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prince-strife · 1 month

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So I watched “Like Minds” (I’m super unwell about gay people)

this one is like 3x longer than the tenet one

spoilers for a movie that came out 20 years ago ig

alex is clearly rly smart but he’s a right prick about it

nigel sure does like to stare 🤨🤨

oh so he’s a little freak. bro’s got a taxidermy cat in his luggage

ARE THEY MAKING BOMBS??

well. def explosives

DOES HE TAXIDERMY THE ANIMALS HIMSELF

he rly likes dead stuff…

not the gay little obsession

GIRL RECORK YOUR WINE BOTTLE

NIGEL WHY ARE YOU DISSECTING BIRDS IN YOUR BEDROOM

he’s so pretty tho fr mfer has gorgeous eyes

bro fuck this cop frfr

he did not seriously just punch this kid

oooh alex is fucked in the head too. inch resting

alex is one of those rich boys ._.

“obligations” hmmm i Do Not like the sound of that

WAIT THAT WAS HIS DAD??? that explains that ig

wait why is alex on the villains wiki. WHY IS ONE OF HIS CRIMES NECROPHILIA

interesting that alex is so aggressively anti-church (as an establishment, i mean)

ooooh nigel is Looking at him

not him fighting with his teacher

taking detailed notes about the people around him…nigel colbie autism

nooo leave him alone :((

alex is so mean to him omg. let him be a little freak in peace

HOLY SHIT HE JUST KILLED THAT KID

OHHH SALLY ROWE IS FUCKIN. JONI THROMBEY

wtf ym you “can’t find” the colbies..

omg staring across a casket at each other..

tom sturridge is so fucking beautiful i’m unwell

“i almost missed him” 🤨🤨

38 minutes in and i think this is the longest we’ve heard nigel speak

THE FUCK BOOK IS HE READING FOR THIS CLASS

idk i need nigel and alex to kiss

WOAH NIGEL JUST GOT REALLY CLOSE

“i’m really sorry about your friend” baby don’t lie no the fuck you’re not

smth abt the way nigel said “but you don’t have to worry” reminds me of the scene at the end of batman where joker is telling the riddler he did a good job.

THE GLARE AT THIS POOR GIRL nigel looks jealous as fuck

nigel baby giving the boy you like a hand is not the way to his heart

“it looks like you need a hand.” BABE. NO. TOO ON THE NOSE

he’s so cute in his lil jumper

SITTING ON HIS BED??? LEANING OVER HIM WHILE HE SLEEPS???? nah this is. gay behaviour

“alex, wake up. i’ve got a night planned 🥺” aww they’re gonna go on a date

oh they’re super close. NOW KISS

ooh hanging the essay over his head

the big smile… “are you having fun?” the little giggle. the smirk. he hates his ass. he is so in love with him. WHAT IS GOING ON

hmm i do not trust this

THE PUPPYY

“i’ve never brought anybody here before” INTERESTING (“i’m being vulnerable plz don’t be a dick abt this”)

i’ve still got an hour left of this movie good god

my mom is watching gbbo rly loudly and i just got super confused as to why the music Did Not Match the scene

“do you like it 🥺🥺” NIGEL. BABY. he’s so proud of his weird little lab it’s so cute

these little history nerds…

i rly thought nigel was gonna cuddle into him for a second

HELLO NIGEL IS STARING AT HIS LIPS????

“do you know what a pike is?” batting his eyes, looking as coquettish as possible. oh my god. oh my god.

CALLING HIM JACK. i’m so unwell this is so gay.

“we’ve been brought together for a reason” oh my god he thinks they’re murder soulmates

HIS SMILLLLEE

“for eternity.” gnawing on the bars of my enclosure

not him asking her out, nigel’s gonna be PISSED

the sword to his neck 🤭 OMG THE RUNNING IT DOWN HIS SPINE WHAT THE FUCK

the way he says “jack” i’m gonna pass out

“my name is alex. stay away from me.” NOOO it’s ok nigel i’ll be your jack

taking the gay goggles off for a second nigel clearly is in desperate need of a friend and is trying so hard to make alex his friend and it’s making me super sad bc he doesn’t seem to quite understand why it’s not working :(((

but also nigel baby stop breaking into his room

it’s giving yandere tbh

“what’s with the knife” *biggest most innocent doe eyes* “i don’t know what you mean, jack”

HOLY SHIT NIGEL. I FIGURED HE WAS GONNA KILL HER BUT WHAT THE FUCK.

i feel bad for her fr tho she didn’t do nothin wrong. not her fault alex is oblivious to his psychopath boyfriend

lol alex looking around for nigel when he finds out she’s dead. he’s not stupid, i’ll give him that

HE TOOK THE KNIFE

nigel’s very bad at acting innocent

“i sense some hostility” NO REALLY

they look like they’re abt to kiss

“no jack, you did it.” babe.

“feels good to vent one’s anger doesn’t it jack””i don’t want any part of this” “too late for that��

oh he’s CRAZY

he so sure that alex is just as nuts as he is.

OHH MCKENZIE IS IN THE CLUB TOO?? INTERESTING

wtf happened to nigel’s parents

babe being cryptic is not helping your situation

OOOH ARE THEY GONNA FIND NIGEL’S LITTLE ROOM OF CREEPY SHIT

i bet his parents are dead

hehe the jack <3

his jars of dead shit are so weird

was that a drawing of the dead kid?

nigel has rly nice handwriting omg

idk if the knowledge that it’s purely for scientific interest makes the pictures of the sleeping girl better or worse

HE TAXIDERMIZED HIS PARENTS???

he calls them helen and john???

love him introducing alex like he’s his boyfriend

THE EYE CONTACT HELLO??

nigel looks so dead inside omg

“stop it, nigel :((“

OH HE MADE THE BIBLE??? i thought it was a book he had not smth he created that’s actually pretty cool

“our union” 🤨🤨 its giving marriage

“nigel was right about this” hmmm boyfriend behaviour

omg mckenzie SUCKS like he’s just kind of an asshole

“i knew you couldn’t resist a secret rendezvous <3”

“you didn’t know nigel”

DID HE FUCK HER CORPSE

“my dearest jack”

IS HE SLEEPING WITH HIS MOTHER

THE PICTURES WERE OF HIS MOTHER????

his lack of reaction to her getting shot…

SO MUCH JUST HAPPENED IN A SPAN OF 30 SECONDS

he’s so clinical about the cleanup…

he’s so pretty…

HES SO FUCKED IN THE HEAD

omg does he want jack to be his maraclea is that why he got the gun (ik his mom was his maraclea let me be delulu)

he rly thinks this is completely justified

HOLF SHIT HE PULLED THE TRIGGER

i’m so sad he’s dead :(( gimme my babygirl back

holy fuck alex got released

AND HE KEPT THE BOOK

“my beloved susan” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

“nigel got what he wanted…eternity”

OH MY FUCKING GOD J CANT BELEJEV HE DID THAT… continuing nigel’s work… oh my fucking god

“you like history.” BITCH WHAT

Edit: I forgot to give the movie a rating .-. 500/10 i fucking loved it, i’m already making a forbie playlist

#like minds #like minds 2006 #forbie #jt watches stuff

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 year

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💄 Anomalous: Chapter Eleven

Anomalous: You are attending a make-up artist convention in London, England for your work as a MUA yourself. Little do you expect to meet a handsome stranger at a bar, proceed to ditch your friends with him, have a one-night stand, and then flee because you are late for a convention event. Unbeknownst to you, that will not be the last time you see that handsome stranger, and now that you think about it… you really should have gotten his number.

Warnings: UNEDITED, Language.

To Note: Tom Sturridge x MUAFem!Reader, Respect The Actor! (This is Fiction), Reader has long hair for reasons, You can thank @pinksirensong for this lovely mini series.

Word Count: ~2.5k

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“No, Agnes, I don’t think that this is an appropriate outfit for the theatre or dinner.” You stated with your hands on your hips while you scowled at your grinning friend. Agnes need you up and down.

“Hmm, perhaps a private dinner in the future then?” She offered, not the least apologetic for forcing you into the monstrosity of a dress.

“No,” You enunciated, your eye twitching slightly. “Now, could you please help me find something that is appropriate for the theatre and a dinner afterwards? This is serious, Aggie.” Her eyebrow rose and her childish expression disappeared.

“Oh, so you two are really serious about this?” She perked up.

“Serious about getting to know each other, the whole boyfriend and girlfriend is kind of a running joke between us at this point. But yes, we are seriously trying to get to know each other.” You explained, wrinkling your nose at the dress you wore. “So, is there a serious dress in the mess of clothes you pulled out?”

Agnes rolled out of her bed and trotted over to the pile of clothes she’d pulled. You watched as she tsked and made noises as she messily pawed through fabric. Eventually, she pulled out a dress that looked like it was a navy blue color. Turning around, Agnes held up the dress, it wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short either. Probably knee length, the dress was a navy blue, short sleeves, with a v neckline. It wasn’t overly formal, and it wasn’t too simple. Jut the right amount of formal, without being too casual.

“I like that one,” You commented. “But is it my size? Cause I am never wearing a dress too small for me ever again.” Agnes smirked at you before tossing the dress at you. You caught it against your chest.

“It’s about your size, Libby wore it for her grandmothers luncheon… but we both know she’s never gonna wear this dress ever again. She likes mini skirts and leather.”

“I’m surprise that she even humored putting it on,” You mused, turning in place and heading for the bathroom to change. Shedding yourself of the dress you currently wore, you unzipped the navy dress and pulled up the new dress. You slipped your hands into the arms and wiggled your shoulders until the dress was on. It felt nice. The neckline was respectable. It wasn’t too short or too long.

“So? How does it look?” Agnes probed from her bedroom. Exiting the bathroom, your fingers twisted behind you to zip up the dress while she looked you up and down. “Okay, I’ll admit that you look nice and respectable, perfect for the theatre and a nice dinner… but I still think you could look hotter.”

“Aggie,” You enunciated, giving her a look. “Would you please just zip me up and help me find a pair of heels that won’t kill my feet tonight?” She made a face at you but did as you asked, zipping up the dress with a hum.

“Okay, I’ve got some black wedges that’ll fit with the dress. Shouldn’t be too hard on your feet.” Agnes mused, patting your shoulder. “Besides, worst comes to worst? Just get Tom to carry you, I bet that he would do it in a heartbeat.”

“I am not having Tom carry me because my feet hurt!” She rolled her eyes at you and went to retrieve the heels. You took a moment to glance at Agnes’ mirror, picking at a strand of your hair that had fallen in your face. You didn’t need to stress over this, you didn’t need to fuss or preen. It was just a chance to see a play and then dinner… with the guy you’ve fucked… twice…

“Shit,” You muttered to yourself, resisting the urge to push your hands into your face and ruin the makeup you had on. So you dug your nails into your palms and stressed that way, trying to wrap your mind around this absurd situation. “Get a grip, Y/N, get a grip.”

You weren’t rushing things. You were just getting to know Tom… while fucking him on the side… well at least the ice was broken between you. Agnes came back with the heels and you sat down on the side of her bed to put them on.

“So considering that this is Passionfruit Milkshake Man, I don’t think I need to worry about an SOS text or call from a bathroom?” Your friend offered with a chuckle. Your own lips twitched as you wiggled your left foot.

“If I need an SOS with Tom, there is something seriously wrong with me,”

“Pretty please?”

“Really’d rather not…”

“Not even for me…?” Tom broached, batting his long eyelashes at you while he held up a forkful of food that you had never tried before, and were hesitant to do so. You sighed and rolled your eyes. The man really had the pleading look down pat and could coheres you into doing almost anything. At least this was just a tiny bite of food you’d never tried. It wouldn’t kill you, and you knew that by doing so, a blindingly beautiful smile would appear on Tom’s face because the man simply couldn’t help how happy little things made him.

“Alright,” you relented, smiling at the instantaneous beam that appeared on his face. “I’ll try one bite, just for you.”

“I swear it’s nothing weird, but I think you’ll like it!” Tom exclaimed as he moved the forkful closer to you. Bending forward, you let him feed the forkful to you. It took you at least thirty seconds to formulate a response.

“So, it’s not something I would have ordered for myself… but it’s not bad and I can see why you like it,” You said to Tom while running your thumb beneath your lip. “How often do you get it?”

“Not as much as I’d like, with the filming of Sandman, I am on a strict diet.” You eyed his plate of food nervously. He wasn’t going to get in trouble because of you, was he? Tom could see your thought process. “I’m allowed cheat days, no naked Dream this season so I don’t need to be that fit.”

“Fit?” You repeated while reaching for your wine. “You looked like an alien.”

“That was the idea!” He grinned, happy that you were describing him in the way he had wanted to portray. Reaching for your glass, you gave him a curvy smile.

“A very beautiful one at that,” You added, fulling enjoying the way red creeped up his cheeks and even to his ears. Unable to help yourself, you reached across the table and brushed your fingers along his jawline. “It’s a good thing you’re covered up this season, I think I’d get jealous if Dream gave the audience any more film to drool over.”

“Liked what you saw?” Tom leered at you. You snorted.

“I believe you know the answer to that, Thomas.” Your words make his leer turn into a smirk and widen, and you rolled your eyes. “I can appreciate a physique but I’m more interested in personality than looks… though I wouldn’t have minded the chance to trace those muscles with my tongue.” Tom choked on the wine he was sipping as you grinned and swiped your tongue across your lips. Then you added a final blow. “Though I might have a chance to appreciate some of it later…”

You thought Tom actually inhaled the wine with the way he started coughing and full on laughed at him. It was music to his ears and such a beautiful sound to hear… but it was hard to enjoy when he was coughing so hard because of your dirty minded remarks. That he would definitely be indulging in soon. Nonchalantly handing him your napkin, you smugly smiled as he took it and the snickered when he gave you a narrowed look. You just blinked innocently.

“Are you alright dear?” As Tom’s coughs subsided, he stared at you and wondered just how much of you-you had held back that night. Plenty it seemed.

“Are you trying to make me indecent?” Tom hissed at you. You laughed again and ate your last bite of dinner.

“Just enjoying myself,” You explained, leaning back in your seat while your eyes dropped to the clothes Tom wore. It was just a nice shirt, jacket and pants, but you were convinced that he made anything look good. Tom flushed beneath your gaze and spent the rest of the dinner fitting against a raging erection from the picture you had painted.

You were walking back from dinner, desserts in hand (which were from Jelladrome of course), walking about what had been going on in your lives for the last 7 months.

“No, but really, I spent at least two months helping the designer work the designs into the shows with the paint and then figuring out how to maintain the look while under the lights. Between the moving body parts, potential fabric chafes, and the chaos of chasing back stage…” You sighed deeply and stared up at the dark sky, wondering how you had managed to keep that show running properly. “Let’s just say there were five of us running around constantly fixing things with extra paint and nitrogen. It get’s so sweaty backstage.”

“Did you at least enjoy the process of designing the makeup? Surely you got some sort of enjoyment out of a furry runway show.” Tom asked, thinking over the kinds of things you’d have seen backstage at such an event.

“Making the designs work with the human body and movement were pretty fun,” You agreed, taking a sip of your milkshake. “But at the same time, naked bodies, everywhere.”

“Naked bodies?” Tom repeated, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. Where did naked bodies factor into a runway show? You chuckled and smiled up at him.

“We don’t use changing rooms when switching out costume.” You explained with a scrunched face. “I’ve gotten flashed more times I ever cared for… but it’s part of working backstage to a runway show. You learn to ignore it, we’re all too busy to care about nudity.”

“That make me feel like my scene for The Sandman was nothing.” Tom mused, his head cocking to the side in consideration.

“I wouldn’t say that,” It was hardly comparable to you. Your eyes met Tom’s and you smiled. “Unlike the backstage of a runway show, everyone is looking at you in that scene. That takes a whole different kind of bravery and self confidence to pull off a scene like that.”

“Well it was part of my job and I agreed to the contract.” Tom pointed out. “Plus I did work hard to create a body that people would believe was Dream of the Endless’.”

“You achieved that,” You said, eyeing him once more before taking a long sip of your milkshake. ‘And more,” You added, wanting to make him squirm again. Well Tom didn’t squirm but he did groaned like you were torturing him quite mercilessly. Well to had been. The entire night actually. “Don’t make that sound, I’m not even trying yet.” He stopped short and stared at you, your face plastered with innocence while a simmering tease was hidden behind your eyes. He was about to make a return that would surely bring sweet payback for everything you had caused since he picked you up earlier in the night, when a ringtone went off.

“Who is calling me now?” You sighed, digging into your purse to find your phone.

“Is it the set?” Tom asked, squinting at the phone you pulled out and worrying that you were going to get dragged in on your off hours.

“Not sure, I don’t have anything on the schedule…” You trailed off when you say the number on your screen. “What the hell do you want now, Ryan??” You growled in exasperation before giving Tom a look. “Sorry, this will only take a minute.”

Stepping away so Tom didn’t need to hear your full blow up, you hit accept (because he wouldn’t stop calling until you picked up).

“Hello, this is Y/L/N,” You spoke robotically, trying to set the tone of the conversation as no nonsense and so Ryan would finally get the hint that you had no interest in him whatsoever.

“You’re in the tabloids, with a man, who is Tom Sturridge?” You pinched your forehead, knowing exactly why he had called. he always had jealousy issues, even after you had broken up.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it fucking does!”

“Do explain to me how it matters to you when you are not my boyfriend?” You reiterated, already fed up and you hadn’t even been talking to Ryan for thirty seconds. “Look, I’m kind of busy right now so if that’s all you have to complain about I think I’ll be hanging up.”

“Don’t be a bitch, Y/N, you know dating a celebrity never ends well for anyone. You’re no different.”

“Resorting to name calling, real original and welcoming Ryan. I may be a bitch, but at least I’m a faithful bitch.” You said, calling out the very reason you had broken up with him in the first place, before hitting the end button. “Jesus Christ what do I have to do to get it in his thick head that I don’t want anything to do with him anymore?”

“Delete his number? Block him?” Tom offered, moseying on over to where you stood. You let out a half hearted chuckle.

“I would if I could, but he’d just annoy my mother who would then annoy me until I unblock him. I had hoped he would just get the hint, but for some reason Ryan seems to think he’s still got a chance with me.” You sighed and rubbed your cheek. “He always manages to ruin my day in some shape or form…”

“I wouldn’t consider today, ruined,” Tom corrected you. “The nights not even over yet.” You looked into his face and smiled.

“You are correct in that, he just— he puts a bad taste in my mouth and ruins my mood.”

“Don’t answer him next time,” Tom said as he took a step closer to you.

“He’ll keep calling,” You countered. He shrugged.

“Turn your phone off.”

“But work—”

“Will not be calling you at ten thirty at night.” Tom reminded you. “If you’re not on the clock, you’re not on the clock and you don’t need to make sure your phone is always on.” You blinked and then shed. Tom really was a different kind of man.

“Okay then,” You replied, taking your phone an losing at it for a moment. Then you turned it off and put it away.

“Now,” Tom started, taking your hand a pulling your body against his. Your free hand ended up pressed against his chest, and you leaned in closer. “The night is far from being over, let alone ruined.” Your eyes were sparkling with happiness again, and that made Tom very happy. “I believe you mentioned something about wanting to appreciate?”

You took that as a challenge.

Date Published: 7/6/23

Last Edit: 7/6/23 (UNEDITED)

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#tom sturridge x you #tom sturridge x reader #tom sturridge

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bi-apps · 4 years

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Accepted - Rabastan Lestrange

lyinginthemeadowes

submitted:Application for Rabastan Lestrange

OOC Information:

Name/Age/Timezone- Ashley, 25, PST

Activity Level- I’m sorry - I know I sucked this week, but on average my activity is about a 6 out of 10.

Ships/Anti-Ships- Angst and chemistry.

Did you read the rules? Yes, I did! :)

IC Information:

Character Name- Rabastan Amir Lestrange

Age/Birthdate- 24; June 30, 1954.

Faceclaim-

1. Gaspard Ulliel 2. Chris Wood 3. Tom Sturridge 4. Theo James

Occupation- He claims he is “self-employed,” but in actuality he is more of a socialite.

Blood Status- Pureblooded, Sacred 28.

Traits-

(+) Resourceful (+) Ambitious (+) Dynamic

(-) Resentful (-) Calculating (-) Vindictive

Patronus- Rabastan’s patronus is a hawk primarily due to his attention to detail and strive to achieve perfectionism in all of his crafts. Also very much like the hawk, he shows keen intelligence and does not like to be trapped or limited by any barriers.

Boggart- His brother’s dead and mangled body. After all, Rodolphus is the one person on this planet he truly loves and would be beside himself without despite all other grievances.

Key Points-

One constant in Rabastan’s life is his relentless desire to please those closest to him. He often wondered how different his life would have looked if he had been the firstborn child. Instead, Rabastan Amir Lestrange grew up and discovered quite bitterly that he was a few years too late to being the coveted child and rightful heir. It wasn’t as if Rabastan was ever neglected. The Lestrange Family was well off—they always took care of their own. There was, however, an emotional element missing. It was hard watching his brother receive praise after praise from his parents as children while Rabastan rotated through new nannies at alarming rates. The boy stirred up trouble at every viable opportunity, scheming for familial attention and then breaking down when the result was anything but expected. Rabastan watched from afar as his parents groomed Rodolphus with certain assurances and promises about the greatness he was destined for and what he stood to inherit. It triggered Rabastan to feel so much contempt for an individual he relied on with his utmost being and yet he continually wanted to find new ways to impress Rodolphus. He could not resist somehow being in his orbit, which made it difficult the first few years they were apart.

Being at home without his brother proved to be both mundane and meaningless. While he didn’t have anyone to bump heads with, he also didn’t have the same competition that drove him forward. Rabastan felt stagnant until finally starting Hogwarts. The young wizard approached the new experience with an open mindset. He knew the world was full of possibilities for him and he was looking forward to getting a fresh start away from the prying eyes of relatives. However after being sorted into Slytherin, Rabastan learned this new segment of his life wouldn’t be all he amped it up to be in his mind. Rodolphus was already well-known; not just amongst members of their shared house, but the entire school. Rabastan felt much smaller than he was during those initial years. He feared he might be stuck living in his brother’s shadow for the rest of his life if he couldn’t find a way to break through the barrier.

Upon graduating from Hogwarts, Rabastan immediately knew he didn’t want to work a standard job or live a mundane life. At the expense of his family, he had more than enough means to figure things out on his own—so that’s exactly what he did. At eighteen years old, Rabastan briefly explored various portions of the world including Venice, Italy and continental portions of Europe where the art of gambling was originally founded. He was no stranger to the craft, but decided to take the time to expand his knowledge base on the subject which he would later use to his advantage. The wizard knew he had a special talent when it came to arithmancy, which he twisted to his advantage. He learned to count cards when it was applicable, and even discovered sequences that proved useful when placing bets on sporting events such as quidditch.

Gambling became one of Rabastan’s prime interests—he centered his entire life around it. He typically garnered success executing his carefully laid out tactics and strange methodologies, but not always. The wizard was known for going off on the occasional binder. At twenty-one, his family briefly cut him off from his trust fund in order to do damage control. He had gone nearly seven days without sleeping—fueled by a mixture of alcohol and questionable potions, it was apparent he wasn’t in his right mind. He gambled away more than a quarter of his inheritance over that time period—it was a hefty sum of money and, though he later made it back by completing an astute collection of ambiguous and borderline illegal tasks, it wasn’t his proudest moment. The wizard then went on to turn his momentary lapse of judgment into a sleazy, yet wildly successful and ingenious part-time business. For the right price he would be willing to commit certain crimes like arson or larceny, always laced with his own creative twist.

Ensuring his identity is well-guarded, the wizard wears a dark cloak and hides his face beneath shadows and concealment charms. Though Rabastan doesn’t remember the exact moment everything spiraled out of control, this alter ego has provided him with the exact sense of individuality he has been searching for all his life. For once, he feels he has stepped out of his brother’s shadow and achieved something entirely on his own—only the painstaking irony is everything he does is still done in the shadows. When the notorious ( and completely self-dubbed ) pyromaniac Napalm isn’t slumming the streets of Knockturn Alley looking for new business, the socialite Rabastan Lestrange is usually busy keeping up appearances within the community. The Lestrange Family plays a prominent role in the financial backbone of the wizarding community by often donating large sums of money to those they support and, though he isn’t the first-born son he wishes he was, Rabastan has learned the hard way that it is best if he doesn’t dishonor the Lestrange Family name again.

Changes/Extra Info- N/A

Para Sample- I just want to apologize in advance for this. Rabastan is A LOT to deal with sometimes.

(tw: death, tw: murder, tw: abuse)

Golden embers whipped and whistled in the taunting summer breeze as Rabastan admired the blue-eyed girl running across the hillside. The girl, though no older than twelve or thirteen, was an exquisite work of art etched onto a living canvas of flesh with an apprehensive and narrowed bone structure. Nearing fourteen at the time, Rabastan reckoned it was the closest he ever felt to love, as he had a chance encounter with what life might have looked like had a different path divulged. However he would never confess to these sinful desires in early adolescence. The muggle was an abomination to his livelihood and he had been groomed of such assurances upon every available opportunity, until one day he snapped altogether, damning the reflection of an angel to wither and derail her days away in hell right beside him.

The sun beat down, scorching against the nape of his neck as he sauntered out from the canopy of oversized trees. Like an enemy on the prowl, Rabastan lurked in the shadows while watching the girl play with restless and hungry eyes. Her freckle-covered legs were lost beneath tall and wispy blades of grass, which he noted was long overdue for a trim. The wizard assumed that’s why she entertained herself there day after day, basking in the comfort the cool grass provided during these blistering hot summer days. Minutes passed until the fair angel took notice of him. She bore an innocent, yet totally despicable look in her crystal skeleton eyes, which made him eager to sink his teeth into her flesh as he glided his tongue across the surface of smooth lips. Seeded by his family’s blatant hatred, Rabastan perceived the sole way to silence his arbitrary desire would be something concrete; something both finite and fatal. The angel welcomed him with opened arms; it was the first and only time a slaughter would come to pass so easily.

As he meandered over, Rabastan’s growing-silhouette darkened the rays of sunlight that danced through her bouncing head of curls. The angel—laughing and smiling without a care in the world— continued to wave up at him, shielding a single eye from the stray sunshine that reflected in her oceanic eyes. She called his name and he cringed; he was lost in thought—maybe even perplexed—wondering if he could go through with the daunting task plaguing his doubtful mind. He knew how easy he could coax himself into action when equipped with his wand, but using magic outside of school was strictly forbidden. “Besides,” a little voice echoed off in his head, “your first kill should be done with your hands. You need to remember the first time living flesh stops pulsating in your bare hands.”

“Do you want to play a game?” Rabastan asked the younger girl who quickly dropped her doll and rose to her feet. “What game?” She nodded vigorously as her mute blue eyes widened with intensity. “Hide-and-Seek,” he breathed, exhaling raspy breath as he shoveled his hands into his pockets. The girl boiled with excitement at the thought—a cute older boy was inviting her to play a game, what could possibly go wrong? It was evident she hadn’t the faintest idea what was in store for her as they traversed across the weed-choked terrain and back toward the trees where he first emerged. “How about you count and I will hide first?” The smirk on his face was perceived as nothing more than a harmless smile and the angel quickly agreed without protest. She adjusted herself at the trunk of a large oak tree, which she used to blacken out her eyes as she recited a string of muffled numbers out loud.

“Ready or not, here I come!” She called out and Rabastan noted her voice was more celestial sounding than ever. It would be the last time he ever heard it. She turned around and quickly became disorientated when she discovered he was already towering above her. She didn’t have time to react because he didn’t hesitate. He forced her to the ground and, though she struggled, he successfully pinned her down with the full weight of his body. Rabastan was weaker then, however compared to the sheltered and fucking pitiful muggle seizing in his grip, he was a lethal weapon wired to kill by nature. She struggled beneath him, flailing various body parts in an attempt to free herself from the chains of his fatal touch. With adrenaline pumping and instincts thriving like never before, he balled his hand into a fist and fired his best weapon at her.

Blood instantly trickled from her nose and stained Rabastan’s hands before conjoining them around her neck. It was a seemingly perfect fit and he quickly became high off the idealism that this very moment—his desire leading to indispensable action—was somehow part of a greater destiny. He tightened his restraint around her, slowly sending her deeper into the fate which he controlled. Rabastan’s subconscious desire was to revert his gaze anywhere but her own, however he would not let himself forget this special day. As she heeded consciousness for the last time in her short and disgusting life, he stared down into her blinding crystal blue spheres. They were more reprimanding now than ever, however as she lost the final stages of alertness, Rabastan too lost something; his perception transpired and whatever feeling he had disintegrated. As he choked the last breath from her body, she suddenly became the dirt she was always intended to. A fallen angel who went to sleep on earth woke up in hell because on that day Rabastan Lestrange chose to make earth his own hell.

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 year

Text

💄 Anomalous: Chapter One

Warnings: Alcohol Mentions.

To Note: Tom Sturridge x MUAFem!Reader, Respect The Actor! (This is Fiction), Reader has long hair for reasons, You can thank @pinksirensong for this lovely mini series.

Word Count: ~2.2k

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“Y/N Y/L/N,” You offered to the receptionist, adjusting the strap of the bag on your shoulder. Fingers clicked away on an iPad keyboard for a few moments more.

“Ah, there you are,” They spoke, tapping the screen before twisting in their seat and riffling through alphabetized name cards. They pulled out a name card with your name neatly printed on it and held it out along with a lanyard. “Welcome to the London Radical Makeup Convention, take a bag, you will find the itinerary for the talks and demonstrations, list of vendors, and a few other helpful pamphlets.”

Thanking the receptionist, you grabbed one of the bags and joined your friends who were currently cooing over a nearby poster. It was one of the popular make up artists in the industry at the moment.

“Are you done fawning over them or shall I leave you alone with the poster for a few more minutes?” You asked them, your eyes crinkling as you smirked. You received dirty looks, even insulted ones, at your dig at their devotion to the artist.

“You do realize that this Benny, don’t you!?” Neli gasped dramatically, as if you had just stated an egregious sentence. Well, in her world you had. Your eyebrow popped up and you waved your hand at the poster.

“Yes, Nel, it’s Benny, their just another makeup artist that has talent.” Neli gasped further as Julien rolled his eyes and Isabella shook her head.

“No, you just don’t get it, babe, Benny’s the hot and upcoming star, they’re like the it person of the makeup artist world! They’re even making an appearance at one of the panels!” Isabella chirped, drumming her impeccable nails on her caramel arm.

“And? I’m here for the VFX panels, not an artist who made it up the chain by pure luck and not talent.” You stated dryly. “Benny’s an air headed influencer that doesn’t have any color sense and really needs to shave that stupid mullet. God forbid it becomes a new trend…”

Neli let out a strangled gasp, clutching at her chest, while Isabella’s face scrunched. At least Julien seemed to agree with you on the mullet comment.

“Babe, that mullet needs to go,” He nodded in agreement. “If I had two minutes and a pair of clippers…” Julien sighed, clearly daydreaming about getting rid of the backwater red neck abomination.

“You both are terrible, it’s their classic look!” Neli argued, stomping her foot on the floor.

“Yes and you can tell us all about how terrible we are on the way to our room.” You said, pushing Neli away from the line of people lined up and waiting to check in for the convention. “Come on, we’re blocking people.”

Neli and Isabella grumbled the entire way to your shared room on the third floor of the hotel. The four of you had decided to be frugal with certain expenses while in London. So you had reserved a two bed hotel room to share, it would be tight with four adults… but you would be able to spend your money on what really mattered: the makeup and experience of being in the city. At least Isabella was petite and Julien gay, it made your friendship and living together easy. It also payed to have a hairstylist just getting into makeup. Julien was often a godsend on bad hair days.

Upon entering the hotel room, Isabella flopped onto one of the beds and Neli darted over to the window to get a view of London. You looked at Julian.

“Bed partners again?” Julian gave Neli a wary side eye.

“Definitely, babe, I don’t want to wake up to face hugger over there trying to claw my face off again.” He made a face while you snorted out a laugh. The last time the four of you had shared a hotel room had been while you went out to see a runway show in Las Vegas. You and Isabella had been woken to Julien’s high pitched screech as he forcefully removed a very asleep Neli. That was the last time Julian had shared a bed with little Neli and you were family sure he had some sort of trauma from it.

“Sounds good,” You echoed, venturing further into the hotel room. You were looking forwards to hearing about the new types of makeup for your work and eager to learn about the advancements in prosthetics. The type of makeup art you did was special effects and prosthesis, and usually not beauty related. That wasn’t to say you couldn’t whip up a beautiful look with your makeup, you absolutely could… you just had a big interest in movie makeup and creating characters.

Dropping your shoulder bag on your selected bed, you let your luggage roll to a stop next to you. It was lightly packed with room for the makeup samples you were going to buy from the vendors. While you were digging through the bag you had picked up from the receptionist, you vaguely heard Isabella and Neli talking about going out to a bar one of the nights to enjoy the nightlife at least once. You didn’t have much interest in going out, your entire focus was on learning as much as you could. Whatever it was that the pair wanted to do, you had no interest in it.

“I’d really rather not,” You stated dryly, eyeing the clothes Neli and Isabella had pulled out. “Surely you’d rather have fun without me…” Neli raised her eyebrow at you and crossed her arms.

“No, not an option, Y/N, you are coming with us,” She insisted. “We came to London to have fun, okay? I don’t want to have fun with you moping around in our hotel room.” She pointed out, Isabella nodding along and agreeing with her statement. “I know they’re not really your thing, but don’t stay holed up in this room the whole time we’re here, will you?”

You didn’t want to, really didn’t want to, but your friends were looking at you with such pleading looks. You didn’t want to be the Debbie downer on this trip. So you heaved out a soft sigh and gave them all a wilted look. It would only be a few hours… right? A few hours of being at a bar, with loud people, drunk people, music that may or may not be palatable… it was unappealing but you loved your friends.

“Okay, but you know I didn’t bring anything nice to wear, just comfortable clothing.” You told them, eyeing the shiny clothing Neli and Isabella would no doubt be wearing. Julien perked up, a sly smile appearing on his face.

“Babe, you know that you and Izzy are about the same size.” He pointed out. Your eyes flickered to his.

“She’s like two sizes smaller than me,” You shot back, nose wrinkling at the thought of squeezing into Isabella’s tight skinny jeans. That wouldn’t work, your hips were far too curvaceous for that. Julian’s smile widened.

“Izzy baby, you bring that black dress of yours?” A smile stretched across Isabella’s face and she rushed over to her luggage and dug around. You groaned the moment she pulled out a slinky black stretch dress. This did not bode well for you.

“That’s not going to fit,” You meekly spoke, fidgeting where you stood.

“It’s body con, Y/N, it’ll fit.” Julien said, snatching the dress from Isabella and approaching you. He thrust the dress into your chest and you stepped back. “Put that on and I’ll work my magic.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes!”

The dress stretched around your body, nearly bursting at the seams. You hated it. Hated it so much! First, your cleavage was nearly bursting out of the neckline (a bombshell look Isabella called it). Second, you had to continually tug on the hem of the dress because it kept hiking up… and the shoes. No, you weren’t wearing shoes, you were wearing heels. Your feet were shoved into one of the pairs Isabella had brought. Why she needed to bring so many, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you were dolled up and you didn’t like it. It wasn’t you, you didn’t do fancy dresses, heels, makeup. As ironic as it was for you to say, you preferred to be the one doing the makeup, not wearing it. Oh course your friends thought otherwise. Isabella was almost drooling over your cleavage, Neli was currently raving about how well your body looked in the dress, and Julian was gushing over your eyes.

You were silently willing time to move faster.

Walking to the bar, you hated that it was summer and you had no reason to bundle up in a coat to shield your body from pedestrians. They were looking, and most certainly appreciating. Isabella was already humming under her breath, clearly excited for the night, and Neli was practically skipping. You could take solace in this night that at least they were enjoying themselves. Upon entering the bar, you experienced exactly what you were expecting and disliked. Loud music, equally loud people, a smell of smoke and sweat, drunk people already.

“I have so many regrets right now,” You muttered weakly as the girls dragged you to the bar and you tried your best to ignore the hungry stares you received. Keeping your head down, you scurried up to the bar and tried to disappear into the bar top as Isabella and Neli ordered several drinks. Your eyes flickered around the crowded space, and you spotted an empty table tucked away in the corner, it was like a little safe haven at this point. The moment the drinks were placed in front of Isabelle and Neli, you snatched them and scurried over to that table, tucking yourself far, far away from the eyes of hungry people.

As the pair eyed you while you sat down and practically hunched over to hide your more than adequate cleavage, your eyes swept the bar for where Julian had gone. He was already chatting up a pretty man on the far side of the bar.

“He moves fast,” You commented dryly. Neli snorted in agreement as Isabella raked her eyes over the crowd of pub goers. She was already looking for someone to hook up with, you just knew it. Or maybe someone to have a quick and dirty bathroom fling. You tried not to think about what your friends had in mind for the night and turned your attention to your drink. Hopefully your night wouldn’t entail being harassed by unwanted advances and people would keep their hands to themselves.

You had sulked in the background of the bar for at least two hours and were ready to slam your head against the small table you had not moved from. The drink you had been sipping was empty and as much as you wanted another, it was in your best interest to not have another alcoholic beverage and just get a water. You wanted to keep your wits about you, certainly in this type of situation. So standing up from your seat, you grabbed your glass and carefully picked your way through the crowd to the bar. You had to shy away from wandering hands and ignore blatant cat calls. This was exactly why you ignored bars in general. You made it to the bar and discovered that you were only really going to have a chance at asking for a water if you went to the very end of the long bar.

Wiggling your way to the counter, you waved at the bartender who gave you a chin lift in acknowledgement. She finished the drink she was making, and started making another as she walked over to where you stood.

“What can I get you, love?”

“Just a water, please.” You requested, ignoring the stares from those around you and choosing to look up at the line of bottles on the wall. Your water was delivered quickly and you sipped it as you retreated to the back of the bar for a reprieve from the hungry gazes and stares. This was the last time you were humoring your friends because you were both miserable and starving. Gulping your water, you dropped it in a bussing bin and took to aimlessly staring at the pictures on the back wall. It was covered with polaroids and other pictures of people, just randomly taped to the wall. “Do they ever take them down?” You softly mused to yourself, noticing that the pictures were simply placed over others.

“They don’t,” A voice replied from next to you. You looked to your left and saw a dark haired man staring at the wall. His eyes met yours and you were shocked by the blueness of his irises. “The owners just let people tape new pictures over the old ones.” You blinked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“And how long has this place been open?” You questioned, wondering just how many pictures were layered on this very wall. He shrugged while his lips twitched, then he turned toward you.

“Decades I think, been coming here for as long as I can remember.” He said, his head tilting to the side while he smiled. “But I haven’t seen you here before and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

Date Published: 12/17/22

Last Edit: 4/25/23

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#tom sturridge #tom sturridge x you #tom sturridge x reader

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 year

Text

💄 Anomalous: Chapter Five

Warnings: Language.

To Note: Tom Sturridge x MUAFem!Reader, Respect The Actor! (This is Fiction), Reader has long hair for reasons, You can thank @pinksirensong for this lovely mini series.

Word Count: ~2.1k

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“Never,” You answered, your lips curling at Tom’s exaggerated (and slightly outrageous) reaction to your answer. “I’ve never been.”

“Well then you must now,” Tom sniffed dramatically. You giggled and turned your head to look at him laying next to you.

“Must I?” You broached, knowing that you were just going to work him up now that you knew of his passion for Broadway and plays.

“Of course you must!” Tom reiterated proudly, rolling on his side to face you and staring at you indignantly. “Plays encompass the whole of humanities ability to perform and understand another’s viewpoint and…” You stopped listening to him as he rattled on with passion and fire burning in his eyes. He was positively adorable. You were not going to tell him that though… Three minutes later and Tom was still passionately giving you the riot act about your need to see a broadway show when he caught sight of the slight smirk in the corner of your mouth and the glint in your eye. “You’re playing me, aren’t you.”

Giggling once more, you reached over and brushed your fingers through his hair, letting your fingers trail down his face.

“I like your voice and hearing your passion,” You admitted, trailing your fingers along his jaw and then brushing your fingertips over his lips. “It’s rather inspiring and refreshing to hear.”

“You like my voice?” Tom asked, his metaphorical dog ears perking up as his eyes sparkled. Raising your eyebrow, you tapped his lips with your finger.

“Yes and I am not going to apologize for liking it,” You replied frankly. “It’s also nice to hear someone talk so passionately about something they love. I’m just used to people with massive egos that bruise easily and constantly want to be told how great they are.”

Tom caught your hand and kissed your fingertips before weaving his fingers through yours.

“I think you need to be around people who actually appreciate you then,” Tom stated, liking the way your hand fit in his well. “And you also need to go see a broadway show.”

Snorting, you rolled your eyes and closed your fingers around his with a laugh.

“Fine, fine, I’ll put it on my must do list, just for you,” You told him, rolling to face him with a sleepy sigh. “I’m low on the food chain, I have to deal with self entitled assholes until I get some cred... and until them, tell me more about that play you were talking about earlier, Leopoldstadt was it?”

Nodding, Tom launched back into the broadway show. You really did want to hear about the broadway show, but fatigue and tiredness were making it hard for your eyes to stay open. Even Tom could see you nodding off, and when you did, he didn’t try to wake you up.

You don’t know what woke you up, but you did and groggily blinked your eyes. Something in your mind was telling you that something was wrong… but you couldn’t remember what that was. You felt an arm draped over your naked waist and soft breathing of someone against your neck. Then you felt the slight ache in your body, particularly between your legs, and remembered where you were. Relaxing back into Tom’s arms, you almost started slipping back to sleep, entirely content to be within his arms… when it hit you.

You had an early morning convention talk!

“Fuck!” You softly exclaimed, lurching up and twisting your head around in search for a clock. You found one on a nearby nightstand and had a heart attack. 6:38. Fuck! Cursing under your breath as panic filled you, you slipped out of Tom’s arms and from the bed, scrambling to your feet. Your dress was easy enough to find, it was were it had been left on the floor. So were your heels. But you could not, for the life of you, find your underwear. “Shit, shit, shit, I’m going to late!” You rushed out, your hands snatching your wallet and phone from the table.

Hastily dressed, you glanced back at the bedroom where Tom still slept. Fuck, you really didn’t want to leave without word… but your were going to be late. Whining and torn, you scurried out of Tom’s flat, feeling terrible for just leaving, but you couldn’t miss the convention talk! Not when your job depended on what you learned at the convention. So dashing down the streets of London, you were happy to find that those out and about, ignored your messy state. Hell, your dress didn’t cover any marks Tom had left, but at least your hair covered most of it. You decided to hop the tube to get back to your hotel the fastest, you still needed to get dressed appropriately.

Digging your hotel key out of your wallet, you stumbled your way into the hotel room to find it empty. Neli, Julien, and Isabella had probably already gone down to the talk. You flicked the heels off you feet, and scratched the dress off your body, searching your suitcase for clothes that would fully cover you. You found a comfortable pair of jeans and a sweater you could wear. Shimmying into your clean clothes, your cheeks remained hot as it became clear that you were in need of a shower.

Yanking your name tag over your head, you grabbed your grab bag and note pad and darted for the elevator. Hopefully you hadn’t missed too much. Since everyone was already at the talks, you managed to get to the conference room without further delay. You found your friends and were grateful to see that they had saved you a seat. Slipping into the seat between Julien and Neli, you ignored the looks from them. But then Julien was whispering in your ear.

“Whose bed did you crawl out of this morning!?” He hissed in your ear as the speaker rambled on about how glad they were to be here. You ground your teeth together, guilt filling your veins in memory of leaving Tom in bed, alone. That was such a dick move on your part.

“I’ll tell you later.”

And later meant when you were sitting through Benny talking about how great they were. Luckily you were sitting in the back few rows (thankfully) but unluckily, your friends wanted to know exactly why you had ditched them. So you had to explain that you ditched them to get take away with someone you just met, and then proceeded to have a one night stand with said person. All three of their jaws had dropped open. Out of the four of you, you were the least likely to have a one night stand.

“Bite me,” You huffed at them. Isabella leered at you, her eyes lingering on the marks she could see peeking out of your sweater.

“Well someone certainly did last night.” She answered, wiggling her eyes at you. You slumped in your seat with a grumble, crossing your arms. You were already missing Tom’s company.

7 Months Later

You were humming along to the music blaring backstage of the runway show you had been hired for. It was pandemonium, as it always was, and you were doing your best to fix the exotic makeup you had been responsible for creating. This particular runway was showcasing a clothing designer that had a fixation on snow and furries. It wasn’t really your thing, but you liked some of the designed pieces and the makeup look you had collaborated with the designer, looked perfect with the outfits.

“Y/N! We need immediate SOS on Sophie!” Someone called out, dragging your attention away from the model you were spraying with makeup setting spray.

“You’re good to go,” You told the model before shoving the canister of setting spray on your belt of tools. Sophie was dressed in some white leopard inspired costume and you had spent a good hour painting the spots on her body. One look on her face and you saw that some of the paint had been smudged near her jaw. One of the costume assistants ran up to you.

“It happened during the last outfit change,” She spoke as Sophie was retrofitted with her newest outfit. “We’ve got about forty five seconds before she’s got to go back out.” You didn’t waste any time responding. Your fingers dove for the box of makeup wipes clipped to your belt. Pulling one out, you stepped up to the model and carefully wiped away the smudged makeup. Then you reached back for a paintbrush and the little pallet of emergency paint you carried around.

“You’re going to have to walk with wet pain,” You warned her as your brush ran across her skin once more, covering her beautifully bronzed skin and returning her to her ‘furry’ look. You switched out the paintbrush for a detail brush and dabbed it into black paint. Then you brushed it across the back of your hand to get a crisp line before reaching up to line the details once more. “I’ll give you a spray with some nitrogen but…”

“Don’t touch,” Sophie spoke as her dress was zipped up and the furled collar was meticulously arranged on her neck. “The fur might brush my chin.”

“Keep your shoulder’s down,” You reminded her, focusing on the last little spot with your hand. “Not that you need to hear that… it should be fine.” One last swipe of the detail brush and you stepped back.

“Sophie you’re up in ten!” The model rushed towards the ramp. Not even twenty seconds later you were being called away to help another model. The show wasn’t long, only about forty five minutes, but you had been on your feet and running around backstage the entire time. You were exhausted, sweaty, and needed to sit down. Or sleep, you had gotten up at five this morning to get ready. Angelica, the designer, wanted you to stay for the afterparty because you had such a vital part in. You agreed, but only for a little while. You were dead on your feet. Lucky for you, most of the fashion designers and people who had been at the show were more interest in talking than hearing you talk so smiling and nodding worked just fine.

You were in the middle of pretending to be interested in listening to what some business man was saying when your phone started buzzing in your back pocket. Saved by your phone. Excusing yourself from the dry conversation, you stepped into a nearby hallway and answered your phone without checking the caller id.

“Hello, this is Y/N,” You spoke softly, your throat tired from yelling backstage.

“Miss Y/N, I am Justin Farmer, a producer from DC Entertainment and was wondering if you had a moment to talk?” Your eyebrow rose, wondering why a producer would be calling you.

“I’ve got time,” You answered, rubbing your forehead.

“Excellent, you see, I am currently helping to produce a Netflix series and our VFX makeup artist had to black out last minute. We are in dire need of a replacement as soon as possible and you were recommended.”

“I was recommended?” You repeated in disbelief. “By who?”

“Agnes Sherman, she had a great many things to say about your work and I and the other producers have reviewed your body of work. We would like to extend you a job offer as we are in dire need of an VFX artist and shooting resumes tomorrow afternoon.”

These things didn’t just happen to you, but if Agnes had recommended you, it must be in your wheelhouse.

“My schedule is open as of now,” You murmured, more to yourself than to Justin. “Where is the shooting and what’s the hourly wage?”

“England and we can offer an hourly wage of 38.00 an hour, which is subject for discussion if you are disagreeable… though we are quite desperate and think this is a generous offer.”

That was more than what you were making now.

“I’m in Chicago, so assuming that I did accept your offer, I’m not sure I can buy a ticket and get a working visa in time.”

“A visa has been arranged for you and a plane ticket awaits should you choose to accept.”

“So you were assuming I’d say yes…”

“Agnes was sure you would say yes,” Justin countered. You sighed, not excited at the idea of going home, hastily packing, and then flying out after a day like the one you just had. They were desperate and Agnes knew that your schedule was open and available.

“Okay, I’ll do it, send me the information and paperwork to my email and I’ll look it over while I’m in the air.” You answered, deciding to take the job despite having no idea what show it even was. Hopefully something you’d enjoy.

Date Published: 12/27/22

Last Edit: 5/29/23

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#tom sturridge x you #tom sturridge x reader #tom sturridge

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