#aymmidumps

[otdiaftg]

ARTIST HIGHLIGHT

Aymmidumps

Hello, i’m Aymmi! i’m from Argentina and i use she/they pronouns! I’m into books and shows and stuff but mostly OC’s.

Art used with permission by the wonderful Aymmidumps. Thank you for your incredible art @aymmidumps !

[alex-plays-exy]

Hey look, it's me!!

(Commissioned from THE aftg artist @aymmidumps you were so kind and so fantastic, I'm in love! Thank you again so much!)

[tycutiovevo]

aymmi's atla au is so gotdam good so i drew some fanart for it!! @aymmichurros @aymmidumps kevin and neil discover the secret of firebending 🐉🔥🌈

[iheartmesomebooks]

Neil: what a mess

Dan: *looks at clutter covering floor* it’s just a bunch of paper

Neil: I meant my life

[polyjosten]

Okay I’m only on page 19 of wolfsong by tj klune and I’ve already cried so many times because I love ox so much

[peristeronik]

changed my icon to kevin~

[doesephs]

‘doesn't mean I wouldn't blow you’

inspired by @aymmidumps 2016 artwork

[andrew-minyards-bitch]

I am here to accept Andrew Minyard as my Lord and savior.

Art credits to: @aymmidumps

[merceyca]

Five Songs

Thanks @foxsoulcourt for the tag!!

The game is: list five songs you are currently listening to then tag some friends!!

Here are my five:

Becky’s So Hot — FLETCHER (2022)

SORRY BARBIE — Todrick Hall (2022)

Wicked Love — Sara Bareilles (2019)

I Do Not Hook Up — Kelly Clarkson (2009)

Cassandra — Florence & the Machine (2022)

No, I do not have any coherent music taste, these just reflect the current vibes/characters of what I’m working on rn. 👀

Tagging: @herondalefraydaily @aymmidumps @waestlandbaby @thematicallycoherent @diggitydamnsebastianstan @katep4d

[groupielove21]

He compartido 104 publicaciones este 2022

74 publicaciones originales (71 %)

30 reblogueos (29 %)

Estos son los blogs que más he reblogueado:

@dear-evanrosier

@deer-boy

@aymmidumps

@enigmaticvariation

@gaddingwithghouls

He etiquetado 79 publicaciones en 2022

Solo el 24 % de mis publicaciones no incluye ninguna etiqueta

#marauders: 43 publicaciones

#remus x sirius: 43 publicaciones

#wolfstar: 43 publicaciones

#moony and padfoot: 43 publicaciones

#all the young dudes: 43 publicaciones

#moony x padfoot: 43 publicaciones

#remus lupin: 43 publicaciones

#the marauders: 43 publicaciones

#sirius black: 43 publicaciones

#moony wormtail padfoot and prongs: 43 publicaciones

La etiqueta más larga tiene 40 caracteres

#like he did that spell so remus can read

Mis publicaciones más populares este 2022:

5

This is Andrew everytime that Neil doesn't answer his phone

1298 notas. Fecha de publicación: 8 de abril de 2022

4

Remus and Regulus in every au be like

1336 notas. Fecha de publicación: 9 de octubre de 2022

3

The marauders (and hats that they would have used)

James:

Remus:

Descúbrela

2230 notas. Fecha de publicación: 12 de octubre de 2022

2

The Black Brothers trying to explain his trauma to people

16.075 notas. Fecha de publicación: 20 de octubre de 2022

Mi publicación más popular de 2022

This is Sirius with Remus

16.748 notas. Fecha de publicación: 17 de junio de 2022

Descubre tu resumen del 2022 en Tumblr →

[otdiaftg]

The King's Men - Chapter Sixteen (18)

Day: Friday, April 5th / 6th* Time: 7:32 PM PST

Jeremy Knox is dressed to go in everything but his gloves and helmet. He'd taken the Trojans' helm his junior year and did well enough to keep the position this year. Neil thinks he's come to size them up as the most unpredictable and unworthy contenders to ever set foot in his stadium, but Jeremy's serious expression dissolves to a toothy grin as soon as he spots Kevin. Kevin slips past Allison and Renee to meet him. Jeremy has to pass Wymack to get to the Foxes, so he gives Wymack's hand a firm shake. "Coach Wymack, welcome to SoCal. We're excited to host you tonight. Kevin, you crazy fool," he says, less formally, and claps Kevin's shoulder in cheery greeting. "You never cease to amaze. You've got a thing for controversial teams, I think, but I like this one much better than the last one." "They're mediocre at best but they're easier to get along with," Kevin says. "Same old Kevin, as unforgiving and obnoxious as always," Jeremy says, but his tone is fond. "Some things never change, hm? Some things do." His grin fades and he treats Kevin to a searching look. "Speaking of your last team, you, uh, you created quite a stir with that thing you said two weeks ago. About your hand, I mean, and it maybe not being an accident." Two weeks later people are still talking about it, if a bit quieter than they had in the immediate aftermath. Kevin hadn't had anything else to say on the matter, and the Ravens maintained their innocence and outrage at the allegations. It is a stalemate that satisfies no one, but it is all anyone was going to get. Kevin says nothing for a minute, as if debating how much he trusted Jeremy with, then only says, "I have a backliner for you. Do you have room on next year's line-up?" It isn't the answer Jeremy is expecting. Kevin walks Jeremy out of earshot of the Foxes before explaining.

Art used with permission by Aymmidumps. Thank you @aymmidumps!

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

[the-haiku-bot]

also why would you

even tell him about the

internal organs?

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

also why would you even tell him about the internal organs?

[tycutiovevo]

guess who’s still screaming over @aymmidumps  ‘s aftg/su au (me it’s me)

so obviously i had to draw andrew and neil’s fusion because it’s so beautiful and i’m still crying abt it (if anyone’s curious what i think their gems are: andrew is amber, neil is carnelian, and their fusion is fire agate :^) )

i hope u like this drawing of them! and i hope i got them right lmao,,

[zoroshonkingbazonkadonkas]

im making a post to keep a track of trc artists ive recently (or- for some- not so recently) found that i like so i dont have to dig too muchwhenever im in desperate need of trc fanart

kaseydjss vulcains catbishonen catbishonen-art agnostic-tendencies cofidea akimao gibbarts(!!!) dancingwdinosaurs rosiethorns88 linecrosser fishmaid chuck-the-goon viria fuocogo roitssomething lunchbagmonster saintdri cherryandsisters theshardsofmyheart mortedartur xla-hainex styx-x aymmichurros aymmidumps deer-boy ghostlyfallows sivsart linneart picapicae clemish porfoct urdchama melodramaticmelon marty-mc lisa-iki() dasstark coldcigarettes ehmeeyu f0x-meets-w0lf squidwithelbows i-am-weis siranea stinkbrat norhuu magicmiscreants viviena

[jemej3m]

objection

because im now a law/crim student, this is all im gonna fuckin write about 

anyway here’s andrew as neil’s defence attorney (totally inspired by @aymmidumps‘ amazing andrew here)

gruesome crime descriptions but neil’s not a butcher in this one

*

“Wesninki’s applying for an appeal,” was all Andrew heard from the minute he’d stepped into the office. It was all anyone could - and would - talk about. 

Reasonably so, Andrew presumed. Nathaniel Wesninski had been locked up since his nineteenth birthday, when he slit his father’s throat. Andrew reckons he should’ve never been charged with murder, especially when considering his father was the Butcher of Baltimore, but Andrew had been just an undergraduate student at the time. There was nothing he could’ve done. 

Now, though. 

Now Andrew was just over thirty and steadily climbing the ranks. He hadn’t intended on becoming a defense attorney, but it just so happened that he was damn good at keep kids out of jail. The juvenile detention system was just a cog in the wheel of dysfunction, after all: he knew that first hand. 

Survivors of violent assault who had killed their attackers were also common clients of Andrew’s. Those with mental illnesses and drug addictions found their way into his stack of case files, too. He’d always thought he’d be on the right side of the law, throwing shitty people in jail and fixing the system one day at a time. 

This was alright too, he supposed. 

“Hey, Minyard,” Boyd leaned against the door-frame of Andrew’s office. He had his own private space, unlike the others, who often shared offices with two or three of their colleagues. Andrew was just lucky. Or favoured. 

“Let me guess,” Andrew said, without looking up from his file on a thirteen-year-old being charged with battery and theft. “Dan’s pissy because I didn’t turn up to dinner on Friday, there’s free coffee in the break room, Wesninski’s applying for appeal and Wymack wants me?” 

“Uh,” Matt squinted. “Yes? How the hell did you guess?” 

Andrew gave Matt a bored look. “You talk too loud. The walls are thin, you know.” 

The man huffed, conflicted between being impressed and disgruntled at Andrew’s usual bitchiness. He simply threw his hands up and vanished from Andrew’s doorway, most likely to groan to his wife about how incorrigible Andrew seemed to be. 

He threw his file onto his desk, locked his office door behind him and swung past the break room to dump three packets of sugar into a free latte. By the time he arrived at Wymack’s door, the man was already stood up, most definitely unimpressed by Andrew’s tardiness. And his lack of tie. 

He did wear a tie to court. Most of the time. 

“Nice of you to finally show up,” the old man grunted, tugging on the cuffs of his casual blazer. Andrew fucking hated blazers. They were always too tight around his shoulders. “I suppose you already know what this is all about?” 

“Seeing as Allison, Robin and Renee have all tried to talk my ear off about it, yes. I’m aware Wesninski is trying for appeal.” 

Wymack wasn’t impressed. “What you don’t know is that he’s come to us to represent him.” 

Andrew paused. Now that was interesting. Nathaniel Wesninski was halfway between New York and Baltimore. Why the fuck would he recruit from seedy South Carolina? There was no viable reason, unless - 

“Kevin,” he deduced. “How do they know each other?”

“Moriyamas and Wesninskis ran in the same circles, before it all got shut down.” Wymack arched a brow. “Wesninski figures that Kevin is the only person he can trust.” 

“Kevin won’t do it,” Andrew shook his head. “He doesn’t touch anything Moriyama related with a ten-foot pole.”

“Wesninski knows that. Which is why he’s asked for you: Kevin passed him on.” 

Andrew closed his eyes, very, very briefly, as he cocked his head at his boss. “You want me to get the most notorious gangster’s son out of jail.” 

“At least have him commuted to manslaughter,” Wymack suggested. 

At least, Andrew thought. He remembered looking over the Wesninski case in his third year. Nathaniel Wesninski had laughed, incredulous, as the FBI lead him away in handcuffs, nearly losing his fingers in an effort to cling onto the knife that he’d used to end Nathan Wesninski’s life. 

That wasn’t manslaughter. That was homicide of the first degree, plastered over the front page of every newspaper the next day. 

"You’ll owe me,” Andrew warned. 

“I’ll cover your bar tab at the Foxhole for the rest of the year,” Wymack conceded. 

Andrew huffed. “It’s February.” 

Wymack arched an eyebrow. 

Andrew had a feeling he’d regret this. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his slacks and rocked back on his heels, looking to the ceiling. “Fine.”

“It was an order, not a request,” Wymack grunted. “Get out of my office and get a visitation permit.” 

Andrew, already fed up with a case he’d only just been assigned, turned on his heel and dutifully marched off. 

*

The drive was nine and a half hours. Andrew could’ve made it a single-day round trip on a plane, but he refused to fly somewhere he could drive instead. He booked a half-hour slot with Wesninski on Saturday afternoon: if he found the man interesting enough, he’d bribe a guard to let him back in Sunday morning. Then he’d drive home, midday Sunday. 

At least Wymack was letting him stay in a nice hotel in Philadelphia. It almost made the journey worth it, but he wouldn’t jump the gun. It would only be a worthwhile trip if he figured that Wesninski wasn’t hopeless. The man was just 29. It was nearly 10 years since he’d been locked up. Andrew’s chances were - practically slim to none. 

Half-way through the drive Nicky called. 

“Heard you’re going to see Wesninski,” he said, the phone somewhat masking Nicky’s obvious curiosity.

Andrew sighed. “Aaron needs to shut his mouth.” 

“Aaron comes to family dinners,” Nicky objected. “He has every right to tell me whatever he wants. Speaking of - if I promise you a whole loaf of garlic bread, will you come to the next one?” 

Andrew huffed. “I’m busy.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you hate socialising, you’ll tolerate dealing with Aaron at work but nowhere else, blah blah. What about me? Your dear, old cousin?” 

“Fine,” Andrew grunted. “Now, leave me alone.” 

“Yes!” Nicky crowed, but whatever response he had after that was cut off. Andrew dropped his phone back in the passenger seat, turning the radio back up and relaxing into his chair. 

It was a further five hours after that disturbance till his arrival at SCI Phoenix, Philadelphia. Andrew would always despise how depressing prison complexes looked. Chain link fences and brick boxes, splayed out like a progression of architectural failures. The parking lot was enormous and empty. Andrew parked far enough away that his nice car wasn’t in direct sight from the prison’s visiting entrance, fixing up his suit and tie and slinging the strap of his briefcase over his shoulder. 

The guard by the door snapped his fingers for identification. Andrew flicked his license towards him, gaze deadened by boredom. The guard almost winced when Andrew sighed, looking to the clock. Once he was finally granted access, he took the lanyard and shoved his way through the doors. 

Visitation was close to shutting up when Andrew arrived, miserable loved ones reaching for final hugs and brief kisses. Andrew was lead by the duty guard to a private room, waiting by the barred door. 

Wesninski was already waiting for him inside. His hands were cuffed to the table, fiddling with a blunt key. His red curls were overgrown and messy, the grey jumpsuit hanging off his small frame. 

When the door clanged shut, Wesninski looked up. His eyes were the most spectacular blue Andrew had ever seen, his face marred by horrific scars and the stitches used to hold him together. He looked ridiculously unimpressed. Andrew, meanwhile, smothered any flickers of emotion as intrigue sparked in his chest. 

Damn, he thought.

“Unlock him,” Andrew said, to the guard. 

The guard arched an eyebrow. “You sure?” 

“Obviously,” Andrew said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t have knives on his person - they’d set off the metal detector - but he was never vulnerable. He made a promise that he’d never be taken advantage of again. 

Wesninski flexed his wrists when the guard unlocked them, giving Andrew a thinly veiled look of appraisal. The guard immediately skittered off to stand outside the door, holding the interrogation room’s keys in tightly clenched fists. 

“So,” Wesninski said, holding out a hand. “You’re the famous Andrew Minyard.” 

"And you are the infamous Nathaniel Wesninski,” Andrew returned, ignoring the warmth of his skin as they shook hands. He sat down: the shitty metal chair creaked. “We both seem to have names and reputations that precede us.” 

Nathaniel’s eye twitched slightly. “I prefer Neil.”

Andrew leant back in his chair, leg crossed at the ankle. “You seriously think they’re going to let you out?” 

“Well,” Neil admitted. “Probably not. But I figured I’d give it a shot. It should be safer out there now.”

“You’ve been hiding in here? Who from, your father’s ghost?” 

Neil was not impressed. “His bosses, actually. But since Kengo’s second son was shot between the eyes and his first son locked up for it, I should be fine.”

“Riko and Ichirou,” Andrew deduced. “Kevin’s mentioned them once or twice.”

Neil just glared. “I can’t believe that coward won’t help me.” 

Andrew narrowed his eyes. “He owes you, does he? What for? Helping him escape the Moriyamas? Wait - that was me. What about coping with his trauma and reestablishing his career? Nevermind - that was me, too. Goodness, you haven’t been around much, have you? Right, right,” Andrew leaned over the table, resting his chin on his laced fingers. “You’ve been in jail for ten years.”

“You are not funny,” Neil snapped, gripping onto his blunt key.

“I don’t know if it’s worth my time, Mr Wesninski,” Neil flinched again. “Convince me.” 

“Other than it’s what is just?” Andrew arched an eyebrow. Neil huffed. “Fine. I’ll pay you. Double your normal fee.” 

“Prison pays well, does it?” 

“Blood money,” Neil had the audacity to wink. Dammit, Andrew thought again. “I already know you’re quite happy to spend dirty cash, Minyard. A G6, right? Bit of an upgrade from your mother’s car.” 

He should not know that. “You’re not exactly winning me over, here.” 

Neil leaned back in his chair, fiddling with the stupid little key. He must have spent the last decade tracing it down to its current blunt status. Andrew wondered what it used to unlock. 

Okay - he was intrigued by Neil. And yes, his narrative fit Andrew’s bill. And some spare cash wouldn’t hurt: he could sent Nicky and Erik over to Christmas for the summer. 

“What’s something you’ve never given anyone?” Andrew inquired. 

Neil looked up from under his ruby-tinted lashes. “What?” 

“I want something that no one else has.” Andrew leaned further forward, leaning in close. “What do you have to offer me, Wesninski?”

For a moment, Neil simply stared. His fingers stilled. He definitely had a few tattoos and scars, from what Andrew could glean at the little slice of a sharp collarbone, exposed by the jumpsuit. 

It was silent - almost electric. Andrew watched as something behind Neil’s eyes crumbled, the exhaustion settling in, the loneliness of a man who had known nothing but pain and suffering and isolation. 

“Everyone knows Nathaniel Wesninski,” Neil said. “No one knows Neil.” 

Andrew felt the remnants of a smirk tug at the corner of his lips. 

“I’ll tell you the truth,” Neil offered, glaring at the table like it offended him. “I’ve never told the truth before.” 

Andrew stood up, offering his hand. Neil followed suit, grip hesitant where he clasped Andrew’s hand.

“I’ll get you out of here,” Andrew said. 

“You’ll try,” Neil corrected him. 

“Here’s something you should know about me, Neil,” Andrew tugged on his suit jacket, fixing his cuffs. “I never fail a promise.” 

Andrew felt Neil’s gaze, watching him as he left. As Andrew filtered past the guard, he snuck a two hundred into the guard’s pocket. 

“Nine o’clock, tomorrow morning,” he said. “Bring him here.” 

The guard, moon-eyed, just nodded. 

Andrew glanced over his shoulder for one last assessment of his newest client. Neil was leant against the table they had spoken at, arms crossed as he glared in Andrew’s direction. His hair flopped forward, masking one eye. Like this, with his tattooed forearms and shoulders and hell-fire hair, he looked dangerous. 

In his right hand, he played with his key. 

Andrew spun on his heel and left. He knew he’d made the right decision. 

Neil Wesninski would get out of jail, if it was the last thing Andrew did. 

*

[lovefulls]

all i know how to do is shitpost about tfc (borrowed designs from the forefront of tfc art @aymmidumps) | ig: widdershinning