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potatoofdefiance · 4 months ago

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My two cents and a rant on the allegations and Good Omens

(I will probably regret this later)

This has been eating at me for a while now, ever since the news broke that Neil Gaiman was a sex pest (see infamous TERF-adjacent podcast by Tortoise media) and I have been consciously and unconsciously ruminating over it for weeks now, so here goes.

I think the news of Neil Gaiman hit me harder than I was expecting, and certainly harder than I would have liked.

I didn’t (and certainly do not now) consider myself a “true fan”. I was never a hard-core fan, one that goes to signings or book fairs or cons to meet my favourite author. Partly because I never latched that much on any of the authors of the books or movies I loved, and partly (maybe for the best now that I think about it) because I never had the money, or wasn’t located in a geographically favored area. Meaning I never lived anywhere near wherever events with Neil Gaiman were happening.

So, with all this in mind, how is it that the news managed to hit me so hard?

I thought (read: ruminated) about it, and I think it is because of Good Omens. And the latest times. In my life, and I think a good chunk of other people’s lives too, these last few years have been a roller-coaster. You choose which particular scenario the roller-coaster is set into; mine is on fire, running through a sea of shit and we are being slapped by gooey flaming eels hard in the face.

Maybe someone might enjoy this. That someone isn’t me.

But the point is: I have been struggling. With my life, with a mental health condition, with the world and my place in it.

Enter Good Omens. In an effort to actively expose myself to “nice” stuff, stuff that would, if not make me feel better, at least make me laugh, I started tapping more into the fandom.

I’m not a fandom person. Again, never latched onto anything that had a fandom big enough (where are the Ann Halam fans? No one is making cosplays of Sloe from Siberia, are they?).

But with Good Omens, it seemed perfect for me. I wasn’t invested so much, it didn’t make me feel like I was “lacking” something in order to be part of it. I just felt like I didn’t care enough to really be vulnerable to it, I felt like it could have been a nice innocuous hobby.

But that’s the point. Thinking it was innocuous made me let down my guard enough to actually fall in love with the fandom. Fall in love with those two weirdos of characters (which by the way, I’ll say this now: I think Aziraphale and Crowley as portrayed in the series are more a product of fans and Tennant and Sheen than they are a product of Gaiman and Pratchett. And this is not a bad thing per se, I think, but let’s give credit where credit is due).

And let me be clear: I gained so so much from joining the fandom. It has positively affected so many seemingly unrelated parts of my life, and I’m so grateful to so many kind strangers on the internet who have shared such wholesome art with me, and have gifted me so much, that even putting it into words is simply not enough to explain all of it.

And one of the results of this “wave of wholesomeness” is I also started following Gaiman more closely.

Like so many, I loved Coraline. Gaiman seemed a genuinely nice person. An old guy who had wisdom to share, and who seemed to be fascinatingly non-stereotypical? If that makes sense. What I mean is that he was everything my father warned me against. A goth, weird, a writer therefore an artist (and in my family we know artists are fools who end up on the street jobless and homeless). And yet, to me now he seemed such a normal guy. Yes maybe someone who enjoyed that fashion style, but otherwise very far away from the usual excess of a rockstar. Of course I was too young when he was at the peak of his rockstar years. English is not my first language, and when he was 40 I was in elementary school and just learning about him, and you know, they do not write about his fans passing out at signings or his groupies on the back cover of children’s books.

What I mean is that I didn’t have access to all the media and information about him.

So I start seemingly connecting to this writer, whose works I have enjoyed for the most part, and who seems such a nice guy in how he interacts with his fans and people in general. Such an inoffensive, kind person. And kind seemingly to everyone.

I started liking him. To the point where I remember telling my partner: you know, Neil Gaiman is someone I’d take a coffee with (which in Italian culture is one of the greatest honors one can give you. Having a coffee while sitting at a café and chat for hours is what good friends do).

So, in my mind he had a special place now. He was someone I started to admire and look up to.

And this is, I think, where it hurts. It hurts because even if I wasn’t personally victimized, I never met him, he never acted creepy with me, he doesn’t even know me, it still felt like I, as part of the fandom, had been used for his clout. And also, it hurts to feel like someone you trusted because of how they presented themselves has lied to you.

And on top of that: it is so fucking disrespectful. The fact he thought he could get away with it. With hurting so many people (one is one too many by the way), and causing so much pain, while also enjoying crowds of adoring fans, both online and in person.

I find it personally difficult to reconcile my love of the GO fandom with all of this right now. And I think it’s for a number of reasons.

Firstly because the silence of institutions and people around these facts has opened some old wounds and made me angry again towards a system that I perceive as hostile towards me and people like me who might be vulnerable.

What I mean is: I know that Gaiman is a powerful person, and a lot of people need to bring money home and are tied to contracts and what not (yeah I’m looking at our favorite two male presenting british actors here) and I understand it. I do. And this is exactly why this stuff makes me angry again. Angry at the whole shitty system we live in, where if you happen to be in some kind of power imbalance you might end up having to eat shit and shut up while witnessing violence against you or others and not being able to utter a word about it. This sucks. It makes me angry. It makes me angry that Michael Sheen, someone I like to believe would be among the first to shout “I BELIEVE THE VICTIMS” if he was talking to friends at a bar, likely has to shut up and play nicely because Darth Amazon has some fucking clause written in Braille somewhere that says he has to sacrifice his firstborn if he ever dares to suggest he doesn’t like anyone related to the franchise.

It makes me soooo angry that we stay in the dark, and we only know from those people who are brave, and powerful enough to speak up about something that (allegedly) has been known for fucking years in the writing community. That this person was a creep. That he was treating people, mainly women and non-binary folks, if not bad, at least poorly.

And you know, this makes me even more angry because I have been in such shitty situations too! I was a victim of a system where exploitation and borderline abuse were normalized in a work setting.

And it wakes something deep in me to read that “it was an open secret bla bla bla” and again: I understand why people set up whisper networks instead of taking these giants down. I understand it. It still makes me angry because I simply do not want to live in such systems. Systems where I’m either the sacrificial lamb or I’m the one tying it on the table, or handing the axe over to the butcher, or a witness who has no power to stop the suffering.

I don’t want to live in such a system. But I have to. In my real life. I have to put up with so much shit sometimes, shit that makes me feel like I cannot stand up for my values because hey, I need to pay the bills too. And Good Omens was one of those few things where I could escape a bit into an alternative reality, where everything could be a bit better.

And I’m sure the fandom is still like this for most of the fans. I have witnessed first-hand how supportive and cheerful this fandom can be.

For me though, it still makes me think of all this...tsunami of shit.

I want to be able to enjoy the silly fanart, the memes, the wait for season 3 again. But I can’t. I can’t because my brain does not work like that. Good Omens still means Neil Gaiman too much to me. And I cannot go around talking cheerfully about Good Omens while feeling like I’m feeding into the clout of someone who used their power to coerce vulnerable people. Because (and I might be wrong) it feels like the message I’m sending is: my comfort show/book is more important than your pain or your life. And I can’t. This is not the truth.

I feel for the victims. Probably I feel even more than it would be healthy for me, or normal. But I don’t know, I feel like I connect to them. Maybe because I’ve been a victim of abuse perpetrated in clear power-imbalanced relationships, or because I felt like nobody cared about me and my wellbeing for so long, that eventually I stopped caring too.

And it is bad. It’s dehumanizing to a point where you really start believing you don’t matter. Your wellbeing doesn’t matter. There are more important things.

Ok so, I don’t want the victims, the survivors, to feel like this. They matter. They matter to me because if there’s one thing that is going to re-ignate the sacred fire of defiance in me is being able to stop this self-feeding cycle of self-loathing and misery. You matter. We matter. Vulnerable people who have been hurt matter to me. If there is one thing we can do to resist these systems of oppression and these people who abuse their power, that thing is believing that the people they hurt matter. If not more, at least as much as them.

And the way I show myself and others that the victims and their lives matter to me is by distancing myself from Neil Gaiman and his works, at least for now.

I feel bad for people who might have found themselves unwillingly tied to all of this. I feel bad for Sheen and Tennant, for all the wonderful artists and craft-people who have put so much of their work and love in Good Omens and I don’t want to let them down.

My two cents are that season 3 will not be canceled if they see there’s enough traction, and definitely won’t be canceled unless fans start a crusade against it, which won’t happen most likely.

The fandom loves Tennant and Sheen too much, and these are too much nice people to really hold a grudge against them, so I don’t think it will be canceled.

I’m afraid we (I say “we” meaning everyone who loves Good Omens) will be “held hostage” by Gaiman in the sense that he knows season 3 is not going to happen without him, so it’s either “we” or the majority of “we” behave, or it’s not going to happen. Which again, I don’t think he would lose the opportunity to make some money, and he also has contract duties to fulfill, but it still is worth it for him to try to leverage his power.

I wanted to end this rant on a positive note, somehow. But I don't know exactly what to say. Recently one of the things that has brought me laughs and joy has been the Channel 4 series “We are Lady Parts”.

In one of the episodes they quote a very beautiful poem, which came back to mind when I was listening to Claire (the latest woman who has come forward with allegations) on the “Am I Broken” podcast.

The poem is Speak by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, I will paste the version from the show, because I think it’s very powerful and beautiful.

Speak, for your two lips are free Speak, for your tongue is still your own This straight body still is yours. Speak, your life is still your own.

See how in the blacksmith’s forge flames leap high and steel glows red, padlocks opening wide their jaws. Every chain’s embrace outspread.

Time enough is this brief hour Until body and tongue lie dead. Speak, for truth is living yet. Speak, whatever must be said.

#neil gaiman #good omens #tw abuse mention

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i-bit-the-dust-it-was-yummy · 5 months ago

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so uh im finally going to make a post about this.

there is a very well known hannibal user that i wont be naming (cough cough @suchawrathfullamb) that has been doing some realllly bad stuff for awhile that i feel like more people should be aware of everything that has been going on that i have seen so far

UNDER THE CUT WILL INCLUDE: ALLEGATIONS OF MAKING AI ART AND NOT DISCLOSING THAT, MENTIONS OF NONCON, BEING AN OVERALL HYPOCRITE AND GETTING PISSED AT PEOPLE FOR NO REASON, SHIPPING WINCEST, MAKING REALLY SEXUAL THINGS ABOUT ACTUAL PEOPLE, PUBLIC SEXTING SOMEONE IN ASKS, DISCLOSING THEIR FAVORITE SEX POSITIONS WHERE ANYONE CAN SEE, AND STEALING PEOPLES IDEAS/ HEADCANNONS AND GETTING MORE RECOGNITION FOR IT

(THE THINGS DISCUSSED IN THIS POST ARE KIND NSFW SO LIKE IF YOU DONT LIKE THAT DONT READ)

if you don’t want to hear about any of these things don’t click thanks ❤️

during this i will be addressing lamb with they/them pronouns because i don’t want to misgender anyone and if im wrong sorry i do it with anyone.

hi, im panic and for the past like 2 months ive been talking with @sqeeebus (you can find at least one post on his acc about this that also goes in detail) about all of the things that have been going on and i feel like ive waited too long to actually go on here and talk about it all. during the time from lamb changing their pfp from the bloody s1 e1 will (and a bit before) to now they have gone down hill and done things that include but are not limited to: sexualizing hugh dancy and mads mikkelsen without warning, making a post that has now been deleted where they say hannibal would noncon will, publicly sexting someone through asks, disagreeing with someone’s joke and being hostile with them and making a fight over it, liking a persons post but then posting a post very similar to it without credit, shipping 2 purely biological brothers from a show, talking about their sexual life and preferred sexual position to at least thousands of people including minors, hearing an actor disagree with their opinion and becoming an anti- season 4 person after being very pro- season 4, and what set me to finally make this post: making what is believably ai art without disclosing that it is and leading over 50 people each post to believe it isn’t.

1. SEXUALIZING HUGH DANCY AND MADS MIKKELSEN

see i feel like i wouldn’t need to explain to an *allegedly* grown woman that this isn’t okay but i do, mads mikkelsen and hugh dancy are REAL people with REAL wives and REAL children and REAL grandchildren. sexualizing fictional characters body’s isnt necessarily great when you think about it but the reason it’s okay is that the character is just that, A CHARACTER. im going to explain rpf as well here because ive seen allegations of lamb shipping madancy (rpf ) and i really think it’s weird that i have to explain why it’s weird and wrong, the people you are shipping are REAL and not you’re playthings. the people you’re reading fanfiction are most likely at home with they’re respected families because that’s just it: rpf is REAL person, fiction meaning that they’re REAL.

2. HANNIBAL NONCON INCIDENT

so, i was here when this was posted but, lamb has deleted all evidence of it. basically lamb made a post about that hannibal would noncon Will if given the chance. (see the only reason is hannibal: big evil strong daddy man and will: tiny small baby) now obviously lamb got a lot of backlash from this and what do "famous" people like lamb do in situations like this you ask? hide, deny, or even gaslight. no apology because lamb obviously never feels guilty for anything they do. this will be clear by the end of this post.

3. SEXTING SOMEONE THROUGH ASKS PUBLICALLY

just as it seems really, lamb and someone they had some kind of pet name for (i think it was husband idr) started sexting one night without warning (as per usual). so i remember this but very vaguely because i was eating dinner at restaurant and im pretty sure the lamb face reveal and sex position talk happened the same night so kinda overwhelming you know? the two of them were sexting the way you would if you wanted to do that with your significant other PRIVATELY. it was over all kinda weird.

4. BEING AN ASS

yeah. basically this happens really often with lamb now but the one im talking about happened right before the pfp change. so lamb made a post that was basically: 'will had no empathy hes evil, he didn’t feel anything for beverly, he doesn’t feel anything about anyone and if you don’t understand that you’re stupid.' now if you watched the show and you aren’t terrible at characrizing or ableist you would know will may be a serial killer but he also has a EMPATHY DISORDER, you know the thing that kind of makes you care/ empathize too much?? buut the person made a joke on the post not actually trying (at least i don’t think?) not to rile up lamb and said something along the lines of: 'someone spent too much time with fredrick chilton' now it was not that but it was similar. and lamb didn’t like it and it started and argument that wasn’t needed that lamb had most of the hostile behavior in.

(the person this happened with is @iconsumethesoulsofthedamned)

5. COPYRIGHT!!! COPYRIGHT???

so if you can’t tell im one of the people this happened to and i can testify this by having lambs notifs on and my own. basically i made some post about what i believed some characters charictazation was (i think it was will but it might have been hannibal) later lamb liked the post and soon after i got a notification that basically the same things i had said lamb posted, AND didn’t leave credit. i know this has happened to others because im not that great with characterization. (also this my be petty but lamb has reblogged one of my posts and reiterated my exact same claim and multiple people said things like "so real lamb" etc)

6. WINCEST

need i say more? ACTUALLY YES I DO! they’re BROTHERS. i don’t even watch supernatural and ik from friends that they’re full 100% blood brothers, no half, step, or adoption you can blame your disgustingness on (and even then it wouldn’t help any).

7. DIARYS ARE CHEAP GUYS. AND WARNINGS ARE FREE??

much like all lambs posts, there was no heads up, no hey if you don’t like nfsw go, just boom. i salute those who cannot handle (sorry no better way to say it) nfsw things and had to go out of your way to block lamb just to get it off your dash. so those who have not been "gossiping" about the downfall of lamb or even seen these posts, basically lamb face revealed and people went nuts. it had started off as (nothing is word for word) asks like: 'wowww lamb youre so pretty!!!' to asks like:' LAMB WHATS YOUR FAVORITE POSTION DURING SEX?' this was a big haha what when i opened tumblr because i needed a hannibal ref when pinterest want help. so posts like this spurred lamb to make polls for themself for people to guess what their favorite postion during intercourse is. haha why. i should’ve stayed in the good omens fandom they really just make polls on the characters preferred pronouns, not this.

8. LAMBS POST- CON TANTRUM

so pre mads and hughs cons lamb was VERY pro- season 4. but upon hearing what the ACTORS think would happen they were very grouchy (along with others). now it wasn’t both the actors lamb was pissed at, it was hugh. so i think most people know about it, buuut basically hugh gave very will coded answers, and by that i mean he said will wasnt in love with hannibal straight away. now all things aside, that is very in character, wills not gonna jump off the cliff with hannibal and start taking/ giving it doggystyle while saying i love you, that would never in a million years happen. he is shown being very back in forth with hannibal, and yes he’s in love with him, BUT WILL ALWAYS DENIES. jumpingoff a cliff isn’t going to change that. now to my actual point, lamb started making posts about rethinking a ton of stuff and all that crap over ACTORS ANSWERS. in case you don’t know, mads and hugh don’t write hannibal and will. that means that the things they say shouldn’t be tested as the gospel, more of a simple headcannon. lamb, though, treats it like it like it is as canon as chilton getting burned, and for this lamb is angry, in lambs mind they see hannigram as super domestic, which they could be but not in the way they think. hannibal and Will aren’t gonna get married and if we do ever get hannibal s4 id call myself lucky if we got a hannigram kiss.

9. THE FINAL NAIL IN THE COFFIN

i would not be saying this to anyone no matter my feelings about them so if im wrong i apologize to lamb. i believe it was yesterday or the day before that lamb posted this (im showing proof for this because it’s easily accessible rn)

and one of these is obviously ai (the hannigram one) and the other one i don’t know if it’s ai or a heavily edited photo. if you’re unfamiliar with lamb in the past they used to ask others for art because they had no art abilities. lamb has also never brought up ever drawing beforehand (very different from their writing). there are also a few other things that have brought me to the conclusion that its ai but unless someone asks i don’t want to write it all out. if you aren’t aware ai art is VERY harmful to actual artists and is not good to use. ai art is similar to having an ai write your fanfiction or book you’re reading and most peoplendont want that. ai art is a very big no-no in most art spaces and i believe it is on tumblr as well. again, i would never say this to anyone and if im wrong i really do apologize.

if you made it through thank you, and if you have any questions or want me to explain further ill reblog with whatever you need (that im able to get).

#suchawrathfulamb #hannibal #hannibal lecter #nbc hannibal #hannigram #hannibal nbc #will graham

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tiredfairywings · 5 days ago

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[Applications CLOSED.] Wҽʅƈσɱҽ ƚσ Tɯιʂƚҽԃ Rҽʋҽɾιҽ~

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❀﹋﹋❀﹋﹋❀﹋﹋❀

My name is Mafuki and I run an art group for twisted wonderland! I am looking for twst yume artists who are also looking for friends!

The goal of our group will be to collaborate to create artpieces together (ex. art style challenge), and collab with each other (ex, 2 artists one base)! Something I'd love is for us to create a video with our ocs and their love interests together! All of this is non-profit so no one, including me will be gaining any monetary gain (unless you wanna post YOUR own pieces online aka not the other members unless you get permission). This is all for fun and you own the pieces you draw! We don't gatekeep pieces lol

We would love to make a group-home for people who just love twst and are passionate about it! The goal is for us to become a really close group of friends who just…love twst. If you have any questions, feel free to comment/pm me!

I've been put in a bind due to a missing member so if someone can start a prompt right away I would be very appreciative!

p.s. currently most members like to rp if youre into that

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❀﹋﹋❀﹋﹋❀﹋﹋❀

𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓

Just because you reply and fill in an introduction does not mean you'll automatically get an invite link to the discord group.

Due to the intent of the group, I would like to stay as far away from Drama as possible but also allow for there to be a safe space for anyone to vent and feel accepted. The goal is to operate similarly to Nightcord@25 [a project sekai reference].

As the person who decided to create the group, I hold all responsibility for anything that goes wrong and as such, I'll be speaking to each potential member first through chatting. There is nothing you need to do except be yourself. This is simply a vibe check. I'm looking to foster a safe environment for all those involved and will not tolerate extreme personas.

❀⌇Guidelines Before Applying:

➼ Must be between 16-25 (if you're slightly older, it's still okay! Around 20's is preferred but vibes are the most important aspect) ➼ Your race, gender, sexuality of both you and oc WILL NOT eliminate you. The goal is for this to be a safe space and as such, the only thing that matters is personality. Timezone also does not matter! ➼If you have a mental illness that is okay!! As long as you won't let it effect/use it as an excuse to hurt other members it is alright. Everyone I've recruited (including myself) has experience with various mental illnesses. ➼Even though this is an art group, art ability does NOT matter!! The goal is for us to have fun, and all that matters is that you're passionate about twst. And that you actually draw lol No need to know how to edit videos! As long as I have the assets I can edit the videos for the group! Bases are also okay with credit. ➼Since we're all making yume art, I'd like to try to keep to different characters per person ➼ Remain Relatively: Drama free, generally will have a good vibe aka not being judgmental, and is alright with criticism. Communicates well with other members and does not belittle.

Current taken characters: Azul, Malleus, Epel, Ruggie, Idia, Rollo, Rook, Lilia Potentially Taken characters**: Riddle, Jade, Leona, Kalim, Trey, Deuce

**DISCLAIMER: I accept people on a first come-first taken basis. It's purely on vibes so if I like someone's vibes then they're accepted along with their Yume choice. If I don't like their vibes, then I'll let someone else take that yume for the group.

𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒

If you're cool with everything, feel free to fill out this form and dm it to me! I'll speak with you shortly :3

TEMPLATE: ❀⌇Name (preferred, not irl obviously): ❀⌇Age or Age range: ❀⌇Timezone: ❀⌇Yume Interest: ❀⌇MBTI and Enneagram (not necessary --> I know psychology quite well so I can usually tell your top 3 so don't worry if you're mistyped or don't know your type [This is just for me to keep in mind so I can be mindful of you as a person]): ❀⌇Other interests: ❀⌇Important things to note (ie. accommodations): ❀⌇Triggers: ❀⌇Extra Info: ❀⌇Art Samples (just so I know you are able to draw! Preferably yume art but otherwise is okay!!)

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Template Credit: https://aminoapps.com/c/templatesand/page/item/soft-welcome-message/jlEV_rbcoIlpdadYbEoNdgelnl55woxdj Document below is linked if you would like info on the others who have joined!

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leomoon65 · 4 months ago

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The photo/ artwork belongs to @triple-phoenix . I simply just wrote a fanfiction inspired by the art. All art credit goes to them, not me, I’m just the writer.

Warnings: Angst, Slight Bullying, idk flirting?

Written for: AFAB, this fic was for someone and i decided to post it, “M” the best friend is NB so they can be whoever you want.

DNI: *read pinned post*

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Summary: You are a shy girl who just moved to the Jackson commune with your best friend. While still adjusting to your new-found home and life of being around others, you run into Dina, a girl who rather lightly bully you over telling anyone she has an ounce of attraction for you. (spoilers: her little crush weighs about 10lbs). What happens when, one morning, Dina decides to show her odd affection over a pile of eggs?

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You and your best friend M have been in Tommy and Maria Miller’s community for about a week. You two traveled like most young people and landed in Jackson, Wyoming, hoping to find somewhere safe forever. So far, besides the Millers, you (and J) have met Ellie, a lesbian with witty humor and awkward tendencies. Her artist girlfriend, Cat, has been begging to tattoo your ink-virgin arm. Jesse is a southern boy with a big heart who is always there for you, especially when you first started, and sisters that you and M have gotten to know… sort of. Talia, the oldest, is an intelligent girl with protective tendencies of her sister but is always down to have a good time and her rude but mysterious… little sister Dina.

Now, you could say Dina is nice to M, an angel to them per se. When you two first got to Jackson, Dina had the task of giving you two and some other young adults a tour of the community, a mayor per se. After her tour, Dina talked M’s ear off about anything and everything, even battering her eyes. M, while being nice, seemed interested in Dina in a friendly manner but had googly eyes for the older sister, Talia… to Dina’s dislike. You might be wondering how Dina treats you; well, she would rather bully you. Some background, you’re quite shy, having M talk for the both of you at the start, and you also hate conflict. Dina read right through you and now always has something up her sleeve.

Dina is not a cruel bully, per se, to everyone else, she has a fat crush on you that she REFUSES to acknowledge or maybe she does accept it but chooses to bully you instead of telling you… she’s Dina, okay. Dina’s “bullying” is teasing a rather innocent you over little things. She’ll tell you your flannel is unbuttoned and laugh to herself while you check. She will purposely switch the patrol list so you and her are stuck together for at least 7 hours as she invades everything about your life with questions you answer. It’s fun for Dina and for you; you just want to make peace with a 5’3 bisexual that you think hates you.

On this particular day, you, M, and everyone else are up for breakfast in the morning. There are Eggs, Bacon, and Turkey sausage on the side with Hash-Browns with some water… that’s all they have for a “healthy” drink in the apocalypse minus beer and other alcohol. You make yourself a plate and choose bacon because you have always liked it. You look to find M, who you usually sit with but is now flirting with Talia while she eats but enjoys it, smiling while your best friend tries to impress her. You giggle to yourself softly as you sit down at a table. You start to salt and pepper your eggs as you feel a mysterious presence. “BOO!” you hear an all too familiar voice. It’s Dina. She’s sporting her usual maroon shirt (dance scene) with some sweatpants she found due to its fall in Jackson, and she has no patrol today.

She looks at your plate. “Bacon, huh? Icky,” Dina says, as it is against her religion to eat pork rather than her overall dislike for the pig-like food. “I—i’m sorry, Dina,” you say softly, not wanting to offend her. She smiles as she holds her fork from her own food tray, for which she opts for turkey sausage due to no pork in the links. She gets really close to you (while making you incredibly nervous… but sort of flustered) and says, “Gimme yer eggs, nerd.” She has a little angry arch to her brow as she smiles, giving the impression she wants your eggs, similar to a high school bully wanting lunch money. “D— Dina”! You say, cheeks all blushed, but a worried look, not knowing what to do. Dina stabs her fork on your eggs and puts a small piece from the scrabbled batch in her mouth. “Mmm, yummy,” she says, enjoying her newfound stolen treasure of your eggs.

“Dina?” you say, gaining some confidence. “Um, those were my eggs; why didn’t you put more on your plate if you wanted some”? You say with a friendly but still worried smile. Dina turns her head and gets close to you again. “Because I enjoy watching pretty girls like you get all flustered over some eggs.” She boops… yes, she boops your nose as she takes another bite.

You just sit there in so much confusion. Does she like you? Is she playing games with you? Is she bored? So many questions rush through your head. Soon, your cheeks go red out of embarrassment/confusion. Dina puts her hand on your shoulder to take you out of your deep thoughts of what this girl could possibly want. “Hey, they’re just eggs, pretty girl, no need to get all scrambled up,” she says as she has finished her plate and gets up to put her tray away, ultimately leaving you with butterflies in your stomach over this mysterious Jewish girl.

End A/N: I lowkey forgot I had this account, let alone fics and such. I hope you enjoy this shorter angst read with you and Dina. I did proofread this for once, but still, any errors, please be kind. Again, the artwork is done by @triple-phoenix // Please read the pinned post if you want a fic yourself. Anyways, thanks again. See you in the next one- c

#dina tlou #dina tlou2 #dina nolastname x reader #dina x you #dina x reader #dina nolastname #dina the last of us #dina woodward #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou2 #the last of us 2

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humbugghere · 1 year ago

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Going insane over P:EG - Eva Tsunaka’s imitation「模倣」piece.

Okay, so my previous post seemed to scratch an itch for some of y’all so I figured while I’m working on the big video I should post my other analysis (if you havent seen Diana's btw its here). So I’ll be hitting on Nifast’s _imitation

「模倣」_series again with Eva’s piece, as seen below:

(Credit to Nifast hi Nifast)

Alright let’s start, I’m copypasting this from the google doc as per usual. Prologue spoilers are in this one btw

Introduction

Eva Tsunaka is among the more enigmatic members of the cast, with many of her basic details obscured by the staff, her very own bio referring to her as a “Truly quiet and mysterious figure”, and the enigma that is her behavior in the prologue, Tsunaka has been set up to be this games “black box”, and while her essential characterization is out in the open, her deeper motives and psyche are likely to stay obscured for a while within the story.

However, via the Imitation「模倣」series, we get another glimpse into Eva, with her being given a portrait in a series of 9 covering the female cast, giving an abstract view into their place in the story.

Unlike my previous essay on Cara, however, this piece has a massive asterisk: Eva is alive. While Cara, Tacticum in death, and the information handed to us being absolute in summing her up, can be analyzed in full, there will be certain aspects of this art that can only be fully digested upon either Eva’s death or upon her survival of the killing game. Eva is a character who strikes me as one who may die incredibly early, or make it into the annals of the killing game.

Regardless, there is no doubt that her presence, in rebutting Wolfgang’s hope in the student's titles, and in the distrust sowed thanks to her talent and nonchalant behaviour, will have a profound impact on the cast, whether or not she may continue to live and act within the story. As it stands, Eva is alive. So while we may not do a true autopsy, we may begin to sterilize our tools and set the scene.

Eva Tsunaka - Within Reality

This section, more than anything, is meant to remind the reader of key moments within the prologue, that both act to define Eva’s character and help inform a calculated analysis of the piece.

The first thing of note is how Eva refers to her talent. After being pressured on how she came to be the Ultimate Liar, she waved such concerns away, simply saying it is what she is.

This use of the word what lines up perfectly with the whole of the Imitation「模倣」series, as each portrait is framed as a response to the question “What are you?”. The response assigned to Eva, being “a lie” again lines up perfectly with her response. All of this is capped off by the end of the art book, which poses a question, almost identical yet strikingly opposite: “Who are you?”.

This question goes unanswered, at least for now. At least for some.

N doing this, we can see a very clear dichotomy between her talent, and her. While Eva has been awarded the title of liar, it is merely what she is - not who she is. It it wholly separate from her identity as a person.

Another thing worth mentioning is the contrast between how Eva handles herself, and how the rest of the cast does. While much of the cast is apprehensive (aside from a few like Cassidy who don’t actively suspect Eva for her talent), Eva is wholly dismissive of their accusations, inviting them to believe whatever they wish to believe. While there is no direct correlation to be drawn, having this part of her in mind will serve us well.

Finally, Eva’s prodding is another key feature of her character. Being the first person to ask the hard-hitting, perhaps harsh questions to characters such as Ingrid and Cassidy about their talents, as well as serving as the principal voice against Wolfgang and Damon in the trial. While she is willing to concede if given a sufficient answer, or hopelessly outnumbers, Eva is still someone who wishes to play an active role in any conversation she has, in order to extract as much information as possible. Again, this is something to keep in mind moving forward.

We can conclude as such that Eva is a single-minded woman, one who is guided by her own questions and observations and is more than willing to disregard any ire she may attract in doing so. While this essay does not discuss her ultimate goals, we may understand the person who has set these goals in the process of doing this analysis.

Eva Tsunaka - Imitation 「模倣」

The portrait of the two Tsunaka’s, henceforth referred to as Black and White, after the colors of their respective hair, is the first one we see within the artbook, and serves as a striking establishment of the mood and rules that define this artbook. By featuring two “versions” of Eva, both that seem to look like her, yet are distinctly not Eva on closer inspection.

This establishes the explicit theme of imitation, as these two figures imitate Eva, but also highlights how these “Imitations” can’t be considered a true reflection of Eva, both in their obvious differences to her design, and the portraits themselves framed as a response to the question “What are you?”.

This question, while tackling many aspects of a person such as creed, nationality, and perhaps characteristics, can never truly capture the cadence of the question “Who are you?”, which directly addresses a person's Identity.

As such, we can establish these portraits serve to outline the public perception of each character, and indeed how this perception latches onto them and molds them in some regards. With this established, we can focus on Tsunaka alone.

The first feature of note is the dichotomy between the two figures, Black and White. While White seems to be wearing Eva’s iconic outfit, Black is not - in fact, the outfit itself seems to be a direct inversion, with Eva wearing a black suit over a white dress shirt, topped off with a bow tie. However, despite this glaring difference, it is Black who has any reference to Eva’s animal motif of a raven, with White’s jacket glaringly lacking the button normally seen.

Not only does this reinforce the idea that neither of these two figures is truly Eva, but it also makes the reader realizes that with their monochromatic hair and the inconsistencies between their designs in regards to being a copy of Eva - the combination - or perhaps reunion - of these two figures is the only way to truly “find” Eva again. Throughout the prologue, it is very obvious that Eva, while being a major force in navigating the strange circumstances of this kidnapping, is still someone who is withholding information. Furthermore, Eva is someone who, despite wishing for the cast to survive, pushes firmly against the idea of open cooperation.

In order to properly elaborate on how the introduction of these dichotomies helps inform our view of Eva, we must look into Black and White properly. What makes them different? For one, the exclusion of crow symbolism, while staying faithful to Eva’s outfit is no coincidence. The animal motifs are consistently a defining part of a character, especially in informing their personality. By stripping this feature from White, it by extension strips Eva of her humanity, which is extenuated by the lack of sheen in her eyes. Together, this makes White seem like nothing more than a model or a doll.

In doing so, this reflects how the cast perceives Eva, being suspicious of her talents and her behavior throughout the prologue and likely throughout the game following the prologue. This objectification of Eva present in white is further supported by the lack of gleam in her eyes as if there wasn’t anything behind them.

As for Black, there are several details to pick up on. For one, Black features Eva’s feather, which demonstrates how this stand-in, to some degree, is a more accurate representation of Eva, the person.

However, this falls apart upon even a surface-level inspection. Black’s outfit is quite literally an inversion of Eva’s usual outfit, with a black suit, white shirt, and a bow tie. This could symbolize the fact that, under her visage in the killing game, Eva is very much different from the stoic cynic we’ve seen.

Furthermore, her hair is notably cut short and not allowed to grow properly in places, in contrast to white long, practically unruly hair. While White’s hair may symbolize the cast's fears that Eva may run wild in the killing game, the short hair may represent Eva’s potential being stumped, perhaps by her own fear to act, perhaps by the pressure of the cast around her… or perhaps by death.

There is also the obvious distinction that Black does have a gleam in its eyes, unlike White, lending credence to the idea that it represents the human part of Eva.

In summary, White represents the image the cast has of Eva, and how their fear and distrust of her strips her of her humanity and personality. Black, however, represents the self-image Eva has of herself, and how it both differs and is ultimately affected by the killing game around her.

Now that we have an understanding of what these two figures represent, we can now answer this analysis’ pivotal question: What is the point of comparing the two figures?

The explicit purpose is simple: It establishes the futility of defining Eva in a black-and-white manner. Her design so far has highlighted this by being a mix of black and white, in particular with her hair, which blends these two colors vivaciously. The separation of the two figures, especially in their monotone hair, symbolizes how both of these views of Eva, both the distrustful one of her classmates and her own self-image, can not truly reflect who she is. Only by understanding both of them, can we truly know who Eva is.

This rebuttal of a black-and-white view of Eva is also supported by the mixture of colors in the figures. White wears a black shirt, Black wears a white one. Both of them carry a part of the other in their designs and ergo their beings, and can be seen looking at each other's halo, used to shed light on the both of them and make them visible in the otherwise pitch-black environment. This simple gesture shows that the two acknowledge each other - showing how over time, it is likely Eva will not just ignore but accept her class's views on her, and the class will recognize that Eva is not merely a suspicious figure, but a person and potential ally in ending this game, in a manner reminiscent of Yinyang.

Furthermore, there is also the introduction of a “wild-card” Color: Red, visible in the bowtie/necktie and headbands. Red is a color with much history behind it, being the color of blood and as such attraction connections to courage, bravery, and sacrifice. On the other hand, it has also represented revenge, danger, domination, and anger. While both neck accessories are visible, Black’s headband is obscured by the light, perhaps showing that Eva does not wish to act on any principle of domination or revenge, despite what the class thinks.

For a final detail, the page after this image, the one directly answering the question “What are you?” The answer “A lie.” is given. This again reinforces that lies, and by extension lying, are not a part of Eva’s identity, both in being a response to a question of What Eva is, as well as the raven’s eye being obscured by the letter “A”, symbolizing how Eva’s talent does nothing but obscure her true nature under a thin visage of perjury.

Eva Tsunaka - Conclusion:

This piece serves to both introduce the concept of the Imitation 「模倣」series, as well as symbolize the conflict between Eva’s perception within her own mind and within the minds of the cast as a whole.

This is done by underlining the flaws within them. The cast’s idea of who Eva is is only a surface-level understanding (with Eva having a rudimentary version of her outfit on) - that practically objectifies her (seen by her glazed-over eyes on the right). Meanwhile, Eva’s self-image is more truthful to her, though still not reflecting her circumstances (as symbolized by the incorrect outfit) and obscuring her deeper behaviors (as seen by the red headband being obscured by her Halo).

Furthermore, by highlighting these flaws, and the differences between these two perceptions of Tsunaka, calls attention to how a genuine understanding of who she is can only be attained by considering both the public perception and self-image of Tsunnaka, as her own self-reflection may result in her cowering from parts of herself that only a neutral crowd would be willing to discuss. However, this same crowd would find it near impossible to truly comprehend her mind - like with anyone.

Indeed, this is something that can be applied to any of the students - the idea that they must make peace with their own self-image and their public persona, to truly understand themselves and each other. This, however, is a central theme of Tsunaka and suggests that her role in the story will be one that, rather than directly inspire change, will force the cast to reflect on their views of her, and in time, their classmates… and themselves.

#Project: Eden's Garden #project edens garden #Project: edens garden #P:EG #project eden's garden #Eva Tsunaka #Tsunaka Eva #Fantheory #Theorycrafting #I really like this game as you can tell #Thispost isover 2000 words long LMAO

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transformers-mosaic · 2 years ago

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Transformers: Mosaic - "Daddy's Little Girl"

Originally posted on May 30th, 2008

Story, Script, Art, Letters - Michael J. Trampert Script - Lindsay Smith

deviantART | Seibertron | BotTalk

wada sez: Okay, time to talk about the most infamous Mosaic strip by far—in conversations about the project, it’s roughly 50/50 whether this one will come up, and the fact that IDW stopped printing Mosaic strips is often attributed directly to this comic. I felt it was important to repost this strip to put this into question: I can find no evidence to support the claim, and there was a span of several months where IDW was still putting together issues with Mosaic strips. Not only that, but in the surviving threads where the comic was discussed, fan reception seems to be almost entirely unironically positive; I assume the deleted TFW2005 and deviantART threads were where the backlash occurred. It seems obvious to me that Mosaic lead Josh van Reyk personally had no problem with the comic, but did the right thing in removing it in response to valid negative feedback. The co-credit of Smith on this comic’s script is also something that I think goes unremarked upon.

It only takes a cursory look online to see that Trampert is a creep, a creator of CGI smut and essays about the exact biological specifics of Transformers intercourse, and that’s as far as I’m willing to engage with him as an individual. Per my usual policy, I’ve archived several relevant pieces of Moonracer fanart below the break. Shipping is obviously not inherently objectionable; it’s infantilisation as a fetish and the overtly prurient nature of this material—which in multiple cases was submitted to art contests on the IDW forums—that I consider shameful.

Sex is an interesting lens through which to view Transformers, which—as a universe built to sell action figures to little boys—often strains against its own asexuality, as middle-aged men crash over and over against the rock of “but WHY are there girl robots” and churn out endless toyless OCs rendered with the same parodic porcelain-doll hourglass figure, lest anyone get confused. If you’ve ever talked about Transformers with another adult, it’s a fair bet that they eventually were unable to restrain themself from asking “so, do they bone or what?” It’s all those worst impulses which have combined to birth this singular catastrophe.

I’ve previously remarked on Ironhide and Chromia’s relationship, in the annotations for a much better comic; it’s possible that, in a similar vein, Moonracer was named/conceived as a counterpart for the Autobot Sunstreaker, only for newer-product Powerglide to oust him in the script. Just to do my due diligence—Powerglide is drawn here as his Universe toy, Ironhide as the Timelines figure. As for the others: “Chromia started out as a Cybertron Brakedown with a new head, arms, and vehicle chassis. Moonracer started out as an LoC Starscream and heavily kitbashed with many scratch-built parts.” I know it was eating you up inside.

#transformers #transformers mosaic #maccadam #original continuity #Ironhide #Chromia #Powerglide #Moonracer #Michael J. Trampert #Lindsay Smith

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midzilla · 2 years ago

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its the third year of 2020 and you can’t convince me otherwise

As usual, I like to do my own year end reviews.

Unlike 2021, 2022 hasn’t been a great art year. A lot of things pressed in on me over the year, from deep depressions to transition stress, that combined with my hyper fixations fading leaving doing art something low on my mental priorities. I want to but rarely feel the drive to.

Will 2023 be better, who knows. Below the cut, one piece per month that I’m fond of.

January - what good is a one footed witcher be to anyone I really like the composition on this - tho the credit I take is minimum cause its based off of a in-game screenshot. Still, I hit a lot of aspects from a fic I really like and that’s just cool

February - I imagine it goes like this To be frank, this was too much effort for a shitpost. I keep falling into that trap.

March - field Around March, I started to have basic art issues that I’m still struggling with. A lot of problems with basic construction, a low well of ideas. I like this piece cause it hits my own interests but it probably wasn’t exciting for anyone else

April - what class would a witcher be in dragon age I’m sure I’ve said this before but I will find any excuse to draw armor. I love drawing armor. It’s not easy and it comes out looking wrong a lot but its a fun thing to do. This was just an excuse to draw armor a lot but also play with some designs I really like. I did change a few aspects so that more elements crossed over between each type

May - relax I really like the whole relax series, it feels like the last time I did things really unplanned and it worked out. I started with a pose with each and just filled out details. It was... relaxing.

June - different sky I fell back into Star Trek around June. Not much to say about this one tho.

July - the crone Here in the summer months you can really start to feel things crumbling around me. While I have pieces I like, art was getting harder and harder. I was stressed a lot.I like this small series I did of OCs no one cares about

August - palette challenge I hate colouring, that’s another thing you might have heard. The palette challenge was one I always avoided cause I thought I couldn’t do it. I did, and I like all the results, but I did also create (I used one colour as shading with a layer effect)

September - the image of a witcher This was a redraw that I’ve wanted to do since the original and I’m still not happy about how the idea came out. Oh well

October - nothing I had surgery this month. I got better but I’m still suffering from the bad habits I built while recovering.

November - smartest in the room, bored to death This was a random doodle that I fell in love with and think I did unusually good at colouring.

December - see you in the ether Bankrupt for ideas, I went back to a sketch done in March. Unfortunately, that is the best expression of my mental state when it comes to art these days. Piece came out nice tho, considering I’m no good at painting.

#year in review #tbh I've been putting off doing this #cause it all seems really lacking this year and kind of lame #oh well I'm just kind of lame I guess

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itsbenedict · 2 years ago

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Star Seeker

Datasouls

TFJ recap logs

AWS Certified Solutions Architect

Ergonomics

Light fixture repair

The Sekimeiya

Disco Elysium

TFTBN character portraits

Beatrice

TPIVW

Storage unit

See a doctor

7 WaniKani levels

April wasn't bad! Got a lot done at work, was the main thing. Three of the four big projects are resolved- there's still one that's giving me headaches, but I can balance it with other stuff. I finished reading the study guide for the exam, and I've taken some practice exams (though I'm gonna keep doing those until I start batting better than a 65-70 on average- there's a lot of fiddly details to be wrong about), and now I just need to actually schedule and take the test.

I also got a fancy new standing desk! It goes up! It goes down! I can have my arms rest at a comfortable position, and I can stretch my legs without breaking flow! Good stuff.

I also just got done with Ludum Dare, which was pretty intense. I'm happy with how it came out, on a technical level- and on the other levels, though I can't take as much credit for those since the art and writing were mostly Zero's show. You can play it here without audio or use this Dropbox link because the LD site's file hosting seems to be shitting the bed right now.

What else, in April? Played some video games. Touhou Lost Branch of Legend is a Slay the Spire clone but has a colored mana system and some QoL improvements (and is Touhou-themed, ofc), and is pretty fun overall. Wildfrost is another roguelike deckbuilder thing but oof real hard. Lotta ways to die out of nowhere. Not as fun. There's a Fire Emblem 8 mod called Vision Quest that I got through part 3 of- writing's nothing to write home about but it's good classic GBA FE stuff with some interesting mechanical tweaks.

Speaking of Fire Emblem, I'm working on a game engine and content tools for a FE-alike game, which, okay, was not on the list but I gotta chase certain opportunities. Which I can't talk about yet. Also did a couple art telephone games, per usual, which turned out pretty okay. And finally got a vacuum cleaner, which means less sweeping and fewer unreachable corners full of dust! And a midi keyboard, so I can practice music. Lot of little things going on.

For May... new Zelda's coming out, so I shouldn't get too ambitious with how much time I'll be spending productively. I'm going to try and force the issue and find a primary care provider that won't just put me on an infinite waitlist, and finally get a damn doctor's appointment for the first time in like four years. That plus scheduling and taking that certification exam, and getting back on the horse with WK (two levels to go!). Plus more work on that FE engine, probably.

in lieu of a new years' resolution, i'm just going to go ahead and make a checklist for everything i want to get done in 2023:

get star seeker sequel adventure thing up and running and through the first case

get datasouls combat toy complete up to the first miniboss combat

catch up on TFJ recap logs

become an accredited AWS Certified Solutions Architect and get that raise my boss has been talking about for ages

get an adjustable standing desk and under-desk elliptical thingy, and otherwise get an ergonomic workstation set up

fix the light situation in the bathroom

get through The Sekimeiya and really go to town on that mystery until it's solved

also finally play Disco Elysium

finish TFTBN character portraits

get a beatrice portrait for my poster wall

run some TPIVW games

badger the condo association landlady until she does something about the junk clogging up that basement storage room i'm supposed to own, and clean unused bulky stuff out of my house

clearly this waitlist thing isn't working out so take some steps to see an actual doctor for the first time in like three years (and maybe get a cancer screening, or do something about that closed sinus)

get through the remaining 7 WaniKani levels

#sc accountability #oh! also it's the 1-year anniversary of having my own house #or condo whatever #it's so nice

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septembersums · 2 years ago

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𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝑫𝒂𝒚 11 | 𝑩𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

summary: you’re learning the well-deserved aches and pains of moving in with gojo satoru. he’s learning that he likes your domesticity, maybe a little too much.

an:: i haven’t written a domestic or nice gojo in agessssss but today is the day to start apparently! also dear god all of my fics are going to have a breeding kink thing please just accept that for what it is

House hunting with anyone is difficult, but house hunting with Gojo Satoru was an entirely different beast that you never realized you'd have to deal with. A six eyed one, who is hellbent on spending a small fortune on a house for two people.

"What about this one?" He asks, turning his phone screen over to you.

On the screen is a listing for a goddamn mansion. 8,000 square feet, three stories, eleven bathrooms, a movie theater, an arcade, the list goes on. It looks like a celebrity home for a family of about... fifteen people.

You give him a concerned glance, "Satoru, that house has thirteen bedrooms."

"Yeah," he answers, confirming it enthusiastically, "and a pool."

You resist the urge to laugh, "Let me rephrase... Why would we, as two people, need a house with thirteen bedrooms? Babe, that's basically a hotel."

"What if we have twelve kids?" He asks, giving you a serious expression, even though a smirk threatens to tug at the corners of his lips.

"We are not."

He continues, cutting you off, "God forbid Satoru the eleventh and Satoru the twelfth have to share a bedroom. They'll kill each other."

"No. Okay," you sigh closing your eyes, "I love your enthusiasm, but I'm not playing the hypothetical game with you because it never ends, and--"

He cuts you off with a kiss, chuckling against your lips. His arms encircle your waist, pushing you down onto the couch beneath him as he shifts himself on top of you.

"I don't know why you wanna raise our fourteen kids in a shoebox--" he says, kissing your neck between his words.

"Fourteen now?" You ask with a gasp.

"Fifteen. But okay, I'll look at regular houses, too," he concedes, running his hands up underneath your shirt, "not tonight, though. God, scaring you gets me hard."

"What a concerning thing to say-- ah!"

He's already snuck his hand into your pants before you can argue, and as per usual, neither of you picked a house that night.

Eventually, you were able to talk him down to something slightly more modest, more fit for the two of you (and just the two of you, not the fourteen or fifteen babies he proposed you have).

It’s not that you hated any of the mansions that he offered to buy, it’s just that you’d like your home to feel a little more homey, a little less easy to get lost in.

When you bought your house in the city (still extravagant, of course), and wanted to repaint a couple of the rooms, Satoru already had professional painters on speed dial. When you suggested that the two of you do some of the renovations yourself, he looked at you like you’d shot him in the chest.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” you say, “this place needs some character, and I’d be embarrassed if a bunch of strangers saw the sex swing.”

It does need character. Right now, it looks like you bought it right out of a better homes magazine. You feel weird when things are too pristine and too manicured, like you’re living in a model home.

Having a team of professional renovators moving in and out of the house for the next few weeks seems less than ideal, too, considering that you and Satoru tend to fuck like rabbits day and night.

“I can’t think of anything less fun than manual labor,” Satoru argues, wrapping his arms around your waist, “and if they ask about the sex swing, I’ll just tell them you put me in it when I’m getting on your nerves.”

“Oh, really? Why don’t you go get in it now then?”

His grin widens, “You mean it?”

You elbow him gently, furrowing your brows before continuing what you were doing before he intervened to bug you. You’re holding up two different paint swatches against the wall of your bedroom, unable to decide which looks better.

“Which one do you like more?” You ask Satoru, whose chin is propped on your shoulder.

He hesitates for a second, “... Those are exactly the same color.”

“Huh?” You gasp, turning your head to look at him, “What do you mean? They’re, like, two shades different.”

They’re both close to white, but slightly different shades of white. One is more cool toned, the other is slightly warmer. You picked them out at the store earlier, so you’re sure that they aren’t the same.

“Baby,” he hums, wrapping his hands over yours, “not to pull rank here, but one of us has the best eyes in the world,” he pries your thumbs away from the bottoms of the slips of colored paper, “and the other one has been trying to choose between moonlight white and moonlight white for half an hour.”

You audibly gasp when you realize that he’s right. Printed at the bottom of the slips of paper is exactly the same name, twice. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you, because you could’ve sworn you were looking at two different shades this entire time.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” You rasp, dumbfounded, “and... how did I not notice?”

“I thought you just needed to see it twice for some reason,” he replies with a shrug, laughing, “it’s been a long day, let’s just go to bed.”

You concede after that, seeing as it’s already past midnight, and standing here clearly isn’t doing you anymore favors than riding him in your new bed would.

The next day, you start painting a couple of the rooms together. And while Satoru eventually agreed that he was willing it give it a try, that never meant that he wouldn’t whine the entire time. Which he does, because of course he does.

Satoru is many things: he’s the strongest sorcerer in the world, he’s the (self-proclaimed) best teacher in the world, he’s also hilariously fucking bad at housework.

It makes sense that he wouldn’t really know how to fix a sink, or paint a wall, or hook up a t.v. His childhood was spent surrounded by servants, while he spent his time outside training, and fighting, and training, and fighting.

Put him in the ring with the greatest martial artist of all time, he’d win. Put a paint roller in his hand, and he just squints at it for a good thirty seconds before handing it back to you.

He doesn’t know how to be domestic, and at this point, he’s afraid to learn. But he’ll do it for you-- at the very least, he’ll give it a try for you.

Letting you call the shots right now is the least he could do, after making you wait ages for real commitment from him, after getting panicky and distant when you spent the night for the first time, after you’ve loved and taken care of all of the jagged parts of him that are so incredibly, irreparably broken.

Maybe it’s out of some fear that he’ll eventually lose you, too. Maybe that’s why he tries all these normal, domestic things with you that would never cross his mind if you were anyone else. Maybe that’s why he wanted to buy you a fucking mansion in the hills, or a castle with a moat in Scotland.

If it would make you happy, he’d do it. Anything and everything, all for you.

But painting a wall that’s already off-white to moonlight white? It’s so insufferably boring that he contemplates tearing all of his hair out and mixing it into the paint, so that he’d at least have something stimulating to do.

The only thing he likes about this task is that he can hear you humming to yourself in the other room, some song that he barely recognizes. You’ve played it in the car before, but he can’t remember the name.

Frankly, that’s where the majority of his mental energy is going right now, not towards these tedious up and down strokes, because you said that side to side strokes were wrong for some reason.

He floats down from the corner of the room where he’s been levitating for the past twenty minutes, finishing up a corner, and when he looks at the little tray on the ground, he gets an idea that you’ll (probably) hate.

You’re lost in thought, daydreaming about how the kitchen would look with new countertops, when Satoru seems to appear out of nowhere, looming over your shoulder and blocking the light from above.

“Fuck! Oh my god, you walk so quietly,” you hiss, after looking over your shoulder and noticing him.

“You missed a few spots,” he hums thoughtfully, looking over your work.

Your eyes shift back toward the wall, now searching desperately for missed sections. Certainly, he can see them better than you can, but you don’t recall missing anything yet.

“Where-- Oh, what the fuck!” You hiss, as his big hands grip your asscheeks underneath your shorts while you were focused elsewhere.

That wouldn’t normally be a problem, because of course Gojo cannot keep his hands to himself, but they’re wet and cold.

He laughs at your screech, you whip around to look at him, “is that paint? Why?!”

“Painting is so fucking boring,” he complains, smirking at your protest, “getting to put handprints on your ass is my reparation.”

And then he takes his (indeed, paint-covered) hands, and pulls you against his chest, again holding your ass as he does so.

“Gojo, you have some paint on you,” you murmur, trying to hold back a grin, as you swipe your own painted thumb along his cheek.

“Oh, really? Do I?” He asks sarcastically, smirking as he backs you up until your back hits the wet wall that you were just working on.

You gasp, as the cold liquid seeps through your shirt and gets into your hair, and he only leans down to kiss you smoothly. In spite of yourself, you kiss him back, not fighting as much as you should when he hoists you up by the backs of your thighs, wrapping them around his waist.

“I just-- ah-- finished that wall,” you breathe between frenzied kisses.

He’s grinding his hardening length against your core, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth, “Do you wanna finish on it, too?”

“Shower-- oh, god, fuck--” you hiss, as he takes to sucking at the skin of your throat and pulling your shirt up and over your head, “so you can touch me without getting paint in my--”

“Say less,” he rasps, before warping rather than walking to the master bathroom.

He sits your ass on the sink, using his infinity to turn the water on while he undresses the both of you hastily, still kissing you with desperate need to be inside of you.

When his cock springs free from his briefs and slaps against his abs, you start stroking him in your palm, listening to the stuttering gasp that escapes his lips when you run your thumb over the sensitive tip.

You lean down to kiss his neck, his clavicles, his chest, as you leisurely stroke him in your palm, and he kneads the fat of your ass. Your run the flat side of your tongue over the scar that extends down the center of his chest-- it always makes him shiver when you do that.

He’s picking you back up before you can make it to his cock, practically throwing you into the shower with anticipation.

There’s a bench in the shower, big enough for you to comfortably sit on, and Satoru all but pushes you down onto it, “Open,” he demands, tapping his cock against your lips once.

“Are you desperate today, Satoru-- oh--”

You try to tease him, but as an opportunist, he just takes the momentary openness of your mouth as a chance to slip inside of it, moaning with relief when you run your tongue along the underside of the head.

“Just fucking suck it for a second, baby,” he rasps, threading one hand into your hair as the other is pressed flat against the wall where he braces himself, “just suck it-- just like that, just like that-- god, you’re so good.”

The muscles of his thighs twitch, betraying his desire to thrust his hips forward and make you take the rest of it down your throat. He’s so long that it’s difficult-- if not impossible-- to do so. Especially on a day like today where he’s so obviously need and excited, and he’s harder and thicker than usual.

You swallow around his length, looking up at him sweetly as you bob your head up and down him.

“Let me fuck your face,” he asks hoarsely, looking down at you for permission as his hips involuntarily flex forward, “just for a second, you can do it for a second. You can take it, baby, you can take it.”

You aren’t so sure, as tears are already welling up in your eyes, but you do as he asks anyway, hollowing your cheeks and relaxing your throat as much as possible. He starts thrusting, really thrusting, and holding your head down until it’s at the base of his cock, while he fucks into your throat and moans wantonly.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me-- god, you’re gonna make me cum,” he warns, before pulling out of your mouth abruptly.

You close your eyes and open your mouth, you stick your tongue out and wait for the couple of seconds that it takes, because you know Satoru, and you know that there’s almost nothing he loves more than cumming all over your face.

“Oh--oh--ooh,” he moans, holding your tongue out of your mouth even further with his thumb, as he cums onto it, “oh, good girl, good girl.”

He hits your face, too, before eventually just grinding the underside of his tongue through the puddle of cum in your mouth. He feeds it back to you slowly, murmuring praises as he watches you swallow it all down.

“Pretty baby,” he purrs, as he cleans your face off before kneeling down to kiss you and taste himself, “now let me clean you up and make you cum really hard, yeah?”

He kisses the entirety of your face, from your forehead to your cheeks to your chin, as though he’s saying thank you for letting him wreck your throat. And he does exactly as promised.

He cleans every part of your body slowly and reverently, partly because he wants to show his appreciation for you, and mostly because he can see the way your thighs are squeezing together, and you’re dying for him to just lick you already.

He licks you, though not in the spot that you need him to. No, he licks and kisses your earlobes, your neck, the inside of your mouth, your shoulders and arms and hands. he kisses your chest, between your tits, the underside of your breasts-- he kisses a line down the center of your stomach, even though it tickles.

When he reaches the bottom, your legs spread involuntarily, and you push your hips outwards. Satoru smiles up at you wickedly-- he knows you need it, that’s why he’s making you wait.

That’s why he sucks your nipple into his mouth and massages your other breast, before switching sides and doing it all over again. Before long, you’re moaning whenever his hand brushes your thigh, he doesn’t even have to get near your pussy.

“Please, need-- please, I need you to--”

“I know what you need,” he hums, as he lifts you up and kisses your lips languorously again, turning you away from him, “and you can have it, baby.”

He bends you over at the waist, making you place your hands on the bench you were just sitting on, as he kneels between your legs. He runs a slow finger along your slit, noticing that the wetness there is different than the water. It’s thicker, creamier, tastes like you when he presses his finger into his mouth.

Satoru kisses your asscheeks, before dipping down between your legs to where you really need him to be. His tongue is slow and lazy, as he licks between your folds and across your clit, dipping inside of you experimentally.

You moan and struggle to hold yourself up already, as he sucks and kisses your clit lovingly, presses two fingers inside of your needy hole. If there’s one thing Satoru is good at, it’s eating your pussy.

As in, the first time he fucked you, he licked and kissed every inch of you until he figured out precisely which spots made you cum the hardest, which ones made you cum the fastest, which ones made you squirt, and then he never forgot the key that he made for your body.

Satoru can drag an orgasm out of you when you don’t want one, but when you do... You’re crying and clenching around his fingers, you’re rocking your hips back onto his face as he tongue-fucks that one spot that gets you there so well.

The way he licks your pussy is worship for Satoru, it’s love and dedication and adoration, because he’ll please you until the end of the world if you want him to. Maybe he’ll even do it if you don’t want him to.

You’re spasming and creaming on his tongue once, and then he doesn’t stop, he overstimulates you until it happens again, and then again, and then when he’s almost finished playing your body like a virtuoso would a piano-- he makes you squirt, just to prove that he can.

He stops after you’ve fallen apart so many times that you’ve lost count, and your knees buckle. Of course he catches you, chuckling as he holds your spent body up with his muscular arms.

“Think you can still ride me, baby?” He asks to tease you, knowing fully well that you can’t even stand up right now without some assistance.

“No, nonono, need a break,” you respond, laying your lax body against his hard one.

In the end, he dries you off and takes you to bed, he lays you down on your stomach. And then he massages your spent body for a long while, rubbing your arms, your shoulders, your back, your thighs, your ass...

A good long while, it is, before he stops resisting the urge to run his fingers along the slick surface of your cunt and notice that a string of cum connects the two.

He’s hard again, just like that, so fucking hard that he can’t stand it.

“Baby,” he purrs, asking your permission as he slides his cock between your asscheeks, desiring the friction, “you’re dripping again, like you want me to put my cock in you.”

“Please,” You ask, somehow still so aroused after every other orgasm he’s given you, “Mm, want you to make me cum again-- please, please-- oooohhh, fuck.”

He’s already sighing in relief as he slips his length into you. Satoru loves it when he has plenty of time to warm you up for his cock, because you’re so smooth and pliant and accepting of it afterwards, and even after a good four or five orgasms, you still clench and whine and shake, because your pussy is so, so sensitive.

So sensitive, and so wet, and sucking him in so fucking good, and you’re so fucking hot-- and, god, he loves your ass.

Satoru slaps it once, watching the fat of it jiggle as he fucks into you. He grips your waist, leaning down so that his forehead is pressed pressed between your shoulder blades. You’re keening and whining, fingers gripping the sheets for dear life as he rolls his hips into yours again and again.

“’M gonna-- Gonna cum-- Satoru, can I-- Please--”

“Cum for me, baby, cum for me-- wanna feel it, wanna hear it, wanna see it-- cum on my cock-- yes, fuck, there you go-- that’s it, that’s it-- let me hear it.”

You do let him hear it, and see it, and feel it, and he can practically taste it when he’s buried so deeply inside of you. Your muscles constrict, your breaths stagger, and you bite down on the pillowcase to muffle the cry that you let out.

Satoru loves the feral side of you that he sees when he’s fucking you from behind, and you can barely take it. He loves it so fucking much, he loves you so fucking much-- sososososo fucking much.

So much that he needs to show it to you, needs to give you his love with his body and let you accept it and carry it and bring it to life.

For the first time in your relationship, Satoru can’t find it in himself to pull out of you before he cums. No, not today, not right now. You’re practically begging to have his fucking babies, loving him like you do.

Your body needs his babies-- with your wide hips, and your soft smile, and your pillowy tits. He needs to fuck a baby into you, and he doesn’t know why the thought’s just now occurred to him when he’s balls deep, buried inside your cunt.

Like a man gone mad, he rambles, “Baby, I need to—need to— fuck, I need you. C‘mere— Come here. I’m gonna—“

He grabs your ass and hoists your hips upwards, his own hipbones slam against your lower half, and he moans out every syllable of your name as he fills you up with his seed, fucking every last drop of his cum into your cunt, a sign of adoration, a sign of love.

As soon as he loosens his death grip on your hips, your knees buckle, and his cum spills out of your pretty pussy. Satoru pushes it back into you with his fingers, eyes transfixed on the sight of moonlight white cum dripping out of your pussy.

“Did you cum inside me?” You ask, hoarse, out of breath, and likely confused, considering that he’s always been on top of his pullout game.

“I said sixteen kids, didn’t I?”

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writing-with-olive · 4 years ago

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How to write essays fast

I've been writing a lot of papers, so that's what's on my mind.

So this mostly applies to your standard 5-paragraph paper, though it's fairly straightforward to adapt it to longer (or sometimes shorter) assignments.

One of the main things to note is that essays are VERY formulaic, so knowing the formula and being able to write down your ideas in a way that fit into the formula is probably the number one way to get stuff done fast. Because of that, most of what I’m covering is breaking down the formulas so they’re more accessable.

Also this got very long. If there’s anything you want me to expand on just let me know in the comments or send me an ask/DM and I’ll make another post that goes more in-depth about it.

Structure (I hate this step, so I’ve figured out how to do it very fast becuase it’s still important)

The first thing to consider is prewriting and structure. To start, there are two major paper structures I usually consider. The first goes

Introduction

Main point #1

Main point #2

Main point #3

Conclusion

This is good if you have a lot to say on the topic, or if it's something closer to a summary essay where there's not really an opposing side. In something where there are distinct sides, (or if you have less to say to support your own side), you may want something that looks like

Introduction

Main point #1

Main point #2

Why the other side is wrong

Conclusion

The "why the other side is wrong" side is involves thinking through the MOST credible arguments the other side might make, and methodically breaking them down to show how they don't work. The stronger the argument you choose, the more effective this is.

Since I personally hate prewriting with a passion, I usually do this step very fast and end up with an outline that looks like

Intro [insert thesis statement]

P1: [three word summary]

P2: [three word summary]

P3: [three word summary]

Conclusion

(thesis statement, introduction, body paragraphs, and conclusion tips are all below the cut)

Usually, this is enough so when I look at my outline, I can see what I'm trying to focus on for each paragraph - and do so without straying from my main point.

For the prewriting, the main things to do are identify with basic structure of the two will serve your purposes better, and write a thesis statement that solidly supports your argument.

Thesis Statement

There are so many guides about creating thesis statements that are powerful, but I'm just going to quickly go over how to be fast about it.

The first thing to know is that a thesis statement is usually a complex sentence: it's your entire essay distilled down to a single line. The general formula I follow goes something like this:

"In their [media type] [name of specific piece], [creator's full name] explored/demonstrated/other verb [theme you're going to be arguing about] demonstrated/using/as evidenced/as shown by [example 1], [example 2], and [optional example 3]."

For example, a thesis statement that follows this format might go

“In his short film Job at Place, David Davidson explored the manifestations of human stupidity through the absurdity of the main character’s home, school, and office.”

Or, if you're writing a historical piece, it might look something like this:

"In [place/time period], [thing you're arguing was happening]: they had to/the conditions were such that/other thing to set up a list [example 1], [example 2], and [example 3]."

For example, a thesis statement that follows this format might go

“During the Tusken Invasion of 32nd century Tatooine, it was the lives of the children that were most affected, from their social development and connections with others to more personal struggles they didn’t yet have the tools to overcome.”

The examples you give are going to correlate to your paragraphs - example 1 is for body paragraph 1, and so on.

Introduction

I like to think of the introduction as a funnel that gets more and more specific.

First, write a broad statement that touches on whatever theme you’re referencing.

Job at Place is about human stupidity, so something like “while great minds have flourished throughout the ages, so have the not-so-great.”

Tatooine is about war, and about child development, so something like “children’s development has always been impacted by the state of the world around them.” or “war has many effects, many of which impact those not directly involved with the conflict.”

The idea is that it’s a broad statement that can almost be looked at like a universal truth.

Next, you’re going to go deeper - two sentences that narrow down the time and place you’re talking about specifically, and how that time and place fit into your universal statement.

The fourth sentence gets even more specific - introducing how the thesis sentence fits into your first three sentences.

Then the last line is your thesis statements.

Body Paragraphs

Your three main body paragraphs all follow the same formula. (I’ll get to the “why the other side is wrong” paragraph in a minute)

The first sentence you’re going to want is a topic sentence. For this, you’re going to want to look at the example you gave in your thesis statement that corresponds to this paragraph, and see how it relates to your central claim.

If we’re going with the Job at Place example from above, for the second paragraph, you might open with a line like:

“A striking characteristic of Davidson’s short film was the abnormality of the main character’s school, used to showcase exactly what happens when poor decisions get taken too far.”

Everything within the paragraph will then back up the claim you’re making in the topic sentence (which in turn is backing up your thesis).

For each paragraph, you’re probably going to want about three pieces of evidence, either in the form of direct quotes (plucking words directly from the source) or paraphrased quotes (summarizing what happened in your own words). The quote should be used to directly support your argument.

After each piece of evidence, you’re going to want about... twoish lines of analysis (this number can change as you need it to, but two lines is something solid to fall back to).

While analysis can take all kinds of forms, one pattern you can use if you’re stuck is

evidence sentence

what it means

how that meaning ties back into your main point

Following this pattern, a piece of analysis of Job at Place might look like:

“One of the first images of the private school is that it’s a tall spire with creaking stairs and loose floorboards. Despite this, the principal has eight personal cars parked outside on full display. While the first glimpse of the school might indicate that there is little money to care for the structural integrity, the notion is directly negated by the principal’s actions. By using these two images, Davidson demonstrates what can happen to the youth when those in power let greed carry them away.”

After you write your analysis, include some kind of transition phrase, and go onto the next piece of evidence.

The last line of your paragraph is going to transition into the next paragraph while also summing up the main point of what you talked about in the current one. (This line can also get moved down and tacked onto the beginning of the next paragraph, before the topic sentence, but I have found it tends to look less cohesive that way).

You might choose something like:

“While the school was a disaster in its own right, it wasn’t the only example of human folly.”

If you’re writing a “this is why the other side is wrong” you’re going to want to think about the MOST compelling arguments the other side could make. Take the top one (or two), and figure out ways to crack them apart using evidence from your source material.

In this case, your topic sentence might start off with something like

“While opponents might say [insert compelling counterargument], their reasoning breaks down when one takes into account the evidence.”

At this point, you’re going to follow the same formula as above. The main thing to keep in mind is that for the duration of this paragraph, your point is that the other side’s claim of X is wrong.

Conclusion!

If you know what you’re doing, this is actually the easiest part.

(wait, what??????)

The thing is, you NEVER want to introduce new ideas into your conclusion. Instead, you’re summarizing your main points.

The formula I follow per sentence is:

Thesis statement but reworded (you can change the sentence structure too)

Topic sentence for paragraph 2 or 3, but reworded (I’ll explain why you shouldn’t do the sentence for P1 in just a sec)

Topic sentence for paragraph 1 or 3 but reworded

Topic sentence for paragraph 1 or 2 but reworded

Wow sentence or question (i’ll get to this too)

The idea for the middle three sentences is you don’t want them to read as repetitive, so you’re going to mix up the order so it doesn’t match the order of the rest of the essay. This will help to keep it fresh.

The wow sentence is basically the last impression you get to make. I find it’s usually a good idea to go just a tad dramatic (it sounds dumb, but it has never failed me). If I can’t think of anything, a declarative statement on whatever major theme was being discussed throughout the essay usually does the trick.

Examples:

All of this shows that in the absence of friendships and platonic love, humanity will falter.

Fiction may seem far fetched now, but if the world falls into those same mistakes, it’s only a matter of time until it becomes a reality.

Art has existed for as long as humans have populated the earth; it’s not going away any time soon.

A lesson everyone must understand is the most powerful weapon isn’t anything physical or tangeable: it’s the ideas that exist in the minds of those who care.

(I told you they were going to be dramatic) A way I look at it is if you can’t imagine dropping the mic on the last line, it needs to be stronger (yes I found that plagiarized with not even a whisper of credit on Pinterest, but it works).

If you wrote a SOLID essay, consider ending with a question aimed at the reader (this will push your essay in the direction of either the positive or negative extreme: a strong essay will become stronger, a weak essay will become weaker). Questions can be a call to action or rhetorical as a means to drive home your final point. Becuase they’re more nuanced to the content of the essay, I don’t really have great examples to give you though (sorry).

Hopefully this is useful to at least some of you - good luck!

++++

Tagging:@candlemouse

If you want to be added to or removed from any of my taglists (found pinned to the top of my blog) just let me know :)

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themakeupbrush · 2 years ago

Text

Couture Week Days 1 & 2 Thoughts

Some of these aren’t actually “couture” and are just shows that have happened during couture week but I don’t really care tbh.

Schiaparelli- Good, but needs to let up on the some of the details I feel are overdone at this point. Not as good as last season.

Iris van Herpen- Very cool as per usual, but I honestly don’t know if I could tell this collection apart from any previous collections.

Georges Hobeika- Pretty extreme in terms of some very good and very bad looks. I’m biased because I love sparkly dresses, a lot of the concepts are things he’s done before

Dior- bland is genuinely the only word that comes to mind. It would have even been boring for rtw. There’s so much more they could have done with the ukrainian folklore/folk art/tree of life theme, and they failed. The only “good” looks were still boring and exact replicas of things maria grazia has done at dior and valentino. The details and embroidery are fantastic, but they get lost in the blandness of the clothes and the credit there goes to the artisans, not the designer

Rahul Mishra- way more interesting take on the tree of life theme than dior. I loved this.

Giambattista Valli-It’s amazing he could have that many looks and literally nothing good. It wasn’t even just repetitive like some of his previous collections have been, it was just not good.

Chanel- I have come to the conclusion I just am not a fan of chanel. They’ve rehashed the same designs so many times they all blend together for me, and I don’t love any of them.

Alexis Mabille- it would have been fine for a rtw collection, but this is not couture.

Stephane Rolland- Uglier versions of the same designs he always does

Julien Fournie- Only taken a quick look, but so far, love the drama. They always put on a true show

Alexandre Vauthier- So boring I had to look it up again even though I’ve already seen it because I couldn’t remember a single thing

Armani Prive- Same designs they always do, in the same color palette. Kind of feels dated, and of course there were some nice gowns but to only find maybe 10 decent things out of a 90+ look collection is a pretty bad ratio. But this is always the case for me with armani

Tony Ward- I can hear Tim Gunn saying to edit. This is probably one of the least cohesive collections I’ve seen.

Overall I’m disappointed so far. It feels like a lot of innovation and drama has been lost in couture in general. These shows don’t have the artistry couture shows used to have, they barely have the content for a rtw show. In the past you were always excited for what you were going to see and never really knew what to expect. The last few years you always know exactly what you’re going to see before the show even starts. I don’t know how many times I can essentially watch the same runway show. Designers need to stop resting on their laurels and the cache of their brand and actually put out some interesting work.

#fall 2022 couture

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on-stardust-wings · 3 years ago

Text

Now that we art all here, let us recount the deeds of the day.

*puts on Crowley sunglasses*

So, I'm not living in one of the privileged countries that get to legally buy and listen to the new Good Omens Full Cast Audiobook. I have tried buying it the normal way, but it won't show up, or it disappears as soon as I log in or try paying something. I decided to give the Audible part of @fuckyeahgoodomens guide a try first, before coming up with own (and potentially worse) ideas.

I am also a gremlin child of the late 2000s internet, I live almost entirely on open source software, I avoid the likes of Microsoft, Google, Apple and Amazon as much as I can in my digital life, and I grew up enjoying TV shows and comics that did not sell in my country. I do not actually pirate things unless it can't be avoided, I'm happy for the creators to have my money, but I also hacked my Blu-Ray player into forgetting that region locking exists a week after getting it and I have tricked Amazon and Audible into selling me things that aren't for my backwater country before.

On a tangent, region locking is such stupid capitalist bullshit they do for digital content. If I want a hard copy of something in another language or from another country, I can usually buy one online. I can go to a website and buy a copy of a book from Australia or a CD from Brazil. I'll have to pay extra shipping probably, and possibly import tax, but that's the extent of the problem. I can also, technically, just travel somewhere and buy something that's only selling in this country. I don't have to give back a copy of a book I bought in the states when I cross European borders. That's not a thing.

In the same vein is the issue of DRM/copy protection. I understand it's purpose in preventing black market sales; I do not understand that I'm not legally allowed to have copies for my own personal perusal. If I bought a hardcover book, I own it and I can do whatever with it. I can draw in it. I can cut out pages I don't like. I can legally take that book and if I own a printer/copier, I can copy it page by page and have one real book in my living room and a stack of self-made paper copies on my nightstand. Short of selling the copies, all's fine. It's mine because I bought it. Same with CDs or suchlike. Turn the tracks on the CD into MP3s to put on my mobile player or in the car or whatever? Cut a track in half and listen to only the first half because I don't like the second part? Fine. It's mine. I bought it. I am not allowed to sell any copies, but for my own use, I can do with it whatever I like.

So, with this overall background and mindset, I logged into Audible.com instead of my local version, looking to pick a small fight with a multibillion dollar company and their idea of media rights and property.

And what does the multibillion dollar company do? It goes "Oh hey, you haven't been here for a while, do you want a free trial? Here, you can choose one free title, whatever you like."

I don't often listen to audiobooks, in fact, I only listen to audiobooks of favourite books I reread all the time anyway, so whenever I buy one, I immediately cancel my membership after buying the book I want, because there's no point in paying a monthly fee if I buy, like, one book per year. And instead of being mad at me for this, half the time I get offered gifts.

So, I log on, full of spite and looking for trouble, and am offered a gift instead.

Joke's on you, Amazon.

I still have to go through the 'set your credit card to US' thing described in the guide, but since I don't actually buy anything with this card, because I've been given a free book of my choice yay, I don't have to contest with any of the weird and scary messages some people get about their credit card info being fishy. I am now powered by spite as well as glee.

I manage to buy the book for my free credit. I get an email about my purchase.

That was easier than I thought.

I go to open the Audible app on my phone. The Audible app on my phone currently contains two books. None of them were bought in my own country (I think they're from the UK? But it's been a while so not sure). Its purchase history says this account never bought anything, because the account is registered to where I live, and I have indeed never bought a book there. (Look, I like books in other languages.)

The new Good Omens book does not show up. Not even after clearing the cache on the phone and refreshing everything.

The link in the email I got takes me to my country's audible website. The book cannot be found anywhere. I spent quite some time searching, too.

By now I'm back to being more spiteful than gleeful. I log back onto the Audible.com website, and whee, there it is in my previous purchases. I can listen to it in the browser (nice, but very impractical), and I can download it. Yay, download. (I also do not really like streaming things. Parts of that is the shitty internet connection in my parts, the rest of it is that sense of "I want to have a copy of it on my own hard drive".)

The downloaded file is .aax, Audible's own audio format, which is basically an MPEG-4 audio file encrypted with a 4-byte key that's unique to your account. 4-byte is super cheap in terms of encryption, so it's not very hard to get around. This is relevant information to this story because that's the next thing I did.

Could I have tried to somehow get my downloaded file into an official Audible app on my phone or computer to get it to play? Probably. Maybe. But here I was with the full file on my own hardware while also being just about done with All Things Amazon. If I want to burn this on CD or put on my MP3 player or my phone to listen to with a music player app of my choice, you can't stop me, Amazon.

Did you know that you can open your browser of choice, go to https://audible-converter.ml/ and drag and drop your .aax file into it, it'll spit out your activation bytes (that's the key to decrypt it with)? You can do that. You can then run it through a command line tool to decrypt it on your computer, or you can tell it to do so in the browser window (slower, but works on all platforms, just pick an output format of your choice and there ya go).

So, I now happen to have an unlocked MP3 of mildly dubious legality (I think it's illegal to strip the DRM, but as long as I'm not selling it *shrug*), for free.

I have that file because region locking exists and I was not able to easily purchase the thing I wanted in my own country. I would have given you money, Amazon. I would have been happy to. It was your own choice to make it a gift, and your own choice to refuse playing it on the regular players. But it was a pleasure doing business with you. Sincerely, fuck you.

PS: I'm off now to donate the money I didn't spend on the book to Alzheimer's Research. GNU Terry Pratchett.

Ciao. *takes off Crowley sunglasses*

#adventures in international copyright #look I tried to be a good person #and then this happened #good omens #good omens audiobook #p+a

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profxjl · 2 years ago

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Next week's spread wasn't entirely what I was imagining, but I'm not really an artist. I took Strings for my mandatory fine arts credit in high school and then never did anything with that department again, and avoided the "Art Kids" like the plague*. Just now starting to dabble with watercolours for accents at 23, with a cheap little 10-colour palette I got at Staples.

Most of my stuff is in pencil still to have it there, but I want to be able to adjust things as the week goes on. At the end of the night or in the morning, I copy the next day's stuff in pen.

As per usual at this stage it's very empty, just a few odds and ends, plus my D&D games. Here's to hoping I get hired somewhere soon, so I can have more concrete tasks on the regular--most of my "tasks" right now are just habits I have recorded on a page at the beginning of the month.

* To explain why I avoided that group, because I feel like I have to do that: They were impossible for me to put up. Everyone in my high school who considered themselves an Art Kid fell into one of three groups. The first was arrogant as all hell, and glorified the "starving artist" lifestyle; they loved the idea of not being able to make rent or buy groceries if it meant being thousands of dollars in debt to an art college and just drawing or painting all day. The second two are very similar in that they made mental illness their entire personality, either in that they refused to seek help while still doing nothing but complaining about their problems (you know the type, who decide to make their problems everyone else's problem too and won't take any action to solve those problems), or the ones who place all their importance on the sheer number of medications they take--the more the better, and if you're not on at least three different pills a day (ideally two antidepressants and one antipsychotic), then you're worthless. I should also note that not everyone who took art classes was like this, however those outliers did not consider themselves Art Kids.

#bullet journal #bujo #journaling

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panda-noosh · 5 years ago

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Enemies by Association {Draco Malfoy x Reader}

Words: 7.6k

Summary: Sometimes you don’t really know what you and Draco are meant to be.

Genre: angst (?)

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - what the FUCK is this, Aticus?!

----

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?

The voice strikes you almost immediately like a blow to the back of the skull. Already in a gruesome mood, the shrill tones of Draco Malfoy does nothing to make this night any better.

Slowly, you turn to face the pale-haired boy now standing before you. It was only seconds before the forest was completely empty, nothing more than you and it’s usual spooky atmosphere, and where once you craved the comfort of another human being suffering alongside you, you now wish for nothing more than a tree to scoop you up and devour you.

Draco, as per usual, stands tall and bold, even in the most embarrassing of circumstances. He’s wearing his Hogwarts robes, the Slytherin crest unavoidable upon his chest alongside his very undeserved Prefect badge. His basically-white hair still manages to glisten even in the pitch black of night, and that stupid scowl of his is, of course, still very prominent on his features.

“What does it look like?” is your response to his dumb question. “I got a detention.”

Draco raises a brow, visible only beneath the torchlight cast upon his lower jaw. “Y/N Weasley getting a detention? Colour me surprised.”

You scowl and swivel back to face the path you had previously been staring into; still dark, still scary, still very unappealing, but it’s better than dealing with Draco’s sarcasm.

He steps up beside you, folding wiry arms over a flat chest. “Are you not even gonna ask why I’m here?”

“I can genuinely say I don’t give a shit.”

“Watch your mouth, Weasley, or I’ll give you another detention.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine then. What are you doing here, Malfoy?”

He’s quiet for only a moment, and during that moment, you can feel his ice-like eyes burning into the side of your head; you want to punch him, desperately and with the force of a thousand waves, you want to punch that smirk off his stupid face.

“Apparently part of the job of being a Prefect is overlooking detentions.”

You gasp over dramatically, clapping your hands to your face. “You’re a Prefect? Why didn’t you say?!”

“Oh, ha ha.” He nudges your arm, nods into the darkness ahead. “Get walking, then. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

“An hour,” you correct, walking forward with him following close behind; you have to admit, he’s grown an awful lot since the last time you had been cursed with a shared detention with him. That was way back in first year after the two of you had been too loud during an argument in the hallways - hallways you were not supposed to be in that late at night. Filch had come sprinting down the corridors, and it was an instant sentence to the forest. Back then, Draco had basically been trembling in fear as Hagrid led the two of you through the trees, giving his usual promises that everything would be okay. You love Hagrid, would trust him with your life, but you’ve never been able to take his word on what he deems as okay.

Now, however, Draco walks with his spine straight and his eyes narrowed, looking for the dangers you suspect he thinks he can fend away.

“You haven’t even got your fucking wand in your hand,” you point out.

“Language, Weasley. I won’t tell you again. Even that twin brother of yours doesn’t use such foul language.”

“Such foul language. Alright, Umbridge, I don’t remember asking.”

Draco purses his lips. “It’s like you want a second detention.”

“If it means having to walk through this bleeding forest with you again, I’ll pass.”

The conversation dips after that. Draco keeps his wand in his hand, seems utterly concentrated on the path ahead; neither of you know where you’re going, but that doesn’t seem like such a bad thing when the tension is so high.

And the thing is, you don’t even think you dislike him.

Draco just has the kind of personality you’re meant to clash with. He’s Slytherin, you’re Gryffindor. You’re a Weasley, he’s a Malfoy. You’re best friends with Harry Potter, and he’s got some kind of vendetta against him, so hating him is just kind of expected.

But you talk to him a lot more than the others do.

It’s mainly arguing, yes, but you’re still communicating, and you still go out of your way to sneer at him, and he goes out of his way to sneer right back. You insult him, but you spend ages coming up with those insults and you get excited when you see him and can finally hurl them at him from across the hallway, and you get excited when he throws his own set of insults right back at you. It’s been like that from day one, and you’re not sure what your day would look like without it.

These thoughts never settle well with you, of course. You take one look at Ron and immediately feel like a traitor, because if he was to hear what was running through your head, he would be most incredibly displeased - and rightly so. The way him and Malfoy get on, it wouldn’t surprise you if Ron turned and ripped your head off for ever expressing even a single hint of fondness for the blonde boy currently strolling alongside you.

“What are you in detention for this time, then, Weasley?”

His voice breaks you from your reverie. You glance at him; he’s still looking dead ahead, tracing those ice blue eyes along the ground in search of danger. Part of you is surprised; the fact that Malfoy even showed up tonight is a big deal, considering you wouldn’t be surprised if he simply left you for dead in the Forbidden Forest.

“McGonagall got mad at me,” you mumble in response.

Draco raises a brow. “For what?”

“For nothing.” You fold your arms over your chest, letting your wand peek from your sleeve to keep the light illuminated on the track ahead. “In my defense, it was entirely Ron’s fault - if he had just let me get on with the Vanishing spell, that table would still be in her classroom and I wouldn’t be here.”

Draco nods like he understands. “I always said two Weasleys in the same classroom would be dangerous.”

“Ha.”

“So why didn’t Ronald get a detention?”

You scowl. “I bloody covered for him.”

Draco almost seems to stumble. Your head snaps round to look at him at the exact same time he whirls around to look at you, eyes wide beneath his wand light, his footsteps a little heavier.

“What’s wrong with you?” you demand, struggling to hide your laughter.

“You covered for him?”

You raise a brow, grin spreading slow across your face. “Of course I did. He covered for me during Snape’s last class, and Snape is ten times worse than McGonagall - I owed him one.”

Draco continues to stare at you in puzzlement.

“Malfoy, close your mouth before you attract flies.” You glance into the darkness and shudder. “Or something worse.”

Draco shakes his head, fumbling to return to his previous pristine posture. “You’re an idiot.”

“Would you rather be walking through this hell-hole with Ron? Because I’m sure he’d be flattered to hear it.”

“Absolutely not,” Draco snaps. “I just. . . I don’t understand why you’d get yourself in trouble for the sake of somebody else. Surely you have better things to be doing than a late-night detention with me.”

“Aw, give yourself more credit, Malfoy.”

He raises a brow.

You grin. “Although, to be fair, I would much rather be chewing on leather shoes than walking beside you right now.”

Draco rolls his eyes, nudges your arm in his attempts to make you speed up. “Say that again and you’ll be back here tomorrow night.”

And that is enough to shut you up immediately.

----

Professor Dolores Umbridge.

The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, a small woman doused in pink, ruffled with feathers and other fluffy accessories. A woman with a smile and a sweet voice. A woman hiding behind a mask that almost everybody has seen past at this point.

She’s only been at Hogwarts a handful of months, and already she’s decided she owns the place. You, Ron and Harry scowl when you walk into her classroom to see she has yet to fall into the Hippogriff dens. As per usual, written upon the board in white chalk is the next chapter the class will be forced to read in utter silence whilst their wands are stowed away in their backpacks.

“I hate her,” you whisper to Ron as the two of you take your seats at the back of the classroom. “Hate. Her.”

“Keep your voice down,” Hermoine hisses, leaning back so she can talk to you. “You’ve seen what she did to Harry when he spoke out of turn - she won’t let you away with it either, Y/N.”

You scowl, glaring at the back of her head. “She’s just got something against Harry.”

“Exactly,” Harry whispers. “And you guys are my best mates, so she has something against you lot, too. By association.”

“To hell with that. McGonagall surely won’t let her give us a detention just for being your friend.”

Harry raises a brow; he’s already been through this once with you, but you were too busy arguing with Fred and George about their Nosebleed Nougat to really listen. Nonetheless, you’re aware that Harry went to McGonagall in his attempts to weasel out of his last week of detentions with Umbridge and was told - plain and simple - that she could and would do absolutely nothing to help him out.

The lesson starts as per usual - with Umbridge reminding the class which chapter they left off at, ordering everyone to open up to the page beginning the next one, and reading everyone that they did not - under any circumstances - need to talk.

You lower your head to your textbook, skimming the same sentence over and over again. It’s so easy to lose concentration when even just sitting in this room - in silence or not - makes you angry. You don’t want to read, don’t want to learn, don’t want to listen to her stupid, squeaky little voice. You just want to-

The seat beside you is pulled from beneath the desk. Your head shoots up, eyes widening when you see Draco Malfoy sitting down, pulling his textbook from his bag without so much as a glance in your direction.

You look up; Umbridge has spotted the latecomer, but merely gives Malfoy a smile that tells you she is in close cahoots with the blonde demons father. You look back up at Malfoy and narrow your eyes.

“You don’t sit there,” you whisper.

Draco glances at your textbook, nudging his arm with your own. “What page are we looking at?”

“Not my problem you were late, Malfoy.”

He tugs your textbook closer, leans a little further forward to read the page number, and it’s when he does that that you can feel his breath on your lower arm, can feel the warmth of his skin as he gets so close. Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second - you never once believed Malfoy would have warmth. The boy looks too much like a corpse for you to think he has any kind of body heat whatsoever.

But it’s nice, and he’s very close to you, and you don’t think you like it that much.

You don’t move away.

“Half these bleeding chapters don’t even make sense,” Draco mumbles, eyes still scanning the glossy page of your textbook. “I’ve learned nothing since she got the teaching job.”

You raise a brow. “I could have sworn Umbridge was one of those teachers your head was shoved up.”

“What made you think that?”

“Well, she’s a bit of a bitch, isn’t she?” you reply, motioning to the woman sat at her desk, too busy humming away to herself to hear you and Malfoy conversing in the back of her classroom. “I just assumed you liked all the bitchy teachers.”

“You really do have a foul mouth, don’t you?”

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

Malfoy purses his lips and glances at you through the corner of his eye; you, on the other hand, shamelessly stare right back at him, tracing your eyes along his sharp side profile. He really is a pretty boy to look at; the sharp jawline and pointed nose. You always thought he was fairly attractive, despite the amount of times you called him a weasel in your lifetime.

“I think she’s a lousy teacher,” Draco concludes. “Her policies aren’t too bad-”

You grunt.

Draco rolls his eyes. “You only don’t like her because she yells at you all the time.”

“All teachers yell at me all the time - but at least I deserve it in their classes. She just yells at me because I’m friends with Harry.”

Draco shifts. “Don’t really blame her.”

You yank your textbook back to your side of the table, fury suddenly building in your chest. “Oh, go to hell, Malfoy.”

This is how it always goes with him - things will be going so well, so smoothly. For a short period of time, you convince yourself he’s a good guy and maybe - just maybe - you’ll be able to get on with him. But then he goes and says something like that, so unnecessary and unjustified that it reminds you how much of a rat he really is.

Draco is quiet for the remainder of the lesson, one hand tucked against his cheek as he scans the pages of his own textbook - one he miraculously found just a few minutes after you downright refused to share yours. Although the whole class is silent, it feels a bit more tense where you and Malfoy are sat. He shifts every now and then, and the constant glances shared between you are enough to drive you insane.

Sometimes you just want him to speak to you, which is weird considering you were the one who shut down the conversation in the first place. Arguing with him, throwing insults back and forth is better than sitting here in this anger-infused silence.

Class finishes with no slip-up’s between you and Umbridge. She tries to claim you were too noisy when standing up, but whatever punishment she was about to fish out to you is washed away by the crowd of students happily making their way out of her classroom.

“What did Malfoy want?” is the first thing Ron asks when you finally find each other in the crowded hallways.

“Nothing,” you reply. “He was just late and needed a seat.”

Ron scowls, shooting a glance over his shoulder to where Malfoy and his cronies are standing. “He better not have been causing you any trouble.”

“No trouble at all.”

“He wasn’t insulting our parents or anything, was he?”

“I said he was no trouble at all.” You aren’t sure why you’re snapping; you’re mad at Malfoy, for crying out loud.

Ron hauls his bag a little further up his back, still scowling even as he turns away from them. “He winds me up. He’s constantly staring at you. Makes me want to punch him right in his ugly little-”

“Okay, Ron. I get it. You and Malfoy are sworn enemies.”

Ron glances at you. “You better be on my side or I swear to god-”

“Of course I am.” But you’re talking so fast, and Ron knows you better than anybody else. His steps falter, letting you know immediately that he’s picked up on the rush of your tone, the heat in your cheeks, the uncertain lilt to your statement.

You glance at him through the corner of your eye and quickly mumble, “I’m on your side, Ron.”

Ron pauses. And then, “Wait till I tell Harry about this. He’s gonna crack up.”

You grab Ron’s arm when he quickens his pace. “What are you talking about? Ron, stop. Stop right now or I swear to-”

“You fancy Malfoy!”

You wince, heart dropping. You nearly stumble over your own two feet in your attempts to slap your hand over Ron’s big mouth, his grin widening beneath your hand. “Shut the hell up, Ronald Weasley!”

He pries your hand away. “How long has this been happening? And why him? Of all bloody people!”

“I don’t - I don’t fancy Malfoy!” you hiss, trying your hardest to keep your voice down - Fred and George have a habit of appearing out of nowhere, and this is the absolute last thing you want them to overhear.

Ron raises a brow, still grinning manically. “Your face right now tells me differently.”

“He’s a rat. I’ve hated him since first year. Just because I can’t be bothered listening to you rant about him every few minutes doesn’t mean I have a bleeding crush on him!”

“And here I was thinking you didn’t have feelings.”

You close your eyes, running your hands through your hair. “Oh, please be quiet, Ron. Don’t make this into a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. If he tries anything-”

“He won’t.”

Ron pauses, clearly unconvinced but too smart to continue his teasing. You open your eyes, shoot him a pleading look to which he simply rolls his eyes and continues walking down the corridor towards his next class. You take a moment to recompose yourself before jogging to keep up with him.

“I’d rather you didn’t tell Harry or Hermoine,” you mutter.

“Of course not.”

“You’re going to tell them, aren’t you?”

Ron shrugs. “I won’t for a while, but if anything happens between you two, they deserve to know.”

“Deserve?”

“They both hate him as much as I do. Just because I’m supporting you doesn’t mean they will.”

You purse your lips; he has a point, whether you want to openly admit it or not. Your feelings for Draco Malfoy have never been crystal clear to you, and even now as you refuse to deny them in front of Ron, they’re still not crystal clear. He’s attractive, and you enjoy talking to him, teasing him, but saying you have genuine feelings for him does nothing but make you anxious.

But at the end of the day, nothing can happen anyway. Draco Malfoy is one person who is completely out of bounds to you, too different from you to even think about anything beyond a friendship.

---

That night, you can’t sleep.

Your head hurts. Attempts to tackle your mountain of homework failed immensely, giving you nothing but a migraine and a sense of frustration that teachers are still insisting on giving you piles upon piles of work to do after class hours.

So you do as you always do, and break the rules by getting out of bed and parading the hallways.

You’ve gotten good at hiding from Filch throughout the years; with the help of the Marauders Map, it’s not difficult to keep tabs on where the little man is. With the help of your older brothers, you’ve also been able to pinpoint all the decent hiding places, one for each corridor, so you’re safe for now.

You walk, clutching the map in one hand and your wand in the other. In the distance, you can hear Peeves singing to himself, but you don’t worry too much about him - he likes you, says you’re more like Fred and George than Ron is, so he’ll let you off with a lot more things.

The corridors are always a little spooky at night; already spooky enough during the day, the cloak of darkness and the eerie silence that comes during the night makes it even worse, but you’ve found yourself enjoying it. The feeling of the unknown has always intrigued you; you get it from your father, you think. He’s forever looking into random little things, things he knows nothing about it, risking it all just to gain a little extra knowledge on a topic nobody else cares about.

You saunter through the halls tonight, running your fingertips along the bumpy wallpaper. You sigh when you turn the corner, eyes nearly closed with the migraine pumping through your skull, hands gripping-

“Lower your wand right now.”

You nearly scream. If not for the shock that takes over your body in an instant, you would have bellowed out for help. But you’re left frozen, mouth open in shock, knuckles turning white with your suddenly enhanced grip on your wand.

Standing in front of you is Professor Dolores Umbridge, a pink dressing gown wrapped round her shoulders, a beady glare on her face. All that is left to top the ensemble is a set of curlers upon her head.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

It seems like the most obvious question, but you struggle to find a response. All you can do is stare at the short woman with your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. She raises a brow, tilts her head and motions to your wand.

“Do you plan on using that against me, Weasley, or will you put it down before I’m forced to take lethal measures?”

You quickly stow your wand beneath your bed robes, giving her an uneasy smile. “Sorry, Professor.”

“No, I don’t think you are.” She shakes her head, tutting as she looks to the ground for a reason you cannot pinpoint. “Again, Weasley, with the misbehaviour. Has my message not gotten through to you a thousand times by now?”

“I have a migraine,” you reply. “I was going to the infirmary-”

“You should have a note,” she says quickly, not giving you a chance to properly explain your situation; and yes, your explanation would be sprinkled with little lies, but she wouldn’t need to know that. “I’ve gone so easy on you since the start of term, Y/N, and it seems like you’re taking it for granted now. Being out past curfew is just a step too far.”

You blink. “Uhhhh…”

“A week of detentions with me it is,” she says, and your heart drops. “I’ll see you-”

“There you are! Did you get that thing I asked you to get?”

You spin around. Approaching is no other than Draco Malfoy, and you silently curse whatever deity is looking over you right now.

He’s got a grin on his face unlike anything you’ve ever seen from him. Usually adorned with a grimace or a scowl, seeing Draco genuinely smile is like seeing light for the first time. Although unusual, it fits his face perfectly and you very nearly have to grab Umbridge’s fluffy arm to stop your knees from giving out beneath you.

“Malfoy!” Umbridge gasps. “And what are you-”

“Oh, you got caught,” says Malfoy, sidling up to your side. “Bloody hell, Y/N - I give you one job.”

Umbridge blinks. “What are you talking about, Mr Malfoy? Y/N here was parading round the hallways of their own-”

“I asked her to get me something from the Ravenclaw common room,” Draco says. Your eye twitches, mouth opening, but Draco oh-so-subtly pinches your palm before you can speak up and ruin whatever little deception he’s got going on right now. “You’re not giving Y/N the detention, are you? I asked them to get it for me, and I’ll gladly do the detention with you, Professor.” He beams even brighter. You bite your lip, glancing at Umbridge who seems to be growing more and more shocked as the conversation progresses.

“This behaviour is - is - it’s ludicrous!” Umbridge exclaims, stamping her foot on the last word to really drive her point home. “Mr Malfoy, what on earth possessed you to think doing such a thing would be wise? You’re usually such a well-behaved student!”

You snicker. Again, Draco pinches your palm.

He looks down in faux shame. “I know, Professor. I deserve a detention.”

You subtly raise a brow, glancing at Malfoy through the corner of your eye; he’s not even looking at you. He’s got his eyes to the floor, a little frown on his face. He’s being awfully convincing.

Umbridge sniffs, clearly torn at the idea of giving a Slytherin a detention - not her precious Slytherin. You want to draw back and punch her.

“Very well, Mr Malfoy,” she says. “I’m afraid that’s a week of detention for you. I’ll see you in my room at ten o clock tomorrow night.”

Malfoy just nods, the two of you watching as Umbridge turns on her heel and starts marching back up the hallway, too flustered to even bother telling the two of you to head back to your dormitories.

You whirl on Draco as soon as Umbridge is out of ear shot. He’s already grinning at you, putting his hands up in mock surrender as you slap his arm.

“A thank you, Draco would do the bloody trick,” he hisses, stumbling back at the force of your abuse.

“What the hell did you do that for?” you bark. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Again, a simple thank you, Draco would do-”

You groan, whirling on your heel. A noise escapes the back of Draco’s throat as he leaps forward and grabs your hand, forcing you to turn back and look at him. His blue eyes bore into yours, a stampede of butterflies erupting in your stomach; you try your hardest to ignore those, but it’s difficult. Getting more and more difficult with each passing day.

“So you’re not even gonna tell me what you’re doing out of bed at this time of night?” he asks, raising a brow.

“How did you even know I was awake?”

“It’s my job as Prefect-”

“You’re a Prefect?”

“Shut up! It’s my job as Prefect to make sure nobody is out of bed past hours - technically I should be giving you a detention right now.”

“Oh, look how that’s turned out.”

“You owe me one.”

“I owe you fuck all.” You pry your arm from his grip, but instead of walking away, you fold your arms over your chest. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “You’ve always been such a stubborn one, haven’t you?”

“And I’ve also always been able to hold my own.”

“I never said you couldn’t.”

You narrow your eyes. Draco narrows his right back at you; there’s so much going unspoken right now, and it makes you uneasy. There’s a tension that you both clearly feel but neither of you want to address because neither of you are completely sure why it’s there in the first place.

Draco breaks first. With a huff of air through his nose, he turns on his heel, though he doesn’t start walking until he says, “Get back to bed, Weasley, or else you will get a detention off me.” Then he’s gone, and you’re too tired and too flustered to call after him, to give back some kind of insult.

So instead you do as he said, heading back to the girls dormitories. Hermoine is still awake in the common room, hunched over a desk with her homework spread out before her; she looks content, smiling down at a book on Hippogriffs with multiple quills laid beside her. You give her a tiny smile as you walk past, but her bleary eyes and lack of acknowledgement tells you she isn’t really paying too much attention to the fact you’ve just walked in from the hallways past hours.

You tuck yourself up into bed and sigh into the air; Draco Malfoy will truly, utterly be the death of you.

----

The next time you see him is at lunch three days later.

He’d disappeared. You tried to keep yourself calm. You pretended you didn’t even notice his absense, laughing along to jokes at the Gryffindor table, joining Fred and George in even more michief just to get your mind off the fact that Draco wasn’t sitting at the Slytherin table, and he wasn’t insulting you, and he wasn’t making you feel special.

But three days pass, and you finally corner him.

He’s got his back turned when you approach, but Ron, Harry and Hermoine went down to visit Hagrid, leaving you on your own; if there’s any time to talk to Draco, it’s now. So you take your chance, moving across the hallway with swift steps before you reach out, tap his shoulder, and-

He whirls around, eyes wild. His hair is sticking up on end, and as soon as he sees you, he stumbles back into the wall and tries to make a break for it.

Panic erupts in your system for a reason you can’t pinpoint. Your hands snap out, wrap around his arm and tug him back before he can escape.

He groans, throwing his head back. “Weasley.”

“Let’s not do this today,” you hiss under your breath. “Where have you been, Malfoy?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because-” You falter; you hadn’t planned a response to that question. You shake your head instead, tightening your grip on his arm. “Just tell me where you were. Have you been going to Umbridge’s detentions?”

Draco’s arm tenses. You glance down, raise a brow. He tugs his arm back. “Yes, I’ve been going to Umbridge’s detentions. No thanks to you.”

“I never asked you-”

“You’ve said.” He turns, grabbing his bag as he does so. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting in Professor Snape’s office in regards to-”

Your eyes drift down. You’re not sure why; maybe the mention of Professor Snape immediately switched your attention span off and the sight of Draco’s hands curling round the strap of his bag was more exciting. But it’s this simple action that helps you see what Draco is clearly trying to hide.

A small gasp escapes your lips, and he freezes because he knows. He knows you’ve seen them, knows there’s no way to hide it any more. His eyes squeeze closed, his teeth biting together as he whispers, “Please don’t make a fuss.” Scribed on the back of Draco’s hand are the words I must not break rules.

Your mouth runs dry in an instant. Anger claws at your throat. You slowly reach down and grab his wrist, bringing his hand up to your eyes, and he doesn’t even try fighting you off because he knows there’s no point, it’s too late now, you’ve seen the damage.

“Draco.” Your voice is a whisper, hoarse and clogged with emotion. “Draco, what did she do?”

He looks to the floor and says nothing. For the first time in the five years you have known Draco Malfoy, he does not have words. No insult, no snide remark, no cocky little statement to make himself feel better in times when the world is ganging up on him - he’s completely silent, mouth open as if the response is hovering on the brink but not quite reaching the surface just yet.

You flick your eyes up to his face. “Draco, tell me what she did. Please.”

“It’s my punishment,” he mumbles. “That’s all.”

My punishment. His. Like he was the one roaming the hallways when he wasn’t supposed to be, like he’s the one who always thinks he can get away with things, like he’s the one who genuinely deserved the punishment.

You drop his wrist and spin on your heel. “I’ll kill her.”

Draco grabs you round the waist and drags you backwards. You grunt, anger flooding your system, released after months of torment from Professor Umbridge. “Let go of me, Draco. Let go!”

“Stop,” he hisses in your ear. “Look, the damage has been done, alright? There’s nothing either of us can do now-”

“I’m telling Dumbledore,” you exclaim. “He can’t just let this continue. Malfoy, let go of me!”

He tugs you even closer to his chest. “You’re acting out.”

“Oh, I’ll show you what acting out looks like-”

“Please.”

It’s that word coming from his mouth that floors you. Your body goes limp. You collapse against his chest, your head dropping, like all the energy you once possessed has been sapped from your bones all because of Draco’s voice whispering that oh-so-fragile word in your ear.

He gently spins you around to look at him, taking you by surprise when he cups your face and tilts your head back and forth, giving you a little smile that does not reach his eyes but makes your heart clench nonetheless.

“Don’t ask me to ignore this,” you mumble. “This is . . . This is just. . . “

His thumb traces your lower lip; it’s no longer just a casual gesture between friends. Even you - in all your denial - are able to notice this; the way he’s looking at you, the affectionate way he trails his circular nail against your lower lip. There’s no way it’s friendly.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he replies softly. “I know what kind of temper you’ve got on you, Weasley. It’s much better if I take Umbridge’s punishment than you, or else god knows what’ll end up happening to that poor woman.”

“Poor woman.” You reach down, winding your fingers through his. “How many more detentions have you got with her?”

“One,” he replies, running his thumb along the back of your hand. At the raise of your brow, he rolls his eyes and says, “It’s not too bad, Y/N, honestly. I’m braver than you seem to think I am.”

“You’re a wimp, Malfoy. You probably go back to your dorm and cry after every single one.”

He scowls. “I’m always so close to giving you a detention.” He leans forward, lowers his voice. “Detention in the library, Weasley.”

His tone of voice startles you. It’s reflex when you jump back, taking your hand from his and stuffing it inside the deep pockets of your robe, awkwardly coughing into your shoulder. Draco continues to stare, one eyebrow raised, a tiny hint of a smile playing on his face. It’s that same smile that, once upon a time, would have made you want to draw back and punch him, but now does nothing more than make your stomach erupt into butterflies.

“I have to go,” you say hastily. “I was meant to call Bill a few minutes ago to let him know about all that family drama - you know the stuff with Percy? What a git. Still very mad at him.” You glance over your shoulder. “Uh, so I’ll see you around, yeah? Nice talking.”

Draco simply nods. You spin on your heel and dart in the opposite direction, heart hammering at a million miles per hour.

And you’re not bloody stupid - you can recognise flirting when it’s shoved in your face like that. The hand-holding was innocent at first - at least, you thought it was. Yes, it gave you butterflies to feel his skin pressed against your own, and yes, his eyes make your heart melt every time you look into them, but none of that truly means anything at the end of the day.

However, his tone of voice when giving you a detention was - quite simply - past the point of dishing out a simple punishment, and those are boundaries breached that have been up between you and Malfoy for as long as you can remember.

You’re not sure whether you want them breached or not.

----

Once again, you can’t sleep that night.

It’s not a migraine keeping you awake this time. It’s not the stress of homework, the dread of seeing an disliked teacher the next day; tonight, sleep evades you because you can’t stop thinking of Draco Malfoy sitting gloomily in Umbridge’s classroom right this very moment, being tormented with a pain he does not deserve, a pain inflicted upon him because he took the fall for a rule you broke.

You tell yourself that’s the reason you’re getting out of bed; you want to make things right. You’ll go down to Umbridge’s classroom and you’ll tell her the truth, and then you and Malfoy can pretend none of this ever happened. You can go back to insulting each other. You can go back to disliking each other.

You pull your dressing gown on, quickly check the Marauders Map and head out, ignoring Hermione’s exhausted grunt of “Goodnight” when you pass her in the common room. You double check for Filch or Umbridge herself before heading straight to her classroom, not caring about the noise, or Peeves souring about you, crying out, “Where’s the fire? Where’s the fire?”

You reach Umbridge’s door and wrack your knuckles against it. It only takes seconds for the door to swing open and for Umbridge herself to be stood in front of you, her eyes widening.

“Weasley,” she says, voice high with surprise. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Malfoy’s own voice drifts from behind Umbridge. “Weasley? Please tell me it’s one of the twins, o-or-”

“You shouldn’t be out of bed at this time, Y/N,” Umbridge exclaims. “I’m holding a detention right now. Whatever you want to inquire about can surely wait until-”

“You are one evil little toad, aren’t you?”

You don’t even know where it came from.

That wasn’t what you planned on saying at all. You’d approached her door tonight with the intention of telling her it was you roaming the hallways of your own accord the other night; Malfoy had nothing to do with that decision and he has no reason to be sat in her grubby little classroom right now.

But looking down at her, hearing Malfoy’s voice, knowing what she was doing to him behind closed doors - something just erupts, and you can’t hold it back, and suddenly you’re pushing past her into the classroom where Malfoy sits, straight backed and gaping.

“Y/N-”

You march towards him. “Let me see your hand.”

“What do you-”

You snatch his hand up and gaze at the fresh cut scored into the back of it. A fresh surge of anger spears itself through your chest, and suddenly you don’t care about expulsion, or Umbridge’s wrath, or prison - you just want her to pay. You want her to feel pain like the kind she is inflicting upon Malfoy right now. You want her to feel shame for what she’s-

Draco flips his hand around in your own, grabbing your fingers before you can whirl around and jinx the teacher standing dumbfounded behind you. Your eyes snap to his own, breath leaving you in one clean swoop when you see that foggy essence covering his irises; a silent warning for you to not do anything stupid right now.

“Draco…,” you whisper.

He just nods. You don’t know what he’s nodding at, what he means by it, don’t even know if he really knows why he’s doing it, but it creates a sense of calm in your system. You bite your lower lip, trembling slightly as you turn back to Umbridge and say, “Draco didn’t make me leave the Gryffindor dorms the other night.”

His grip tightens on your hand. “Professor, they’re lying. I told them-”

“I had a migraine,” you reply. “I leave the dorms all the time to go roaming the hallway - Draco just came across me that night and took the blame. Why, I have no idea.” You shoot him a glare. He glares right back. “But it should be me in here getting them words carved into the back of my hand. Not him.”

Umbridge’s nostrils flare, truly angry right now, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Draco is running his thumb along the inside of your wrist, this small reminder of his presence being enough to keep you from pulling your wand out and pointing it at Umbridge right this second.

She flicks her eyes between you and Draco, clearly trying to calm her breathing. You’ve never seen her so angry; part of Umbridge’s “charm” is her ability to say the most hurtful, terrible things in a completely sweet and innocent tone. It’s one of the reasons you hate her so deeply.

“This is. . . This is . . . unbelievable.” She pulls her wand out. Draco freezes. You closely follow her movements. “Never in my thirteen years of teaching have I come across a Prefect who would lie to clearly to my face.”

“He was lying for me,” you bark, stepping in front of Draco. “I’m the one who deserves the punishment, okay? Keep him out of this.”

“DON’T talk to me like that, Weasley, do you understand me?” She thrusts her wand towards you, gritting her teeth. “This is unacceptable. You must think you can get away with everything, do you? Well, not whilst I’m here.”

She marches past you, snatches the pen from Draco’s hand and flicks her wand; she says nothing, but you can clearly see something shift within the pen. It sparkles a little differently, and when she presses it against the page and starts writing, it’s not her own hand that feels the effects of the spell - it’s yours.

A sharp pain suddenly sinks into the back of your hand. You gasp, more from surprise than the pain, but the pain sinks in shortly after. Draco stands up immediately, head flicking back and forth as he tries to figure out what’s happening.

And then he growls, pulls his wand out and yells, “Expellirmus!”

“Draco, no!”

Umbridge’s hand snaps backwards so fast you’re almost certain her shoulder has dislocated. She cries out, stumbling back as the pen goes flying through the air, crashes into the wall behind her and splits right down the middle. Ink dribbles down the wall, burning a trail in the paint.

Draco pants. “Touch Weasley again, Professor, and I’ll have my father in here quicker than you can blink.”

Umbridge stares. No words. No retort. No decree to pass. She simply stares, and as if the mention of Lucius Malfoy has paralysed her, she does not make a single move. You stand behind Draco, watching the unusual scene unfold until Draco finally snaps, stows his wand back beneath his cloak and grabs your hand instead. He drags you from the classroom, still breathing heavily, cheeks still flushed with adrenaline.

As soon as you’re both far enough away from Umbridge’s classroom, he pushes you into a side alley and lifts your hand to his face. “Does it hurt?” “What just happened?”

“Y/N, does it hurt?”

“It’s okay.” You glance down at the words carved there: Blood traitor. “She could have been a bit more original.”

Draco groans, and before you can register what he’s going to do, he’s leaned forward and is pressing his lips to yours.

You’re confused and your hand hurts and you still have no idea what you have just witnessed, but there’s something in the way Draco’s mouth fits perfectly against your own that stops you caring for a second. You melt into him, wanting to cry and scream at the same time as the exhaustion and the nights events overtake you, but Draco’s arms around you keep you from completely buckling.

He pulls away and presses his forehead against your own. “You are the stupidest git I have ever had the pleasure of interacting with, Y/N Weasley.”

You close your eyes. “Go to hell, Malfoy.” And then you kiss him again, because you can.

----

“I am in love with Y/N.”

Ron blinks. You keep a close eye on him, one hand placed in Draco’s, the other gripping your wand in case you have to zap Ron backwards last minute.

Despite Draco’s previous insistance that he doesn’t care what Ron thinks, his palm is sweaty and his cheeks are bright red. He stands straight backed, as if he’s addressing some member of the Ministry, and he’s talking with a formal little lilt that makes you want to laugh.

Ron’s eyes flick between you and Draco, waiting for a punchline he will not be receiving.

Carefully, you say, “And I am in love with Draco.”

Ron’s shoulders slump forward. “So that’s it then? I owe Ginny a fiver?” It takes a minute for his words to settle. When they do, you reel back like you’ve been slapped. “What?”

“You two couldn’t have held it off for a little bit longer, could you? At least till after Christmas, for Christs sake.” He shakes his head, stands up and fishes five galleons from his back pocket. “That’s my lunch completely ruined. I’ve only got enough for three chocolate frogs out of the vending machine, and they won’t keep me full through Divination, will they?”

Draco tilts his head. “Is this serious?”

Ron points a finger in Draco’s direction. “Whilst we’re on the topic, yeah, you don’t mess about with Y/N, alright? I don’t want to have to comfort another one of my family members; Mum’s enough as it is.”

“So you’re alright with it?” you say, stepping a little closer to Malfoy; despite having claimed that nothing between you and Draco will change if Ron has a sour attitude, you still stood a little bit away from him just to give Ron the chance to ease into the news.

Ron shrugs. “Obviously I’d prefer someone else for you, but I’ve seen how happy this git makes you.” He points in Draco’s direction. “I don’t get it, personally, but that’s none of my business.”

“You’re right there,” you say, before softening your voice and giving Ron a smile. “Thanks, Ron. I appreciate it.”

Ron scoffs. “If you really appreciated it, you’d buy me lunch.”

“No. Get some sweets off Fred and George.”

Ron looks at you like you have two heads. “And risk suffocating? I don’t think so. I’ll starve, thank you very much.”

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