#the Serial Dynamic of Photographic Likeness

[zurich-snows]

André-Adolphe-Eugène Disdéri | Carte de visite (demi-mondaine), c. 1855 albumen print. 7¾ x 7 5/8in. (20.2 x 19.8cm.)

Also...

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Fucked Up Soul

🩸 Previous Parts Here🩸

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, boys panicking, mentions of biting, blood, cursing, weaponry, allusions to past abuse, allusions to lots of past trauma, omega Tom bff, underwear theft, sneaky texts, Tom being a saint, boys in denial, enemies to lovers, pouty boys, mentions of masterbation, unhelpful blockers, both boys being cum goblins 💣 Rating: mature

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Dom was still trembling by the time he reached his flat. Once or twice he thought about finding a stray asshole Alpha and working his urges out but somehow even though he'd been near to breaking before he met the man, his need for release wasn't as strong. If he went too long between kills it started to effect him deeply. His chest would tighten, his vision would tint red, his mood would edge to uncontrollable anger, and he found it almost impossible to control his outburst. Normally having his night interrupted would destroy his so small fuse but after what he'd done he felt his desperation calmed. Even with the confusion and self hatred burning in his veins and through his thoughts. He'd always heard how helpful a sexual release was but he'd never believed it. Not before that damn omega.

He was still wound up, he couldn't help it. Everything he'd fought against for so long was now in question. All the things he prided himself on were tossed out the bloody window and he'd never expected that. He'd popped a fucking knot and tried to scent an omega. He'd licked his face as if it were a claim. He spied on the guy, though he couldn't be completely upset at himself for that. Stalking and voyeurism was part of the job. But this felt… filthy because it felt so fucking good.

His hand shook as he unlocked his front door and the moment he was inside he slammed it closed before resting against the wood to try to calm his racing heart and mind. His wrist throbbed though the wound had already closed but something felt off as he stood there. His home was his safe place- as safe as a sociopathic Alpha could find, and while he was used to spying on others he wasn't accustomed to feeling… watched. Not alone. He couldn't shake it.

“Are those yours? Interesting update to your wardrobe.” A voice sounded from further inside the flat, making Dom jump. He scanned the room and his predator level vision saw through the darkness well enough to find the lump of blankets on the sofa that was his omega roommate and best friend. Bollocks. He'd planned to give the man a verbal lashing but it appeared the photographer wasn't feeling well.

It took his ADHD riddled brain a moment to circle and catch up before he remembered the boxer briefs tucked in his pocket. Oh. “Not mine.” His own voice was still a growl but he couldn't help it. He just sighed and pushed himself off the door to join his friend in their living room. He started to sit before realizing he had far too much energy buzzing through him and instead he paced in front of the prone man.

After a moment Tom pushed the blankets off and sat up, revealing he'd been working on his tablet under the covers. He was rarely without some kind of electronic. Those normally comforting silver eyes went wide before his nose wrinkled and his sharp brow arched high enough Dom wondered if he was in trouble. “What did you do? You smell like-” His voice cut off and he cleared his throat, his gaze searching the Alpha in front of him. He was so close that the scent of him was overpowering but while the killer smelled of blood it wasn't enough to say Dom’s night was normal. Well... His normal.

A small scoff escaped Dom but he tried to control himself. “Wha’? An omega? Do I smell like a bloody omega Tom?”

“Don't take that tone with me. If you yell at me I won't hesitate to kick your arse out. I am not in the mood for your shite.”

Dom glared down at his best friend and his fists clenched at his sides, making the omega drop his gaze. Tom gave him a good once over before his lips parted in surprise, whatever he thought he saw made him sit up straighter. “Tha’ mark you investigated so well? Tha’ Alpha you sent me to take out? Tha’ job you said you did so much research on? A fucking omega.” Dom paused and took a breath before he went off all over again and his feet started moving under him to pace the floor. “A bloody fucking omega on blockers! A mob boss omega! A feral fucking arsehole, gun toting, wet, pretty, drug using, twat! Tha’ weren't in ya bloody files?”

Tom pursed his lips to fight a smile as he shook his head. He wanted to make a joke but he knew better. The hitman would die before hurting him but he never wanted to add to his stress. Dom was his hero and his dumbarse best friend. He just never thought he'd see him like that. “That wasn't in my research. If Colson Baker is an omega then no one knows. He's deep in hiding but I'm not sure how if he's walking around smelling like you do right now. You know I check everything. I would never send you after one knowingly. I take it you got along?”

Dom couldn't stop himself from growling. He knew the signs of their fight was visible all over himself. Blood and sweat and… oh. Oh no. He was covered in cum and a pair of slick wet underwear was tucked in his pocket. Well it was a damn good thing he didn't feel shame. A shock of annoyance rushed through him instead and he pulled the boxers out of his pocket to wave in front of the omega. “Wha's it mean?” His voice went high and the corner of Tom's lips twitched. If he laughed Dom thought he might scream.

Tom covered his nose and leaned back further on the couch. He was going through his own cycle and the stench of omega and spent Alpha so close was just too much. “I think it means you made a friend. Congrats. Did you leave him alive?” He already knew the answer.

All the fight went out of Dom at the query and he dropped his arms, sighing as he stared down at the other man. “Course. Can't kill a ‘mega. Twat bit me and ‘en ‘ad a wank in ‘is shower.”

“Which you know because…?”

Dom's eyes went wide and if Tom didn't know better he'd think he was blushing. “I…”

“You?”

“Well I um-”

“Yes?”

“Fuck. Tom wha’ did I do?” Dom’s voice was almost a whine and his legs felt weak. Everything felt off inside him. For once he felt like the little boy he hadn't really gotten to be. His knotheaded father had raised him to be an Alpha's Alpha and when he wasn't up to standard… Well he took care of that. Dom felt suddenly heavy and he let himself sit next to his friend. What had happened to him?

Tom had never seen the man so shaken and he'd known him for a good few years. Dom was always sure of himself and a little broken but he was never scared. Not the night he rescued Tom in a dark alley, and not one moment since. It hurt his heart to see his friend so lost. He couldn't completely smother his worry for the fellow omega though, or his enjoyment of the situation. “You just found someone. You don't have to have a crisis over it. You're a good man Dom.” How could he tell the scared Alpha what he could tell was happening without sending him into a spiral? The bottom line was he couldn't. He couldn't warn him about the heat scent. He couldn't explain he knew what the mob boss was about to go through. He couldn't give Dom a reassurance that he could handle a mate because he wasn't completely sure he could. He loved Dom but the Alpha wasn't exactly sane.

Tom himself hadn't ever used blockers. He never believed he needed them even though it could get him into trouble. He'd met Dom on a night he was too close to his cycle and an Alpha had tried to follow him home. The killer had saved him from something terrible so he knew the man would treat the mob boss as well as he could. He wasn't scared of that. No. He knew if the world believed Colson was an Alpha the omega had obviously been on the medication for so long. If they stopped working because the pair met? That meant something drastic. Intense. His best friend was intense but he didn't always handle it well. The photographer's stomach turned at the thought of the hell the Machine Gun was about to go through. His own cycles were bad and they were natural. Fuck. Looking over at the boy- because Dom really was that, he knew the Alpha might take it rough. He couldn't tell him. Dom would blame himself without realizing all it meant for himself. They'd have to figure it out as they went. He could at least help though.

Instead of answering any better he pat his lap and drew the younger man to rest on his thighs. He knew his own scent wouldn't bother him, Dom never even seemed to notice though he was always kind. As the Alpha got comfortable and curled up against him he pet through his wild dark hair. “I'll deny the job request. You just rest.” He sighed.

“No. I don't want ‘em sending someone else. Jus’ leave it. By the time ‘ey realize I'll be watching Cols.” Dom didn't even realize he'd given the bastard a nickname. He wasn't exactly thinking clearly.

“Alright.” He whispered back but he still opened his tablet and a special messenger app. He rolled his lip between his teeth as he tried to think of what to say. He couldn't explain to Colson that he knew he was about to be in heat triggered by a serial killing Alpha. He couldn't say he thought they'd found their mates. Instead he just typed something simple. ‘In case of emergency I promise he'll come when you call.’, and under that he added Dom’s phone number before he set it aside and sat back. Even he was apprehensive of the situation. He didn't know what would happen next.

🩸☠️🩸

Colson was pacing his living room when two things happend simultaneously. His elevator opened and his phone alerted him to a new message. He ignored the latter to race for his visitor. With everything happening he could only think of one person to call for help. The only person he trusted since his father figure died. He was desperately hoping she could tell him it would all be okay.

“Col? Baby, what's wrong?” His mother's voice instantly calmed some of his fears as she entered his home and pulled him into a hug. He hadn't even realized he was shaking until her steady form touched him.

She'd had him so young that her pretty face still seemed fresh and soft. He'd gone so long without her as a boy and found her through a series of the most unfortunate events but now she was the one he came to with anything that had to do with his secret. Only she knew. He took a deep breath of her honeydew scent before he pulled from the hug and crossed his arms. Someone might know what he was but that didn't mean he had to act like it. He was still the man of his family and he could be strong. Before he could even say anything he watched her blonde brows furrow and she wandered off to his bedroom. “What the fuck?” She might look like a flower but she certainly wasn't one. He grumbled to himself and followed suit.

She was standing by his bed, already stripping the bloodied sheets. His mother was the kind of woman to get shit done and worry about feelings later. It kept them both strong and task oriented. She was probably why he'd come so far in his life. “Someone sent Yungblud after me.” He huffed and that made her freeze.

“Do you think it was-” Her voice went soft. She couldn't finish the sentence and he wouldn't do it for her.

“I don't know. Fuck if I know how he'd find us or why the hell he'd care, but if it was? Shit. I'll take his out myself.” Anger bubbled in his chest but he was already so hot it felt like lava in his veins. They couldn't worry about that first. “Mom-”

Her gaze softened as she took in his sweat soaked appearance. He hadn't been able to dress more than another pair of boxers and they were already soaked. “Your blockers… Did you run out?” She asked carefully. Conversationally. She couldn't flat out say what was obviously written all over her son in sweat.

Kells swallowed hard before shaking his head. “Took some this morning. I'm fine. Just sick.”

“And Yungblud-”

“Dom.”

“Dom? He was here and he's an Alpha?” Her voice stayed gentle just in case.

Kells shrugged his shoulders and moved to help her with the sheets. A glint caught his eye and he found the knife Dom had left. It was still covered in red as he picked it up and set it inside his bedside table. He probably shouldn't keep it but he didn't like the idea of throwing it out. It made something feel tight in his chest. “Maybe I'll just get stronger ones. I mean, it's not that but... Ya know. If he could tell it's probably time.”

“I don't think they make anything stronger Colson. You've already overwhelmed your system with Alpha hormones-”

“Well I'll have to find fucking something!” He didn't mean to shout but he couldn't help it. It felt like ants were crawling under his skin the moment Dom left and his core was aching more than it ever had.

“Alright! We'll figure something out. Will you see him again?” She asked softly, taking the pile of sheets to his hamper though he was pretty sure they'd have to be thrown out. He didn't know why that thought disappointed him. When she moved to pick up the messy pillow he rushed forward and took it from her hands, his cheeks pink as he cradled it against his chest. Her question shocked him though. What the fuck would he do that for?

His mother blused at the scent and the sight of her son so frazzled and she watched as he hid the pillow under his bed. That more than anything told her all she needed to know and so much of her was worried for her son. “I think you need to find him.” She said simply. “Just to ask who sent him.” It was a lie but at least it would give the boy an excuse. She knew exactly what was happening and why her son felt ill. He would need the other man, no matter who he was.

“I doubt he'll want to talk to me. I bit the fucker. But he's a fucking psycho! I mean!” He gestured to the mess of his room. “Who the fuck tries to kill someone then jacks off on their pillow? It was expensive!” His mom tried not to laugh at his rage. Honestly it reminded her of when she first met her husband. Not Colson's father, but the love of her life. She couldn't exactly tell him so though. “I think he poisoned me. I swallowed some of his bitch blood and now I'm sick. I should get fucking tested. I'm gonna die. That crazy bastard killed me.” If he pouted like the boy he never got to be for just a moment that was between him and his mother. He could almost admit to himself he was scared. Almost.

As she left the room to find a set of clean sheets he finally picked his phone up to check the message. “In case of emergency? What the fuck?” He didn't recognize the number but deep down he knew who would be on the other side if he sent a text. He couldn't bring himself to yet. He was too confused.

“Let's just get you resting.” His mom's voice was soothing as she touched the back of her hand to his forehead. Maybe just for the night he could ignore his life and let her take care of him. He'd missed so much of that bonding as a boy and he felt like one now. A lost boy.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone else wants tagged let me know 🖤

I'm not using Col's actual mom, just wanted to explain that. More of her details will come out as we go. I hope you all liked this chapter. I love getting to see the soft side of such hard boys. Enjoy 🖤

[cannibalsurprise]

saturday is just starting i know, but this is all i read this week. (just hannigram)

a not interesting list of fic recs

by wangi.

mostly: fluff, a/b/o (i’m on my period, i read a/b/o on my period, it weirdly helps with the gender dysphoria), romcom style.

picture imperfect by shiphitsthefan [13k]

A/B/O with meet cute Hannigram, i don’t really like omegaverse but something about this caught my eye, maybe Will as a photographer, which was very interesting, maybe Hannibal finally leaving the role of eternal top/alpha/dom in a non-angsty fic (thank you, authors who write bottom Hannibal), really liked it, it’s a light read, soft, fluffy, might even be a comfort little fic. 10/10

dancing with the beast by proser [86k]

intimacy. intimacy is wow. and also, pretend relationships because why the hell not? Hannibal has feelings, which is cool, great, the writing was soothing, charming, IT’S COZY. REAL COZY. i loved it, i love that is a Hannibal pov, there’s so much longing and it’s beautiful, it’s not such a light read but it’s not at all overwhelming, would read again a hundred percent. 10/10

a fucking parent trap scenario by Devereauxs_Disease <3 [26k]

a misunderstanding leaves Hannibal feeling betrayed, and since he has two braincells, he’s somehow convinced by a stranger who looks just like him that switching lives parent trap style is a Great Idea. a Hannibal extended universe fanfic by my favorite hannigram author, it’s as the title says, a parent trap scenario, as always the writing is completely charming, Dev’s Nigel is one of the best, so well written and on character that is really pleasing to read, Nigel and Hannibal are both raging narcissistic assholes, and it’s just so funny and witty and charismatic. 100/10, would read again.

like you like this by acheforhim [35k]

another pretend relationship fic, but this time is also a a/b/o with some “unconventional” a/b/o dynamics, amazing, i loved it. a serial killer is targeting alphas with Hannibal’s profile, Will and Hannibal thinks it would be cool to pose as a fake couple to catch the killer. it’s surprisingly lighthearted and fluffy, i thought it would be more serious and dark but yk how things go. it was a great read, highly entertaining, engaging and beautiful in all it’s pining. Idiots In Love my friends. yeah, loved it. 10/10, would read again.

short little things that warmed my heart.

how to save a life (the cannibal-friendly handbook) by kittendiamore [3k]

a re-read. loved it (again). 10/10

the mongoose under the house by Devereauxs_Disease. [3k]

beautiful in a heartwrenching way. 10/10

prey by Miss_Lv [7k]

gorgeously gothic. plot-twisty. loved it. 10/10

hannigram word count of the week:

around 137k !!!

[kevlarcrack3d]

(TW: HORROR) UrbanSpook's Painter Analog horror theory: 2 Killers - "Bonnie" and "Clyde"

(Note: I am not glorifying or simping for serial killers. I am just bringing up notable examples. Also, this blog will touch the topic of criminal activities and scary stuff, so if you don't like that, click off)

So, I discovered this relatively new analog horror series by Urbanspook called "The Painter" which is about a string of murders with an artistic touch of paintings of the victims. It was not like any other analog horror I've seen because it contains mystery, thrills, and the use of "real fear" due to the fact that there REALLY are very messed up serial killers out there, and here's my theory based on the latest upload!

What am I getting from here? I am very confident that there are TWO PERPETRATORS, with initially one prime suspect, who I'll be calling "Bonnie" , and theres another, "Clyde".

BONNIE THE ARTIST

If we look at the previous videos, there are pictures of this person with long, dark, messy hair and sunken, paranoid looking eyes, one painting of them (titled "self-portrait") and two photos.

Judging by the title of that painting, this person, who I'll be calling "Bonnie," is the artist and what everyone thought to be the killer who also happens to make the artworks. However, Bonnie just sits in their cabin behind a crack and does art because "Fuck going outside, I love to draw." But, in "the Lighthouse", Bonnie has a photo alongside those of the family, so they occasionally go outside to paint alongside Clyde, who I'll talk about later.

I've seen others conclude that Bonnie painting themself is nan implication of suicide because everyone in the paintings is killed, but I think it's a case of simply wanting to paint one's self.

CLYDE THE KILLER

As shown in the latest video, there is a photo caught on Sean's CCTV of a person covered in the skin of a person (there are stitches at the side, a hint to the crappy sewing skills of the killer mentioned in "In the Walls"). Now, if we look harder, this person does not have the sunken, weary eyes of Bonnie. They look vibrant and alert. This is could be a different person.

In addition to that, Sean seems to have written the number 2 in his blood on the wall. He left a clue that there are two criminals on the loose and not just one. After all, I'm sure Sean, a private investigator, had time to fight back a little, remember the information gathered so far, and have a "Eureka" moment in the struggle finally knowing that there are two different sickos commiting these crimes; one who paints, Bonnie, and the other who kills, who I'll be calling "Clyde".

Clyde, in this case, is doing most the dirty work, finding subjects and references, tormenting them, killing them in creative ways, and giving them to Bonnie to paint. They also seem to have some artistic flair with the way they kill, such as covering people in wax (Tom Harris/Wax Doll Tom) and the like. Clyde also seems to wear the skins of some victims to cover up his identity.

DYNAMICS BETWEEN "BONNIE" AND "CLYDE" + INTERACTIONS WITH OTHER CHARACTERS

Now, this is more headcanon and speculation on how these two criminals operate. Expect expectations to be subverted 😄.

Bonnie and Clyde are clearly very messed up individuals, distorting their victims, torturing them, and killing them just for art references, being extreme in their acts, and taking pictures of them to taunt the authorities in an act of "Wanna catch us, bitch? Here's what we can do!".

Bonnie is probably less discreet, having photographed themself in "The Lighthouse." Clyde seems to be the more cautious one, judging by how they tried to cover up the security cam in a panic. Either way, they both enjoy bluffing everybody with their art, grisly actions, and photos, which actually give lots of way, but hey! They view this as an art, so who cares? Art is 💥FLASHY💅 and ✨️CREATIVE🔥.

Clyde and Bonnie here also seem to not mind working together for this, showing a certain level of cooperation and passion for their craft, so, yeah, very fucked up.

To wrap this up,

TL;DR: I AM REALLY CONFIDENT THERE ARE TWO CRIMINALS WILLINGLY AND KNOWINGLY KILLING AND PAINTING THEIR VICTIMS FOR THE SAKE OF ART.

[nitrateglow]

Halloween 2023 marathon: 9-11

The Slumber Party Massacre (dir. Amy Holden Jones, 1982)

A serial killer breaks free from jail, but the local high school population could not care less. There's sex to be had and joints to be smoked at the latest slumber party. Anyone not invited to the party either aims to crash it (the horny high school boys) or stay at home trying not to think about how uncool they are (the new girl who's better at basketball than her catty peers). All will be drawn together once the killer makes his way into town with a handy power drill that totally won't be used inappropriately.

I saw this movie for the first time earlier this year and immediately fell in love with its goofy charm. Apparently, it was written to be a parody of slasher tropes. The movie isn't played for broad comedy, but the humor is ever present in both overt and subtle ways. There's also a blend of cattiness and affection between the female characters that reminds me of the sorority house dynamics of Black Christmas, and the dialogue is often hilarious.

However, for all the humor, there are some creepy moments. The Driller Killer's "love" monologue is skin-crawling-- even if it is followed by a glorious parody of "the killer should be dead but isn't" trope.

This is one I love showing to other people. Everyone usually falls over laughing by the end, so it's a great group movie, but even alone, it's a fabulous time. You can currently catch it on Tubi for free.

Eyes of Laura Mars (dir. Irvin Kershner, 1978)

Controversial fashion photographer Laura Mars starts having psychic visions of the murders of her associates right as the crimes are being committed. She and everyone she knows become suspects of the slayings. The police find it particularly interesting that Laura's photos, which pair high fashion with images of murder and violence, resemble the subsequent crime scenes. Confused and feeling guilty, Laura teams up with cynical investigator John Neville, hoping to track down the killer before she or anyone else she loves becomes the next target.

This is a new-to-me horror film I caught on Tubi. All I knew about Eyes of Laura Mars is that it was directed by Irvin Kershner, a journeyman filmmaker best known for The Empire Strikes Back, and written by John Carpenter (though tampered with by many before shooting began). The movie is essentially an American spin on the Italian giallo genre. You have the familiar setting of the fashion world, sexy models who become murder victims, a hapless protagonist drawn into the mystery, and some very nasty kills.

There's a lot I like about this film, but in the end it didn't completely work for me. Maybe it's because unlike the best giallo, the movie doesn't have that otherworldly, psychedelic vibe that makes an audience able to swallow the sillier parts of the story. This is a very grounded, gritty presentation of New York City, making the more outrageous things in the film (like the unexplained psychic powers) stand out and not in a good way. Faye Dunaway's performance also verges into unintentional camp, with her wailing like she's in a 1940s melodrama much of the time. And I love melodramatic 1940s movies with appropriately overheated performances, but when the rest of your story is trying to be more realistic, that approach just takes me out of it because it doesn't gel. (Don't even get me started on the final twist, which I can't decide if I find laughable or clever.)

And yet, this is hardly a bad film. What frustrates me so much about it is that there's a lot that's pretty great. The supporting characters aren't the deepest in the world, but they are likable, so when they got picked off, I actually felt something. The movie also has an appealing time capsule element in its presentation of NYC during the height of the disco era. The fashions and the music are dated in the best way.

Despite my complaint about Dunaway's campy moments, Laura Mars is an interesting protagonist. She takes her art very seriously despite the derision she receives from her critics. She doesn't allow anyone to push her around, be it her boozy ex-husband, hostile reporters, or the police. She clearly loves the models, make-up artists, and other associates who work with her, and Dunaway does well lending a genuine sense of bereavement to the character as her social circle gets picked off one by one. However, I feel like the movie doesn't do much with her and she doesn't really have an arc.

I just really wish this film were a better version of itself. However, I can definitely see myself rewatching it someday, so maybe knowing the twists will make me better appreciate what is there. I don't know.

The Curse of Frankenstein (dir. Terence Fisher, 1957)

From adolescence, Baron Victor Frankenstein has had one dream: to cheat death. He and his research partner Paul Krempe delve into the mysteries of life, managing to reanimate a dead dog. Paul is satisfied with this achievement, but like a Disney Princess, Victor wants more. Like, creating a superbeing from bits and pieces of corpses more. This does not end well. At all.

It isn't spooky season without some Hammer Horror. I really have a hard time picking a favorite Hammer film, but The Curse of Frankenstein is definitely up there. Peter Cushing is so perfectly amoral and charming as Victor Frankenstein. I love Colin Clive in the Universal movies, but Cushing is my favorite in the part.

I've always admired how this movie sets itself apart from the Universal series without overdoing the opposition. The Universal movies were influenced by 1920s German expressionism, whereas the Hammer films go for more of a Victorian gothic meets explicit (by 1950s standards) sex and gore vibe. The sets and costumes are always wonderful in these films. I really love Cushing's glorious jackets, particularly the emerald green one.

<spoilers down below-- beware!>

Curse is also interesting for its frame narrative with Frankenstein telling the story from prison the hour before he is to be guillotined for his crimes. No one believes there was ever a creature and Victor wants everyone to know that, hey, he didn't commit ALL the murders. What's most fascinating about the frame story is the way it presents Paul, Victor's former tutor and research partner. Throughout the story, Paul is an unheeded voice of conscience tormented by the crimes Victor commits to achieve his goals. It's also implied Paul is in love with Victor's fiancee Elizabeth, and that this passion ignites further resentment against Victor on Paul's part because Victor clearly does not care about Elizabeth at all but is going to marry her anyway.

The film ends with Victor begging Paul to tell the authorities about the Creature, but Paul acts as though Victor is insane or just making it all up. He doesn't want to save Victor-- but is that because he wants to see justice done? Or is he also tight-lipped because he wants to secure Elizabeth for himself and knows she'll feel too duty-bound toward Victor (who supported her and her destitute aunt during Elizabeth's childhood) to break off the engagement unless the groom-to-be is, well, headless? It's a wonderfully ambiguous touch and it makes Paul more than just a nagging moral center.

<spoilers over>

Anyways, this is a perfect Halloween movie. Don't miss it if you've never seen it!

[agapi-kalyptei]

Color grading micro-tutorial 3a

Let's do clouds now! Here's the one from the camera.

Here's three grades of it I did two months ago:

Let's see what strikes our fancy this time. Let's start with the usual: increase contrast, move around the master wheels in Primaries, push the image around just to see where it goes. Each of these should take 5-20 seconds to make. Don't overthink it, just twiddle with knobs and generate Vibes™️.

This step is important because it helps you find out the actual quality / resolution / sharpness / dynamic range of the photo - not in the sense of pixels width x height, but in the sense - is there anything hiding in the image? Is there any hidden data (forgive me the term) that we could manipulate and bring out?

Philosophically, I have nothing against digital art centered around adding wholly new things to photographs (eg. adding lens flare, removing a building, compositing something new into the photo, hand-drawing over a part of it). For most of these tutorials, however, I want to focus on bringing the best out of photos with the information stored in the image - there's already fifty algorithms in your phone or your consumer camera that are doing color correction and sharpening anyway, so might as well take the reins and get creative with it. Use color grading to tell a story. What did you see? How did you feel?

Two months since I took the photo is a long time, but I think I'd go for "the joy of being alive in pastel colors" vibe. So, before we resume grading: reset reset reset (actually just one reset. it's just one button.)

Let's try this (I'm literally inventing things as I write this post, please bear with me): Move Gamma a bit down to increase contrast of the clouds. Ctrl-S to add a new serial node, and then select it, and press Alt-S five times to make parallel nodes. Start adding very soft, elliptic Power Windows in each, randomly placed around the image.

Save yourself some time by creating a Power Window template:

This is where it's handy to have two bougie things: several screens, and Resolve color grading Micro Panel. Turning Video Clean Feed on (fullscreen viewer on a separate screen) will give you a screen to focus on uninterrupted, removing the distracting buttons and menus, and with the Micro Panel you can adjust Lift and Gain with two hands at once, which will be handy for adding different tint to shadows and highlights.

Hmmm. Okay. Not quite what I hoped for. The main reason is that because both the bright and dark sides of the clouds are around midtones (i.e. not bright, not dark), changing Lift and Gain in different directions mostly just cancels each other out. We could try to solve this in two (hundred) ways: with a new feature added in Resolve 18 - giving nodes different Compose Mode. This somewhat works, but is annoying to right click on each node separately.

Second option is to use the HDR palette.

The idea is simple - instead of using Log wheels - Shadows, Midtones, Highlights (like in Photoshop / Lightroom / etc; stricter separation between ranges) or the default Primaries in Resolve - Lift, Gamma, Gain (more overlap) splitting the picture into 3 sections, the HDR wheels in Resolve let you define custom ranges, like you would with curves, but with the benefit of having the actual wheel to control. The effect can be as subtle or harsh as you want - you can define overlap and falloff - more of it on the left, harsher boundaries on the right:

So fiddling around with those.....

you get absolute garbage. Well, it's midnight so I'm not solving that now. To be continued.

[darkdoverpseeker]

🔎 I'm a 25+ NB looking for one or a few people to help me flesh out an OC I've got! Please be at least 21 to write with me! This will be an MxM rp on Discord! 🕊️

Literacy: Literate and be able to write multiple paragraphs with detail and description to move the story along with me. Give me at least 3 - 6 full paragraphs, more if/when the scene calls for it! (I do expect you to write side characters with me to keep the story moving).

My OC: This guy is nearly 30 years old, and is a talented criminal psychologist/homicide detective working for the FBI. He has an eidetic and photographic memory to boot. He's solved hundreds of cases, but had briefly stopped working in the field due to close call with death after being stabbed multiple times. MC usually has a flat demeanor, even if his voice and eyes match his emotions more. That was a change after the attack. He also has a black cat that he cherishes. (For the sake of plot, I'd make him get back out in the field).

Plot Ideas: I really wanted to try something out like with the Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham dynamic? So, YC would more aligned with Hannibal, but they can either be a serial killer, or a cannibal, if you want them to. Maybe these two start off as new friends or a one night stand (or friends w/benefits)? Slowly, as they get closer, we can explore a psychological aspect where MC slowly starts to spiral down into darkness that has always been there for him, but YC just nudges it in the right direction. As far as whether YC has a direct (mind altering substances, gaslighting, etc) or indirect (some type of earth shattering event) influence on this, we can discuss it together! I'd just really love to do something gritty, dark, toxic, and an all around mindfuck! So, please come with your darkest ideas, and I shall reciprocate with mine! I would like to add non-con/dub-con into this with MC as the victim because I've never done that before and would like to experiment! Eventually, this will turn consensual.

Limits/Kinks will be discussed in private! Ideally, I'd like to write with someone who is down for some gore too, when describing crime scenes.

Please like if you're interested! And I shall reach out to you! I'd like to read a writing sample from you to ensure our styles match! And I'll give you one of mine too, to review, so it's fair. (For this guy, in particular, I only have a anime/manhwa style FC for him. I have not found a RL one for him yet that I like. If that will be a problem, I don't mind doing descriptions instead)

like if interested !

[prpfz]

Hi! 24, looking for some fandomless MxM roleplays with people that are willing to put in some effort. 20+ because I want to include a lot of smut but plot too ofc!

I prefer to play the sub, so some doms would be nice, semi-lit and 3+ paragraphs. Just something to work with and be active like me. And just a heads up, I also only do real face claims.

Please be okay with dead dove content since I want to write something darker and maybe abusive. 🕊️

I have some plot and dynamics in mind, but I'm down to brainstorm together if you have any other ideas!

Paring ideas:

- Cop x robber

- Serial killer x victim

- Tall hitman x short hitman

- Nsfw photographer x kidnap victim

- Last two men on earth / apocalypse

- Mental hospital patient x patient/nurse

Like this and I'll reach out! 🌿

give a like and anon will get back to you

[delusion-of-negation]

can you name any other criminal crushes?

there's complicated dynamics at play with that one, because like sometimes people are older than you, then they die while they're crime-ing it up, and then you outgrow them. i don't think people wrote the bible with readily available photographs in mind, it has kinda been a bit of an oversight. i don't usually like people all this much older than me, so a couple times it's a problem - normies'll crush on the middle-aged nerd killer dude and don't worry about things like this. generally, i'm not hybristo. but a criminal may be attractive by chance for me, i don't find it elevates someone i am otherwise unattracted to. i'm attracted to hybristos ngl, i just like people who like me for my evil ways and not in spite of them. i'm super into vlad the impaler though, that dude could hit. probably actually my oldest human crush. my first ever crush is debatable whether they count as a serial killer, because it's the grim reaper (hence specifying human re vlad, i think death itself is a tad old). actually, i just realised, i have fallen victim to anti logic in this ask because i'm talking about people who are dead and killed people actually for real, and acting like the only thing that complicates a potential ethical crush is whether or not i'm a bit older. i think it's probably already in an ethical grey zone, me, i think we're past it. dude, my favourite story about vlad is once he was eating, and a child wouldn't stop crying... likely due to the fact that he had just impaled its parents. eventually, he got fed up of the noise and he impaled the kid. i mean, if that isn't a 'tism mood idk what is tbh. technically vlad isn't a criminal, as war crimes were not invented. complete aside but i recommend this david mitchell video about people viewing crimes hundreds of years ago vs crimes now, the description there makes it sound dull, but it's a very funny thing.

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Memories Are Blurry

(Kill Somebody Like You Part Two Chapter Eleven)

🔪Previous Parts Here🔪

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats, mpreg), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, baby fic, past abuse, past SA, childhood trauma, allusions to selling people, sexism (against omegas), drinking, mentions of murder, mentions of bombs, mentions of weapons, Dom's darker urges, Kells being playful, family talks, fears, hurt/comfort, blood, trying to sober up, movie time, edging, sexting, Kells being naughty, d/s dynamics, Dom being a dropped needy mess, teasing, enemies to lovers ❤️‍🔥 Rating: mature

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🩷

Dom was curled at the end of their sofa with his second cup of coffee and a blanket wrapped around him. He had eaten half a loaf of bread and a small bag of crisps just to sober up but it wasn't really helping. He could barely look at anyone else because he felt too embarrassed and he knew Tom was still upset with him. He wasn't supposed to binge drink but he really wasn't allowed tequila. Fuck. He'd have to buy the omega something. Or make him dinner. Maybe he could kill someone for him.

“So anyone gonna tell me why Dom's in the dog ‘ouse?” Blain asked from his spot on the other couch. He'd been wasting time watching tv but he could only keep preoccupied for so long when his parents were being weird in the same room.

“He's not.”

“He fucked up.”

“I fucked up.” Dom spoke at the same time as his mate and his brother and almost laughed that he and Tom were still so in sync. He was happy his lover forgave him already but he supposed it was only fair. He'd forgiven Colson a few unforgivable things. “I ain't allowed tequila but I got upset and drank anyways. Ya uncle deserves to be pissed.”

“Oh thank you for granting me permission you twat. I would be anyway. I'm not upset because you drank, I'm upset because you broke a bloody promise and you risked everything!” The photographer’s voice started rising and the Alpha winced. He was somehow still shitfaced and already hungover. “I get you're a sociopath but you're not allowed to lie to us. Don't fuck up again. Next time if your husband doesn't kick your arse I fucking will!”

Dom looked to his someday husband in question and smiled when the other man winked at him. He was sitting at the other end of the sofa holding their son and feeding him with a bottle even though he was shirtless and his pretty inked tits were so close. Yeah… Dom was still drunk and tequila always made him horny. “Sorry bruv. I swears I'll try ‘arder to do good. I were scared. You all deserve betters.”

“You add a lot of extra ‘s’s when you're drunk and you already put them where they don't belong.” Their older son laughed. “But alright, explain to me why you were scared. I've got a feeling it has to do wiv me.”

“Just a bit.” Kells huffed. He wanted to help but at the same time he couldn't help being a little snippy. He had already forgiven his mate and honestly it was a little adorable watching him drunk after he stopped trying to kill himself but there was a part of him still annoyed. He didn't understand how the killer broke after he'd tried so hard to show Dom they were together on this. He was there for him. They could handle anything if they were just together and his bitch ass partner tried to go off the deep end. Yeah, he was a little upset.

“Give him the book Dominic.” Tom demanded but Dom shook his head. He didn't even bring it out with him.

“We can jus’ talk. No one needs to-” He tried to explain but the omega was stalking away to retrieve it before he could finish his statement. He sighed deep and took another drink from his cup. The dark roast made him grimace but his lover rolled his eyes.

“At least you can have it. This little douchebag keeps me clean of all the fun shit don't you? Yes you do.” Colson didn't mean to use his baby voice in front of everyone but he was already exhausted. Their night had been perfect but they stayed up later than they should have and his day was already stressful as hell.

“Don't call Punk a douchebag. Ain't nice.” Dom hummed. It seemed like something they shouldn't start because they'd both grown up being insulted. Joking or not it might stick around and he wanted his boys growing up happy. As Tom walked back in wiping off the pages of the album Dom knew he might not be able to keep that wish with the older one. He wasn't sure if this would devastate the boy or not. It certainly had him.

“Nah, just has one for a dad.” Col teased, sticking his tongue out at his fiancé. He could tell he was nervous though and he reached over to pet his thigh.

Dom had to ignore the way his cock tried to fill at his lover's touch in exchange for the way his heart flipped when Blain took the book and started flipping through it. His hand dropped to cover Colson's and he squeezed. He wanted to playfully insult the other man back but he couldn't do anything but watch. Watch as the kid he took in and loved so much already came to realize they'd known each other a long time. Watch as Blain turned page after page until he saw the truth of their past. His stomach was in knots, his nerves a mess. It didn't take long but it felt like hours and when the boy was finished he closed the pages to set the album to the side. He sat back and looked at the ceiling for a moment, his eyes welling with tears. After a long pause he stood to walk over to their couch and took a seat next to Dom, leaning against his side.

“I should have known it was you. Nothing has ever comforted me like your scent.” The boy whispered. “So… you got drunk cause we was promised to wed? Am I tha' bloody disgusting to yas?”

“God no, I love you. You're amazing to me and I know we boff feel lucky as fuck to ‘ave you in our lives. But you me son, not me mate. You was never supposed to be tha’.”

“Ew. Fuck tha’. No offense.” Blain huffed.

Dom laughed and kissed the boy's hair but he still had to ask and he was terrified. The Alpha took a deep breath of his familiar family scent and made himself speak even though it hurt. “Do you remember… if anyfing ever ‘appened wiv us? Like bad? Or… ya know if you wanna talk about anyfing tha’ might ‘ave ‘appened to you at all. We ‘ere.” He wasn't good at the feelings thing. It didn't frighten him but he wasn't sure he was good at empathizing. It was a fuzzy spot for him as a sociopath but he had enough heart left inside him to love his family. He was reassured when his son didn't move away but he did feel a shift in his mood.

“I don't believe you did anything, no. A lot of people tried but… you was safe. If they tried anything wiv us… I don't remember. I jus’ remember being ‘appy every time they brought me to you. I remember running for yas and knocking you over.” He laughed softly. “But you'd giggle and pick me up. You always gave me wha’ever I wanted. You'd carry me all night if I asked. Sometimes I could only sleep next to you.”

Colson watched his boys bond and tried not to let himself get choked up. He didn't really have the hormone excuse anymore and he didn't want to cry in front of anyone. He was supposed to be a damn badass but how could he be with such sweetness around him? Everywhere he turned there were big puppy eyes and button noses. He was surrounded by shit to make him squee. He tried to keep his focus on the little one in his hold but he kept glancing over to make sure Dom didn't need him. He even checked on Tom and Mod and could tell the other omega was softening as he watched. He couldn't seem to stay upset with the Alpha any more than Col could. It wasn't fair.

“I love you too. I don't think you've said tha’ since we was kids.” Blain sighed. “I wouldn't ‘ave minded being given to you. We could ‘ave left together. I guess your dad's money weren't enough cause mine promised me to someone else. Some cousin. Wonder if we related too.”

“I don't know. We can look into it. So ya already knew you was promised to someone? He called me today.” Dom sighed though he knew he should explain it wasn't that simple. “Fucker tried to assasin- assass- assass-”

“Assassinate. He tried to assassinate you.” Colson chuckled. Dominic was holding it together surprisingly well for being so gone but he had trouble with some words anyway and he loved it.

“Tha’. Yeah he put a bomb on our car.”

“Our?”

Dom gave his mate a playful look and shook his head with a soft laugh. “Yes our. It didn't work and we talked for a few. He said he'll kill Cols and Punk if I don't give yas back and turn me'self over for killing the whole bloody mob. I never knew we was in a mob. Like ‘ow bloody weird is tha’?”

“You rambling. I assumed it was summat like tha’ but I didn't know for sure. I mean we ain't royalty tha’s for sure and it ‘ad to be one or the other.” The kid shrugged. “I'm sorry he's after you all for me. If you wanna give-”

“Don't even start. You're ours and you're not going anywhere.” Kells demanded. He wouldn't hear about trades or anything of the sort. Fuck that.

“Alright.” The young omega hid a bright smile against his adoptive father's shoulder. “You could give me a gun and send me in. I'll fix our problem since I started it.”

“The fuck you did. I slaughtered allllll ‘em bastards. I did. Me. Fucked ‘em all up. Pieces of ‘em everywhere. Blood- blood um… wha’ was I saying?”

“Tha’ you started it I fink. You was showing off about ya body count. Give me a few years and I'll be right wiv yas.” Blain grumbled. It probably wasn't something they should teach him or something they should tease about but they certainly weren't a normal family. They could teach him to do it to people who deserve to be hurt just like Dom disciplined himself. He didn't have to do terrible things with his urges. “I don't want anyone ‘urt because he wants me.” He whimpered softly showing a loving side was still so strong inside him. “I don't want Punk-”

“He won't get anyone. He's a fucking pussy! He built a piece of shit bomb and is probably a momma's boy little bitch. We could take him out in our sleep. Don't worry about any of us. We're supposed to worry about you kiddo.” Col tried to help.

“So wha’ do we do? How long do we have before he wants us?” The boy asked. He wasn't incredibly worried because he'd watched them both be terrifying multiple times already. He felt safe with his family but he didn't want to be the cause of new problems.

“A day. But I'll figure it out. Don't worry.” Dom soothed. He didn't have a plan yet but it shouldn't be too hard to deal with- as his mate had called the man- a pussy. He wrapped his arm around his son and held him close much in the way he did when they were young. “Since we all ‘ere why don't we watch a movie and relax? I fink we deserve a rest.” He met his mate's gaze and caught the raised brow. He had to just give him a smile back. He did need his lover but he needed his family too and it felt like Blain needed them. At least for a little while.

They let the boy pick the movie and got settled in. Dom had already finished his coffee so he was fidgeting with his free hand until he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He was getting a little lost in the film, Blain picked Saw which was one of his favorites and the traps always held his attention. When his phone vibrated again he pulled it free and opened it. He had to tilt it away from their kid so fast he fumbled and dropped it to his lap. He didn't remember his lover taking that picture of him but there he was caught in perfect clarity on his knees with Col’s cock in his mouth.

C: That's what you get for ignoring me🖕🏼

Dom swallowed hard and repositioned himself, trying to pull up one of his legs so his hard-on wouldn't be visible to the room. He glanced back at his partner and the other man was watching the movie as if he hadn't done anything. The Alpha was far too drunk for this shite.

D: I weren't. Was just watching the movie

C: I can see that. Whore. You get off on this?

Jade eyes went wide and Dom trembled. He didn't want to answer the wrong way but he wanted to be honest. He wasn't exactly turned on but his killings had started right around puberty when his hormones went wild. The two were inextricably linked. He got pleasure from murder and bloodshed but he wasn't sure he liked it in the way the other was asking. But they both knew he was always ready for sex after a kill.

D: I get off on you 🤤🥵

He chose the careful answer and he caught Colson covering a laugh with a cough. He was still feeling the effects of the picture his fiancé sent him and he felt saliva pool in his mouth. The phantom weight of the man's dick on his tongue was something he couldn't ignore and it all went straight to his knot. He'd committed to family time though. He couldn't break so easily and early.

C: You want to. You're dying for it aren't you? All that blood and pain and your weird ass version of justice is playing in that fucked up mind of yours. You're hard aren't you?

Dom had to swallow a whine. It wasn't fair how well his lover played him. He could feel the soft pressure of his pants and he fought not to grind up. It wouldn't help anything. He needed real relief.

D: Yeah

C: I know baby boy. All that booze swimming in your veins and everything is going to your dick. Can't even use it tonight. And now you're making yourself edge

D: not making. You is. Fucker. Wait I ain't using me dick? 👀

C: Nope. I'll be using mine. If you're a good bitch

D: well leave me alone and I can be

C: where's the fun in that?? 😉

Dom groaned low when another picture came through. It was from the same instance as the other, he could remember the night. Colson was teasing him, rubbing his cock along Dom’s ass and catching the head of himself against his hole. The picture showed him pink and open. Needy. Wet from Col’s precum. Bloody hell he wasn't going to last through the movie if his mate kept up but he knew that was the game. He had to prove himself after what he'd done earlier. He had to make it up to the man he loved and so fucking desperately craved.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know 💛

A little more plot but I think we can all tell where the next chapter is going. Poor Dom doesn't know what he's in for. Colson is in a mood. No one seems worried about the not-so mysterious stranger, I guess we'll see if they should be or not. Hope y'all are ready for a very... Wet ride next chapter, and I hope you're all still enjoying this! 🖤❤️‍🔥

[ninja-muse]

Slowly chipping away at my TBR pile this month! As in I read two instead of my  usual one, and both of those last week, when I realized I’d yet to tick that goal off for the month. Plus I managed to read four things off my ARC stack and cross a few anticipated releases off my list as well! Feeling pretty good about all of that, honestly, but also a little burned out on reading. I’m hoping The River Ki will be the reset I need!

And as always, in order of how glad I am to have read them:

Passing - Nella Larsen Irene reconnects with an old friend who does as she pleases. A study of identity, belonging, and how best to be Black in America. - Black cast, Black author,  #ownvoices - warning: colourism, racism including slurs, death

Seasonal Fears - Seanan McGuire The old monarchs of the seasons have died, sparking a competition for the thrones. Melanie and Harry do not want to be part of it, and yet. - protagonist with heart condition, Latin secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 author - warning: murder

The Grief of Stones - Katherine Addison Thara Celehar is petitioned to solve the murder of an elderly noblewoman, which leads to all manner of other dark secrets. - 🏳️‍🌈 protagonist - warning: references to child sexual abuse and abuse materials

Love in the Time of Serial Killers - Alicia Thompson Phoebe is a spiky loner writing a dissertation on true crime while packing up her father’s house. Sam, the guy next door, is really nice—but maybe that’s just what he wants people to think. - fat protagonist, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary character, Indian- and Korean-American secondary characters - warning: references to dysfunctional/abusive family dynamics, body shaming

The Sandman, Vol. 4 - Neil Gaiman with various illustrators Morpheus must return to Hell to free a woman he once imprisoned. This cannot end well. - 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters, Black and Japanese secondary characters

The Marriage Portrait - Maggie O'Farrell At fifteen, Lucrezia is married to the Duke of Ferrara against her will. At sixteen, she dies mysteriously. This is her life. Out in September. - warning: child abuse and neglect; domestic abuse, including gaslighting, physical violence, confinement, and less-than-consensual sex

A Lady for a Duke - Alexis Hall When Viola reconnects with her best childhood friend, she finds him broken and grieving her death. Clearly she must help him back to himself, but that threatens to awaken feelings better left alone. Women like her cannot marry dukes, after all. - 🏳️‍🌈 protagonist, 🏳️‍🌈 author

The Rise and Reign of the Mammals - Steve Brusatte The evolution of mammals, from the Triassic to the present day.

The River of Silver - S.A. Chakraborty Deleted scenes and other side stories from the Daevabad Trilogy. Out in October. - Middle Eastern and Egyptian cast, Muslim author

Witchmark - C.L. Polk When a witch-in-hiding dies in his care, Miles is drawn back to the world of magic he fought hard to escape. Meanwhile, his solider patients are exhibiting disturbing and violent symptoms. - 🏳️‍🌈 protagonist, 🏳️‍🌈 love interest, Black secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 and Black author, 🇨🇦 - warning: family annihilation, mild homophobia

Aces Wild - Amanda DeWitt Jack and his asexual friends decide to take down the casino owner who put Jack’s mom in jail. Out in September. - 🏳️‍🌈 main character, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters, Deaf secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 author, #ownvoices

The Carpet People - Terry Pratchett When the force Fray destroys their village, the Munrungs must cross the Carpet to find safety. There are mouls in the hairs, though, and they’re up to something.

Tread of Angels - Rebecca Roanhorse When her sister is accused of murder, Celeste has two days to prove her innocence. Out in November. - 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters, Black and Pueblo author - warning: racism, classism, colonialism

Mint Chocolate Murder - Meri Allen Riley’s hired to serve ice cream at a gallery opening at a local estate, only for the star photographer to be found dead in the dungeon. - major Black secondary character

Currently reading:

Rogues - Patrick Radden Keefe Long-form true crime journalism. - warning: mass shooting, plane bombing

The River Ki - Sawako Ariyoshi with Mildred Tahara (Translator)    The lives of three women living along a Japanese river during the first half of the 20th century. - Japanese cast, Japanese author, #ownvoices

The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle Victorian detective stories - major disabled character

 - warning: colonialism, racism

Stats


Monthly total: 14
 Yearly total: 104 + 1
 Queer books: 4
 Authors of colour: 3 
Books by women: 9 
Canadian authors: 1
 Off the TBR shelves: 2 
DNFs: 0

January February March April May June July

[sitp-recs]

hey liv! have you got any good recluse!harry fics? where he fell off after the war and now somehow got draco on his hands? i really like that dynamic, lowkey angry and antisocial harry vs needly and curious draco lol. thanks a lot!

Hi anon! This is such a fantastic trope - I don’t know many fics but these are all gold:

A British Summer by Omi_Ohmy (2012, E, 8.5k)

Ice cream, oh ice cream! Harry is a recluse, but Draco bumps into him on a British Summer's day and is surprised by what he finds.

Hippomancy for Beginners by khalulu (2016, E, 11k)

When Draco desperately insists on becoming a Centaur Liaison, he doesn’t know what he’s getting into, especially with that annoying hero-turned-hermit Harry Potter living right at the entrance to the Forbidden Forest.

Come Night's Fall by @corvuscrowned (2021, M, 11k)

After Harry disappears from society, Draco finds him living in a secluded cabin on the edges of a small town, harboring a dark secret he’ll do anything to preserve.

Dance by the Light of the Moon by @writcraft (2012, T, 13k)

Harry is miserable and living like a recluse at Grimmauld Place and Draco retired from Wizarding society after his divorce. One day a misdirected owl from Scorpius Malfoy finds its way into Harry's hands.

This Delicious Solitude by Omi_Ohmy (M, 17k)

Draco is sent to investigate Harry’s extraordinary carrots for the Prophet after whispers of cheating rock the world of competitive vegetable cultivation. But how’s he meant to get anywhere when Harry won’t even let him past the garden gate?

Violent Delights by @primaveracerezos (2021, E, 20k)

Draco Malfoy's life should be going very well. He's engaged to a wonderful man and in line for the Head Auror job. He's been made lead investigator on a serial murder case, trying to figure out who is killing off the scum of the wizarding world, one by one.

The Last of What the World Left You by @xanthippe74 (T, 25k)

If the wizarding world won’t give Draco a second chance, he has a plan to survive: live in his Animagus form, a carrion crow, in the Forbidden Forest. Not only does Harry Potter come along and ruin it, he’s radiating a strange aura of power. With nowhere to go and a Life-Debt to his mother that Potter insists on repaying, Draco puts himself into the hands of the reclusive Boy Who Lived. Will the bleak corner of Yorkshire where Potter makes his home be another dead end or an unexpected refuge?

All Roads by korlaena and Saulaie (2019, M, 36k)

Draco hates his job at the Prophet. He hates it even more when he’s assigned to write an article on Harry Potter, who left the country three years ago after their falling out.

Of Wands and Trees by Omi_Ohmy (2018, E, 45k)

All Draco wants to do is be a wandmaker, but to do so he needs to understand the soul of trees. Of course, the only man who might be able to help him is the one man who is more of a mystery to him than any tree.

What Shall Not Be Unearthed by iero0 (2019, E, 49k)

At the northernmost point of Shetland, surrounded by pointed cliffs, towers the Ootsta Lighthouse on a small isle in the middle of the open sea. Little does Harry know that he's not the only new lighthouse keeper. Draco Malfoy is as obnoxious as he always was, with his posh tone of voice and his luxury yacht jumpers. Harry tries his best to avoid the git—who knows what he's up to anyway?

The Bolthole by aideomai, GallaPlacidia, Tepre (2020, E, 54k)

Harry is a hoarder, Draco is grief-stricken, and both are capable human adults who can definitely spend a month in a cottage in the Cotswolds together without ever talking about the time they slept together in eighth year. Yeah, no, totally.

The Magic Behind the Camera by oldenuf2nb (2021, E, 55k)

Magical Photographer Evan Peverell is an enigma, one magazine assistant editor Draco Malfoy finds fascinating. The 'rock star' photog, with his purple hair streak and assorted piercings, is not remotely Draco's type. And yet there's just something about him…

The Way Down by lettered (2015, T, 65k)

Harry is overwhelmed by his own power and fame and angst, so he's become a hermit. Draco Malfoy is tired of the melodrama.

The Kitchen Thieves (and the Kitchen Herself) by @potteresque-ire (2018, E, 67k)

In a deserted cottage miles away from Hogsmeade, two young spirits waited for a new owner to call the place home.

Wild, orphaned (E, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (2019, E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world.

Chasing Dragons by @the-sinking-ship (E, 100k)

Draco can think of only one way to outclass his pleat-front-khaki-wearing politician ex, and that’s by making headlines with an obvious upgrade. And who better to upstage the cheating bastard than the Saviour of the World, Harry Potter himself?

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (2018, E, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter.

Bonus: Harry’s not exactly a hermit in these but I think they work too:

Unseen by astolat (2016, M, 11k)

When he wasn’t wearing it, he got jumpy, always waiting for someone to come at him wanting something—and now they did it even more urgently, if they ever saw him, because most of the time, nobody did.

Voices From The Fog by noeon (2010, E, 13k)

After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by @letteredlettered (2013, E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life.

Unseen by Jackvbriefs (T, 47k)

Harry Potter finally has the chance to leave England and its expectations for The Chosen One behind for good. All he has to do is survive one Auror training conference overseas with Draco Sodding Malfoy.

[ghcstfced]

@profanecenser​ left a message: public enemy #1 💍 ( does your muse have a “type” of people that they prefer to enter relationships with? is their type generally compatible with them, or does the dynamic tend to be toxic? ) ✨( what aesthetics or symbols do you reference when writing your muse? are these backed up by canon, if your muse comes from a canon? is there any specific relevance to these choices? ) 🏆 ( is your muse multitalented? what are their hobbies, and why did they pick up these hobbies? if they don’t have hobbies, why don’t they? )

danny loves a toxic relationship, and thus, he doesn’t really have a “compatible” partner, really. as an adaptive and adjusting type of guy in a relationship, he kind of just adapts to situations and partners he has. he’s very bad at being himself (he’s a serial killer), so you can decide whether that’s good or bad.

uh honestly, i pull a LOT from the original scream movie. like, the first scream. billy and stu. their comedy really plays into my portrayal. i also really enjoy using 80s schlocky comedy in my portrayal of danny. i really just wanted him to be more funny than actually threatening. because when he is threatening, it’s a bit more scary. when the jokes fall away, there’s nothing left but danny and the knife. y’know?

danny is very multitalented! he’s a genuinely good photographer, and he has an eye for art. he’s also pretty good with languages, having picked up a bit of french, some italian (this one is just BASIC), and spanish. mostly, i want him to be normal, outside of his killing. it’s that kind of like compartmentalization. it is compartmentalization, i suppose.

[fallingoverharrypotter]

Torn a New One

This is based on the @drarrymicrofic​ prompt for pretend, and got very long. Heres the ao3 link :).

The shirt is supposed to make Harry look like that one Bratz doll meme; you know the one. 

Thanks for reading <3 <3

Harry is a stoic man. That’s what Hermione calls him.

He’s sitting on Ron’s plush carpeted floors in his shiny new flat. Ron himself is passed out on a couch that costs more galleons than a year of Hermione’s tuition, with Hermione herself teetering on the edge of both her couch and hers and Ron’s refusal to bring up that they’re still fucking on the side of their tumultuous breakup. She brings up Harry’s problems to distract herself, and Harry tells her not to bother. Harry also tells her that she and Ron should just own up to their idiocy and sort their crap out sooner rather than later, and then Hermione yells loud enough to wake Ron with: Harry James Potter, you’re a complete and utter hypocrite. Ron does wake up when their voices raise like this, and then cordons Hermione off to the main bedroom leaving Harry to pretend that he’ll floo home, before the three of them end up eating cereal whilst sitting at/on Ron’s granite countertops the next morning.

All three look a right picture. Hermione is staunchly refusing to acknowledge that she’s wearing a t-shirt of Ron’s – old Canon’s merch that she’s absolutely swimming in. Harry, in solidarity, is also wearing one of Ron’s shirts without pants – the newest Wheezes rollout collection, classic stylized lettering (Ron’s got this beautiful flat because every single Witch and Wizard between the ages of 14 and 37 owns Wheezes now). And Ron himself is shirtless and in nothing but underwear.

They’ve seen more of each other than is completely normal over the last 15 years, but they’re still indulgent enough not to bring up any of the shit they refuse to talk about. They need a balancing force, Harry often thinks, someone who is outrightly honest and refuses the stupid little games that the golden trio fall into to avoid talking about their true feelings. That’s what Harry thinks inside his head, but his body ends up groaning and bending forward so his forehead smacks the countertops none too gently. His consciousness sounds more and more like someone he refuses to think about whenever he’s been drinking. Merlin save him.

“Oi,” Ron admonishes without looking up from his bowl. He’s leaning atop the counter on forearms and staring into his cereal, swirling the spoon around the stodgy mess and eating no longer.

Harry grunts first, and then says “gonna sick up, Ronnykins?” and gets glared at by Hermione who is onto her third bowl of cereal at this point. Right. Can’t joke about Lavender either, apparently. That fling definitely didn’t help the dynamic, Harry reminds himself.

“Jus’ don’t wan’ you bruising my bench with your fat head.”

Harry kicks out at Ron with his closest foot and makes contact, gets an immediate groan for his efforts, before Ron’s pulling up from his slouch and getting Harry into a pretty tight headlock. Harry resorts to elbowing Ron in the gut over and over. Ron groans and releases, making a mad dash for the fancy powder room into which he projectiles.

Hermione, for all she looks dazed and noncommittal this early into a hangover, manages to give off an air of created aloofness about the violent noises coming from down the hall. Harry smirks at her, and gets his own kick in response that makes him exclaim “ow, fuck. You two are so bloody violent.”

Before she responds, there’s a tapping at the window. Owl. Hermione stares at Harry to let him know that there’s no way she’s moving from her lounging for the bloody post, so Harry straightens up to open the window for the tawny. Efficient things these post owls are this morning; just drops the paper on the countertop near Harry’s bowl before flying right out the window without even waiting for a treat.

Harry’s shaking his head to brush away the last fuzz of the evening with the assistance of the scent of fresh air. Hermione gasps out loud. That makes Harry turn around quick enough for whiplash, and then he wishes fervently for death by sustained head trauma when the figure on the front of the paper, unfurled and sepia, winks right at him.

“Fuck,” Harry says. His gut churns, and then he’s running down the hall, past the occupied powder room to Ron’s master bath, and vomits up his guts.

 ***

Ron’s back in the kitchen by the time that Harry stumbles back in. Three strong cups of tea are quick-brewing under Hermione’s wand, even though both her and Ron’s attention is maintained by the Prophet’s front page. Because that is Draco Malfoy wearing a Wheezes “I shagged Harry Potter and all I got was this stupid shirt” collectable.

“It’s ironic!” Ron and George had insisted on its’ inception 4 years back. Only 100 had been made, a necessity: scarcity is key. They resell for a lot of money these days. Harry would rather die than see another in person. His face, a terrible photo of him caught by photographers during a pretty brutal night out, is plastered right on the middle along with stylized fireworks that go off every couple of minutes. He’d been convinced into making them, to try and control the narrative or whatever bullshit the Weasley’s had spouted just a couple of days beforehand when Harry had started stomping around the burrow or the floor of the joke shop or Hermione and Ron’s old shoebox apartment in anguish. It worked, he guesses, and he doesn’t see many of them anymore, as they’re kept in the strongest of imperturbable charms and modified protegos by anyone lucky enough to get one. But this one. This one he didn’t know about.

Hermione’s been muttering to herself as she read the accompanying story, when her voice perks up. “Merlin, listen to this: ‘this intrepid reporter asked what I’m certain all our readership will be most curious to uncover now that we are sitting down with the one and only Draco Malfoy. When we had sat down in Mr. Malfoy’s beautifully appointed drawing room, I too was especially shocked at his choice of attire,’” Hermione pauses here to roll her eyes and mutter “oh here we go,” before continuing in a higher and haughtier voice. “‘We all know the poise that Mr. Malfoy holds, one of Wizarding Britain’s most darling Stars, his performance in Wizarding Wireless serials having taken our world by storm the past 6 years. I must myself mention the serialisation of the modern take on the Wizarding classic story of Millicent Mimbletonia’s Marvelous Manor; captured this reporter’s heart, it did.’ What a load of absolute nonsense.”

“Oh, come on, Herm,” Ron says and knocks into her arm to get her to continue the story.

“Fine, but this is all absolute tripe. What was Draco thinking! Okay. Blah blah blah, you can’t believe how long this person goes on about Draco’s drawing room, blah. Okay here. ‘On questioning Mr. Malfoy’s choice to wear the now famously collectible Wheezes’ Harry Potter shirt, the gentleman seems to look slightly pensive.’

“‘‘Monsieur,’ our Star addresses me, ‘when you have been in the business of telling stories for as long as I, you start to have a great fondness for truth. I must now admit to you, and all of your lovely readers, that I bought this shirt on release and whilst under Polyjuice’. Now readers, you must bear with Mr. Malfoy here. Yours truly was very shocked-’ Good God, can this man obfuscate. Okay, then Draco says, ‘‘I’ve kept my ownership of such an item close to my chest, and away from my closest relationships. I have found over the years that true mutual affection, friendship, and love, have foundations built on beds of uncertainty and trust simultaneously, and thus I was afraid to expose myself.’ I but in here and ask what we must all be thinking at this admission: is he such a big fan of our Saviour that he is ashamed? But Mr. Malfoy continues: ‘No, monsieur. In all honesty, I am the man’s biggest critic.’’” Harry ducks his head, his hands shaking as he reaches for the now over-brewed tea.

Hermione looks up at Harry and Ron with wide eyes. Ron looks back at her wide eyed too, glancing small looks at Harry every now and again when he finds something particularly salacious, but he says nothing. Harry is hiding his trembling hands and trembling mouth behind a blisteringly hot cup of tea. She receives no objections, and continues. “‘‘I am livid that he’s been out of the public eye for so long regardless of his exceptional ability to bring about change in those around him; Potter has worked the same archival job in the Ministry for 5 years, with no end in sight, I fear. He refuses to allow those outside of his closest friends and family to know him in any sense, and I would argue that this is truly detrimental to his relationship with the Wizarding community. Although I disagree with the man on many things, I will be the first to say here and now that if any person deserves privacy, it is him. But the relationships we build with those we love-’’” and Harry snatches the paper out of Hermione’s hands.

“Harry,” Ron starts, reaching out a hand and grasping his upper arm. Hermione too has hopped down off the counter and is crowding Harry’s other side. He wants to shake them off, but he can’t. He can’t stop looking at the paper in his hands with Draco’s figure. Draco’s white blond head of hair turned beige on paper, his eyes sharp and flirty to readers, his hands restlessly gripping at his shirt. The shirt with Harry’s face.

Harry is a stoic man. Hermione tells him that exactly, Ron tells him that adjacently, and Draco. Draco has said the same thing in so many ways and at so many times that Harry has had it drilled into his head. His eyes are watering now, a little. And he can’t read much more of the article, but he doesn’t really need to. Because Draco will skate around enough of his personal life that it seems as though he’s come clean about something when he’s actually just marketing his next serial; it’s what he does.

This time, though, he’s wearing one of those terrible shirts that almost single-handedly sparked the Wheezes fashion line and bought Ron this apartment, and he’s saying things here that Harry knows are true. Knows are directed right at Harry. Knows because a week ago Harry had walked right out of Draco’s “well-appointed” drawing room, slamming the door and not answering the following owls. Harry hasn’t slept at his own sparse flat for a week. He’s spent time at Ron’s, spent time at Hermione’s, spent time at the Burrow. He’s even spent time in the dark halls of Grimmauld, which he hasn’t wanted to touch for years, no matter how many people around him shared their opinions on it being the perfect. Home. One day.

They’re standing there, the three of them, when a knock sounds on Ron’s front door. Harry freezes, but Ron staggers out into the hallway, still in nothing but underwear.

“Sweet Merlin, Weasley, could you put on some bloody pants? You do know it’s ten o’clock?” Says the visitor, and Harry just lets his back go limp, setting out to truly bruise Ron’s beautiful granite countertops with his forehead once again. He can hear Ron sarcastically mumble something along the lines of ‘yes Malfoy, of course you can come in’. Hermione grips his arm slightly in sympathy, but turns to face the entrance to the kitchen anyway. Like a traitor.

“Hermione, lovely as always. I see the three of you are in similar states of distressed undress this morning. Have you finally succumbed to your polyamorous destiny?”

“Nice to see you too, Draco. Lovely article.”

“Thank you. Do you like the shirt, too? Catches a sweet mint in resale these days.”

“You don’t say…”

“Yes, yes. Now, Harry, please pick yourself up off of the place we civilised people prepare our food.”

Harry groans into the cool surface, but can’t stop himself from responding. It’s a natural reaction to the bullshit that comes out of Draco’s mouth most times. “If you’ve ever made a meal by yourself in your life, I’ll eat the countertop.”

“Harry,” his voice is menacing, and his footsteps are getting closer, “I’m not civilised.” And at that Draco grabs Harry by the shoulder and turns up around and back up against the counter top with not a small amount of force.

Harry’s reply comes out breathless from the impact. “You said ‘we’.”

“It was a universal ‘we’.” Draco says this through gritted teeth. His blond eyebrows are sitting right on top of his grey eyes and they scream murder louder than they’ve ever done before, which is saying something since Draco was once a Death Eater, no matter what the admiring general Wizarding public would like to remember.  

Harry doesn’t have a retort prepared, per se. It would be a more concise comment on how Draco hadn’t taken a single English language course his entire life, and what would he know about the universal ‘we’, but Harry meets Draco’s eyes and he’s a bit lost. A week of blanket non-communication. A bit extreme. Not gone longer than a couple of days without talking for years, have they.

“Cuppa, Draco?” That’s from Ron.

“Yes. Two sugars. Level.”

Ron scoffs, but Draco beats him to it. “Weasley it’s two-level sugars, please, for once, reorient your sense of balance before you spill the entire sugar pot into the cup.”

“Just don’t give him any sugar, Ron. He’s obviously already mental, we don’t want him to go into cardiac arrest.” This from Hermione.

“Uh-”

Draco scoffs before Ron can respond. “Settle down Granger. I’m not going to pretend to like black tea for some sense of superiority like some of us.”

“It’s better for your-”

“You know what’s good for your health?” Draco all but yells and spins around to face Ron and Hermione. Ron, still next to naked, and Hermione drowning in Ron’s clothes. She’s back to sitting on the counter, Ron leaning back next to her. They look like they’ve looked for the past 10 years – drawn to each other, allies, et cetera. Draco huffs. “What’s good for your health is you two sitting down and talking about your absolutely bloody insane coupling. What’s good for your health is not getting blackout drunk every Friday night and ending up sleeping with each other, and then not talking about it, until the next week when you can do it again.”

Ron and Hermione are shifting where they sit, Hermione, looking as though she’s getting herself ready to argue back, and Ron in a more protected position behind his ex-girlfriend. Harry feels a little sorry for them, getting the third degree from Draco when he looks as unhinged as he does now. The Harry on his chest, a mess when the photo was taken, is now looking at them disappointedly like he’s on Draco’s side. Like a magical recreation of a Harry who was in quite an intense meltdown at the time has any right to be “on Draco’s side” about any issues of wellbeing.

Hermione does get the strength to pipe up. “Don’t take that tone with us, Draco Malfoy.” But that’s all she can get out. Harry’s pretty sure she’s stumped. Doesn’t have an argument. Draco, Harry knows, has refused to get involved in this situation. Has watched from the side-lines and stewed. Harry’s been all for letting the two of them work their shit out in their own time, but he’s a stoic man, what does he know about all that?

“Don’t take that tone with us, Draco Malfoy,” is Draco’s retort, mocking back in a high-pitched squeak that Harry winces at. Hermione was about to hop off the counter, he could see, but Ron’s sudden arm around her waist kept her down. “You two just have to talk about it. So what if Hermione slept with Lavender? You guys weren’t together at the time!”

Hermione splutters, eyes wide, all thoughts of advancing physically on Draco gone. Ron sat eyes wide too, flicking between Draco and Hermione as if waiting for more.

“Wait-” he starts.

Hermione wails “Ron I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I know. It was such a bad thing to do-”

“No wait! You’ve been acting weird because of that?” And Ron looks incredulously at Harry. Harry sends him an incredulous look back, equally as surprised that Draco hit the nail on the head.

“What! You knew?” Hermione is still wailing.

Ron turns fully to face her and wails himself: “Of course I knew! How could I not know! Harry told me! Draco told me! Lavender told me! Hell, a month ago you got so drunk you told me.”

Hermione’s eyes are so wide that Harry’s afraid she’s going to start crying, and he grabs Draco’s arm in shock. Draco tenses all of a sudden and then Harry consciously remembers why he’s not doing that and shrinks back again. Ron and Hermione aren’t really focusing on anything but themselves now, so they don’t notice how Draco turns slowly back to face Harry, backed against the kitchen’s island like he has been since Draco arrived.

“And you, Harry Potter.” Draco pauses, and Harry has time to do a quick pass over. Draco on the front page of the Daily Prophet and Draco in the middle of Ron’s stylish London flat are two very different Draco’s. Quiet, pensive, charming and loveable Draco in the papers. Thoughtful. Friendly. A bloody myth.

This Draco. Angry, flustered, dishevelled, loud. This is the same Draco who, when Harry slipped up the other week – the week when everything changed – went red, went silent, went unresponsive in so many ways. Harry, fresh off the first love confession he’d ever given, so incredibly off the cuff that it had shocked him and scared him, had had to storm out of the apartment, slam the doors behind him, and apparate away to his own flat he barely spends any time in.

He’d slipped up. They’d never even suggested anything romantic between the two of them. They’d been close for a long time at this point and. Feelings. His feelings. They were supposed to be unspoken. He’d been nursing the growing beast of his feelings behind his stupid chest, which was okay as long as they were unspoken. Pretending every day that they weren’t eating at him alive.

Eating at him when he woke up in Draco’s spare room on more mornings than he’d liked to count, early enough before work that they could sit for breakfasts in Draco’s kitchen. And then Harry’s co-workers at the Ministry archives asking him questions about Draco’s new shows or his schedule or his favourite foods. Draco and Harry having dinner with Ron and Hermione at hole in the wall restaurants in the muggle world. Birthdays together; dinners at Draco’s or Ron’s nicer flats; bickering over anything and everything they could get their minds on.

“You hate my job.”

Harry’s eyes bulge open. Did he mean to say that? Sweet Merlin. It was definitely him, and now Draco is staring at him in confused consternation, as if he has to come to terms now that Harry’s gone insane.

Harry doubles down, though. Trusts his subconscious decisions. “Yeah, you hate my job!” he repeats.

“Are,” Draco starts, slowly, “you kidding me.”

He could respond, but Harry just shakes his head instead.

Harry’s thought Draco’s been properly angry this whole time. He was wrong. “I hate your job? Who doesn’t hate your job!” Draco’s arms reach out and grab tightly around Harry’s upper arms. Harry’s not above flexing, just a little. He tells himself it’s to test the grip, but honestly, he’s hoping to distract Draco from the rage.

“It’s not that bad!” Harry repeats, and Draco groans loudly.

“Not that bad? Are you trying to give me a stress induced ulcer?”

“What do you know about stress induced ulcers?” comes a faint response from Hermione.

Draco turns his head, hands still tight around Harry’s biceps, and says “don’t you two have make-up sex to attend to?”

Harry responds. “Ron’s sick.”

Draco glares back at Harry for a second, and then turns back to where Ron and Hermione haven’t moved. “Get out, you’re distracting him from the fight.”

“We’re the emotional support,” and “lame fight” come respectively from Hermione and Ron.

“Oh, that’s rich!” Draco yells in their direction, but Harry’s sure that he’s ignoring Ron’s comment. “Emotional support! You two have let this wanker,” a thumb thrown at Harry from over Draco’s shoulder, “probably crash on your couches rather than forcing him to face me. You’re all as bad as each other.”

“Draco,” Harry feels he has to say, and draws Draco’s attention from his two best friends who definitely have been letting him crash on their couches and had not once tried to force Harry to face his problems. He loves them a hell of a lot.

“Don’t you try to lessen this, Harry Potter.” Harry’s been on the receiving edge of worse glares from Draco, so this one isn’t that bad. Harry’s actually feeling a lot better now that Draco is in the same room as him. Feels his terrible, traitorous heart almost relax. “I’m sick of you three. You’re the worst bloody enablers for each other.”

Harry scoffs. Sure, they’d never force him to do something he didn’t want to, but it’s not like they agree with his decisions all the time.

Draco hears the scoff of course, and gives up on trying to chase the others out of the kitchen. He turns around towards the entrance, faces away from all of them and talks to himself at top volume. “This is what my life has become. The sole source of constructive criticism for the bloody Golden Trio.”

Ron snorts to cover up a laugh.

“I survive working for a fascist dictator, successfully rebuild my image, forge a new path for myself in the world, but I’m here. An overworked, under-rewarded, glorified therapist!”  

Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchange glances. The other two look at Harry in commiseration, but Harry is starting to think that Draco has a bit of a point when he realises that Ron’s arm is still around Hermione’s waist who is leaning right into his side.

“Okay.” Draco takes a deep breath and turns around to face Harry. “Since they’re not leaving, you all get to hear this.” He steps closer. “I hate your job. I hate your flat. I hate that you won’t face up to hard things, and I refuse to be okay with any of that.”

Harry swallows hard.

“People are letting you get away with anything at the moment, and when you told me you loved me, I got scared. Because I thought that I’d become one of those people to you too.”

“That’s not-”

“No.” Draco stops Harry for butting in. “No. We’re not pretending any longer. I love you-” thump goes Harry’s heart in his chest, eyes bulging and smile unable to be stopped “-but sometimes I seriously don’t like you.”

Harry’s smile does dim at that, but only slightly.

Draco looks away at last, his hands on his hips, and starts pacing. “I couldn’t believe-” sharp glance at Harry through the pacing, “-you just left after you said that. I couldn’t believe you’d actually not answer my owls. You’re an absolute coward sometimes.”

“You didn’t say anything…” Harry mumbles.

“Oh,” Draco responds with an eyeroll, still pacing, “so you get to freak out for a week, but I’m not allowed longer than a couple of minutes to compose myself?”

Harry ducks his eyes, ashamed.

Draco hmphs, and pauses in his pacing to look down his nose at Harry. “That’s right. You should feel bad.”

Shirt-Harry shakes his head at real-Har- “God Draco, take the shirt off!”

“What?” Draco is shocked into pausing his restless movement. “Take my shirt off? You haven’t even apologised and want to get me half naked like the rest of you? I think not!”

“That’s not- ugh, forget this.” Harry reaches forward and grabs Draco mid-pace. “Draco.” Deep breath. Harry meets Draco’s eyes. Draco looks like he’s been through his paces. He doesn’t even look angry anymore, he just looks like the culmination of a week of stress. Ron and Hermione are eating dry cereal right out of the box from their perch as they watch, and they both give Harry nods and a thumbs up in encouragement when his eyes stray to them.

He’s a stoic man: Draco and Hermione are right. He hasn’t had to be brave in a long while. This is a moment that’s worth it though, even if he has to fake it at first.

“I’m sorry.” He has to pause at that, because he can feel the emotions bubbling up a bit too high. He takes a deep breath, and makes sure that Draco’s eyes don’t stray. “You’re… you’re right. About a lot of that-”

Draco buts in with “I’m right about all of it, actua-”

“Shut up, do you want me to get this out?”

Draco concedes.

Harry takes another breath, but the nerves have disappeared in the face of Draco’s unfiltered verve. “I shouldn’t have left. I was-”

“A coward.”

“Draco.”

“…sorry.”

“I was. I was a coward. I was scared. You didn’t respond, which never happens. You’re so good with your words.” He has to take a minute to collect his thoughts, but finds the right thread. “I love you, and have done for a while. I ran because I kind of didn’t mean to say it then. We were already fighting about something, and it just came out, which wasn’t right, and sometimes I’m so afraid that things will change, because you’re my best friend-” “Hey!” “-my best friend and I didn’t want to lose that.”

“You should have said that then.”

Harry closes his eyes. God, feelings are so bloody hard. “Yeah, yeah I know.”

“Oh well, as long as you know.”

“Draco. Shut up.” He swallows. “I like my job.”

“No, you don’t. You come home-” a sharp breath “-you come to mine, I mean. You come to mine after work and you can’t stop complaining. We like our jobs. I’m sure when Hermione finishes her ChP and becomes the Minister she’ll love her job too.” (“It’s a PhD, Draco, I’ve told you a million times.” “Maybe another time, Herm.”)

Harry has to breath deeper, because his blood is pumping a bit too fast in his ears. He drops his hands from Draco and takes a couple of steps back. A retreat. “I think,” and he has to swallow a couple of times before he can force the words out of his throat. He looks up and meets all of their eyes. “I don’t think I can do important things anymore. I. I don’t want to- I.”

“Merlin sakes, Harry.” Draco says. “I think it may be time we force you into therapy.” And Draco just looks impatient. “You can’t keep pretending it’s not a problem, and we can’t keep letting you!”

Harry. Harry nods. He thinks he nods. It’s what he wants to do, but he’s not really looking at anyone anymore, eyes to the ground, heart a bit too fast in his chest for comfort. He wishes that he was still eating soggy cereal in the kitchen before the post arrived this morning. He’s a stoic coward.

Draco seems to take a deep breath, and then he turns around to face the others. “Okay, get up. I’m sick of standing in Weasley’s kitchen.”

Harry takes a pause and looks at Draco’s face. He’s perfectly serious, and so is the Harry on his shirt.  Harry’s heart is still racing, but Draco just looks resigned and present. He can’t help himself from smiling a little when his eyes catch on Draco’s. He gets a pretty severe glare in response, before Draco just walks right out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Harry follows, and hears the small grunt from Hermione hitting the ground behind him. Two sets of feet follow his own.

“Don’t forget my tea, Weasley!”

Ron scoffs, but still walks back into the kitchen to make a tea he’d promised about 20 minutes earlier.

Harry sits down on the floor in the same place he sat last night. Draco’s chosen the armchair near the fire; where he usually sits. Hermione stomps over to take the seat on the couch closest to the armchair, and Ron can be heard pottering around the kitchen.

“PhD.”

Draco looks to Hermione with a frown. “What?”

Hermione looks haughty yet contrite. Like she actually can’t help herself from making sure that Draco knows he was wrong, and feels a little bit sorry about it. “It’s a PhD, not a ChP or whatever you called it.”

“Honestly Granger, what does it matter?”

A harrumph from Hermione as she settles back into Ron’s expensive couch cushions. “It’s a very important thing.”

Harry chucks her a grin, and she smiles back proudly.

Draco rolls his eyes. “Why do you all insist on patting yourselves on the back constantly. You don’t see me singing my own praises.”

Ron let’s out a violent laugh from the kitchen, and Draco flushes a little bit, his eyes flicking to Harry who grins at him too.

Mugs float out from the kitchen, Ron trailing behind. Harry grabs his out of the air and cherishes the sent of the strong tea. He can’t help but laugh when Hermione grimaces at the taste of her milkless cup, and Draco looks at her as if he’s won something.

Harry’s won something. He’s won Draco sitting here in Ron’s expensive apartment, Draco rolling his eyes when Hermione chides him about his too sweet tea, then Draco chiding Ron when he argues that Ron made it too sweet anyway, and that if he has to have teeth work done it’ll be Ron’s fault.

“You can make your own tea, you know, you’re not that famous.”

“Actually, Weasley, I’m more famous than all three of you, currently. The only thing getting you through is dumb luck and a gullible consumer base. I get by on pure talent.”

“Sure, Draco.”

“Also, I expect thanks when Wheezes gets the significant boost in sales it’s sure to this week, what with the Prophet this morning.”

“Sure, Draco.”

Harry smiles. His arse will probably start hurting before his mug is drained, and the sounds of arguing will get tiring soon after that. He’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt a little. He takes a deep breath. “Okay, fine. Therapy. I’ll do it.”

Ron and Hermione smile at him like they knew it was coming all along, pressed up against each other on the expensive couches. Draco just looks at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for who knows what. Probably an oral manifesto of Harry’s recognised faults and his plans to change them. Harry just smiles right back at Draco, wide and unashamed. Draco shakes his head a little bit, lips pulling up too.

Harry’s worried that if Draco keeps looking at him at all that he’ll have to walk over there and kiss him without warning. He picks his mug up and keeps sipping though, pretends he doesn’t absolutely need to do just that. Because there’s going to be time. Lots of it.

His stoicism has its uses sometimes, maybe.

[skyfire85]

-The Bell X-5 research aircraft in front of the NACA hangar at Edwards AFB in 1952. | Photo: NACA/NASA

FLIGHTLINE: 161 - BELL X-5

Developed in part from a captured Nazi prototype, the X-5 was the first aircraft that could change its wing sweep in flight.

As engines became more powerful the maximum potential speed of aircraft increased at an exceptional rate, with the Hughes H1 Racer setting a record speed of 352mph in 1935, a mark broken just two years later by an German Bf 109 fighter. As aircraft became faster, designers began running into aerodynamic limits imposed by the thick, straight wings in common usage, and began to research alternatives. Engineers quickly hit upon the idea of sweeping the wing backwards, which delayed the formation of drag-inducing shockwaves. They also quickly found that sweeping the wings produced poor low-speed handling and excessively long takeoff and landing runs. A proposed solution would be to develop a wing that could alter its sweep, allowing the low-speed handling of a straight wing for takeoff and landing, and the high-speed performance of a swept wing during cruise or dashes. The development and refinement of the turbojet engine during WWII put higher emphasis on researching swept or variable-sweep wings, resulting in the development of Messerschmitt Me P.1101 in 1944. The P.1101 was intended to be a research aircraft, and the sweep of the wing could only be changed on the ground. Still, the capture of the partially completed prototype at the end of the war, along with the capture of German researchers and documents under Operation PAPERCLIP proved to be a windfall for designers in the US during the post-war and early Cold War period.

-An American USO troupe poses with the captured P.1101 at Oberbayerische Forschungsanstalt, Germany in 1945. | Photo: Green4life80

SWING WING

Delivered to Bell Aircraft's plant in Buffalo, NY, the incomplete and damaged P.1101 provided enough information to their Chief Designer, Robert Woods, to propose his own VSW research aircraft to both NACA and the USAF. Construction of two aircraft, designated the X-5 and allocated USAF serial numbers 50-1838 and 50-1839, began in 1949, with the planes being completed and trucked to Muroc dry lake in 1951.

-Orthograph of the X-5, with the various positions of the wing shown in outline. | Illustration: USAF/NACA

The X-5s were small aircraft, just 33' long and a wingspan at minimum sweep of 30'. At full sweep the span was reduced to 20 feet 9 inches. The aircraft weighed just under ten thousand pounds fully loaded, and the Allison J35 engine provided enough thrust to push the plane to 705mph, just under Mach 1. Unlike the earlier P.1101, the wings sweep of the X-5 could be altered in flight, with a jackscrew assembly driving a hinge along rails and disc brakes holding the wing at sweeps of 20°, 40° and 60°. Moving from minimum to maximum sweep could be accomplished in less than 30 seconds, and articulation of the hinge and pivots compensated for shifts in the centers of pressure and gravity caused by the movement of the wings. As was common with first and second generation jets, the engine was slung under the fuselage for ease of maintenance and replacement. The X-5s were supported by tricycle landing gear while on the ground. The X-5 was equipped with a conventional tail, which as it turned out was inadequate for maintaining the craft's stability.

-A multiple-exposure photograph of one of the X-5s showing the various positions of the wing. | Photo: NACA/NASA

The two X-5s took their maiden flights on 20 June and 10 December 1951, and testing continued until 1955. The aircraft were flown at speeds up to Mach 0.9 and altitudes of up to 40,000', showing that their variable-sweep wings showed potential. The aircraft were somewhat flawed however, as the poorly positioned and somewhat undersized tail could not keep the aircraft from spinning at certain sweep angles. On 14 October 1953, Air Force Captain Ray Popson died after the second X-5 entered an unrecoverable spin with the wings at 60° sweep. The test program continued on with the first X-5 for two more years, and the aircraft remained at Edwards as a chase plane until early in 1958.

-The first X-5 in flight over Muroc dry lake, circa 1953. | Photo: USAF

-The cockpit of the X-5. The wingsweep selection dial is prominent in the center of the instrument panel. | Photo: NMUSAF

A LASTING LEGACY

The USAF had planned to further develop the X-5's basic design in to a tactical fighter for itself and for possible sale to NATO allies, but the poor handling characteristics of the plane saw those plans canceled. The data provided by the X-5 program was later incorporated into other, more successful VSW aircraft like the General Dynamics F-111, the Grumman F-14, and the Rockwell B-1, as well as some unsuccessful designs like the SST. Further advances in aerodynamics, engine design and fly-by-wire/computer controlled stability systems have rendered swing wings somewhat obsolete, as the potential gains from VSW are now available without the attendant penalty of their complex and heavy pivots and related actuators.

The remaining X-5 was transferred to the National Museum of the USAF in 1958, where it has been on display in various locations for the last 63 years. Its current home is the new R&D hangar, opened in 2016.

-The X-5 on the ramp outside Wright Patterson AFB, during one of its moves around the USAF Museum. | Photo: NMUSAF

-The X-5 in its former location, circa 2009. | Photo: Valder137

-The X-5 in its current display. The wing of the XB-70 is just visible at the bottom of the image. | Photo: NMUSAF

[nightcoremoon]

so for the first time I saw batman: the killing joke.

...

it was okay I guess. but massively overrated. I expected some fucking masterpiece of cinema but instead it was just two unrelated short films that were more style and flash than substance.

so first off, barbara's storyline was mediocre. franz wasn't a compelling villain; just a creep, and a trust fund brat. oh wow he's a mafia kid who stole his family's fortune by hacking. if it was the falcone family I'd have cared more but it wasn't so it's just some faceless deathfodder rando. who gives a shit. the whole situation was just a vehicle to shove batman's dick into babs. which kinda fucks over bruce's character here and judging by the timeline kinda makes him a bit of a groomer, yikes. bruce and gordon have known each other since bruce was a young boy and we know that bruce is way older than babs so yeah bruce totally knew her from birth until present day, he literally utilized an active power dynamic to police her crimefighting activities, and he should have fucking known better and stopped her when she kissed him because it would (and did) compromise their professional dynamic, but hey, batdick. and at least barbara recognized that she was behaving emotionally rather than logically when it came to bruce and paris and took the high road out. that would be a serviceable standalone episode to write her on a bus in a serialization but THIS IS A MOVIE. so for a waste of an already short runtime it's like having an appetizer before your meal but instead of something like a crab cake before stuffed flounder, you get greasy onion petals that are more fried batter than onion before getting a well done cheeseburger that's just a glorified hockey puck on a sponge with a kraft single on top. the animation and vocal delivery were excellent of course, not gonna disparage that aspect, so it was well made, but the writing was just not very good. a polished turd. quantic dream must have developed it then because it feels like I watched a david cage production.

so in a 78 minute movie, five of which were the credits, we had a half hour Disney/Pixar short except those bring joy and this brought boring. also there were a lot of shots of her ass tits and underwear that were obnoxiously male-gazey and there was a token gay for the sole purpose of dangling a carrot on a stick for the queers. look kids, warner brothers and dc comics cares about the lgbts! give us money! a waste of time before the real reason why anyone came to see the movie that literally only exists to pad out the runtime to make it a feature length (even though paying a full ticket would've been a total ripoff because, again, IT WAS ONLY 78. even 9 was 81 minutes long and that had an amazing storyline so I forgave it, but 78 minutes? ugh.

also, GOTHAM RAGE??? CRINGE. SO CRINGE.

alright now for the joker segment.

*ahem*

what the fuck? that sucked! *throws tomato*

mark hamill and the joker's lines and the art and the cinematography and the choreography was all good and the plot was cohesive. I get it.

but holy shit was the writing weak as fuck.

okay so some rando breaks the J-ster out of Arkham (already unlikely but ugh whatever), he didn't turn a trick or recruit or anything, he just went to purchase a carnival. or, steal one. but wait, he DID recruit, but he went to get all of the stereotypical Circus Freak™ stereotypes. little people, fat lady, bearded lady, wolf man, strongman, diaper man (wait, what?), and the two headed woman. I guess if you don't really think about why all of them were super readily available in the outskirts between arkham and gotham [i just realized they both end with -am] then it makes enough sense. and then literally right after that HE RECRUITS SOME GUYS TO HELP HIM KIDNAP GORDON. and then strips and photographs barbara. um. ew. you can tell the writer and director were men. Alan Moore is constantly molesting women in his comics and this one trick pony should be put down already. but whatever. the plot is weak and it only gets saved by the flashback sequences.

oh.

oh no.

they're not that great.

he's a failed unfunny comedian who just wants some money to move his wife to a better house so he turns to thievery with the mob. OR YOU COULD JUST STOP GOING TO THE BAR AND BLOWING IT ALL ON BOOZE. I mean the cops knew where to find him after all so clearly he's a repeat customer (or moore is a bad plot writer who relies on convenience and shut the fuck up and don't critically analyze it). alright so he gets wrapped up in the mob to perform a heist on a playing card factory. GET IT, BECAUSE HE'S THE JOKER??? and he uses the moniker of the red hood to retain his anonymity. I expected the mobsters to be working for francisco but no the paris storyline was only cooked up screenplay for passing the runtime so why would they do something clever and interesting and make the film cohesive? that'd be really stupid to make the movie feel more like one movie and not two short films. at least when grindhouse & planet terror did it they advertised themselves as an anthology film. whatever. he falls in the vat of acid which melts the red hood to his face and I gotta say that's actually a pretty good idea to get his face white and his hair green and his lips red. I like that part. oh wait I forgot about the most important part! his wife gets shoved in the refrigerator. OH WOW THAT'S JUST SO COMPELLING AND ORIGINAL, TOTALLY NOT SOMETHING THAT ALREADY HAPPENED TO GREEN LANTERN. TWICE. although she wasn't literally shoved into a literal refrigerator like alex was. rip in frozen pieces you absolute legend of a trope namer. alright, so... so the joker is sad because his wife died. you know, the wife we saw for two minutes and knew the moment we saw her drenched in sepia she was gonna die. and she died offscreen. kyle's gf died and he was fine. gordon's wife died and he was fine. batman's parents both died and he was fine. oh boo hoo someone I love died! fuck off. I am so goddamn sick of people trying to justify their evil with "I was sad once". it's a stupid trope and it's not compelling. the only valid version is doctor doofenshmirtz' evil(er) version in the PF movie because it's hilarious that it's because of a toy train because that's the emotional depth that fridgewomen is treated with in all of these storylines. but at least batman said so. oh yeah, I almost totally forgot, batman's in this movie.

batman punches people and nonlethally takes them out. by suffocating them and letting them get stabbed and throwing them into pits of spikes and HEY WAIT A GODDAMN SECOND! okay let's just ignore that bit and hope that the little people squeezed between the gaps in the spikes and the strongman could breathe in the face mask and the two headed women had KO gas and the fat lady was fat enough that the knives only stabbed her cellulite. it wouldn't be the biggest reach one would have to make in watching this fucking disaster of a plot mess.

now I did like that it was actually batman, and by that I mean he gave a shit about the insane because he recognizes that mental illness is not a cause of dangerous or criminal behavior, just a potential exacerbating factor if it wasn't treated. yeah he brutalized mobsters and crime lords but they were mostly in self defense while gathering intel. he politely asked sal maroni and the sex workers for information and they gave it to him without violence- he manhandled maroni but only after he reached into his pocket for a cigar which could've been a gun. also batman says sex work should be decriminalized if only by not ratting them out to the cops. he was a genuinely good person in the second half of the movie. too bad it was ruined by the shitty first half that made him a borderline groomer.

joker's song was... bad. mark hamill performed his ass off but the song wasn't that good. it just tried to be willy wonka if he was a voyeuristic monster. oh yeah have the only girl character be paralyzed stripped and photographed only to give her father ManPain��. again... the fuck? joker and batman were both gross but, again. male writers. if it was a one-off I could drop a thermian argument because, alright one and done makes sense, especially 1988 standards. but it saturated and soured the entire goddamn movie because of abhorrent pacing decisions. so you're goddamn right I'm gonna bring it up twice! joker was a creep, his plan was dumb, nolan and burton and lord/miller and even ayer had better motivations. YES I AM SAYING THAT JARED LETO'S JOKER HAD BETTER WRITING THAN MARK HAMILL'S JOKER. not nearly to the level of ledger nicholson or galifanakis but hamill didn't have a lot to work with here and I maintain that his performance was amazing; honestly I like his the best out of all of them but just... not here. but I think I can cut some slack to firelord ozai and luke skywalker even if he just phoned it in here which he didn't. writing was just weak. and that's all there is to it. don't anon me and threaten to remove my bones ok?

alright so batman and joker fought and joker got the upper hand and was gonna kill him but it was a prop gun. haha. they had a heart to heart and batman tells joker that he wants to help him get better, even after joker killed robin and molested barbara and traumatized gordon and did countless other travesties, he still said he would help. but joker said no, and told a joke that was good enough to make batman laugh. and then the credits rolled.

...

what a completely pointless and empty ending. oh it's deep and meaningful and poignant? ok sure, I guess, movie, but you didn't earn that. shyamalan did the same thing a dozen times. that doesn't make him any less of a shit writer.

I can understand the concept of batman laughing at joker's joke, humanizing him.

I get it. I see what they tried to do. I respect it.

but this movie was massively overhyped and overrated and I expected it to be so much better than it was. but overall to me it was just another batman cartoon to throw on top of the pile. maybe it was influential to graphic novels. maybe it shaped batman into what he is today. it published right as tim burton's movie and I can respect its place in the pantheon of comic history. but sometimes things that are classic...

aren't that great.

citizen kane, casablanca, the maltese falcon, the treasure of the sierra madre, gone with the wind, singing in the rain, all of them are classic and legendary pieces of art. but they're just not that good, interesting, appealing, watchable, or FUN. they were good at the time- I mean come on we all know them today- but on going back you'd have to really appreciate the finer details to still love the movies today. and this belongs there, in the vault, to be appreciated from afar. influential if dated.

but god am I still disappointed nonetheless.

TL;DR

it was just okay. had some good ideas, had some really bad ideas, had some ugly stuff. overall mediocre. first half 5/10, second half 7/10, overall 6/10.