suddenly intimidated, she laid it down on the table. She wasn’t the strongest reader or writer at the best of times - she’d learned too late, and it was difficult with so many new things in a row. Sara sounded out the letters on her own list as she wrote, her reading already confident.

“Dear Christmas Runner. Thank you for all your hard work, and for taking so many risks to deliver presents…”

Molly glanced over at Carena with a dash of awkward concern. They’d shared a schoolroom as children, and again for the last few years, and had some of the same frustrations, although Molly struggled more with maths and numbers and the purpose and point of algebra and geometry than writing and words. “Can I write both of ours, and you do the pictures? Your drawings are really good.”

Carena nodded, and got up abruptly to wash out the pot and make some tea. Outside, the town choir had drummed up enough numbers to give a few carols a go. She cracked open the window a little to let the sound filter up.

“I would really like some bubblegum but I know it is hard to find and my mothers don’t like it so don’t worry if you can’t find any. I also like marbles and you can fit lots of them in a sock!”

“You’re already running out of space!”

“Okay. Lots of love from Sara Myers-Cohen-Yao, kiss kiss kiss! What are you going to ask for?”

“Nicer soap,” Molly said, quite serious. “And I need a new metal bucket for chicken feed and milking. Mine is close to holes.”

“A bucket won’t fit in a sock!” Sara scoffed with childish mirth. “That’s ridiculous!”

“I don’t know, she has really big feet.” This made Sara giggle even more, and slide off the chair to look at Molly’s feet more closely.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Molly gave Carena a mock-withering stare. “What do you want, Caz? I’m doing yours now.”

Carena thought as the water began to bubble. All she really wanted was to be a Runner. To explore. To get buckets and soap and marbles and gum and make faces back in the township light up. All she wanted was her lungs and airways to do as she commanded, her muscles and heart to work with her, to let her push past exhaustion.

“Eh. Shoelaces would be nice.” She smirked at Molly. “Or some chicken fat.”

“Make one more threat to my chicken’s life, Carena Skeet and you won’t be getting anything from the Christmas Runner!”

“I surrender, I surrender!” Carena laughed, and poured the tea. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be in bed by now, Sara? If we’re going to get this Runner to come at all.”

“But I’m not even tired,” the small girl yawned, still on the floor with her head on the chair and cuddling one of the throws her mothers had stacked on the sideboard.

Molly grabbed the rest of them. “Come on, we’ll build a blanket den, have our tea in there, and Caz can tell you more about the Christmas Runner.”

“Startin’ to feel like Caz does all the work around here,” Carena added, stirring in milk and honey and using the puzzle box as a makeshift tea-tray. “Go on then, lead the way.”

Five minutes later, they’d constructed a large blanket fort and, huddled together inside it, Carena began to tell them everything she remembered from the world before, embellishing the odd detail or ten.

“You’re lying, there were no flying snowmen.”

“Well, I saw a film about them!”

Eventually, Sara curled up and fell asleep, thumb in her mouth, dreaming up a jumble of tinsel and angels and dancing snowmen and turkeys.

Molly smiled, sleepy herself. “You know, you’re actually really good with kids.”

“You’re actually good at lightenin’ up.”

“Yeah! This was fun. I had a really nice evening.”

“Molly…” Carena began, and stopped. She tucked Sara’s blankets around her a little tighter. She didn’t know how to say how safe she felt, maybe for the first time since she lost her brother, warm and wanted and hopeful, surrounded by the peace she wanted so badly to fight for. “I think tomorrow is gonna be a really good day.”

The bell in the square jangled once, twice, twelve times and for once they didn’t panic. It had been years since a horde went anywhere near the gates. This was midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Caz.”

“Merry Christmas.”

***

Carena awoke under a pile of blankets, her head on the end of Sara’s bed, the sound of Dr Cohen humming in the kitchen as she fried the eggs for breakfast, and caught three bulging stockings out of the corner of her eye. A lump came to her throat as she saw the book, as promised, bound in ribbon, that she recognised even without reading the words.

The Abel Runner’s Handbook, fourth ed.

She nearly knocked the wind out of the doctors in her rush to hug them.

#zombies run #zr #carena skeet #molly harrison

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southern-belle-outcasts · 3 years

Text

;the belle

real name: Anna Marie Darkholme (known to only people it’s been revealed to)

codename/alias: Rogue

single or taken: verse and thread dependent

abilities or powers: In any threads unless plotted differently, Rogue is post absorption of Carol Danvers and Wonder Man, meaning her canonical powers include- absorption of memory and emotions connected, life force, significant physical features if they do not appear as a normal human, and powers if present, abilities being absorbed for sixty times the amount of time she had skin contact. psyche absorption is permanent. flight. invulnerability. super strength- listed as class 100, limits presumably unknown. can see in the dark. some ultraviolet vision. resistance to most poisons and toxins. ionized cells prevent illness and aging, reduced need for oxygen. Knowledgeable in martial arts and hand to hand combat. Speaks fluent bayou French.

eye colour: green

hair colour: auburn with a white streak in the front

family members: Owen, father, presumably deceased. Priscilla, mother, deceased. Carrie, aunt. Raven Darkholme, adoptive mother. Irene Adler, adoptive mother, deceased. Kurt Wagner, adoptive brother. Other non-biological family members, verse dependent.

pets: in v; parle moi sale- Spades, Remy’s black cat (who is still Salty™ Remy brought Rogue home to stay). Default Romy verse- Figaro, Lucifer, and Oliver, Remy’s cats. Other pets verse dependent.

hobbies/activities: reading- majority fantasy, mystery, and sci-fi (escapism queen here, people), large piece count jigsaw puzzles but only with an audiobook playing or the quiet drives her nuts, knitting (that anxiety gotta go somewhere), swimming (clothing optional), horseback riding (western or bareback style only), drinking coffee (that IS an activity), stargazing, hiking, daydreaming, getting stuck in her head thinking of a million and one things that could go wrong, playing hide and go seek with things she just had because Object Permanence

animal that represents them: giant river otter- peaceful, family group animal, powerful, nearly apex predator, and will kill a person in defense of its cubs. Or like, a Chesapeake Bay Retriever- water loving, suspicious of new people, protective, strong, lots of wavy hair, loyal af.

worst habits: heavy drinking (she can barely get drunk okay it just LOOKS bad), pulling at her gloves or sleeves, jumping to conclusions, pushing people away when they get close, doubting her self-worth and capabilities, blaming herself for true accidents, raging when feeling emotionally vulnerable or betrayed, thinking she’s unlovable and that all love besides the love she offers is only temporary, LOSING SHIT, forgetting to eat and then getting lightheaded for it (look I’m making the executive decision the canon is wrong and she still needs food and water).

role models: Ororo Munroe, Logan Howlett, Kurt, others verse dependent.

sexual orientation: pansexual, demiromantic (she’s not going to fuck you without feeling close to you, time unable to touch people be damned)

thoughts on marriage/kids: Craves it but does not easily trust that it will go smoothly or that she deserves good things. She wants very much to have both but she also views them as a giant oppurtunity for her to fuck something up, as she does so frequently in her mind. This is showed in canon with literal years of off and on relationship with Remy, working through trust and abandonment issues before she finally agrees to marry him. Unlike canon, my Rogue never changed her mind out of the blue AFTER being married, doesn’t matter what verse it is, she eventually would like kids. She might not ever bring it up, depending on the partner and their stance on kids as she would rather settle for a partner she loves, then have kids with someone who doesn’t want them, as she feels that was the situation with her birth mother. While she is very nuturing and loves kids, she just doesn’t quite trust herself not to fail with the rolemodels she had growing up, as well as always having in the back of her mind the what if she never gains and/or loses control.

style preferences: She has a very eclectic style. some days she might be in a sweater dress, leggings, and boots, others it’s jeans and a flannel shirt. Regardless of where she lives, she always has a least one bomber jacker and one leather jacket in her closet at all times. Gloves are still a staple, she ‘gets cold’ very easily- while it doesn’t affect her health and won’t get frostbite, she is still Aware of the cold and she doesn’t appreciate it. Card holding member of the leggings are pants club. Lots of greens, greys, blacks, and whites in her wardobe. Typically red and black, or green and white for the plaids. You might have a hard time finding much underwear...well, anywhere. She is not a fan.

approach to friendships: Sus of people getting too close initially but once they have gotten close enough to win some trust they have a friend for life. She considers friends family and will go feral protecting them. She is very prone to people going quiet out of nowhere as an indication they are no longer interested in her and she will not initiate contact without them saying something first. Any sort of perceived betrayal, especially something she would never do to someone, is taken as a serious affront and has potential for her to go cold as ice, and cut ties.

thoughts on pie: As long as it isn’t pumpkin or sweet potato (she cannot stand the texture and eggy aftertaste) or lemon meringue (again, texture, and the sour is too much), she is questioning why anyone doens’t love pie. Eat all the pie.

favourite place to spend time at: The country or the river. Places where you don’t have the smell and sound of civilization, the crowding . OR somewhere with her person. She will put up with the most polluted, noisy, crowded city because they are there so it’s worth it.

swim in the lake or in the ocean: Lake, but obviously only the cleaner kind. The ocean is too much of a run-off site. Even if she isn’t going to get sick from it, it’s the Principle.

their type: Someone that isn’t going to shrink when their exceptionally strong, extremely emotion driven, prone to getting Loud partner Loses It™, or thinks they’re not loved anymore, or is starting to get very angry. So while she very much requires someone that can be kind, affectionate, and okay with clingy (she TRIES not to, okay? She’s aware, she’s paranoid of it pushing people away), she also very much needs someone with a backbone, who can call her on her bullshit, and when needed can be a stabilizer, not toss gasoline on the flames. If that isn’t present, she won’t be able to consider them, aesthetically pleasing or no. She’s also very much an ‘eyes are the windows to the soul’ kind of person. If there isn’t a, for the lack of a better word, spark in them, she’s not interested.

camping or indoors: Depends on the day of the week, honestly. Sometimes you want to get away and have some campfire cooked food, and enjoy the crickets. Sometimes you want your goddamn bed and a hot ass shower with a microwave.

Tagged by: @mynameisanakin

Tagging: anyone with Pants

#;dash game #;bio #;the belle

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