so uh… how do i words , uhm… a lot of you dont know me– hell i think only three people here know who i am, but i really really like your art (and art styles) and i look up to all of you a lot, and i look for inspiration from you guys almost every day so uhm… oh my god everyone is just so beautiful, the style, the colors, the line density, the face shapes– I COULD KEEP GOING ON AND ON REALLY—- but i cant because this post is long enough as it is
there’s so many more people i want to add and thank for being such a wonderful sources of awe and inspiration but my shoulder is killing me and its currently an ungodly hour of the wee mornings so i ask for pardon
ah– anyway, bottom line, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING AN INSPIRATION keep doing what you’re doing and i hope you continue to grow and be happier with your art every new day that comes your way!
P.S. btw if you’re uncomfortable with me putting up your style there please message me and i’ll take it down im sorry;;;;;
So during the last charity livestream, they were looking at fanart and someone drew a buff Tyler and Mark flexing but scrawny Ethan in the corner D: And Ethan looked just a wee bit mopey in the stream like “hey…. I got muscle too….”
So I was like BITCH THIS IS A PREMO BUFF BLUEBERRY. SCUSE. NOTICE.
What does BTS stand for? What doesn't BTS stand for?
Yes, yes, but what does BTS stand for?
It stands for, BTS stands for commitment. BTS stands for audacity. BTS stands for courage in the face of-
Yes, yes I can see what you're getting at, but the specific letters "BTS", what do they stand for?
What do you think they stand for?
No, no, perhaps I'm not making myself clear. I'm not looking for an interpretation, I really don't know what the letters actually stand for. So, let's start with the B. What does the B stand for?
Claire sipped her coffee, squinting across the breakfast table at her middle daughter. Eight-year-old Julia turned the corner from the kitchen, set the platter of piping hot bannocks on the table, and slid into her seat beside fifteen-year-old William - whose face was buried in a book about the Roman conquest of Britain.
“Why not, Mama?” Brianna licked her lips, clearly trying to dismiss the question. “I’ve got this new blouse and -”
“But it’ll be so bright and sunny today,” seventeen-year-old Faith insisted, pushing her scrambled eggs around on her plate. “Ye should bring the sunscreen instead. Canna have ye looking like a lobster again.”
“Dinna tell yer wee sister what to do,” Jamie admonished gently from his seat beside Claire, glancing down at the scribbles on the ledger beside his plate. “She already has a mother.”
“Wee?” Julia laughed. “Da, dinna be daft - ye ken Bree has been taller than Faith since I was small!”
“Ye still *are* small, *mo nighean oir*,” Jamie smiled, ruffling Julia’s blonde curls. “And ye didna answer yer Mama’s question, Bree - why are ye wearing the scarf?”
Brianna huffed, but said nothing.
“Does it have to do wi’ Roger MacKenzie?” William asked around a mouthful of bannock, still engrossed in his book. “I saw the two of ye after school yesterday, and I was surprised when he wasna staying here at the house. We’ve got plenty of rooms.”
“Roger is here? Why didn’t you tell us?” Claire’s brows raised in surprise. Brianna and Roger had known each other since primary school - and had been the best of friends since then. She and Jamie had always hoped that it would eventually blossom to more between them -
“He just drove up for the day,” Brianna sighed. “He had to be back in Glasgow last night because he has an exam this morning. That’s why he didn’t tell you he was coming -”
“But what does that have to do wi’ yer scarf?” Julia interrupted.
Jamie and Claire exchanged a long glance while Brianna’s face flushed bright red.
Faith and William wisely kept their mouths shut.
“I suppose she just felt like it,” Jamie said carefully, smiling indulgently at his youngest. Wanting to keep her that much more innocent for as long as he could.
Claire turned back to her breakfast with a small smile. “You may want to wear it a bit higher next time, Bree. Wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea.”
Companions react to a super ripped female sole who tries to flirt with them by constantly flexing?
Cait: “Why don’t ya’ come a wee bit closer so I can get a better look at ya’ Sole? Give me a better look at the action, if ya’ catch my drift.” She’s a shameless flirt, but honestly, who can blame her? She ends up getting pretty handsy, running hands and fingers along the ripples that line Sole’s chiseled figure.
Curie: “Madame! What sort of display is this supposed to be?” Curie pretends to be ignorant to the fact that Sole is flirting with her, but Sole can tell that Curie understands due to the fact that the synth is sweating bullets and her face is bright red.
Danse: Initially, Danse is quite impressed by how muscular Sole is but soon realizes Sole’s motives when they flirtatiously coo out to Danse. “You like what you see, big guy?” She gives him a wink, laughing at his response. “Soldier- I well…” Danse’s face contorts into a nervous mess, his cheeks displaying a color of similar hue to his jumpsuit.
Deacon: In all honesty, Deacon would absolutely let her punch him in the face. “Nice boss!” He chokes on the last few syllables, his voice cracking. Normally, he’d be able to keep his cool, but around Sole in this state, he just loses it. Beads of sweat accumulate just below the hairline of his wig and his ridiculous red eyebrows wriggle. He squirms in his place as he bites his tongue, hands shaking.
Hancock: “My, my sunshine.” He purred, eyes glossing over every inch of her toned, gorgeous body. “You’re looking mighty fine if I do say so myself.” He has always appreciated Sole’s looks, but he never got this good of a look. The ghoul took this opportunity to soak it all in, memorizing each and every minuscule detail of Sole’s figure. Hancock was in absolute heaven.
MacCready: “HOLY SHIT, BOSS!” Just this once, he swore and didn’t bother to correct himself. He was absolutely taken back Sole’s appearance, he was in complete and utter awe. Never before had he seen a woman who was so muscular, and he loved it. Mac cleared his throat, a light hue of pink creeping across his jagged facial features. “You look nice, boss.” He croaked, his voice hoarse from his prior exclamation.
Nick: Fans within Nick audibly increased their pace, a faint whirring emitting from his direction. He grumbled, attempting to cover up the embarrassing noise. “Real nice, Kid.” He spoke up. “If I ever need to intimidate someone into the point of leaving me the hell alone, I’ll tell you.” Sole was attractive, sure. But Nick had his preferences.
Piper: “I– Blue, wow.” Piper stood there awkwardly, suddenly feeling weak. She shifted around from one foot to the other, somehow just now noticing her lack of muscles. It made her feel a bit insecure, but moreover, it made her feel an intense attraction to Sole. “How’d you even manage to get in shape like that?” Her stomach sank, ‘in shape’ was an understatement.
Preston: Preston is almost completely oblivious to flirting, so he just assumes Sole is showing off. “Quite the achievement, General.” He teases, an innocent smile forming at his lips. Even with a flirty, “An achievement just for you.” Preston, still doesn’t quite get it. “It’s good to see you’ve taken it upon yourself to grow stronger for our cause. It’s quite admirable.”
X6-88: “Impressive.” Is all he says, leaving Sole a bit frustrated.
OMG! Iain looks so different without a beard and quite intimidating to be honest. ;)
Are you thinking of this image
He does look a wee bit intimidating doesn’t he - I LIKE ☻/ I always find he looks a little more intimidating ( read evil haha ) Clean shaven and a little softer and more Vulnerable with some scruff or a beard.
But really it’s more a tribute to his prowess ( growl : ) as an actor / He’s very expressive and really uses the set of his face and his eyes and body as a performer. BRILLIANT
I of course LOVE him both ways but am a little more partial to scruffy Iain -
Thanks for the comment Anon. I really enjoy receiving them ☺
Like a scene straight out of a movie, the moment he was summoned, the world seemed to get darker. They were just standing on a rocky cliff, the sun high above them as gentle ocean waves crashed against the rocky shore below. Now, grey and heavy storm clouds rolled out of nowhere and blanketed the sky, hiding the sun and threatening to send a cascade of rain atop their heads. The once gentle ocean now churned and crashed against the cliff side so hard, Lincoln was sure that it was trying to bring the entire rock face and them with it down to the bottom of the sea. Somewhere along the sea horizon, thunder rolled.
And there he was. Standing tall and menacing before them, surrounded by a thick, neon green mist that circled around his calves. His eyes piercing the dark like two cursed emeralds, dangerous and threatening, and even though all his instincts told him to look away and bolt like a wee barra into his mother’s skirts, Lincoln couldn’t help but stare back into them.
He was staring into the eyes of a god. The god. The god he had been warned to never be in contact with. The god that had more rumors spread about him than legends. The god that even the other gods, his own father included, never talked about.
The god that had been lost for generations, was standing right before his very eyes. Glowing, practically overflowing with unused ancient energy that seemed to course and surge around him like green venomous lightning.
All because some fourteen year old girl called him a Seaweed Brain.
FUCKIN A JUST FINISHED WATCHIN EPISODE GLADIO AND IT WAS AMAZIN AND THIS WAS AT THE END EPISODE PROMPTO IS COMING OUT IN JUNE AM NO READY LOOK AT THAT WEE FACE AM NO PREPARED FOR THE EMOTIONAL ONSLAUGHT
“AUNYT CLAIRE! MAM!” Claire and Jenny glanced at each other, the urgency in Wee Ian’s shout sending sparks of alarm through each of them, before simultaneously dropping the dough and running into the court yard. “Bree!” Claire ran toward the children, both caked in mud and dirt and looking thoroughly dishevelled. Bree was leaning against Ian for support, face white as a sheet, her legs trembling. “What happened?” She asked, running her hands across her daughter’s slender frame checking for any direct injury. “I fainted Mama.” Bree’s voice was barely above a whisper and her eyes were glazed. Ian shifted his weight and licked his lips, avoiding his own mother’s eyes. “Ian, are ye well mo chridhe?” Jenny laid a gentle hand on her son’s cheek; concern overriding any other emotion, though Ian knew as soon as he told her where they’d been that was likely to change. “I dinna feel verra well Mam…” Ian allowed his eyes to droop, in truth he was bone tired and so it was not exactly an act but also there was no way he was doing the telling all by himself either. He would just have to wait for Bree to feel better and then they could do it together. Claire turned her attention to him and lifted each of his eyelids in turn “Did either of you hit your heads?” “I dinna think so … Bree clipped my chin …” Ian turned his head to let his Aunty see the bruise, not really thinking about it. “Claire?” Jamie and Robbie appeared from around the side of the house, no doubt having come from the privy, Ian thought dimly. “What’s happened?” Ian grimaced; if Uncle Jamie was asking he doubted that an explanation was going to be able to wait any longer. “We don’t know yet, it seems the wee loons have been scrapping and may have knocked what wee bit o’ sense they had out o’ each other.” Jenny answered as Claire continued to prod and poke at the children without much response save a squeak from Ian as she felt across his ribs. “Da…” Bree blinked as if waking and looked up at her father. Jamie’s brows knitted together and he squatted down before them both, next to Claire. “Are ye hurt then?” Jamie asked softly and Bree shook her head. Piercing blue eyes met with Ian’s and the same question was asked. Ian shook his head mutely, wondering exactly how much longer these gentle proceedings were going to go on. Robbie toddled forward and pressed his little palm to Bree’s chest, the highest point on his sister he could reach. “Poor Bwee.” He muttered and wrapped his arms around her middle. Brianna smiled vacantly down at her little brother and ruffled his hair. “Hi Robbie.” Jamie seemed to make up his mind about something and gave a short nod. “Right, into the house.” “I dinna think Bree should walk on her own Uncle. She took a bad spill.” Ian tried to sound manly and commanding but his voice cracked embarrassingly and he felt heat creep into his face. Jamie nodded to his nephew and gently scooped Brianna up into his arms, carrying her into the kitchen. Once settled at the table, cups of strong tea half drunk and slices of bread and butter eaten, Jamie cleared his throat and folded his hands on the table top. “I would be most obliged if ye could please explain what ye have been up to and why ye have been fighting this time.” He shifted his gaze between each of the children. Brianna was still a little pale but looking much better and Ian seemed almost completely restored to his usual cheerful countenance, although his expression wavered as Jamie spoke. “We weren’t fighting Da … well … I did punch Ian but …” “Brianna, if ye dinna consider that fighting…” Jamie began but trailed off, he meant to allow them a chance to explain at the very least. It wasn’t fair to interrupt. “I asked if Aunty Claire was a Fae.” Ian mumbled, eyes fixed on the table. He heard his uncle take a sharp intake of breath and winced but it was his aunty who spoke. “It’s a fair question Ian, in truth I don’t know. I don’t think I am but…” Claire shrugged and Ian wished the ground would swallow him whole “It’s not that I’d mind Aunty and I meant no insult, I just … wondered.” He finished lamely and kept his eyes firmly on the table for fear that the stare coming from his uncle might turn him to ash on the spot. “It was my fault Da. I … I did something I shouldn’t have and then I went somewhere I shouldn’t have and Ian followed me.” Bree spoke quietly but raised her chin defiantly, meeting her father’s eyes with more boldness than she felt. Ian jerked beside her, startled, and frowned. “I’m no’ a sheep Bree!” He turned his gaze reluctantly to his Uncle, although his eyes flicked towards Jenny stood over Jamie’s right shoulder. “I went to the millpond wi’ Bree and …” He took a breath and then let it out in a rush of words “IsuggestedwegotothefaerietreeandwedidandBreefainted…” “Slow down. Ye what?” Jamie held up his hand, a smile playing in the corner of his mouth anger fading as quickly as it had flared. “We went to see the faerie tree, Da.” Bree answered, shrugging helplessly. There was no sense in lying or excusing it. “Brianna!” Claire shook her head and sighed. “Ye were told …” “I know Da, I know we were.” Bree was still looking at her mother and Claire got the sense that there was something more to come. A sense that Jamie clearly had too. “We’ll deal wi’ those two things in a moment, what else is there? Ian ye look like ye’re about to wet ye breeks, do ye need to relieve yeself?” Ian shook his head and bit his lip. Despite the trouble they were clearly in, excitement was bubbling in his chest and he didn’t think he could contain it much longer “We found something at the Faerie tree!” He gushed, a grin splitting his face despite himself. “Ian James Murray, if ye ha’ taken an offering to the Fae …” Jamie caught his sister’s arm as she made to move round the table, possibly to throttle her youngest child. “I do sincerely hope ye havena interfered wi’ things left there.” He said, his voice dropping to a dangerously low pitch. “Ah … weel …” Ian floundered and looked at Bree imploringly “It was left there for me.” She said quietly and all the adults turned their attention to her. “What do ye mean?” Jamie frowned. It was not like Brianna to be conceited in anyway, but thinking that a grieving mother might have left tribute for *her* … Brianna looked directly at Claire “The tree was alive Mama, like the stones. It was humming … Ian heard it too. It … it called me.” The hairs on the back of Claire’s neck stood upright and she could see the fine copper hairs on the back of Jamie’s neck doing likewise. Claire was vaguely aware of both Jamie and Jenny crossing themselves but her attention was strictly on her daughter. “Ye heard it too Ian?” Jenny’s brow creased in concern and Jamie caught her hand in his own, squeezing reassuringly “I did Mam, but it didna make me feel queer like it did Bree.” Claire was still watching Bree. “Did you touch it?” “No Mama, but it gave me this …” Bree reached into her satchel and produced the little tin, placing it on the table in front of the adults. “It gave you…?” Claire frowned at her daughter, not fully understanding “It … guided me to it Mama, I don’t know why but it did.” Claire leant past Jamie and picked up the little tin with her right hand, the silver of her ring grating gently against the metal, her left hand stilling him as his body jerked forward, instinctively moving to shield her. “Have you opened it?” “No, I found it and then I fainted and Ian carried me away. He brought me home.” Bree flashed a grateful smile at her cousin and Ian returned it shyly. “It was more o’ a drag.” He murmured bashfully and Jenny snorted. “Aye weel at least ye had that much sense to get away from the thing.” Jamie made an approving noise at the back of his throat and softened the look he had been giving his nephew considerably. “Aye, good lad.” Claire looked down at the tin and her heart skipped a beat. There was no mistaking the etching, it was clearly an Underwood typewriter, this tin had probably been used to hold spare ink or maybe even replacement keys but regardless what it held it was not of this time. Jamie didn’t bother looking at the tin; a glance at Claire’s face told him all he needed to know. “Maybe take it to the study Sassenach?” He murmured “But I want to see …” Ian began but bit the words off as two identical sets of narrowed blue eyes turned on him, neither of them boding well. His Uncle at least looked a little impressed, his mother not so much. “Ye will be stayin’ here wi’ ye cousin and gettin’ a bath, then ye will be goin’ to ye room an’ waitin’ for ye Da.” Jenny snapped, and levelled a finger at both children. “Dinna try me any further than ye already have.” She turned to Claire and Jamie and set her jaw stubbornly. “If ye ha’ need o’ me I’ll be here wi’ the bairns.” “Thank ye Jenny,” Jamie stood and walked around the table, Ian flinched but Brianna held steady looking up at her father with a tired but resolute expression. Jamie bent stiffly at the waist and cupped her face in his hands, planting a kiss in the centre of her forehead, heedless of the grime. “Fhuair mi faochadh the thu, mo nighean.” Ian let out the breath he had been holding and Jamie gave him a small smile and ruffled his hair. “Ye too, mo pheathar.” “Aye we all are, now get ye gone so I can clean the wee fiends up a mite bit.” Jenny spoke gruffly but as she urged her niece and son toward the fireplace to undress her hands were gentle and she offered a quiet prayer of thanks that neither were harmed. * Claire placed the tin on Jamie’s desk and together they contemplated it. “Ye ken what that is then Sassenach?” Jamie asked, his voice low. “I do, it’s a typewriter. A device invented in the mid-nineteenth century I believe, it is like a very small, personal printing press.” Jamie pursed his lips. “Another traveller then?” Claire nodded. She felt a certain level of detachment looking at the object, as if she were standing back and observing someone else dealing with it. “I didn’t know there were stones like Craigh na Dun near here.” She said absently. Jamie shook his head “There arena any. I should ken them if there were.” “The fairy tree?” Jamie shrugged as if his shirt was suddenly too tight “It’s an ancient tree to be sure but I ha’ never ken any mysterious disappearances near it nor legends that speak o’ such things, or at least nout beyond the usual …” Claire ran a finger along the edge of the tin and making up her mind, pushed the lid upwards. It squeaked against the rust that had crusted its hinges but opened easily enough. Inside was a carefully bundled piece of leather and a silver fountain pen. Claire smiled faintly; she had never thought to see such a thing again. She handed the pen to Jamie, who took it with more than a little reluctance. “What is it?” “A fountain pen, like a quill but neater and more reliable.” Claire smiled, twisting the lid off to expose the nib. “Do ye dip it in ink?” “No, the ink is already inside it.” Intrigued, Jamie reached for a scrap of parchment and bent to test it. “You only need to press very lightly…” Claire cautioned and Jamie obediently followed, gripping the pen a little awkwardly, more used to the narrow shaft of feather. He gave an excited whoop of delight as his cursive appeared as if by magic. Still smiling Claire turned her attention back to the little leather pouch. There was a trace of scent that was somehow familiar. It had been stronger when she first opened the box but now, exposed to the air, it was dissipating fast. The leather was loosely bound; whoever had left it was confident of the strength of the tin and its ability to provide shelter, if not keep out all damp. Inside was a small square of card, face down, which Claire knew to be a photo by the feel of it and a folded letter. She placed the photo, still face down in the tin and unfolded the letter. As her eyes took in the familiar penmanship and the words written, she felt the room around her spin and sat down hard in the chair behind her. Jamie was by her side in an instant, new toy forgotten and left in carefully dissected pieces on his desk. “Sassenach?” His eyes searched her face intently and Claire held the letter out for his inspection by means of answer. Jamie frowned and took the small piece of paper, flimsier than parchment and thinly lined to aide whoever was writing, he supposed. Tearing his eyes from Claire’s pale, staring countenance he turned his attention to the letter.
My dearest, dearest Claire, There is slim chance of you ever reading this letter but I feel I must write it in any case. I am so dreadfully sorry I did not have a chance to say goodbye to you. It was rather sudden and …anyway my dearest, you will be fine. The efforts of day to day living often distract us from what we should be most focused on and we forget to say the simplest of things so I say them now, in a letter you most likely will never read but at least one of us will know I DID say them: I love you my darling girl, and I am as proud of you as any uncle, or father for that matter, has ever been. The stones have taken much from you … well I don’t truly know how much but I always thought a car wreck to be suspicious… But I do hope, with every fibre of my being that one day the stones will give you joy in as great a measure as they have taken. That may mean someone makes a journey to you, or possibly you to them. Either way embrace it my dear, you deserve all the happiness in the world. All my love, Goodbye. Q.L.B
Jamie put down the small sheet and looked across at Claire, his mouth suddenly dry. She sat rigid in the chair, tears falling silently down her cheeks. Slowly he gathered her up from the chair and sat himself in it, pulling her onto his lap as he had all those years before at Leoch, soothing her and letting her use him as an anchor to cling to. A little while later, when Claire had exhausted her tears and had mopped her face on a quietly offered handkerchief, Jamie lifted his chin from her head and smiled weakly down at her. “Ye did say as that ye uncle was an interestin’ man, no?” Claire snorted and wiped her nose on the handkerchief. “Not the word I’d choose right this second, but yes.” “What did he mean by ‘car wreck’?” Claire shivered and Jamie pulled her tightly against himself “My parents.” She whispered and Jamie’s arms tightened even further around her, absorbing her pain as best he could. “When do ye think …” Jamie bit the words off as he felt Claire stiffen and mentally kicked himself for his thoughtlessness. There would be a time for such questions but that time would be decided by Claire; she would seek the questions and their answers when she was ready. “I don’t know and I am not sure how I could even begin to find out but …” Claire shook her head sadly and then balled her fists, leaping to her feet and whirling to face him with such ferocity Jamie felt his heart skip and to his shame, his cock harden. “Jamie, I am so bloody tired of the past and of fucking mystery! I just want to be here with you and our children and Jenny and Ian and the rest of the Murray’s … the rest of our family! She picked up the letter and stuffed it into the tin, slamming the lid down hard. “I just want to be … normal!” Claire’s voice cracked on the last word and Jamie stood from the chair, coming to stand before his wife with hands outstretched to meet hers. “Ah, weel, no’ to disappoint ye Sassenach, but ne’er in a thousand years, could ye ever be considered ‘normal’ ye are far too special for such a thing mo duinne.” Claire returned his slanted smile with a small tug of her lips. “I’m so sorry Jamie.” “What for lass? Ye’ve done me no’ wrong!” “I complicate your life at every turn!” Claire cried, her voice rising in agitation but Jamie didn’t alter his smile. “Ah. Aye, that ye do. But I ha’ a fair notion that I’d manage to do so, e’en wi’out ye and given the choice Sassenach, I would always rather ha’ ye by my side.” Jamie smoothed a stray curl back from her face and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “The stones will give you joy in as great a measure as they have taken.” Claire murmured her breath warm and faintly sweet on his mouth. “He got that much right, they truly have.” She stroked a hand down her husband’s cheek and for a moment both of them were transported over the years. “Blood of my blood.” Jamie whispered and Claire answered him as she always had and always would “Bone of my bone.”
I don’t understand everyone hating on default femRyder’s face.She’s perfectly fine to me. I also would like to make a few reasons why people should chill or just not keep ragging on her face or skin tone.
SHE and her brother have been confirmed many times to be completely customizable.
She has already been created you aren’t changing default face. Move on, or don’t buy it.
She was modeled after a real person, so constantly saying she’s weird looking is fucking rude.
people could very well look like her and your comments can make them feel like shit.
The major complaint some people have is about her nose, people have many different nose shapes. and very many people have that nose shape, being rude about the shape or size of it, could very well be hurting real people.
The face models for both characters are very pretty people, the modeling over the faces have made them slightly more average looking and young for them to be more relatable to the average millennial playing the game.
I’ve heard the comment “She looks like a white-washed Indian girl”. First off: fuck you. Secondly, this is at least hundreds of years in the future races (and even species) are mixing! For her to have lighter skin and other ethnic features (speaking as a mixed person) Is completely normal!
In my opinion not having a glamor goddess as a default character is absolutely refreshing, and you might want to consider why it bothers you so much. Because from out here you just sound shallow.
Again. She’s customizable, you’ll barely be seeing her face. like blacklist her face, just walk away from the screen, like close your eyes bitch.
She was the different sort. Ever since she’d been a wee one they’d known she was gifted.
It wasn’t the common sort of gift, like a talent for telling how people felt from looking at their faces or the ability to commonly predict a foreseeable outcome. No, Dominique had a gift for for the unusual; she had a gift for seeing the future.
It was often said that she never quite seemed as if she was in the correct place or time, but she was always where she was supposed to be when she needed to see something about someone. Some didn’t like it, this gift of hers, but Dominique didn’t seem to mind in the slightest one way or the other.
She was the deceptively fragile sort, the kind that had people treating her gentle as could be, when in fact she was made of unseeable steel. She took to Divination and to Professor Trelawney quite fondly, preferring the ‘sensible’ atmosphere provided by both. Trelawney is ever determined to see that her gift doesn’t go to waste, and, Dominique being Dominique, doesn’t seem to mind. She’s getting particularly good at reading tea leaves, though what she sees isn’t in the leaves…