#dont @ me i drew this weeks ago while on finals stress i just wanted to do anatomy studies n put a bunch of random stuff in it

[caemidraws]

Wheel of Fortune

[corpsentry]

january: an art retrospective

i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)

so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.

at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.

january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.

january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:

on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests

the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th

this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.

january 11th. applied sketch

january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i

bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes

i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.

sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start

january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit

more applied studies

on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real

january 19th. i’m working on it.

january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.

january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud

january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned

26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies

january 1st. january 31st

The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)

ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings

FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????

here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.

the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)

take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.

or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?

so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.

this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.

here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages

and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.

this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.

this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.

thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end

[lucyjay]

Wrote this while waiting for my flight to depart. It’s also my second ever one shot, so excuse my possibly horrible writing. Peace.

Warnings: sexual content, unprotected sex (stay safe fellahs), touching, fingering, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, crying, slight self image issues, fb2lovers

Love me - Christopher Bang/Bang Chan (SKZ)

Too bitter.You whisper to yourself after tasting the almost black tea you made in an effort to calm your nerves. Since the performance finished, you haven’t stopped thinking about Chris. You pray he won’t start blaming himself for messing up two steps from the choreo, but you know he will.

You’re not supposed to care about Chris in this depth, but you do. Your “relationship” started a few months ago, when you two locked eyes at a photography exhibition of a mutual friend and you clicked straight away. You knew you couldn’t be together; him being an idol and you trying to make a name for yourself after landing your dream job as a prosecutor. His world just didn’t allow the ‘gf/bf’ kinda thing and you didn’t want to push. You were just fuck bodies, there for each other when you needed to get off even have a talk sometimes, but that’s where you drew the line. Were you in love with him? Hell yes. How could you not be? But after weeks of overthinking about it, you concluded to not say anything to him because that would break rule 4 and consequently your ’relationship’. My heart is still safe, you thought to yourself, sipping your now sugar busted tea. ‘Ew, too sweet’, you give up placing the mug in the sink.

You were about to make your way back in the living room, when you heard a knock on your door. It wasn’t too late, but you weren’t expecting anyone. You curse at yourself for not insisting on having a peephole, but your landlord woulnd’t bother replacing your door with a new one. The moment you open it, your eyes land on Chris’s face. His eyes watery, his chest moving up and down as if he was running, smudged eye make up and messy hair. He is not ok.

“Chris, wha-..”, you dont manage to finish your sentence when you feel his strong hands cupping your cheeks and his lips on yours. He steps inside your flat, shutting the door closed with his leg, never breaking the kiss. His body is towering over yours even though you’re almost the same height, but he feels so needy, so intense. You place your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, your tongue now exploring the inside of his mouth. He moans into the kiss before parting his soft lips from yours to take a breath.

“I need you”, his voice is a whisper. Only now you can smell the soju in his breath. Not too much, but he certainly has had a couple drinks.

“What’s wrong Chris?Tell me”, your left hand now stroking his cheek, your eyes searching his honey brown ones trying to find a hint, anything that will explain his current state.

“I’m not ok, Y/N, I’m sad and stressed and i do everything wrong, I can’t focus and I’m scared, I’m scared that if i keep being like this I will end up like before...I-I can’t, I can’t do this..”, his voice fades as he bursts into tears, resting his head in the small of your neck. You have no idea where this is coming from, you have no idea what to do or how to handle him being like this but you know that you can’t stand seeing him in this way. You curse at yourself for not allowing both of you to have deeper conversations, to get to know each other better. Had you done so, you would probably understand better what he is talking about.

You pat his back and slowly caress his hair with your left hand. You can feel him calming down as he tries to wipe a few tears off of his face. You look at his beautiful eyes and sigh.

“If it’s about the mistake you made at the performance, it was nothing. You were so good, no one would care-..”, he shakes his head nodding you to stop.

“Don’t. Don’t give me the same bullshit excuses everyone does. I am not good enough. I fuck up everything. I act like I have everything under control but I don’t”. His gaze is strong, never leaving your face and you can see the hurt in his features.

“What can I do? I can’t stand seeing you like this, tell me what I can do”, tears pooling in your eyes now. His face relaxes and he gives you a weak smile.

“I don’t want sex. I want love. I want to feel you. Please”. His hands are one back on the side of your cheek and one lifting you up motioning you to jump and hug his waist with your legs. You do so and he starts walking the two of you towards your room.

He walks in and after a couple steps you feel your back touching your soft mattress. He stares down at you, his eyes red from all the crying and slowly takes off his shirt. Then his trousers and underwear follow and you feel your cheeks being painted a light shade of pink as if it’s the first time you see him naked. He is so gorgeous, how could you ever get used to this?

In complete silence he reaches out to remove your sweatpants and underwear at once. You lift you lower half to help him do so and you grab your shirt, taking it off, leaving your body completely naked under his gaze. He stares at you as if you’re the first woman he has ever seen naked in real life.

“Beautiful”, he mumbles and lays his body on top of yours between your legs, connecting your lips. The kiss is slow but he deepens it straight away, demanding access with his tongue which you gladly grant him. His left hand is resting on your face, stroking your cheek and the other is making its way to your lower stomach. You sigh and moan into the kiss.

“Chris, how do you want me?”, you managed to get out. Your meetings with Chris were mostly about sex and he rarely had enough time, so asking him how he wanted you or him asking you how you wanted him, saved you time.

“I said I don’t want sex. I just want you. Love me”, he whispers and you can feel his sweet breath on your face while his skilful hand reaches your lower lips, slowly spreading the wetness to your clit and all the way around it. Your breath is stuck in your throat and your brain doesn’t know where to focus first. On what he is doing to you or the fact that he asked you to love him?

“Ch-Chris I...I can’t”, his enters one finger inside your heat while softly leaving kisses across your jaw line all the way up to your cheeks. “If we do this, I can’t go back. if I let go, we won’t be able to go back to what we had”, you whine trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to leave your eyes. His stare meets yours and he leaves a quick kiss on your lips.

“I don’t want us to go back. I want you to love me Y/N. Like I love you.” he kisses you again and you swear your soul is about to leave your body. “I want you to show me that you love me. And take care of me” he enters a second and third finger in you and you can’t help but moan out his name. “I want you to be mine and I want to be yours.” his thumb reaching up to dance in circles around your clit which sends you into overdrive. You can’t think and no words can leave your mouth as you feel the knot tightening in your lower stomach. You pull him down closer to your face connecting your lips in a hungry, needy kiss.

“God, I’m yours Chris, all yours”. You feel his hand ease its movement and you automatically open your eyes to look at him realising just now that you had them closed shut all this time.

“I want to feel you cuming around me”, he says and moves slightly to the right to grab a condom from your nightstand. You grab his arm and turn his attention back to you.

“No”, it sounds more like a soft command and you can tell he loves it. He kisses you again while aligning his dick with your entrance. Your entire body is moving up to meet his. He is like a magnet, how could you have not fallen for this man?

He slowly enters you and you can feel every inch of him stretching you out oh so beautifully. You close your eyes and feel his lips landing on the side of your neck leaving soft pecks and bites.

“So wet. So soft. So nice”, he mumbles and the moment you hear his voice the knot in your stomach makes its appearance once again. You try to follow his soft movements but it’s all too much. He barely moves, his thrusts deep but at the same time slow and soft, but it’s the feelings dancing through your body doing all the work. He is everywhere. You can feel him inside you, in your head, in your heart. Everywhere.

“I love you”, he says softly in your ear and a hard thrust follows his statement.

“I love everything about you”, he continues and you forget your own name.

“I love you Chris. Please, oh my god, I love you”, your voice comes out so weak but you don’t care. You can feel him smiling on your neck and he quickens his pace. You start seeing stars moaning his name again and again like a chorus.

“That’s it baby. Look at me”. He caresses your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. “ Let go baby, I’ve got you”. His last statement drives you over the edge. You start clenching around him and you have no idea how you manage to let any words out but you have to have him cuming with you.

“Inside Chris, p-please I wanna feel you. Cum inside”. As if you turned a switch in him, with a final deep thrust that makes your orgasm last longer than any orgasm you’ve ever had before, he spills inside you again and again and you feel him all the way up into your stomach. You moan out his name a final time and then feel his body collapsing on yours, your heavy breathing matching his while he is resting his head on the side of your neck.

“I can still feel you pulsing around me baby”. He chuckles and you turn shy all of a sudden. He moves to look at you while removing himself from your sensitive heat. You grimace at the sudden loss of fullness and warmth and he kisses the expression wrinkles formed between your eyebrows. He grabs his shirt and wipes both of you as good as he can, before bringing you a new oversized hoodie from your drawer to wear.

“I’m hungry”, you spit while he is trying to get your left arm inside the hoodie.

“Pizza?”, he cocks his head to the side waiting for your reassurance. You nod and he lifts you up carrying you all the way to the living room where he leaves you on the sofa. He then disappears back inside the bedroom and comes out in a pair of sweatpants he always keeps there just in case, and a clean t’shirt. He takes his spot next to you and grabs his phone to order when he stops.

“What?, you ask.

“You’re still working from home right?”, he turns to look at you. His random interest in your work catches you of guard.

“Ahm yes. They said it is still not safe to go back to the office so I should be working from home at least until the end of January. Why?”. His face lights up and you wish your eyes could take photos.

“Come to Australia with me for a couple weeks. I need a break and I can get a couple weeks off to go see my family. Come with. Please”, he is searching your eyes for any sort of reaction. You don’t know what to say or how to react.

“Your family?”, you repeat, this being the part that shocked you the most.

“Yes. They are cool, you don’t have to worry. No pressure. I just want to spend some time away from everything here and I want you to be with me.What do you say?”. How could you say no to him when he is looking at you like a kid waiting to open his Christmas presents. You nod before the words leave your mouth.

“Okay. I’ll come.”. He serves you the biggest smile you’ve ever seen him wearing and takes you in his arms. You startle his lap and move a few hair away from his forehead looking into his beautiful eyes. And then you remember how this happy, loving person seemed so broken and hurt just an hour ago.

“I want to get to know you better Chris. Seeing you like this before hurt me so much and I need to feel safe that I know how to help you when things get tough”, you share with him as honestly as you can.

“You helped me just fine baby”, you gives you a cheeky smile and you hit his arm.

“I’m serious. I don’t ever want to hear you saying you’re not good enough. You’re great in what you do and you’re super talented, gifted and hard working. You shine on stage and even when you make a few mistakes here and there, no one cares cause your work outshines all of them”, you say in one breath and you swear you mean each word. He looks at you with the most loving stare.

“You are the only person who has ever told me that, that doesn’t make money out of me.”, his expression turns sad and you kiss him straight away trying to keep him away from the dark place he was in just a while ago when he knocked on your door.

“Everyone loves you. I love you. You are amazing and I am hungry. Go set the table and stop with the self pity you idiot”, you try to lighten up the mood and it works as Chris quickly gets up to set the table with the biggest smile on his face.

[baekibi]

Jaehyun | Cherry Tree

Words: 2138

Written: a while ago lol

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader

Genre: Fluff

➺

It was another of those boring days;

- you know those days where the only source of entertainment is drawing on your hand in black ink and conversing in sign language to your pals over at the other end of the classroom,, one of those days.

This day like any other was not passing very quickly, the heavy atmosphere of stressed and angsty teenagers was unpleasant and the temperature was above boiling, my head felt as if it was melting under the pressure of math.

I prayed the lesson would tick by swiftly, my pencil gripped tightly in my fist, my eyes swaying from the teacher to the clock, teacher to the clock, teacher to the- *brrr, brrr*

crap.

The familiar ring escaped my backpack, the sound whirring around the class making a public humiliation of myself. Eyes grasped shut, i gritted my teeth and bit my lip as silence struck through the whole room, even catching the teacher off guard completely.

I could feel the hundred eyes focused on me at this moment, including those of the piercing glare my teacher produced. "Kim Kyungha". The echo of his voice harpooned in my direction. The fear of opening my eyes now was a level I'd never felt, however I knew it was the only option I could take.

"I-I apologise, s-sir" I stuttered, trembling in my seat, my feet making rhythms as they tapped nervously on the ground below.

"Detention tonight, 5000 sentences." His sharp spoken words cut straight through me.

ugh. Second detention this week because I forgot to turn my phone off.

The first was for being two minutes late; but that was only a short 30 minutes detention now adding another... however long it will take to write that much.

I was used to detentions but never because I was particularly disruptive or a bad student~ usually just due to coincidences like my phone ringing during class or something as small as forgetting that one piece of homework. I usually used the time to continue some extra work which was handy but knowing it was detention seemed to make it more tense.

I reached inside my bag and almost crushed my phone with the rage that slowly brewed in my body, I took a peak at who had called to see it was my best friend Jaehyun.

One thing, he's in the same. Class.

And you know what's coincidental? He. Also. Has. A. Detention. Tonight.

I wanted to scream. I could see his plan from this moment, but the one question in my mind of wether or not I should snitch on him was the only thing that stopped me from letting go of my voice.

Instead I turned my back, where Jaehyun was sitting and sent him a glare of defeat and hurt to which he just giggled.

-

It was finally the end of the day, I walked over to my locker with Jaehyun who's was right next to my own. His arm was now bruised to a purple colour from my fist meeting his flesh at least ten times in the past thirty minutes for what he did during math.

He leant onto his locker next to mine, and faced me with a smirk. I carefully opened my locker, still eyeing on him. Once the door fully opened a few papers which I'd never saw before fell onto the floor below.

"You still haven't found out who's sending you those letters, have you?" He sighed, watching me gather them.

"What they said this time, eh?"

I mumbled to myself, flicking through the scattered sheets in my hand.

"Oh this is a new one" I hold it up to Jaehyun, displaying a really badly drawn kitten holding a piece of paper which read,

"You're perfect n cute n adorable n you mean so much to me. Don't ever let anyone tell you any different bc you're cute and deserve the world. I know you may be sick of these letters but think of it as a spark of confidence and support for your day and the challenges you decide to take. I hope you'll find out who sent you these letters one day and accept me, as I accept you. But for now I'll remain your secret admirer and as long as it doesn't scare you I'm happy to hide behind my messages to you. Have a nice day. Hope we can talk soon. xx"

I read it out clearly, Jaehyun following my finger along the paper as I drew strokes guiding me along each line.

I have to admit, the letters were cute and the badly drawn cat was even cuter. I wouldn't say they creep me out because it has never been anything scary or remarkably insane written on the papers like it's a stalker graphically describing how he or she is going to climb into my window and watch me as they order me to suck to their toes.

...like that would ever happen anyway...

"Well, does it ever weird you out?" He asked, sounding muffled in his tone.

I shook my head quickly, a smile even crossing my face as I recited the words on the note. It was quite encouraging actually.

"Well we got detention now, so hurry idiot" he straight up said beginning to walk, sliding his palms into his tailored trousers. His head turned to me as he walked, gently resting on his shoulder as he hurried me with his glances.

I ran after him willingly.

-

I turned my phone on silent, but not don't disturb so I would still receive calls but instead they'd be a small buzz which the teacher wouldn't be able to hear.

It was just me and Jaehyun in the After school detention which I assumed is why he got me in trouble, so I could join him.

Just after spending approximately ten minutes in the detention classroom, I could feel a vibration at my feet which were leaning against my bag. Whilst the teacher wasn't looking I faked dropping my pen so I had the perfect excuse to bend down to look at my phone.

"Sir, can I please go to the restroom?" I heard the familiar voice of Jaehyuns speak abruptly, raising his hand.

"Sure. But be quick. You have five minutes."

Jaehyun stood and walked passed me, nudging my shoulder as he walked signalling me that he was obviously up to something.

I continued for my phone, noticing a message left by him. He must have did the same thing as me, to get to his phone.

=

Jaebunny

I'll get us out of here ;)

Kyungha

Jae I stg DONT you dare-

Seen ✔

=

I sighed at this moment, whatever Jaehyun was up to, I wasn't looking forward to it.

=

Jaebunny

I'll be back in a minute, sir will be leaving the classroom in a second too, once he leaves I want you to run over to his desk and grab the keys.

Kyungha

Excuse me?

Jaebunny

Sweetie cakes just do as you're told

Seen ✔

=

It had been about a minute since I'd left the chat, just as Jaehyun told me sir took a call and was immediately needed at the heads office.

"Kyungha, I'll have to leave you here alone for five minutes. Don't dare move and wait till I come back." He said as he stood nearing the door.

As he left the door slammed, I sensed whatever Jaehyun did was not good.

I could hear his screams in the hall as I assumed he ran into Jaehyun.

The muffled conversation was only just loud enough for me to make out, it's either this school has incredibly thin walls or Jaehyun is really being screamed at.

However I did what Jaehyun said to do, although my mind was hesitant my body seemed to take control.

I searched his desk and picked up the keys, as if perfect Jaehyun walked in at this exact moment.

"What the heck are you doing?" I shouted at him, to which he quickly shushed me, placing his hand on my lips.

He swiped the keys from my hand and locked the classroom door. Continuing over to the window, as he passed, grabbing my hand to take me with him.

"Come on." He guided me over, opened the window wide enough and edged me to jump out. Throwing the keys at the floor, he insisted I got out first. Luckily the classroom was on the first floor so it wasn't a long drop. For some reason I seemed to obey him. My hands moved on their own, gripping the sides of the window frame and launching myself over quickly followed by Jaehyun who shut the window on his way back.

"Why are we doing this? Can't we just ride out the detention? What did you do? Why has-" the questions flew out of me, making Jaehyun get slightly aggressive. He pushed me to the wall and clasped my mouth completely shut as he pressed his lips onto mine. A moment of silence fell upon us.

He was quick to move after he disconnected his plump flesh from mine. He looked straight into my eyes, I was now heavily breathing, my mouth dropping.

He reconnected his hand to mine and ran quickly in a direction I'd never gone before.

-

"What was that about?" I question out of the blue as we finally stop under a row of cherry blossom trees.

He didn't say a word but rather pinned me gently against the tree and repeated the kiss again, this time going deeper and lasting longer. I was shocked but I didn't want it to stop, something inside me clicked, I wanted this to happen and felt it had to. I began to participate in giving, making the kiss more heated and passionate. I could feel it making him happy as he smiled in between exchanges of tongue. His hands made their way from the tree to my waist, he held me tightly as I began to play with his hair.

But my questions hadn't changed. I was still curious and confused. So I stopped.

His face was now full of shock and disappointment that I had pulled back so soon.

"I still have my questions." I smirked.

"L-look I- I'm sorry something just came over me-" Jaehyun attempted to apologise. As much as I wanted to shut him up and kiss him again I had questions to ask.

"Why?"

"I- I don't know."

"You were the one sending me those letters weren't you?" I smiled, my hands still resting on his shoulders.

He slowly shook his head, now looking embarrassed at the grass beneath us.

I felt something crawl up my back, assuming it was Jaehyuns hand to which I soon found was a spider which had made its way from the tree, to me.

I jumped in shock, almost screaming as it stood on my shoulder. I dead ass karate chop the little shit off my shoulder, and continue by flailing my arms all over to assure it was off of me now.

"You okay?"

I was suddenly snapped back into reality. Remembering what the heck I was doing here and why.

"No. Don't ask me questions."

My statement didn't make any sense, making Jaehyun raise a brow.

"What exactly did you tell the principal?”

I asked, puzzled.

"Remember when He lashed out on our class mate yesterday during our exam?"

I nod. "Yeah and almost broke the poor kids phone?"

"I videoed it and showed it to the principal"

He confessed, now having the biggest grin on his face.

"He deserves it, people like him shouldn't be teaching."

-

We spoke a little more about what was going to happen when they go to school the next week, most likely they'd get even more detentions but at this point they didn't care.

-

"So how was it?" Jaehyun asked as he was about to let me go to my bus stop.

I glance quizzically. "How was what?"

He answered my question by kissing me on the cheek. To which I answered with a shrug.

"I-it wasn't good?" He said, stuttering as if he'd just been heart broken completely.

"I didn't say it was bad. Just next time don't do it after we've just escaped a building and possibly ruined someone's career." I say to which he nods agreeing,

"So... next time? Jaehyun inched.

"Next time. We'll go on a date and you'll kiss me in a proper place and ask me things properly."

"So its a date? Tomorrow. 12am. Be ready. Sweetie cakes." Jaehyun declared, passing me a grin flirtatiously.

I gently slapped his shoulder and continued to my bus stop as he watched. Giggling on the way home, I couldn't stop thinking about what just happened and I assumed neither could he.

➺

oof

Master list

[dreadhaus-literature]

{Story} Cold Comfort

What’s a mortician to do when the love of their life is just out of reach? A temporary replacement is just cold comfort for the time being. It can’t last, after all—

True love never dies.

Chapter One

A Dreadful Dalliance sits at the end of a long, forested road, the gate-keeper to a sprawling cemetery that will eventually be the resting place of every soul in New Senzannini. The Mortuary has been in operation for nearly a decade and has earned it’s sterling reputation as a thoughtful, caring place to bring your loved ones for their last rites and a compassionate send-off to the next stage of life. Owned and operated by Dot Dreadful, the Mortuary handles all post-mortem operations, from the preparation of the departed to the funeral arrangements, and though the morgue is fully staffed with plenty of attentive, devoted staff, there’s only one mortician on staff--Dot. Now that the owner of the Dalliance was growing too pregnant to be on her feet, or surrounded by the chemicals necessary to do her job, it left a gaping hole to be filled or New Senzannini’s only mortuary was going to be temporary closed. That wasn’t an option, and that left Dot Dreadful with only one alternative.

“You’re hiring a temp?” Felina Frenzy, known more intimately by her birth name Monica, glanced up at her best friend with a curious tilt of her head. “Do they even have temporary morticians?”

Dot Dreadful didn’t glance up from the stack of papers in her hand; there was so much involved in handing her business over while she was on maternity leave and she should have started preparing for this months ago. “Ah, yes and no. It’s something of an unspoken code that you help out a fellow mortician if they need it. We often consult with each other on difficult preparations or if one of us is handling a coroner’s report dealing with suspicious circumstances. That sort of thing.”

Monica nodded, turning back to the training manual in her lap. “Were you able to find someone to help you out?”

“The city coroner offered but he’s...” Dot paused in her reviewing, glancing up at the ceiling. “How do I put this diplomatically...he does as well as one would expect a coroner to do when dealing with living, breathing bodies after he spends all day with cold, dismembered corpses.”

Monica laughed, nodding. “Makes sense. So he wouldn’t be any good handling the people aspect of the job.”

“Definitely not.”

“I mean, you know I’m always fine to help you out,” Monica crossed one leg over the other, meeting Dot’s gaze over her desk. “But I don’t know why you think I’m going to be any better handling the people aspect of your job.”

“You’re better with people than you think, you just don’t like them.” Dot turned back to her lists. “I don’t like people either but I manage this job just fine. You’ll be a peach, you always are.”

“...But you’re not expecting me to do the hack and slash part of the job, right?” Monica ventured. She didn’t and wouldn’t tell Dot no, but it wasn’t like she had the technical training to prepare a corpse for burial.

Dot shook her head. “Not at all. I thought of a compromise. Since you offered to help where you could, I figured you could handle the managerial side of things, keep the staff running smoothly, sort of...just sit in this chair right here.” Dot patted the arm of her desk chair. “You’d be the boss, supervising the day to day operations, and I’d hire on a temporary mortician to solely be responsible for the more hands-on part of the job. You guys would tag-team it.”

Monica looked thoughtful before she nodded. It seemed a solid enough plan. “But the city coroner wasn’t interested in working that way?”

“Roger’s a decent guy, but he’s also been the city coroner for like, eighty years,” Dot exaggerated dryly. “He wants to work this alone, and I just don’t trust him to handle the entire process. I’m not going to ask you to try and deal with his gross man ego while you’re doing me a favor, holding this place down while I’m off.”

“I would have been fine, Dottie.” Monica closed the lid of the training binder, handing it back to Dot since the woman as still adding pages to the already thick instruction manual. “I’m not unused to men’s egos.”

“I know, love, it’s not about you not being able to handle it, but more why would I subject you to that when you’re doing me a favor? Especially since I was able to find a mortician who had no problem with staying below and just prepping the bodies for you.”

To Monica, that sounded reasonable enough and why wouldn’t it be? A Dreadful Dalliance has been Dot’s first baby, but now that she had actual babies on the way she needed help taking care of her “firstborn”. Monica had been friends with Dot for years, since before the Mortuary, so of course she’d been here through it’s conception and it’s construction, and it’s subsequent years of operation. How many hours had she spent with Dot in this office, working on her own projects? Being a novelist and illustrator afforded Monica plenty of freedom to set her own schedule and since her newest literary masterpiece was circulating and topping lists, she had some much earned downtime--granted one might not consider managing a mortuary as “downtime” but Monica knew the staff here was pretty much self-sufficient and short of just sitting in here and being present should any emergencies present themselves, it really wouldn’t be too taxing. Dot had spent the last couple weeks preparing that thick manual for Monica to have and she’d also insisted Monica call her if need be. Dot may be approaching the bed rest phase of her pregnancy but that didn’t mean her vocal chords didn’t work--Monica didn’t say this, but she was going to do whatever she needed to not have to call Dot. She wanted to do this, to help Dot out when she needed it, and with Dot taking care of the second part of her job with finding a temporary mortician, it all seemed to be falling into place without a hitch.

“When do they start?”

Dot reached over for her desk phone. “They already have, actually.” She pressed the intercom, connecting her to the morgue in the basement. “Can you come up to my office please, Glad?”

“Can do, Miss Dreadful!”

The chipper reply to Dot hadn’t been what Monica was expecting, especially coming up from the dark, cold recesses of the morgue. She actually blinked in surprise, but Dot just flashed her a smile and turned back to scribbling last minute notes in the margin of the list in her hand.

A scant few minutes later and there was a knock on Dot’s office door before the new hire let himself in and Monica got her first look at the partner she’d be working with over the next several weeks.

“Monica, this is Gladwyn Charles. Gladwyn, this is my closest friend and your new boss, Monica.”

The man Dot named was still in the process of ducking into the room when she made the introductions, his impressive height making the frame of the door a little bit of a hazard. He was wearing a floor length black latex apron but all that did was elongate his already tall frame even further; it stopped at his ankles, revealing polished black dress shoes that were a compliment to his black slacks and the white button-up dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had on a bow-tie that was red rather than black, and that fiery crimson adornment drew Monica’s eyes further up to the same blaze of red that surrounded his head like a halo. Gladwyn Charles was a true redhead, his hair the color of blood, a stain of rose around his pale skin and he wore it long, braided and over his broad right shoulder. it nearly reached his waist, but it seemed even the braid couldn’t tame all the wavy strands, as curls sprang free to frame his square features, brushing the hollow of his freckled cheeks. Gladwyn had a dusting of freckles not unlike stars across the bridge of his nose and the crest of his cheeks, bringing Monica’s gaze to his long lashes and the deep, rich forest green of expressive bright eyes. His glasses were perched a little low on his nose; the frames were silver and square, fashionable and sleek, but Gladwyn’s smile didn’t speak of arrogance that came with wealth. The smile was big and bright, but as Monica continued to stare at him it only seemed to grow...bigger, brighter, reminding her of an animal baring it’s teeth. It was almost aggressive, his smile was so prominent, but nothing dangerous reflected back at her in those eyes--eyes that were riveted to her face. Gladwyn didn’t even turn when he closed the door, keeping his gaze on Monica as he pushed the door closed with one long-fingered hand.

“Ah, Miss Frenzy. It’s an honor to finally meet you,” Gladwyn made a show of wiping his hand one final time on his slacks before offering it to Monica. “Miss Dreadful has told me so much about you. I feel like I already know you.”

Monica stood to take Gladwyn’s offered hand. “M...Monica, please. And your name is...?”

“Gladwyn.” He laughed a little sheepishly, but still hadn’t taken his eyes off hers. “I know it’s a little unusual. You can call me Glad if you’d like. Or Charles, or Charlie. Even Smiley!”

From her desk, Dot’s eyebrow rose. “Smiley?”

“It’s a nickname from college.” Gladwyn answered Dot, eyes still on Monica as he kept hold of her petite hand. “Because I smile all the time.”

Monica would have ventured to bet it had more to do with Gladwyn’s smile being...hard to forget. It was almost painfully wide, as if he were the world’s nicest man. She gave Gladwyn’s hand a firmer shake, and though he released her hand...she felt the reluctance. She’d let his hand go several dozen seconds before he finally released her, but she tried to push that from her mind. Dot had warned her years ago that morticians were sometimes...odd. Like those who work in IT, only certain people want to play with the dead all day long; typically it’s those who don’t play well with the living. Gladwyn was probably just a little awkward from interacting with those who can’t interact back, day in and day out.

“Nice to meet you, Gladwyn.” Monica stressed his name, ensuring she said it right. Gladwyn’s eyes brightened.

“I assure you, Miss Frenzy, the pleasure’s all mine.”

“Monica, please.”

Gladwyn paused, his throat working before he spoke, inclining his head down in a show of respect and slight reverence. “...Monica.”

With Gladwyn much closer, Monica was able to discern even more from the tall mortician--like his tattoos. She could see at least four, though three of them were thick black bands on his left wrist, leading up to his elbow. When he finally turned to face Dot, Monica was petite enough to see there was a smiley face tattooed behind his right ear. Smiley really did seem to be a moniker that fit this unusual mortician. Gladwyn was tall and thin, but he wasn’t without some muscle mass. Now that he was closer, Monica could see his forearms and biceps laced with sinewy muscle, likely from lifting dead weight all day, and though his slacks left a little more to the imagination she assumed his entire frame was the same way., and she’d felt for herself how strong his hands were. Gladwyn was definitely not what came to mind when one thought of the word mortician; well, except for that smile. That was not a normal man’s smile, but Monica also couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong with it. Did he smile with too many teeth? Was it just too...eager? She shook her head slightly as if to clear it, moving to take her seat again--almost startled back into standing with Gladwyn extended his arm to help her into her seat before he took the chair next to her. When she looked up at him, intending to thank him, he smiled at her and her voice died in her throat. Eager was definitely a good word to describe Gladwyn’s smile.

Little did Monica know, but eager was a good word to describe Gladwyn Charles as a whole. The Dalliance’s newest hire initially comes across to others as unassuming, even if he was on the tall side with a head full of long, flaming curls. Gladwyn never minded that he had a tendency to blend in a little in the background; he’s perfectly fine with allowing someone else the spotlight because he’s a perfectly polite gentleman. Nice guys may finish last but Gladwyn would happily smile in the face of anyone quipping that at him with a, “True, but the tortoise always beat the hare, didn’t he?” before turning back to the task at hand. Gladwyn has gone through life with the intelligence to understand human nature, and the self-awareness to know he doesn’t always fit in. He’s aware he’s a little awkward but that awareness also allows him to fake it, to cover his tendency to make others uncomfortable with a self-deprecating joke or by being so polite others simply can’t be rude to him. If one were to ask Gladwyn he’s not sure why others are so put off by his smile; he thinks his smile looks just fine! After all, he practices in the mirror. His teeth are straight and white, and his eyes sparkle a little when he smiles--so what could possibly be wrong with him? Friends in the past have told him he just looks a little “creepy” or “crazy” when he smiles, to maybe try not smiling so widely...but if he’s happy, why shouldn’t he smile with all his teeth? For all his intelligence, Gladwyn can’t figure some aspects of human nature out, and that was one of them. Being too eager, too friendly, too clingy was perceived as a bad thing and he just didn’t understand that. That was why none of his friends ever stuck around for long. That was why none of his previous relationships ever worked out. Gladwyn simply cared too much. He was simply too eager.

Gladwyn slowly lowered himself into the chair across from Monica, eager green eyes devouring her in a way he knew he had to get under control, it wasn’t socially acceptable for him to stare this long but it was an enormous struggle. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful before in his entire life. Dot had told him a lot about Monica, he’d listened with his usual attentiveness but now, now he was calling upon his memory for every single detail from his previous conversations with his employer for the tiniest morsel he could glean about Monica. Even as his mind worked, his eyes did their job in committing everything he could about her to memory; her bone structure was impeccable, feather-light and delicate, and he ran his tongue over his suddenly dry lips at the urge to pepper kisses along her jaw just to follow that tempting line to her throat. Monica sat like an empress in the high-backed chair, her posture so regal he felt the urge to shy away, to shrink back because he didn’t deserve to be so close to her...but how could he not be? Who could possibly stand to be away from such an ethereal creature? Was she even real? Gladwyn’s long fingers pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the focused lenses providing him with further admirings to commit to memory. Their eyes were the same color, green, but hers were brighter than his, a feminine compliment to his masculinity that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. Her hair was short, a bob that complimented her profile so devastatingly he had to slowly grip his fingers along the arm of his chair to stop from wanting to touch her hair. It shimmered, caught the office lights as if flirting with him, teasing him with how soft it must feel.  And he knew how good she smelled; he caught the wisps of her perfume to the moment he’d stepped into the hallway outside the office and now that he was close enough to scent her effortlessly he focused on dragging the scent of her into his lungs, desperate to commit the scent to memory so he’d be able to recall it at will.

The simple act of meeting had never been so poignant to Gladwyn before in his entire life. How many hundreds of people had he met in his decades of life? None of them compared to this, none of them had ever affected him like this, like Monica. He knew her name was Felina to the public but she’d told him to call her Monica, the same name Dot was able to call her...that must mean something. To Gladwyn, it did. She’d shaken his hand, smiled at him and insisted, twice, that he call her by her birth name. A name intimate, known only to family and friends...that included him, now. How nice of her! How sweet...who would have thought a woman so beautiful, so stunning, would also be so kind?

“Gladwyn?”

The older mortician blinked behind his glasses, before turning to Dot. “Y-Yes? I’m...terribly sorry, I must have spaced out.”

Dot laughed, eyebrows raised. “You are wearing a face mask down there, right? Those are some pretty strong chemicals we work with.”

Gladwyn took the easy out with a gracious laugh, his rich tenor a compliment to that ever-present smile on his pale face. “Yes, of course, of course. A thousand pardons, what were you saying?”

“I was saying, Monica is the one I was telling you about, who will be sitting in my chair here while you’re working down in the morgue. She’ll be handling the operations, managing the rest of the staff and funeral arrangements. She’s got full authority and she knows how this place should run,” Dot looked between Monica and Gladwyn with a smile. “And love, Gladwyn has been familiarizing himself with the morgue downstairs over the past few days, shadowing me, and shouldn’t have any problems handling the hack and slash part of the job.”

Gladwyn cleared his throat slightly, his red brows pulling in at the center as a barb of jealousy seared across his chest. He’d known Dot for a couple weeks, knew her to use terms of endearment liberally and it had never bothered him before, but just now, her use of love directed at Monica rose like bile at the back of his throat. He didn’t particularly like that...and he didn’t particularly understand why.

Monica and Dot were both unaware of Gladwyn’s inner turmoil and confusion, mistaking his throat clearing and the shifting in his seat as mere fidgeting. Monica nodded, returning Dot’s smile before she turned it to Gladwyn.

“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem to keep this place running smoothly while Dot’s gone, right?”

“Hm?” Gladwyn locked gazes with Monica before that smile of his returned in full force. “Oh, I highly doubt it. You seem a very capable woman, Mis--er, Monica.”

Monica’s laughter was a touch nervous at the compliment, most especially coupled with the sincerity behind Gladwyn’s glasses. He held his smile while he held her gaze, and Monica had to resist the urge to blush under such open attention. He was certainly a...nice guy.

“I drew up manuals for both of you while I’m gone, and Gladwyn I told Monica to reach out to me if you guys run into any problems.” Dot tapped Monica’s manual on her desk; Gladwyn’s was down in the morgue and he’d already been making use of it. “The Staff has already been prepped to treat the two of you as co-owners while I’m gone, so you shouldn’t have any issues there either.”

“Seems you really have thought of everything, Miss Dreadful.” Gladwyn sat back in his seat; his gaze appeared to be on Dot...but he was watching Monica out of the corner of his eye.

“I highly doubt it,” Dot replied, resting her chin on her hand. “But, I trust Monica and with you here to help her, Glad, hopefully it won’t be too rocky for her.”

“You have my word, I’ll look out for her.” Gladwyn’s smile was once again aimed at Monica. “She’ll be in good hands.”

A nervous flutter of butterflies rushed up Monica’s ribcage and she had to look away; Gladwyn was clearly a man who wore his heart on his sleeve and the genuine show of emotion in his eyes, on his face, made her nervous. Who was so nice this early on? Was it possible for someone to just...be this kind? It had to be, because here he was, giving her a million-watt smile with promise written all over his face.

“Then I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”

Monica took the reprieve where it was offered, looking up at Dot. “What’s that?”

Dot gave her a smile, looking between Monica and Gladwyn with her hands out in a gesture. “How about dinner?”

The Tower was a high-end restaurant with an established clientele, but there was nowhere New Senzannini’s literary elite and established death beautician couldn’t eat if they wanted to. There was no need for a reservation and the trio were ushered from the hostess podium to the best table in the restaurant, immediately; afforded their privacy but with attentive staff at the ready. Dot eased down into her cushioned seat with a sigh of relief to be off swollen ankles but it was something Monica missed, because Gladwyn was standing beside her chair with it pulled out for her, gesturing to it with that curious smile of his. She offered him a nervous but grateful smile in return as she slowly sat down, startled at how easily he settled her against the table. Even for the muscle she’d seen he was stronger than he looked, but Gladwyn would argue she weighed next to nothing at all. He had half a mind to order for her to ensure she was even eating enough; a thought that darkened his brow as he settled into his own chair to Monica’s left. Now that they were out of the Mortuary, Monica could see all of him as he was out of his apron and he filled out his tailored suit well. He’d also rebraided his hair before coming out and with his wealth of hair pulled back from his face in an elegant french braid, Monica had to admire Gladwyn. He was a handsome man. As if sensing her staring, he turned to face her, his smile catching the ambient lighting and she had a new appreciation for his bone structure, the way the shadows flirted with the hollows of his cheeks, the high cut of his brow.

“I’ve never eaten here. Have you?”

“A-Ah, a few times,” Monica nodded. “I’m...surprised you haven’t.”

“Why’s that?” Gladwyn’s head tilt reminded her of a puppy.

“You...well, don’t mind me saying so but you look like you come from money.” Monica was hopeful the low lighting of the intimate restaurant hid her blush well enough as she moved her napkin to her lap.

“Why would I mind such a sweet compliment?” Gladwyn’s voice was rich and warm as he regarded Monica. “I do, come from money, but I don’t get out much. Surely Miss Dreadful has explained we morticians don’t keep much living company?”

Monica couldn’t help the laugh. “I a-am her only friend.”

“Hey hey,” Dot snapped her cloth napkin before pointing between the two of them. “That is a thousand percent by choice. Other people are the worst.”

“I’m not gonna argue with that,” Monica put her hands up, but as she moved to take the menu from their waiter, she was surprised to momentary silence when Gladwyn reached over, took her menu, and then handed it to her. “T-Thank you.”

“Of course.” Gladwyn’s tone was still warm, amiable, but he cut his eyes to the waiter as if daring the other male to say something. When the server cleared his throat and turned his attention to Dot, Gladwyn returned his gaze to Monica and his entire posture relaxed. His smile had never wavered.

The entire premise of dinner between the three had been Dot’s way of breaking the ice between her best friend and the new hire at the mortuary. She didn’t want to leave Monica with this new mortician for hours and hours a day, for weeks, perhaps months, without forming a sort of tentative relationship between the two, for Monica’s comfort level more than anything else. Part of why she’d hired Gladwyn was because he was such a nice guy. She’d called every colleague, boss, and even two of Gladwyn’s college professors to run him through the wringer to make sure he came out squeaky clean but every test Dot put him through, he passed. Everyone had something nice to say about Gladwyn, that he was an eager student, a polite co-worker, a diligent employee. He never called in sick, he never had any brushes with the law; hell, one of Gladwyn’s old employers stated he actually said, “Please,” and “I’m sorry,” to corpses if he mishandled them or when he needed to do something particularly invasive. Gladwyn was polite to a fault, and he was a certified nice guy. Granted, a couple people had mentioned his smile giving them the creeps, and Dot had to admit there was something a little off about it, but you can’t judge a guy by his smile, right? Besides, finding a mortician who wasn’t considered at least a little creepy was like finding a needle in a haystack. Dot had interviewed enough fish-eyed weirdos to know, Gladwyn was as good as she was going to get on such short notice. Judging by the swelling in her ankles just from the walk from the Mortuary to her truck and then into the restaurant, Dot was days away from being confined to bed--so as the saying goes, beggars can’t be choosers.

Still, Dot lifted her water glass to her mouth as she looked between Monica and Gladwyn; they seemed to be hitting it off well. Gladwyn’s smile was a prominent thing, Dot noticed he really did smile all the time, but it seemed different when he looked at Monica. Dot noticed things like this, she paid attention, but it didn’t raise any alarm bells. He simply seemed to really enjoy Monica’s company and honestly who wouldn’t? Dot had been friends with the other woman for over a decade; she knew the kind of effect Monica had on others and even if Monica would deny it to her grave, Dot knew better. Gladwyn was proof enough; the man was hanging off her every word. Dinner would be the first step to solidifying a good relationship between the two, and as long as this went well, Dot would be confident in going on maternity leave knowing her best friend, and her place of business, were in good hands.

“So, I know plenty about you Gladwyn but Monica doesn’t,” Dot turned to the duo as the waiter took their drink orders to the bar. “Why don’t you tell her a little about yourself?”

Gladwyn would have opened a vein to get Monica to talk about herself, but he swallowed that graphic visual with that smile of his, moving his hands to his lap as he nodded a few times, his attention swiveling to Monica effortlessly. “Well, what about you like to know?”

Monica blinked a few times, unsure what to ask. She floundered a little before blurting out. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Corpse blue.”

Gladwyn dropped his reply like a body onto the table, so serious in his delivery that Monica was left staring at him, her eyebrows slowly creeping upward. “R-Really?”

“Oh, no!” Gladwyn shook his head with a rich laugh. “I’m sorry, no, that was a little mortician humor. It’s just blue, my favorite color is blue, it’s just, you know the corpses turn blue when they’re frozen. I thought I’d have a little fun with it.”

Dot rolled her eyes as she reached for a hot roll from the bread basket at the center of the table. “You know our type of jokes never go over well with anyone.” She gave him a pointed look as she tore open the steaming bread. “Especially when they’re that corny.”

Gladwyn’s laugh was sheepish but genuine, and Monica had to respect a guy who could laugh at himself.

Throwing him a bone, she joined in the laughter, nodding. “No, no, I get it! That was, that was clever.”

Gladwyn paused at the compliment, his posture straightening not unlike a flower given a little bit of sunlight. His eyes were riveted to watching Monica’s chest rise and fall with her laughter, his own pulse quickening as he swallowed around his attraction to her. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? No one ever really laughed at his jokes; he knew they were a little awkward and probably not in the best humor, but she called it clever. She thought he was clever. His pulse reflected just how much he liked that, basked in that knowledge, that such a beautiful woman found his wit to be...worthy of her beautiful laugh. It had sent him over the moon to walk into this restaurant with her; he saw the way heads turned, the whispers that the Felina Frenzy was here and though he felt that curious jealousy again, part of him using his impressive height to shield her from inquisitive, needy stares, there was also pride that he was there with her. That others recognized she was there with him. He really liked that thought.

“May I ask the lady’s favorite color?” Gladwyn took the opportunity to get to know Monica same as she was doing with him. He was eager to know her inside and out.

Monica gestured with a smile. “Blue, too.”

It may not be a monumental thing, sharing the same favorite color as someone else; there are only so many colors in the rainbow, after all--but Gladwyn felt that connection like a bolt of lightning. They...they shared a favorite thing? It brightened his smile, widened it until he felt his cheeks ache but he welcomed the sensation. It made him so happy!

“Excellent choice,” he complimented with a conspirator’s playful wink, trying to play it cool when inside, his heart was turning somersaults. Monica’s laughter was light but genuine and it was wreaking havoc on Gladwyn’s nerves, shredding him until he was rubbed raw, left vulnerable to the next tempting thing she was planning to do. He swallowed again, looking up gratefully as their drinks were brought to the table.

“That better be a virgin,” Monica eyed Dot’s Bloody Mary, and Dot gave her a playful look.

“Only thing about me that is, obviously,” she gestured to her generous bump before taking a sip of the blood red concoction.

“What did you get?” Monica turned to Gladwyn, trying to keep the conversation between them going. She knew without having to ask Dot that the reason they’d come to dinner was so she and Gladwyn could get better acquainted...it just helped he was easy to talk to.

“Ah, you’ve caught me, I’m afraid.” Gladwyn lifted his foaming glass with a sheepish grin. “It’s a Dry Stout. I’m Irish every day of the year, not only on St. Paddy’s.”

Monica eyed the glass; it was so dark she couldn’t see through it, and almost resembled coffee though she knew it to be an ale. She laughed a little at his joke, missing his grin brightening in response as she was still admiring his drink choice.

“What have you gotten?” Gladwyn took a swig of his drink, curious eyes on Monica’s beverage choice. It was peach-colored, bubbly, and served in a long-stemmed champagne glass.

“It’s a Gigi,” Monica supplied. “My family is originally from Italy so I’m pretty well-versed in expensive cocktails from Europe.”

Gladwyn’s laughter was honest and washed over Monica as he gave her his undivided attention; she could definitely respect that the man was genuine, there didn’t seem to be anything fake about him in the few hours she’s known him. It was laughter she joined in on, picking up her flute for a gentle, feminine sip.

Gladwyn watched her without blinking, committing her movement to memory with ease; she moved with the grace of a feline, her manicured nails a compliment to the expensive cocktail kissing her lips the way he longed to do--Gladwyn came from wealth and affluence, he knew what it was to be among the elite but Monica was simply on another level. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest to hear her family was of money, she carried herself like a queen and why shouldn’t she? Her throat worked as she swallowed and Gladwyn felt it like a punch to his gut; his muscles actually tightened, his abdomen turning flips as he struggled to get his attraction under control. Monica was doing something awful to him, stealing all his attention and he’d never once felt such a strong pull to another human being in his entire life. The more time he spent in her company, the less he was confused by what was happening. Love at first sight wasn’t an easy thing to dismiss, but it was an easy thing to pin.

“It’s probably rude to ask your age, Gladwyn, but I’m having a hard time pinning you,” Monica set her glass down, meeting Gladwyn’s gaze effortlessly--because he was already looking at her. “So can I ask?”

“You can ask whatever you like, my dear.” Gladwyn would have aged himself with such a formal saying, but at least the slight accent in his rich tenor made sense now that he’d given away his heritage (as if his hair and freckles hadn’t been enough indication) and that endearment certainly came out smoother than the ale in his hand. “But I’m thirty-seven years old.”

“You don’t look it,” Monica reassured, but that was only partially true. Gladwyn didn’t look to be near his forties, but he carried himself that way, and his smile had some age behind it. Likely, due to his ever-present smile, he also had smile lines near the corners of his mouth and around his eyes.

These lines deepened at her compliment and Gladwyn reached over, putting his surprisingly warm hand on her knee. “Thank you, Monica. That’s incredibly sweet of you to say.”

Monica’s gaze dropped to Gladwyn’s long fingers and she felt him squeeze her knee in response; he made no move to remove his hand and she didn’t...know if she should consider this forward of him or not. She was dressed in black slacks and a ruffle-sleeve button-up, having wanted to start looking the part of boss since she would be taking over for Dot but she could feel the heat of Gladwyn’s hand through the fabric of her pants. She would, for some reason, have assumed his hands would be cold as the corpses he worked on daily, but his hands more closely resembled the fire of his hair.

Gladwyn hadn’t even thought before he touched her--he just acted, closed the distance between them as if he had to do it. He cursed that she was wearing slacks and not a skirt, a dress, so anxious was he to feel her soft skin. He knew it was softer than a lily would be, and he knew she smelled sweeter, too. He slowly dragged his gaze up from his hand on her knee, up her front to lock gazes with her and he searched her face--not for signs of refusal but for acceptance. She had to feel what he felt, didn’t she? There was no way only one soulmate would be feeling the instant connection, the attraction that was driving him to complete distraction. There was no other way to describe what he was feeling but soulmate; everything about her clicked like a puzzle piece Gladwyn had been missing his entire life. She didn’t shy away from his smile, she shared the same favorite color as he did; she laughed at his jokes and she found him to be clever. He knew she thought he was nice because she allowed him to pull out her chair for her and she wasn’t pulling away from his touch, now. She had to be feeling what he was...perhaps she was simply shy? Well, of course she was, she was a proper lady. A right beautiful one. A woman who deserved to be wooed properly, courted in the way a man of Gladwyn’s upbringing could. His smile deepened, and he gave her knee another longing squeeze before he slowly, reluctantly removed it. He wouldn’t push his luck, now that he was more convinced she shared what he was feeling, that slow-burning but all-consuming fire that was licking at his heart like flames.

“Are we ready to order?”

The server started at the head of the table, or perhaps it was simply Dot being pregnant, but it allowed Gladwyn a moment to wrangle with his returning jealousy--because any moment, the man was going to turn to Monica and speak to her...and Gladwyn really hated that. He was staring, unseeing, at his own menu, his mind narrowing to how he was going to...deal with this. He’d never considered himself a jealous man before, had never felt such raw, biting emotion in all his life but then he hadn’t known his soulmate before today. Monica was beautiful, a siren’s call to any man and while he would never blame her for such beauty, no it was his good fortune she was breath-taking, he didn’t have to like others noticing her. His eyes slipped from his menu, moving discreetly to Monica and again, he felt his pulse spike, his throat run dry, and he fidgeted in his seat. If he needed proof, he had it; physical proof. His body reacted every single time he looked at her.

“And you, Miss?”

Monica shifted, her eyes on her menu. “I’ll have--”

“Would you order for me, Monica?”

Gladwyn interjected into the conversation without much forethought; he was only grateful what he’d said made sense. Monica seemed to flounder a little, and he could regret catching her off-guard...but she took her attention off the waiter and it reinforced he’d done the right thing. Gladwyn had to fight to keep his smile from going smug that he’d so easily gotten her attention back.

“O-Of...course, but I don’t really know you very well?” Monica faltered, looking worried. “What if...I order something you won’t like?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Gladwyn set his menu down on his plate with his smile lighting his eyes. “You have impeccable taste. You can’t steer me wrong if it’s good enough for you.”

Monica’s smile was still nervous, still unsure, but Gladwyn looked like he’d made up his mind and she could only nod, turning to order for herself...and for him.

It was a small compromise, Gladwyn still hated that she spoke to the waiter, loathed that the man was admiring her so openly, but at least he’d staked something of a claim on her in front of the other male. It made him feel better, sated his childish, unfounded jealousy--no, it wasn’t unfounded! He had a right to her, to the other half of his soul. That was how it worked. That was the reward for the way he felt about her; he felt so strongly, of course he wouldn’t want someone else looking at her, thinking about her. No one had the right to even dream of touching her, no one except him.

Dinner did what Dot had intended...and it did a little more than she’d intended, at the same time. The two hours passed by in the blink of an eye, the trio exchanging stories, learning about one another and as the time passed, the more Gladwyn became convinced of what he felt to be true. Monica was the other half of his soul, the fabled soulmate promised to hopeless romantics and skeptics alike. She was perfect; she was beautiful, hauntingly so, in that he knew she would be in his dreams tonight--if he was able to sleep from wanting her. She was witty, humorous, intelligent; she was clever and her sarcasm was so biting he nearly wished to be at the receiving end just to feel the scrape of her teeth. When Monica smiled she stole the light from the room; she was radiant, and Gladwyn felt himself drowning every time she turned that smile to him. Her voice was what silk was made of, sliding over his skin until twice he’d nearly dropped his fork against his plate when she said his name. It was...too soon, perhaps, to think of late nights with her body wrapped around his but he couldn’t stop himself from going there, from crossing that sordid line because she aroused him so fervently his appetite was of an entirely different sort. He’d finished two stouts in the hopes it would douse the fire building in his belly but all it did was warm him further, made his brain a little hazy so that the lines between right and wrong blurred further. He was seated beside an angel, his angel, and the expensive food turned sour in his mouth for want to sample her instead.

This must be what it felt like to be lovesick, to be so enamored with one’s adoration that food and drink lose their taste. Gladwyn seemed to have fallen down the rabbit hole with no hope to catch himself on the sides--would he have? If he were honest with himself, no, he wouldn’t have. He dove headfirst down this trap, chasing Monica’s laugh, her voice, the way she looked at him, smiled at him. The way she made him feel should be criminal, he was already so addicted to the man he was when she looked at him. The glasses were emptied, the bill was paid, and all too soon reality was severing his time with Monica and for a fleeting moment he panicked at the void that would be left when they went their separate ways for the night.

“Thank you, Gladwyn,” Monica stood with his help as he pulled her chair out for her, and his smile was a little subdued but still present as he held up her jacket, for her to slip into it.

“It’s cold outside,” he prompted, fighting to keep the hard edge from his voice when it seemed she was going to simply take it from him. He wanted her to wear it. He wouldn’t have her catching cold, and his smile broadened when she slipped her arms into it. “There we are. That’s better, hm?”

Monica’s smile was a touch shy as Gladwyn’s large hands rubbed up her arms, smoothing her jacket and warming her further beneath the expensive fabric. He placed his hand at the small of her back, giving his head a nod toward the door and he tailored his steps to match hers despite their staggering height difference.

“So, what do you two think?” Dot turned from the front door of the restaurant, the valet sprinting out into the snow to retrieve her truck. “Think you’ll be okay to work together for a while?”

Monica turned to look up at Gladwyn but he was already looking at her, and he gestured to Dot with a nod of his head. “Ladies first.”

“I-I, yes, I don’t see any problems.” Monica gave Dot a smile, knowing Dot would be looking for any signs that Monica wasn’t comfortable--this would be a question Dot would ask again when the two were alone in her truck.

“I’m delighted to hear that, as I can assure I’m very much looking forward to working with Monica.” Gladwyn tore his smile away from Monica when he felt Dot was still staring at him. “You’ll be fine to relax at home, Miss Dreadful. We’ll have no problems working together.”

Dot looked between Gladwyn and Monica, making a thoughtful noise at the back of her throat but she nodded, her smile reaching her eyes. “Good. Then you’ll be in charge of the morgue 7AM, Monday morning, Mr. Charles.”

Gladwyn gave Dot a nod, but his attention was already turning to Monica as Dot’s truck rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant. He moved his hand from the small of her back, already loathing the space between their bodies and knowing there’d be more, much more, over the weekend. It was all he could do to keep himself calm with the reassurance that he’d be working very closely with Monica on Monday.

“It was a pleasure getting to know you, Monica. I’m very much looking forward to continuing to get to know you during our time together.” Gladwyn bowed his spine, no hesitation as he pressed his lips to her cheek. “I will see you soon. Take care of yourself until then.”

Monica’s fingers trembled as they settled on Gladwyn’s arm, and she felt his hand steady her waist in response. “H-Have a nice weekend, Gladwyn. I’ll see y-you Monday.”

“I look forward to it.” Gladwyn straightened up, replacing his hand in his pant’s pocket, watching Monica take hold of Dot’s arm, the two girls leaning on one another as the valet opened the door into the winter cold.

Without a word, he gave his keys to the valet but kept his gaze on Monica as she entered the truck, and as they drove off, he kept his gaze riveted to the vehicle disappearing in New Senzannini’s generous traffic. It wasn’t until Monica was out of sight that he was able to look away, the spell of her presence lifted enough for him to feel...completely and utterly alone. The smile dropped off his face fast enough to shatter on the marble floor beneath his dress shoes, and the valet nearly tripped coming back inside after retrieving Gladwyn’s car.

It would seem the only thing creepier than Gladwyn’s smile was when he didn’t smile, but for the first time in his life, he found he had no reason to, at the moment. The reason was currently driving further and further away from him, to live a life separate from him, where she didn’t have to think about him, didn’t have to see him, where he couldn’t see her, where he couldn’t touch her...

...for now.

Gladwyn pushed open the restaurant doors with one strong hand, ignoring the biting cold wind as he stalked toward his waiting car. Monday wasn’t too far away. Besides, the weekend gave him time to prepare, to make room in his life for a very special new someone. It had to be perfect. Everything had to be perfect.

Just like she was.

Stay tuned! ♥ Next Update: February 17th!

[transrightsjimin]

im so so fucking overwhelmed by absolutely the tiniest things jfc

i had to rush w walking to my sleep therapy appointment nd i think i was 1 minute late or so but the therapist saw me nd we had our appt which went well, she recommended me to try to make a weighted pillow w 2 kg of rice and that sounds very fun, and of other exercises too, and then i had to sort out my route, walked to a metro station to go to a hospital to get my blood drawn but bc the screen displayed the wrong stops and i didnt listen to the computer voice bc i listened to music, so i had to get out nd take another metro two stops back, then at the hospital entrance i was told i could just request a new blood drawing form at the desk i had to go to anyway (i lost the original bc i got it months ago bd it suddenly disappeared), which sounded weird bc i remember someone telling me before to go to a different desk, but i went there, drew a number until it was my turn, went to the desk, was indeed sent back downstairs to the other desk, walked around like 3 times (including walking outside bc thats the only route for going back to the right desk so i had to give my info at the entrance again) bc the arrows on the floor were very confusing when you enter a floor halfway through a hall nd i didnt want to walk into the wrong direction when there were arrows bc of covid, constantly stressing bc it got a bit more busy while earlier i was told i could come back bc it was so quiet, then finally drew a number again for the desk near the blood drawing room bc i finally had my form, got my blood drawn, went to toilet, went to a shop back nd forth bc i was hungry but they basically only had chocolate stuff nd candy nd i know having eaten chocolate makes me rly sick in public transport but i bought a bueno thingy anyway, went outside again, stressed bc my phone is way lower battery level nd it was so suffocatingly hot in the hospital that i didnt know how much to put on, suddenly had an impulse to sit down outside on a bench near a tree bc there were multiple beches nd i thought oh why dont i try duolingo again bc its been ages nd i need to sit down so i can write in my notebook! then got stressed bc they were all soaking wet wood despite it not having rained today nd it looks greenish nd gross anyway, but normally other public benches r always covered in bird shit or rly tiny bc they hate homeless ppl, so i sat down despite being stressed abt how im wearing pastel pants nd theyre prob rly gross rn and stressed abt the possibility of ppl walkig by while im mask-less bc im eating or drinking nd stressed abt me forgetting to put it back on bc im forgetful nd stressed bc i wanted to try to clean my room nd wash my hair for days now and it still didnt happen bc im always too tired nd bored w doing necessary tasks nd im abt to have a meltdown rn nd crying nd i HATE it!! i wanted to try to sit somewhere in public in a sort of quiet space near grass nd trees, like even if theres cars nd ppl around i thought it might help but it was too late bc im already crying from fatigue nd embarrassment bc ppl can see me cry in public!! like i dont get how ppl enjoy being outside, ppl can see u all the time nd ur never free from their stares, its so embarrassing!! i kind of want to go home already so im free from embarrassment in public but im also not looking forward to going there bc my room is still a mess nd needs to be cleaned nd i need to wash my hair nd im not sticking to the shower scedule tht my autism coach gave me, like even if i do shower its usually not on the dates that are on the sheet, bc she included certain days of the week which i proposed but it doesnt work out tht way nd i feel guilty, but moreover im not looking forward to going home bc the way back is either like, walking very long to and from public transport stops nd my feet r already killing me, while the other routes involve less walking but more switching transport methods on the way there nd its so frustrating bc last time i could just come here in one go. i know im whining a lot abt absolutely nothing nd only loking for things to get upset by but i just needed to vent

[jojuarez26]

We fell in love in a hopeless place part 13

Divergent fanfiction: Eric/OC

Mature content and strong language

I do not own any part of Divergent

@pathybo @tigpooh67 @lunaschild2016 @beautifulramblingbrains @clublulu333 @badassbaker @captstefanbrandt @emmysrandomthoughts @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @jaihardy @iammarylastar @kenzieam @frecklefaceb @sparklemichele @mom2reesie @ariwolff14 @ericdauntless @scorpio2009

I awoke to the mother of all headaches. My skull felt like it was split in two. The tidal wave of nausea that rolled over me was about to be my undoing. It became clear almost instantly that I was neither in my bed nor the infirmary with Sam.

I managed to crack one blurred eye open only to unsuccessfully identify my surroundings. When I finally managed to crack the other I was not impressed with what I realized.

How the fuck did I end up in a holding cell? Two of the three other bunks were occupied as well, Four being one of the men occupying them. What did we get into last night?

Everything was a blur after the third round of tequila. I faintly remember a brawl. Looking down at my hands it was obvious it wasn't just an innocent tussle either. As I attempted to work my jaw it was painfully obvious there was going to be a bruise there.

The cell door slid open and Max entered. He wore the look I'm sure most disappointed father's wear after there son fucks up majorly. Shit I won't hear the end of this for weeks I'm sure.

"Eric what the fuck were you thinking?" He asked sternly.

I just shook my head because honestly, right at this particular moment I had no clue.

"So you weren't obviously. What the fuck would posses you and Four to pick a fight with the entire crew of the East wing of the wall?" He had a slightly amused all though still pissed off look on his face

"You know it was bad enough the fights were epic when you fought each other, but nobodu stands a snow balls chance in hell when you idiots decided to fight together. Jack ass's?" He was shaking his head and really trying not to laugh.

He got serious again rather quickly though. I could tell I wasn't going to like the next part of this conversation.

"You know I could demote you and have you locked up for several days for what you did to Kyle. What the fuck Eric? I thought all that shit between you, him and Dara was settled years ago. So tell me, why did you break his nose, jaw and arm almost four years later?" His eyes took on a worried look.

It was time to tell someone. This shit had been eating me alive for days. Add the weighted stress of worrying about Sam and the shit Four and I uncovered last night, it was a recipe for disaster. I pulled the picture I had been carrying in my vest pocket for the last three days out and handed it to him.

Max looked at the picture, at me then back at the picture. When realization dawned on him it was a look of shock that took him over.

"Shit. Are you sure? You have definitive proof other than an uncanny similarity."

I put my head in my hands and drew a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

"I'm positive. Ninety-nine point nine five percent positive. I'm Adam's father. Not Kyle. I've known for sure for three days now." I felt the anger rising to the surface again.

"Damn it Eric. What made you decide to figure this out now, three years later? Something must have happened."

"Oh it did. An old friend came to me when he started over hearing whispers at the wall. Rumours that Kyle was thinking of leaving Dara. Rumours that Dara had been making deals with the devil. So of course I started looking into it."

"What kind of deals and with which devil," Max had a very worried look on his face at this point.

"Apparently Jeanine found out by accident he was mine while Dara was still pregnant. In order to keep her secret for her she had to give that evil bitch something in return." I had to stop and calm myself down. I was on the verge of snapping.

"Jeanine has been using Adam as a lab rat basically since he was born. To make it even worse, she moneterial compensates Dara for it too." I had to stand. I started to pace the room.

"Fuck. So, what are we going to do about it?"

I couldn't help the small smile that graced my lips at the use of the word we. Even if he didn't always understand it or approve of my methods on something, Max had yet to let me down. He has had my back from the start. Which is why I have always had his as well.

"I don't chief. What I do know is that it has to be stopped. I wouldn't condone what is being done if it was to a factionless child. I sure the fuck aren't going to stand by and let her do this to MY son." I was seeing red again.

"Go home and get yourself together. Than go see Samantha, she's been asking for you. Get some healing serum first, you have a black eye and a bruised jaw. After that, we call a lawyer in Candor and look into our legal options." Was he giving me the day off?

"Coulter, sometimes in life we find things that are more important than just being a leader. Go see the girl, then, we work on saving your son. Alright?" I just nodded my head.

As Max turned to go I couldn't helo the words that tumbled out of my mouth.

"You're an amazing superior officer, but an even more amazing friend. I don't have too many of those. Thank you."

"Always Eric. You just have to let me in. That's all." With that he turned and left.

I stopped and talked with Dr.Marx before seeing Sam. She was doing pretty good so far today. I really wanted to get a treatment plan established and get her the hell out of here. I wanted her somewhere I could keep her safe. I wanted her home, with me.

I'm not sure when I had decided I wanted her living with me. Even worse I wasn't even sure why. But the excuse was of course safety first.

"Hey sweetheart. You look like you're having a better day," I smiled.

She was curled up reading a book and was actually dressed in her own clothes today.

"You look like you need to find a better hobby. Less dangerous to your pretty face." She sported a huge grin over that.

I still had a faint trace of bruising to my face. I couldn't help but chuckle. I was amused by a sassy Sam. It added to the appeal.

"Is that so? Well, what if I told you I was hoping you could help me with that." I sat on the bed and as usual grabbed her hand.

Her head cocked to the side as she tried to figure out what I meant. After a moment and still no idea she finally asked.

"How am I supposed to do that. Don't say be your sparring partner either, that answer would be fuck no. I'm crazy not stupid," she smirked.

"Oh you have jokes today do you. Well I have a proposal to make. It has absolutely nothing to do with sparring." An unfamiliar nervousness was setting in. I am not use to anything making me nervous any more.

"I want to make it clear ahead of time there is no hidden agenda or ulterior motives in what I am about to ask you. I have no expectations of you and I simply want to offer you this because I can, and I think it is the safest option available to you at this time," I felt my words starting to rush out. I stopped to breath and give Sam a minute to let the words sink in.

"Ok. What are you getting at Eric? Like you told me once before, I don't speak in riddles," a playful smile tugged at her lips.

"I want to set you up with out patient therapy. I would also like it if you would move into my spare bedroom for the time being. You won't be alone and I can keep you safer this way." I held my breath and watched her.

At first she looked a little shocked and unsure. But the more she thought about it the more she looked pleased with the idea.

"I'd be ok with that. But, are you really sure you are? I don't want you regretting it and decide that I'm not worth the trouble," she put her head down and looked away.

"Oh no you don't Samantha. Look at me. Hey, eyes on mine sweetheart." I tilted her head up and took her face in my hands.

"You'll always be worth it to me. No matter what. If you haven't already figured out I don't do anything I dont want to do. Let me remind you. Selfish, asshole, never makes a choice I don't want to. I choose you. I want you with me. I don't know what this will turn out to be. Maybe you'll be just my best friend, maybe you'll be mine. I don't know. But I would like to find out, that is if that's what you want too?"

"I do. I want to be some place safe with someone who makes me feel safe. You're that person right now. It feels right, for the first time maybe, ever." She squeezed my hand tight and leaned her forehead on my chest.

I took my other hand and wrapped in her hair massaging her scalp. A content sigh escaped her lips. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head and leaned back to look at her.

"Let's get a plan of action set up and then let's get you home."

"I like the sound of that," she wrapped her arms around and we just sat there and enjoyed the moment.

I have no idea what I'm getting myself into. I decided it was time to take a few chances in life and let a few people in. I just hope this is a good thing and not the biggest mistake of my life. I also knew if I wanted to know if I had any chance at taking care of Adam, I needed to prove to myself I was capable of doing the right thing with Sam first. If I could not handle an adult, I would be foolish to think I could ever handle a child.

The next few days or going to make or break me as a person, as a leader, as a man. I really hope I am up to the challenge.

[chameleonspell]

182: apology

A mushroom, its broad cap fending off the noon-day sun, on the outskirts of somewhere completely different. "I don't know what you're so upset about. You were worried about money, and it'll be far cheaper to sail from here than from Sadrith Mora. With less chance of recognition!" Julan remained silent. He leaned back against the mushroom, arms braced on either side of his neck, fingers locked together at the nape. His eyes were closed. "Listen, how was I supposed to know that was Gothren's bedroom window?"

Julan opened his eyes, but didn't focus them beyond his elbows. He drew a long, serrated breath, and held it. "You didn't want to be stuck up there forever, did you?" Julan released the breath, in something between a growl and a groan. "Honestly, I'm amazed this sort of thing doesn't happen more often in a Telvanni town, levitation being what it is. I can't believe they got so unreasonably... unreasonable about a simple..." Beyond Julan's elbows, Iriel's eyes veered back and forth, creased in worried scrutiny. Grimacing, he changed tack: "I'm sorry. I got carried away." Julan closed his eyes again. "All right, perhaps you did, technically speaking." Iriel was hunching slightly, to remain on eye level. Monitoring the results of his words, and currently far from satisfied. "Again, sorry. I'll warn you next time." He sucked his lower lip for a moment. "That is to say, I'll ask your permission. In writing, two weeks in advance. And... sorry. How's your shoulder, can I massage it, or...? No? No, I see, all right, never mind." He retracted his hand, and, after a moment's consideration, shuffled back a few paces. "It's just... I'd read about scrolls of windform, but never actually tried one. Levitating invisibly at high speed always sounded like the perfect way to travel. And it was, for, well. Most of it." He was smiling, now, gaze drifting into space. "I must confess, I've even had... certain... fantasies about..." The abrupt renewal of Julan's glare dragged him back down to earth. "Well. Obviously I wasn't going to suggest... of course not. Sorry. Never mind." He straightened up, and took a drag on the kreshweed roll-up he was twitching between his fingers. "By the way, I know you dropped that helm on purpose, so don't even try denying it." Julan finally lowered his arms. "Since when do you smoke that stuff, anyway?" "Since I needed it to reduce my stress levels from dealing with you, sweetheart. Besides, it gives my hands something to do that isn't illusion spells." Julan eyed the kreshweed, suspiciously. After a while, he sighed, and let Iriel pass it to him, though upon inhalation, he immediately choked, and thrust it back, eyes streaming. A little later, Julan said, out of what had now become a mostly companionable silence: "So. Two Dremora." Iriel's mouth quirked, before he replied: "Perks of being a Telvanni Mage-Lord, I suppose. Or just not giving a fuck about arcane ethics." "Same thing." Julan cricked his neck sideways with a wrenching pop. Ire didn't even wince, his eyes glazed and distant. "Two Dremora, though." Julan snorted. "You wouldn't know what to do with two Dremora!" "I would, you know." "Send them back to Oblivion with proper shirts on, because you're so arcanely ethical?" "...Quite." Iriel wandered out of the mushroom's shadow to survey the Tel Aruhn docks again. The ship they wanted was preparing to depart, but they thought it safest to embark at the last minute, to avoid the captain making too many awkward enquiries. The sails were still half-set, so Ire returned to Julan's side. "Last chance to change your mind," he told him. "But I really think asking the Urshilaku for advice is best. They play by the rules; Daedra don't." "Yeah." A sigh. "I just... you were right, last time we made this trip. When you said I was avoiding them. I know what they'll say, and none of it's new, but..." "I know. Don't worry. I have a plan, of sorts." Ire found Julan's hand and squeezed it. "My brain may be a jumbled mess of the fractured shards of my intellect, but it's at your service. And I have a few ideas that might work." "See, you're not fractured all the time. How's the magic?" "About the level it was when I was ten, but it's something. I suppose perh--" They froze, as a distant explosion shook the towers around them. Passers by, used to Telvanni districts, merely paused, glanced around for signs of immediate local catastrophe, shrugged and walked on. "D'you think they--" Julan began, but Iriel shook his head. "Don't think. Let's just go. The boat should be ready in a few minutes." "What's in that sack of yours, anyway?" "Hopefully nothing breakable, after what it went through on our descent." "Yeah, well. I guess anything not in it is gone for good, now." Seizing the distraction, Iriel opened the sack from Tusamircil. "Clothes, mostly," he reported. "Some of them are even yours." "Is my ash-scarf there? I've been looking for that." "No. Because you left that in my room before, and I burned it." "Wh--?! ...Oh. OK." A snort of laughter from Iriel, as he pulled out a cream silk sleeve. "Look what she's put in here! As if I'll need this, where we're going! Still, no sense saving it for a special occasion, now. I might as well wear it in the Ashlands as anywhere, I suppose." "Is my stupid noble shirt in there, too, then? Or... hey, what about my other pair of guarskins?" Iriel didn't reply. He had found the scroll. Uneven lettering on rough parchment, fastened with green twine. Julan saw his face. "Hey, are you...? Look, I know Helende said you should read it, but maybe now isn't... I mean, what if it's... are you sure you're ready to...?" But Iriel, his fingers helpless as clockwork, was already tugging on the end of the twine. To Iriel. I have began this letter four times. Each time I have wrote the wrong words so much I have ended by dropping the paper over the side. This is the last bit of parchement. My mistaiks must all have to stand this time and you must bare them. Purhaps this is rigte and best. I am sorry for my writing being so falty. I hope you may take my menings. I am at sea, 35.7 teills WTW of the Dancing Strait with our nose to the sun and the wind to our back. I have come further than I have bin in all my dawns. But even were the Argerial not with us, I would not let it prevent me now. I dont set myself wiser than the breath of our ancestors, but I am resolvd. Lightbringer knows our course. I can feel the joy of it in the wood. Befour sun rise I had seen more tears than I thouht still left these many years, but now the joy is in me too and I know the stars speak truly and the winds blow wise. It is time to leve. There was a time to stay and keep to old words, but that is ended. She said you are in Morrowind. She said she wrote you. I thouht you was in a Ciirodil jail. I asked why you was out and if they found you was innosent like I thouht. I asked when you was coming home. She said never. She said it made no matter. She said some people carry their prisons inside themselves and so never walk free. It struck me as how she was rigte. I put her a letter in her Astrology folder. She opens it not more than once a week by my eyes. Purhaps it will even pass some moons until she finds it. I dont pretend as I know who you are these dawns be it theif or murderer or both or none. I dont know if your blood runs fair or foul as she says. I only know it runs in me the same, and I would look on what you have made of it. Purhaps as you see no call to find me, but if you will it, and if Auri-El preserve us on this long haul, I mean to reach Ebonheart by your birth month. From [a blotched mess of illegibly crossed out words] Murecano [more crossing out, this somewhat legible]. When Iriel finally found his tongue, it had turned corpse-dry, coating every word in dust. "He... he wrote 'Murecano of Lillandril', and then he... crossed out the 'of Lillandril' part." "Is it an apology?" "Not exactly. I think... he's trying to tell whether I want one." "Do you?" "I don't know. I don't know anything. This is more words together than I've had from him my entire life." As Ire spoke, he rolled the parchment tighter and tighter, and reknotted the twine several times. "Fuck." He exhaled sharply, and pushed it into the bottom of his bag. "I don't have time to mess myself up over this, right now. Can you just... hug me really, really, hard for a moment, and then we'll run for the boat." The Ahemmusa-bound members of the Thieves' Guild will no doubt turn up again in due course, but as Iriel and Julan leave the Telvanni lands, perhaps some final mention of the others is in order, insofar as details are known, before all trails were lost. Rissinia recovered from his wounds, and went to seek his fortune (and a better range of cake ingredients) in Cyrodiil. Fandus changed his name, and settled in Caldera, where he married the governor's daughter, and entered local politics. There were rumours in Sadrith Mora that the Altmer woman known as Big Helende was swallowed by a giant beetle, which then flew out to sea, leaving nothing but a trail of maniacal laughter and badly-embroidered cushions. But, people would usually add, this is clearly ridiculous. Muriel Sette and Erer Darothril simply vanished. But the latter has appeared and disappeared many times in Tamrielic history, and no doubt he will do so again. Back, then, briefly, to a ship, heading north across the Sea of Ghosts, and two tired elves, slumped on the deck. "How're you feeling?" "My head's cold. You're all right, you have hair." "Yeah, mostly in my mouth, with this wind. D'you want to go below?" "No." A pause. "I wish I had that stupid fucking hat he knitted me, though." "Maybe he--" "Don't. I still don't know." A longer pause, as the clouds scudded by overhead. "He offered to teach me to knit, once, forever and ever ago. I couldn't see the point, since he already made me things, and I had important books to read." "No knitting lessons in Sweating Slutbags of--" "Shut your awful face, I'm remi-fucking-niscing. I... gods, I just... I wish I'd realised he was only trying to find an activity to share with me that wasn't some outdoorsy thing, which he knew I hated. I thought knitting looked boring, but now I wonder if it'd be soothing, give my fingers something mechanical to do, when my brain stops working." "Better than that poisonous stuff you keep smoking." "Yes, well. Even if I could knit, everything close to wool I've seen in Morrowind is rough and horrible. No doubt it's made out of scathecraw, or something that used to be inside a beetle." A snort. "And knowing me, all I'd succeed in making would be one big tangled knot." North, still north, as the sky began to shade. "D'you want me to shave my head, then, for company?" "No!" "Sure? I don't mind. It's getting too long, anyway." "It is not too long! And don't you dare shave it. Long hair has its uses." Catching Ire's smirk, but not the reason, Julan slid him a suspicious look. "Oh, really?" With a sudden grab, Iriel caught a handful, and yanked Julan's head into his lap. "Really," he told Julan's broadening grin. "Now sit the fuck up, I'm going to braid it." next: 183: proof previous: 181: communication beginning: 1: numb

[survivormongolia]

Episode 2: “I was prepared to come in this game and slay.” - Madison

ok well... none of us were voted out which is alright i guess but we are literally not winning this immunity with gloria and patricia on our tribe.... like no offense to them but they finna submit like 20 thinking its a good score like arghhh its whatever tho bc im going to get the highest on the tribe so if they vote me out theyre literally the dumbest people ive ever met. if we lose, i truly dont think im going anywhere bc i have 3 people im genuinely friends with and ive been having good convos with dennis and brian... wow i cant believe im aligning with mostly men

me as soon as i saw the blog for the game: "i should check the rules page, i know some hosts are sneaky & hide advantages in there"

me: everything looks a-ok to me!!!!

hosts: make sure you check the rules page!!!

me: hmmm seems fishy, let me check again!!!

me: nope, nothing ot the the blue

me: tells dan about the advantage in the results post

dan: something looked fishy to me in the rules page, but i tried to right-click and nothing worked, let me check again

dan: omg. it took me to the same page as the results

me: wow. i truly am a useless piece of garbage

ok im back and i found out more info. so apparently gloria has been on call with dennis AND francie which means they dont play around. i think theyre being really social with everyone and i KNOW francie has amanda and emily on the other tribe so im actually really worried about them. i have talked to them a lot and i feel like i wouldnt be their first target but maybe randy or madison would be?? idk. if we dont win this immunity it wont be the worst thing in the world bc everyone agreed to patricia last week so might as well try again this round ig. i talked to randy and he's on the same page and also is afraid of francie and dennis being really social so hopefully once our tribe gets down to 7 or 8, the 4 of us (madison, randy, tj) would be majority. i really trust tj and he always keeps me updated but... he has a mind of his own and i wont be surprised if he wouldnt be down to do one of them. btw ill probably make a podcast or a video dr tomorrow if i find more tea... 

I’m not going to do as well on this challenge as my tribe mates I don’t think. So now, of course, I’m thinking about tribal last night and how I was asked about the first challenge and I was like “yeah keep me around bc I can help in challenges.” That’s not going to be good for now. I’m going to do my best given the calculus and government homework I have for tomorrow (EW). I’m also thinking about the game as a whole. I want to put myself in a position of power wherein I can be a big part of strategy and make notable moves while also not flagging myself as someone “running the game” (lol like that’ll happen) or someone who’s too big of a threat to stay. This involves identifying larger threats than myself and locking them out before anyone knocks me out etc. There’s a bullseye; let me find my quiver. This is also probably the last confessional I’ll make ‘til after the challenge because why spend time confessing when you can find invisible cows. (I’m on the way to school and confessing on my phone. No, I’m not the one driving. I may confess at lunch or study hall if anything worth confessing happens between now and then.)

Okay so I went back and checked the other posts and there wasn’t anything around. But when the new immunity challenge was posted, there was the same link hidden on the post. I sent it to my host chat and nothing. I noticed after I sent it that the link wasn’t hidden on the new challenge post anymore, but the previous ones are still there. Interesting….

So the Fans went to tribal and we were hoping that by sending Jon to Exile, they would vote out Randy and it would keep an inactive around to help them flop more. However, Jon struck out and was med-evac’d. Great. So now the Fans are gonna go super hard on this challenge since they basically got a free pass. This challenge, by the way…. Shout out to Drew. I hate this challenge. Invisible Cows can die, all of them. I told my tribe to make the window as small as possible so the cows have less places to hide, and I think its working out for everyone, so hopefully we can do this. I’m just worried because I know Madison on the other tribe just played this game in a challenge not too long ago and if she tells them about the trick then we are basically on even playing ground. Im at 800 right now and my goal is to get to 1500 but we will see.

I’m still trying to figure out my social game. Usually in games, I form some kind of alliance within the first 48 hours and generally keep up appearances with everyone. I want to do things differently this game. While I am still trying to be friendly and talk to people, I dont want to be the one to hold all the conversations. I’m having trouble keeping a conversation with Asa and Ian and Nicholas, but everyone else I’ve had at least a 10 minute conversation or longer every day. Colin has already suggested voting out Asa if we go to tribal because he’s talked to her the least. He says that me and him are good and I’m glad for that. I really like Colin. And I know that Emily will have my back, at least in the tribal portion of the game. Last night, Dan, Lindsay, and I formed an alliance. Finally! I really like Lindsay and we danced around forming an official alliance with each other for 3 days, and Dan and I have talked a lot, so I’m really glad this happened. With this alliance, and my bond with Colin and my relationship with Emily, I feel like I’ll be okay should we go to tribal. I’m hoping we don’t have to… here’s hoping we can find more cows than the Fans..

https://youtu.be/D45IAXpUHyA

This challenge is cute! And also my tribe is just Slaying this challenge. I love this tribe, we're stacked as hell djkfgfh

Oh well fuck. Well I was middle of the road with the scores so I didn’t go from top score to lowest ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it still fucking sucks though. I hope enough people are down with the plan from the last round depending on who gets exiled.

Temujin exiling Patricia was the obvious move—keep the lowest challenger in the game and force the losing tribe to send a better challenge player home, increasing the likelihood of them returning to tribal—and from a strategic standpoint I have to give them a bit of credit but being on the tribe that’s getting screwed over? Fuck this.

So I'm in the predicament of which alliance to throw under the fucking bus, I should've been quiet about the group to Julia Rae and Madison. Best person to go home would be Brian or Randy, for my own personal benefit

Wow, so I don't know if you managed to see that but I told Julia Rae and Madison about GloForce...and then switch them to Brian

Wow this tribe really is doing that. I get a bad feeling we’re gonna get swap-fucked somehow. I guess now that its been a few days I can give my opinions on people a little more.

I get strange vibes from Amanda and Dan. I feel like they’re close just by interactions they have in the tribe chat. They both also seem like the type to be cutthroat. I think I’m in good with them tho so as long as I’m not doing anything shady they might not target me, since I have a feeling they’ll be the ones trying to lead the first few votes when/if we go to tribal.

I get good vibes from Emily, Asa, Quillyn, and Lindsey. They seem pretty trustworthy and easy to work with.

As far as Nicholas, Ian, and Colin go, I don’t really have any connection with them but I’mma try talking to them more while things are easy and peaceful so they would be hesitant to vote out me over someone else.

I’m really curious as to who got the secret advantage. I’m mad as hell that I didn’t get it but oh well. I feel like if anyone got it it was probably on the faves tribe, cause I feel like the fans aren’t putting in all that much effort or reading into things as much as an experienced player might. I’m glad to have been the one to publicly expose the advantage because I want whoever got it to be on their toes and that they’ll have to be more cautious and stressed about trying to do things involving it. They probably think no one is paying attention but I have eyes in the webcams on their computers. I see them.

Temujin won the second immunity and I'm very pleased with that as we are all getting along fine, but for how long? Eventually we will have to turn on each other and vote one of us out. My job is to just make sure it's not me, pre merge portion of the game I aim for a good score but not the best of unbeatable score. The sweet spot is upper middle, you are seen that you can be beat in individual challenges yet good enough to want to keep around for a strong pre merge tribe

Also i feel like horse culture is important?? Like idk why the hosts wouldn't just put a keyboard smash url or make the url (survivormongolia.com/secret-advantage). Like horse culture must mean something. I wish I was one of those girls in middle school who put horse stickers on all their supplies. I feel like maybe I could better understand horse culture and what this could mean. But just know i have made a mental sticky note saying "HORSE CULTURE" in bold sharpie.

Allow me to explain why Brian being voted off would be a fucking stupid idea or Julia and Madison, so if me, Julia, Madison, or Randy gets sent to exile and Patricia is gonna come back in our place just how well do you think that's gonna play out. Patricia isn't stupid and probably knows she was gonna get the boot...this time atleast. With the scores brian and randy have been producing it'd probably be them getting booted next, at this point I'm trying to stall...

I'm glad we won another immunity! although I'm getting sick of the fake sweetness of our tribe like nobody actually likes each other that much and that will show once we end up losing one of these challenges. I'm really tired of the passive aggressive competitiveness of some of these people too like, we can just all support each other and not like try to put people down who can't get as high of a score on a shitty flash game? I'm hoping for an early swap honestly I would definitely want to try working with some of these fans over the people on my tribe who I just can't seem to connect with.

So. Jon went to exile Island and got his 3rd strike. That was great, because he would've been voted off anyways.

Then the next challenge happened and disaster struck. First off, I love that minigame but holy shit, it drives some1 crazy UNLESS YOUR NAME IS MADISON AND YOU ACTUALLY FIND A TRICK TO SPEED UP THE PROCESS BUT THEN PROCEED TO NOT TELL ANY1. Eitherway I spend around 3 hours during all my exams and papers, that are due, to find stupid 800 cows until I was about to go to bed, wher TJ told me a trick to boost up my score. So I did that and brought it up to 1100 by another 20 min but that wasn't enough by FAR. The rest of the tribe decided that 300 or 600 is enough. Obviously we couldn't know how much the other tribe was getting, but after seeing that easy trick everyone could've atleast aimed for 1000.

We lose the challenge, they pick Patricia, which is a good pick (Since she would've most likely been voted off other wise - even though I did bring up a point in the alliance chat, that we might have needed her to keep the majority in the tribe, just in case the other 4 form a counter alliance). Me and TJ talked a bit and I told him before, that the only 2 possible votes are Brian or Randy. Both have barely been active in this tribe, with Randy just doing a tiny bit more (Flag challenge) but we can't hold that as a positive for him, forever. In the end it seems to be brian tonight, oh well unlucky.

But in my opinion, seeing how our Tribe works compared to the Favorites this wont change anything. They will keep beating us out in every challenge until we are at a low number of members just to be picked up 1 by 1 in the merge or at a tribeswap. Its super scary and I am already getting a little bit anxious and frustrated looking forward. The worst thing that could happen to us is, that we win the Reward challenge and then get on too much of a high, go back to doing the least amount of work, just to be crushed at the next Immunity challenge again. Lets hope that isn't the case. Lets hope a swap happens sooner than later, when we still have some numbers..

But, on a more serious note! That whole conversation about the secret advantage came up with Dan after he returned from Exile. He told me about the idol on Exile, & how it's the name of a Survivor, you only have two yes or no questions to narrow it down, & you only get three guesses. He also told me what questions he asked, & his guesses!

So, I guess my social game is better than I thought it was, because he said he was only going to tell Amanda & I, & we ended up making an alliance chat. To be honest, this group really makes sense to me, because I feel we are more of the "social" people on our tribe, where we'll message people first, & try to keep the conversation going, so I'm really happy with this core group. Now, I'm not a mathematician, but even I know that three out of ten people in a tribe is not a majority, but it's nice to have a solid core group that we can hopefully add to when needed! Plus, if you have a smaller group inside a bigger one, you're already in a better position number wise. I'm blabbering on about this newfound alliance, & how it's good for my game, just to watch it blow up when the inevitable swap happens, & we're split up. :) :) :) :)

I'm still trying to form relationships with other people on my tribe, but I feel like I haven't really gotten far. I think I have a good relationship with QuilLynn! We actually talk quite a bit, & have good conversations about things outside the game, & I really like her! She's someone I can definitely see myself working with down the line, so hopefully she feels the same way.

Like, I'm really glad & relieved that we've won the immunity challenges, but sometimes when you're on a tribe that keeps winning, it's easy to just relax & not talk as much. It's when you lose, where everyone starts to scramble, & relationships develop further. Basically right now, we're the Love tribe, where everything is sunshine & rainbows, & no one has a bad thing to say about anyone. But, if we were to lose, we'd go from *heart eyes emoji* to *knife emoji* real quick.

I don't want to say I thrive in chaos, because I don't, I'll overthink every possible scenario & hop aboard the paranoid train, full speed ahead. However, I thrive when people are very conversational, & I feel like the people on my tribe will only become like this when they feel their ass may be on the line.

Another update about our tribe idol: Still haven't guessed once. Still a flop. Let's try to turn this around, Lindsay! You can do it.

This confessional has been all over the place, so sorry I'm a mess. I don't know. I can't control my thoughts or put them into words very well.

I’m angry I found 2.6k cows and we still lost. I don’t know what this tribe is doing tbh it’s such a mess. I was prepared to come in this game and SLAY but that’s kinda impossible right now so.

Gloria is an icon.

That’s all.

So I guess I haven't done one of these this round! WHOOPS. Well, not much has changed in my game. I'm still really enjoying the tribe for the most part and just trying to do my best in the tribe! Like I'm really proud of myself for performing so well in the challenges so far. Jokes on the tribe bc when I start school again, I'm not going to have as much time to do things *shrugs* I know I'm pretty and successful and they'll just need to understand that.

On a serious note, I'm worried about Colin coming back from exile and the idol situation over there. I'm lucky I have some time to plot and think about how I'm going to address that. I think I'm gonna say something along the lines of, well I kinda wanted to see who went to exile next before I said anything to anyone about it. I would be open to sharing information with Colin, I just feel like with him working we really haven't had the chance we need to really like create a lasting bond. Yes, we talked about people we liked and about keeping each other's best interests in mind, but that was one curt little conversations. I know curt implies rudeness, but that's not how I mean it, I'm just not smart enough to think of a better word. But, any who, I have some scrambling to do with our relationship, but I'm willing to give it a go. We shall see what the future holdsssss.

Cow cow cow cow cow cow cow cow cow WOW IT WAS WORTH IT HEHE! I got 666 cows and our tribe won by an absolute landslide. I’m super happy! I am excited to see what happens when the fans actually have to um vote someone out and not be saved from a medical evacuation lmao. Also I haven’t been talking to people like I should because I’m so fucking lazy. And tired. Like give me a break people

Ugh we lost but I did so bad but I didn't had time to do it. I feel like I'm going home tonight unless I get to go to exile since I was lowest and last one they send had nothing

Hello it's me fallen tuna. I like my tribe a bit better it's pretty clear that we are all pretty busy. I suck the most at the comps so thats somewhat confusing but asa talks less so if we lost that might be the one person I'd try to get out

So this round has been me trying my hardest and obviously not succeeding. The faves tribe are just too dedicated for this game. Which is great for them, but we arent naturally as competitive as they are. Meaning that we're once again going to tribal. And they sent home Patricia. The girl who we thought would be the next voted off.

So now its scrambling. Julia told me her group of TJ, Madison, etc. is going to do Brian. I brought up the fact that me and Brian are close, and that Francie would probably be better since she's obviously close with Amanda on the other tribe. But Madison is also close with them, so i dont see them leaving this week. If I have to vote out Brian. Then damn, but I'm not leaving premerge. So its just time to cut my losses, and hopefully make it to a tribe swap.

Confessional: I am very upset with many players on my tribe who I feel don't need to be here because they are somewhat inactive and not trying all that hard in challenges. They need to carry their asses to be perfectly blunt. They are hurting our tribe and it takes all the fun out of the game to be honest. People are telling me they are voting Brian and I love him to death and know for fact he can be a great player but this game he has shown me nothing so I am going with majority and he was on my rdar this round for vote also, I am working with TJ Francie and Dennis and hope us 4 stick together and none of them turn on me. Thus far they are my safety net but who knows what will happen if a tribe switch happens and I hate this sending people to exile island it sucks big time cause I am afraid that will kill my game if sent. I hope that everybody 100% votes Brian out tonight and Randy isn't showing much attempt either after doing that gorgeous flag. That sucks but it is what it is in games take the good with the bad. Hope I last see you at tribal honorable host. <3 GLO GLO <3

So my gay ass is sitting here, minding my own business, and what do I see in a VL I'm in? Emily and Amanda are hosting an Athena season together? INCHRESTING. I will keep that little tid bit in the back of my head when it comes time to vote somebody out.

Okay so basically at this point my tribe is slaying the game! As one would expect, we have a lot of seasoned players who are hungry for redemption and really don’t want to be the first fave gone so everyone is going really over the top with these challenges. I won’t complain because they keep me safe by extension but i have a feeling that there is going to be a loss or a luck comp in our near future and i just don’t know how i am going to fare if we go to tribal. Right now i know that Quil, Emily and Lindsay wouldn’t vote me out. So that means hopefully 4/9 votes. Ive been trying to reconnect with Ian and I don’t think he would vote me out either so I think I could survive a tribal if I ended up going to one.

Right now i am putting in some work to make sure that Im not the first boot from this tribe. I’m trying to not talk to Asa or Thomas [they also don’t message me,,,,ew??? like wtf are you doing here if you aren’t going to message anyone] so that I can eagerly throw their names around if we go to tribal. Also ironically enough they are the highest placing members of our tribe so I’m hoping it can be an easy sell. That’s about it for now!

Honestly, I hate the fact we lost the challenge. I hate the fact that Patricia was given immunity because that means that my time may be up. People barely try and talk to me, or even bother to reply to me. So I think it's me tonight, which is fine. I am content with my journey. I was told it may be Randy but I doubt it. We'll see.

I'm good Patricia is coming on so hot. She's just like "I wanna work with you" and calls me right away like omg ajdhaidhss it's not that I wouldn't wanna work w her it's just that you'd think she'd spend st least ten minutes to have some small talk before throwing me six feet deep into strategy talk...

i dont think im getting voted out but if i do oh well... everyones voting brian i believe and my friends have no reason to lie to me so i am feelin GOOD!! i hope theres a tribe swap so i can be safe for once oh my god

I hope this tribal and the Brian vote are successful. Fingers crossed!

I'm confessing to say Emily was robbed in Athena All Stars and I love Drew even though he drags me always the end