#wish i could just sell my shitty art but that only works if i draw stuff i hate & underprice myself T_T | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meruz · 3 years

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once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous)

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL.

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close.

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

#ask #trying this new thing where i tag people in the body of the post instead

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vixenpen · 4 years

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Can you do a KiriBaku smut imagine with a chubby black s/o

KiriBaku x (F)Thicc Black Reader NSFW

“Ugh! I need a vacation,” you groaned as you exhaled a stream of smoke.

“I need a baecation.” Kirishima replied, grabbing the joint from you.

“Haah? What the hell is that?” Bakugo chimed in, confused.

“It’s a vacation where you spend the whole time fucking.” You explained, laughingly.

“Tch. Isn’t that what vacations are for anyways?” He scoffed, beckoning to Kirishima for the joint next.

The three of you were relaxing at Katsuki’s massive apartment enjoying one of your rare days off together. Mellow music pumped through the surround sound system in his room and black lights cast a purple glow over everything.

The rotation matched the order you all were sitting in. Bakugo, sat against the headboard, your head resting in his lap, and Kirishima sat on the opposite side of you, massaging your feet. It felt amazing to be able to vibe with your best friends. Something that, since becoming pro-heroes, you all found yourselves with little time to do.

“Ya know, Katsu, not everyone turns into a horn dog the minute they step outside of a five mile radius of the gossip rags.” You laughed.

“Hey, if you idiots want the media dissecting your sex lives and splashing it all over the gossip rags that’s on you, but some of us actually give a fuck about our reputation as heroes.”

“Bro, at this point the whole internet knows you’ve got hoes in different area codes,” Kirishima chuckled. “You’re not foolin’ anybody.”

“Yeah, but can you name one name? No. Cuz the people I fuck with know how to keep their mouths shut when it counts.”

“You mean, you break ‘em off a fat check to keep them quiet.”

“Hey, it’s kept my name out of scandals. Can’t say the same for you Mr. Red Ran Through.”

You burst out laughing especially when you saw the baffled expression on Kirishima’s face.

“Ouch man! That was harsh.”

“But accurate.” You pointed out.

Kirishima definitely had a reputation in the hero world as a more of a lover than a fighter in every sense of the word. He was constantly courting a new hero, sidekick, or medical worker. But where as that type of philandering might hurt another hero’s reputation, Kirishima managed to come out of his multiple affairs relatively unscathed; as none of his former conquests had a negative word to say about him. You chalked it up to his charming and chivalrous personality.

“I may have been with a few of our colleagues-“

“A few?! Kiri, you’ve sucked and fucked your way through our entire agency. I think the only people you haven’t fucked in the hero world is us.”

“You, babe.” Bakugo chuckled blowing smoke in your face. “I’ve been there done that.”

“Wait, what?!”

“Yeah,” Kirishima laughed, “Bakugo was actually my first.”

“Wait, what?!” You shot up so fast, you almost knocked the joint from Bakugo’s hand. “I’m sorry, he was your what, when and where was I?!”

“Chill, thickums,” Bakugo smirked. “We were kids—still in high school. It was before we met you.”

You gaped back and forth between the two men in disbelief. Meanwhile they were trading the joint over you as if they hadn’t just dropped the biggest bombshell of the year on you.

“Aww baby,” Kirishima tucked your chin, running his thumb over you bottom lip. “What’s with that pouty face? Are you really that upset?”

“Yes!” You crossed your arms. “We’re besties and neither of you assholes thought that might be valuable information for me to know?”

“I mean, not really.” Bakugo snorted. “What were you gonna do with it? Sell it to the gossip rags?”

“Or maybe she was gonna dream about it herself.” Kirishima winked. There was a wicked gleam in his ruby eyes that made you flush.

“Heyyy, I think you may have been on to something there shitty hair.” Bakugo pinched your round cheek. “She’s blushing.”

“No I’m not! Black girls don’t blush!”

“Baby, blushing is more than just a color on your cheeks, it’s a mood, and right now you’re totally giving me that mood.”

“W-whatever! I could care less that you two used to sleep together.”

“Used to?” Kirishima quirked a brow.

That statement earned an incredulous look from you.

“S-seriously?! You still...” A pang if envy shot through you at the idea of your best friends sharing something that you weren’t apart of. “You know what, I don’t even care.”

“Oh?” Bakugo quirked a brow. “Then you won’t care if I do this.”

He reached across you to grab Kirishima by the collar and plant a deep kiss on the man’s lips. The burly redhead melted into the kiss easily.

Simultaneous moans escaped your friends as the kiss deepened.

“Ahem! Y’all realize I’m still here right?” You snapped.

“How could we forget?” Bakugo smacked one of your chunky thighs, jiggling it a bit. “That little show was for you thickums.”

You wished you could look away, but there wasn’t much else to look at with two hot, shirtless, muscular men looming over you. You popped your lips and rolled your eyes.

“That little attitude ain’t scarin’ nobody pun’kin.” Kirishima pressed a soft kiss on your lips. “I know you liked it.”

“Hell yeah she did.” Bakugo added. He toked the joint one more time and held your gaze as he blew the smoke in your face. The predatory way he sized you up made you feel...exposed—vulnerable. “You know, as long as we’ve all been friends, I wonder why neither me or Shitty Hair never tried to fuck your fine ass yet. God knows it’s not like we aren’t both into you.”

“Better yet,” Kirishima said, turning you to face him by your chin, “it’s not like we aren’t all into each other.” He kissed you again. This one was much more commanding than the last and his tongue wrestled yours into submission.

“Oi!” Bakugo snapped. He grabbed your chin as well and pulled you towards him. “You not gone keep stealing all her affection from me, Shitty Hair.”

Bakugo bit your lip, making you gasp. He took full advantage of that opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth.

Is this really happening right now? What the hell?

“G-guys, wait...” You pulled away from Bakugo.

“What’s wrong, sweetness?” Kirishima asked, sliding your box braids aside to plant gentle kisses along your neck.

Between his soft lips and Bakugo’s strong, scarred hands sliding along your thick thighs, your sex was clenching desperately for stimulation.

“You don’t want this?”

“I-I’m not sayin that, I’m just saying...” what the hell were you saying? Because the way Bakugo was sucking the top of your breasts had you drawing blanks.

“Why don’t you stop pretending, y/n?” He smirked up at you, hooking a finger into the scooped collar of your tank top and yanking it down to free your full, round breasts.

He hummed. “Fuckin’ delicious.” He groaned.

Licking his lips, the ash blonde dove down to suck your hard, brown nipple into his mouth making you hiss in pleasure.

“You clearly want this, y/n.” Kirishima chuckled. The deep, rich sound rolled down your spine and made goosebumps rise on your skin.

His large hand slid around your side to squeeze your other breast. He rolled the pebbled nipple gently between his fingers.

“You want this and so do we.” He nipped at your ear. “So what’s up? Are we doing this or not, thickums?”

Before you could say anything, Kirishima’s hot mouth sucked your nipple into it.

“Oh god.” You sighed as shivers ran down your spine.

They ran their strong hands up your juicy thighs, squeezing and massaging them.

Each man worked either side of your body. Bakugo was now behind you, running his hands down your spine—mouth tasting your sweet skin, nipping along your spine. He dug his hands into your hips, caressing them lovingly.

Kirishima took care of the front. He sucked hickies onto your soft stomach and slowly worked your shorts down.

He groaned at the sight of your bare brown skin.

“Damn, that’s beautiful.” He grinned up at you, ruby eyes flashing once more. His mouth landed in an open mouth kiss against your clothed core, fingers exploring your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties.

“Ki-Kiri~” you sighed.

Bakugo bit your ear, making you yelp in surprise.

“Is Kiri the only one here, thickness?” He asked.

“N-no..” you stammered back.

He slid his hand down until he reached your pussy and toyed with your clit. Shockwaves of pleasure coursed through you.

“Then say my name too, Thickums.” He plunged two fingers into your heat, flexing them towards your gspot.

“Ahaaa, Katsu!” You cried out.

“Man, Katsuki, you gotta see how pretty this kitty is.”

“Does it look as good as it feels?” He asked, slipping a third finger into your gripping cunt.

“Mmhhm,” he hummed in response. His long tongue slithered out, joining Bakugo’s fingers in your juicy pussy.

The sensations had your head swimming and your nipples and cat tingling with excitement.

“Tastes just as good too.”

“Oh yeah?” Bakugo slipped from behind you to join Kirishima’s side. He laced his fingers through the redhead’s long hair and forced a harsh kiss onto the man’s mouth. “Shit,” he muttered between kisses, “that is good. But I bet it’s better straight from the source.”

Soon Kirishima’s mouth and fingers were replaced with Katsuki’s. His fingers swam inside of you and he sucked at the sensitive button of your clit until your pleasured screams grew hoarse. Your cream soaked his face and hands. When he made way for Kirishima to join in, your moans only grew louder.

The two men seemed to be competing in who could bring you to ecstasy more times. They worked your sex until your legs shook and your toes curls. You dug your hands into their hair, and bucked your hips to meet their mouths, hungry for more of the overwhelming pleasure.

“Baku-Kiri, shit! Shit, shit, shiiiit! Oh my god!” You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, and couldn’t think.

“Cum for us, Princess,” Kirishima urged, “come for your daddies.”

And cum you did. Again, and again, and again, until everything went black.

(Art by: @deb_amm/Debby-San)

#kiribaku #kiribaku x reader #bnha imagines #my hero academia #mha headcanons #bnha #bnha scenarios #boku no hero academia #my hero fanfic #bnha smut #n/sfw #kirishima x bakugou #bakugo x reader x kirishima #black self insert

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years

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After Midnight pt. 5 (Feysand)

Woooo it’s done :) Sorry it took an ~insane~ amount of time. Most the time I’m not this shitty with updating fics, but it’s been a really weird, hectic couple of weeks. Thanks for being patient and reading!

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~Feyre~

Honestly, I don’t know why I’m being so dramatic about this.

I knew it had to end at some point. I just didn’t expect to feel... regret.

I don’t regret anything that happened that night, or even the fact that I’d vastly overstepped my boundaries and paid for his cousin’s treatment.

That isn’t where the regret stems.

It comes from the fact that I left in the first place.

Six days after we were together, my skin still tingles whenever I think about his touch, the raw possession in his hands that somehow still managed to be gentle. I shiver whenever I think of his mouth on mine, his smile against my lips.

Leaving him after that hadn’t been easy by any measure, but it would’ve been much harder to do if he had been awake.

And this way, he knows it was nothing he did.

Besides be a good listener, and being more compassionate than anyone I’ve ever met, and handsome, and funny.

Nope, it was none of those reasons. It was because I, a self-admitted idiot, can’t keep my heart from wanting more. From wanting it to be real.

Like I said, I’m an idiot.

Even if... even if it sometimes felt like I wasn’t. I mean, there had to be a reason he was so unbelievably patient with me, right? A reason he looked at me with curious, attentive eyes that told me more than words ever could?

Pushing those thoughts away, I remind myself that it’s done. Over. I made my decision. Thinking about how dumb it was wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

And I had places to go.

It had been such a short time since the last appointment, but so much had changed in my life. All good change, but change nonetheless.

I’m starting over; reinventing myself. So what if I’m twenty-seven and single and have no idea what I’m doing?

So what if I can’t stop thinking about Rhys’s smile, or the fact that our last appointment was supposed to be tomorrow?

Sighing, I turn over in bed and pull the covers above my head. No small part of me wishes I had his phone number so I could call him, hear him say my name.

But I don’t, and it’s for a reason. He doesn’t get personal with clients, and I was just a client to him.

I have no way of contacting him, of telling him that I regret leaving, and it’s a good thing.

I repeat the words to myself just before I go to sleep, the lie bitter on my tongue.

It’s Friday.

Which, a week ago would’ve meant I would get dressed and go to work, not pay attention to what I was doing at all, and then meet Rhys. But I had rightfully ended things, so I didn’t need to do that.

And I don’t need to go to work.

Instead, I force myself to make breakfast and get dressed. Then I clean my entire house top to bottom, go on a run, ate lunch, and balance my checkbook.

But when the clock reads six, there's no more denying it. I'm bored. And lonely.

So I do what any clinically insane woman would do: I go to the hotel, grabbing my art supplies as I leave. Getting in the car, I laugh as I look at the faded leather bag in my hands.

It’s been ages since I’d reached for it so thoughtlessly. Once upon a time, this bag had been an extension of my arm, but I hadn’t thought about it since before the breakup. But now... I want to paint.

And suddenly, I know exactly how I’m spending my evening.

I drive to the hotel and get my key--for some reason I never cancelled the reservation--then head up to the room, frowning when I think about walking through this doorway with Rhys.

How do I miss someone I hardly know?

Although, that isn’t really true. It’s only been a little over a month, but I feel like I do know him. I know what makes him laugh, what his favorite food is. I know the feel of his skin, the way his eyes crinkle when he’s annoyed. I know him.

It doesn’t matter.

I won’t ever see him again, but maybe... maybe I can give myself something to hold on to.

I walk into the room, mess with the lights until the room is cast in soft, buttery light, and set up my art station.

And then, for the first time in years, I paint.

By the time I’ve finished the small piece, I’m smiling and feeling lighter than I have since... since last Friday. But I’m also hungry, so when I hear a knock on the door, I run over, assuming it’s my room service order.

It’s not.

My jaw hits the floor as I look up at Rhysand, who looks just as surprised to see me, even though he’s the one who knocked on my door.

For a weird moment, we just stare at each other.

Normally, I’d say something, maybe ask why he’s here, but I’m just so damn happy to see him.

He’s tall and beautiful and smells like the ocean, and I realize then how much I’ve missed the twinkle in his eye, the curve of his lips.

His eyes run over me, and then he glances behind me to where the make-shift, wobbly easel I keep in my bag still stands in front of the bed.

“You’ve been painting.”

I nod. Given the paint-splatters on my hands and clothes, that’s pretty obvious. I have no idea what to say, so I just state the obvious. “You’re here.”

It comes out equal parts question, statement, and accusation.

“So are you,” he shoots back.

True.

I have no idea why he’s here, but I know I don’t want him to leave, so I swing the door open wider in silent invitation.

He takes it and walks in, looking at the rumpled bed and art supplies, then walking over to the easel curiously.

Then I remember what I painted.

And suddenly, all thoughts of why he might have come are long gone. All that remains is the blind panic that he’ll see what I’ve done and run for the hills.

“Wait, don’t!” I shout, hauling ass to stand in front of him with my hands raised like a linebacker. “It’s... you can’t see it.”

Those violet eyes dance as his lips twitch. “Why not?”

“It’s not done.” Not true. Finished it twenty minutes ago. He’s turned me into a filthy liar, and we both know it.

“Move.”

I shake my head.

“Feyre, this is cute and all, but you weigh like a hundred pounds. Move, or I will move you.” I narrow my eyes, ready to go down fighting, and he laughs. “Please?”

The word gives me pause, and I know he’s not leaving until he sees it, so I sigh and move aside.

He sticks out his tongue as he brushes past me, but the smugness leaves his face as he looks down at the small canvas and sees the subject.

It’s him.

It’s the image that’s been in my head for seven days now. The image of him laying in the bed exhausted and ruffled, covers drawn to his waist.

His tan chest is on full display, tattoos stark against the white sheets, and his hair is ruffled. His face--which took me the longest to get right--is peaceful as he sleeps, even though there are laughter lines around his full mouth.

It’s how he looked when I left him.

Real-life Rhys looks at the bed, then me. “You painted me.”

His voice is full of light, but I suddenly realize how fucking creepy this is. “Uh, yeah. Sorry?”

He gives me a strange look but changes the subject to something even more uncomfortable without missing a beat. “Is this how I looked when you left?”

I look at the floor, suddenly finding it interesting, but a hand on my chin forces my eyes back to his.

“Yes.” It’s a whispered admission, but he hears it.

“Why?”

“I had to,” I defend weakly.

“No, you didn’t. You chose to.” His hand falls away, and his tone grows a little... irritated? “I’ve been looking for you, by the way. I went to the coffee place you mentioned liking every day this week. I even went to the museum, but they said you quit.”

A smile finds its way on my face as I nod. “I’m going to go back to painting, I think.”

His eyes are soft, even though his jaw is still set. “You can’t paint me any time you want, but I’ll expect commission.”

I roll my eyes, cheeks flushing. Rhysand grows quiet, his eyes searching mine, and I know he’s thinking of the perfect way to phrase whatever he’s about to say.

“Why are you here, Feyre?”

It’s a simple question. Or at least it should be. But there’s no one answer.

I’m here because I miss him.

I’m here because I wanted to think about our time together, however brief it was.

I’m here because I wanted to feel like how I do when I’m with him.

I could tell him any one of these reasons, and they’d be true. But they’d still be a lie, because the real reason I drove here tonight... “I’m here because I was hoping you’d be here, too.”

Rhys smiles, and his hand is back on my face, cupping my cheek this time. “Well that works out well, because that’s why I’m here.”

Disbelief and joy shoot through me, leaving me a little confused. “What?”

“I’m here because I thought you might com here, and I wanted to see you. So I could thank you for what you did.”

Oh.

Right.

It had taken selling an old piece to one of my longest clients, but seeing the expression on his face right now makes the hassle well worth it.

It’s nice seeing him happy, even if the disappointment in my chest is almost crushing. He’s here to thank me, because of his cousin.

I open my mouth to speak, but he presses a finger to my lips to shut me up. “I’m not done yet.”

My eye brows fly up, and he smiles. “I’m here to yell at you for leaving me in the middle of the night, with a goddamn note no less.”

Yet again, he cuts me off when I try to speak. “Who tells someone they have feelings for them in a note? Fucking Jane Austen, that’s who. The next time you have compliments and sweet nothings to shower on me, you’re doing it in person.”

My lips twitch under his finger, drawing his gaze. And his voice goes a little deeper as he continues, “I’m here to tell you it was dumb to leave, because I don’t think of you as just a client, either. You’re more to me, even though I tried to fight it.”

Oh my gods.

“And lastly, I’m here to kiss you until you believe that. I’m here to show you how much you’re not just a client to me. I’m here because I’m desperate for you, and I don’t want to spend another minute denying it to myself.”

Rhysand grows silent, the finger on my lips finally slipping away. “I’m done now.”

I don’t know what to say, really.

Everything I thought I knew was wrong. And he... I...

I may not have a clue what I want to say, but I at least know what I want to do.

So I do it.

I practically jump on him, my hands locking around his neck and bringing his face down to mine so I can kiss him.

Relief and happiness and a million other emotions course through me as our lips meet, and from the way he kisses me back, he’s feeling them too.

It’s a frenzy--a wild clash of two people determined to get closer, to take more.

We hit the floor, but I hardly notice it and I definitely don’t complain, because I’m sprawled on top of him. I’m partially aware that all the paint on my clothes is seeping into his, but neither of us seem to care.

Rhys pulls back enough to growl, “A note.”

I mumble a reply, but I don’t know if it makes any sense, because his mouth is on my neck and I can’t hold down solid thoughts.

All I can think is that I want his skin against mine, so I reach and tug his shirt off, then pull him back down to me. My arms are around his shoulders, legs around his waist, and his hips churn against mine in a way that makes us both breathless.

His hands find the hem of my shirt, then it’s on the floor next to my head and his mouth is on my beast, teasing me until I squirm helplessly underneath him.

“Rhys, please.”

Ignoring me entirely, he just kisses his way to my other breast, giving it the same treatment. I’m restless and just a little desperate at this point, but he pays it no mind as his mouth moves down my stomach.

Rough, calloused hands lift my hips, then slide my remaining clothes down my legs, leaving me bare before him.

The pause gives me enough time to realize we’re still on the floor, but then his mouth finds the apex of my thighs, and I stop caring.

I moan, hips lifting to give him better access.

He’s making it clear exactly how much he missed me, because while being with him is usually long and luxurious and sensual, it’s now... ravenous. I feel like I’m being devoured, and I love it.

My body finds release quickly, but Rhys doesn’t stop until I climax again, name falling off my lips in a breathy tone I hardly recognize.

He prowls back up my body and kisses my mouth, proving everything he said ten minutes ago once again. My legs fall open further as he pauses to remove his jeans and roll a condom on, then a hand on my hip keeps me still as he pushes into me, eyes meeting mine the entire time.

My head falls back, digging into the carpet, and he kisses my neck as he begins to move.

My body’s already fatigued and satiated, but it comes alive under his touch, reacting instantly to the indecent roll of his hips.

“You feel so good,” he groans at my ear, the words doing very little for my sanity.

If I had the ability to form words, I’d respond. But I don’t, so I stay silent.

Well, not silent, but I stay murmuring absolute jibberish as his hips move against mine. He speeds up, and I arch against him, loving the way he wraps his arms around me to keep me close.

His mouth is back on mine, tongue meeting mine in a desperate, heady way that makes me groan.

Release begins to build once again inside me, and he somehow senses it, reaching between my legs to work the bundle of nerves there. I go over the edge, legs and arms trembling from their hold around him.

Rhys follows suit, murmuring my name over and over as his motions get a little sloppy, then stop altogether.

Our breathing comes heavy and fast, and for a minute, we just lay there, both of us incapable of doing anything more.

Once I finally regain the ability to breathe, I mutter, “So, you have feelings for me.”

He grunts in acknowledgement, making me smile. “You have feelings for me, too.”

I don’t feel like grunting, so I say, “I do.”

He sighs, rolling us onto our sides. “Like I said, no self-control.”

“I blame you.”

His violet eyes twinkle as he props himself on an elbow and looks down at me. “Me and my good looks take full responsibility.”

I smile again and realize how happy I am. I’m on the floor and covered in paint, but I’ve never felt more beautiful or important. And it’s because of him.

“I don’t know how to be in a relationship anymore,” I admit, scared but knowing more than anything that I want to try.

Rhys shrugs, leaning to press a soft kiss to my lips. “I figure we’ll argue a lot and have really great sex.”

“Works for me.”

“As long as you paint me again. Preferably nude this time.”

__________________________________________________________

I am tired I apologize if I missed stuff editing. Thanks for reading!! Feel free to drop asks in the box :) I have a few I’m working on.

@trinitybailey @zukos-simp @that-other-pineapple @booksofthemoon @stardelia @awesomelena555 @queen-of-glass @whilma-warfstache @highqueenofelfhame @spyofthenightcourt @samcortlandisaginger @city-of-infernal-dauntless @verypaleninja @nikki1288-blog @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#feysand #feyre archeron #feyre #feyre x rhysand #feysand fanfiction #rhysand #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acowar #acomaf #acofas #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight

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yanderecandystore · 4 years

Note

The bullies with an S/O that’s just completely off the board? Like no matter how much they look the bullies can’t find /anything/ on them, all their school papers are forged and their home just isn’t able to be found no matter how hard they look? Maybe due to the S/O changing their identity after doing something bad?

That's hella specific and I love it?? XD

Sure thing boo, let me see what I can do.

Also, I'll change the ocs profiles to be paper drawings with digital coloring because believe me boo, I'm tired of redrawing them (and I believe y'all are tired of always seeing these new drawings).

I noticed that my paper art is a lot better than my digital art, and although I'm kinda proud of them I still feel a little petty because I wish to do cool stuff on the computer ;-;.

Anyway, just a heads-up if you see something off with the oc's bios.

TW/Tags: I have no idea what to tag this lmao // identity theft // illegal/unauthorized inscription // not an accurate representation of university/how universities work lol // abusive household/abusive parents // I may or may not have changed your concept a little, I'm sorry for it 😔

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Suspicion (fuck yeah, I don't know what to title this) [Yandere!Bully OC x Reader - Headcanon]:

→Adrien Coldwell:

For a person that prides themselves as the "know it all" when it comes to people's social media and reputation, he doesn't know anything about you.

This is a first for him, which is both annoying and honestly so intriguing. You didn't strike him as a person who would hide any secrets, and he had a hunch this was about to be good.

He searched for social media first, not finding anything about Avery Remington. Well, at least nothing with your face on it.

However, he did find something very, very interesting while looking at the school's documents, specifically the archives of all the students that have already studied here. He honestly didn't think he would find anything about you in these old papers, he was probably doing all this stupid work for nothing.

However, he was half right and half wrong. He didn't find anything about you, but this whole search wasn't completely lost, as he did find "you", Avery.

"- Student name Avery Remington, average grades and apparently no history of wrong doings or any bad behavior in general. Their registration to the Academy dates to 1980."

Oh. Ooooh, this was rich.

"- Huh." He said closing the documents and letting it where he found it. He was at least kind enough to let the palace a little organize after going through each paper trying to find your name.

Well, "your name". The only things that he kept for himself was photos of both the old documents about Avery Remington, and the earlier documents about Avery Remington. It was clear that you did something probably really, really bad, and you know he'll take advantage of it.

He had built his own theory about this, as in: you somehow found the paperwork of Avery's registration and their previous school's records so you could somehow impersonate them and get a free entrance to this institution.

He knew that you had something to hide, no one can be so perfect. But knowing the action itself wasn't enough for him, he needed to know the motive behind it.

For someone that is lazy and doesn't bother to care about important things, he sure spent a lot of time trying to scoop some dirt on you. When he finds the perfect opportunity, without any witness around, he'll take the chance to use this information against you.

"- Well, hello "Avery"." His tone was already suspicious, his voice not hiding anything from you. He came here to belittle you for his own entertainment.

"- H-Hi Adrien." You said shyly, hoping that your anxious mind was wrong and that this was all just a misunderstanding. You were hoping that the growing feeling of him possibly knowing about your fraud, was wrong.

"- Ya know, I'm kinda jealous of whatever plastic surgery you went through to look so young, maybe you should ask the faculty to correct your age tho." He said while showing the pictures he took of the documents.

"- Wait! I-I can-"

"- Honestly, I didn't think you were over 60 years old! Could have fooled me." His smug face was the selling point. You knew that you wouldn't find any form to convince him that what was on his phone was false.

He had a victorious smile on his face. Ever since you entered this school you always acted a little too paranoid and almost too friendly for his liking, and to confess to himself that he has fallen for you would be the bottom of the pit to him.

Still, he wanted to know why you did it. Why didn't you pay to get in if you wanted the scholarship so badly? What, you were too poor for it?

And what about a talent, or the test? Obviously, the university hasn't gone out of their way to pick a loser like you and insert you inside their classes on a whim, as they thought you were Avery Remington, a student that is already registered in school's documents (yet, of course, their system haven't verified the date of the registration, either by incompetence or by a "small mistake"). So you didn't do the test too, simply pathetic honestly.

Your sad dramatic story explaining how you managed to get into the academy. You did your best to get into the academy by legal means, but they always rejected you. Apparently you thought it would be a good idea to use your grandparent's documents to squeeze yourself into the institution.

"- But why in hell would you do such a thing? Are you that pathetic dearest?"

"- I… I wanted somewhere to go. Somewhere I could grow into a better person, a-away from-" You cut yourself short when the memories of your old home started to come into view.

For some reason, your parents couldn't stand the idea of you getting into a decent university, if anything, they thought you weren't capable of even washing some dishes at the local pizzeria. In their eyes, you were worthless.

When you found out your grandparent used to frequent this institution, and that they managed to disattached themselves from their familial routes and thrive as a musician you got instantly inspired! Determined to follow their steps and prove your family that you're just as worth ass-

"- Urghhhh- Boring! I don't care about all of that. Are you serious? You committed a crime just so you could stick it up to your shitty parents?"

"- …. Yes?"

"- Huh. Geez you're cooler than I thought. Listen, how about we make a deal?"

The deal was simple, he would not tell anyone about your little secret, and he would even help you keep your scholarship and help you reach your ambitions as long as you started spending more time with him. Which, at first you thought it sounded absurd, this man is holding your whole life by a thin thread as long as you give him attention?? What?!

And although that sounded extremely suspicious, you accepted it, not knowing that for the next few years you would have to endure a harsh training to discover your talents and to improve them before you two graduated. However, you started to think Adrien was starting to see your deal in a different light-

"- Come on now, after this we can go eat something okay? Where would you like to go this time? Our last date I chose the best restaurant I know, so you better choose something of equal value."

…. Date?

→Alexandra Coldwell:

You were suspicious from the very start. Overly friendly and too- Ugh! Too cute?!

You were always skittish whenever someone called you. What, you had a problem with your name or something?

And the worst part was how no one seemed to know where you lived. Every group project with you was considered annoying by most of your classmates, as you never called people in your house or never let anyone have your address, not even your phone number??

You didn't have any social media, what are you, a weirdo? What the hell??!

She is not even pissed about you being a loser, she is pissed that she has fallen for someone like you! A complete weirdo that was always panicking over nothing.

She started stalking you with the intention of finding at least one thing that she could hate on you so she wouldn't feel so- Lovey dovey towards you!

But what she really found was something worth an entire gold mine.

A private phone call between you and someone who was losing their shit. She couldn't understand too much of the conversation as she didn't have any context, yet she could hear a lot of things that you and the person were discussing.

The person yelled [Y/N] multiple times while in the phone call, saying how you were absolutely the worst mistake of their lives (which by the way, rude much? Who is this asshole?), that you were a selfish brat that needed to learn to appreciate their hard work.

Oh… Oh. She now knows who you're talking with. She decided to record the entire thing the moment she saw you taking your cellphone to have a private call.

She was planning on recording your voice for her own hearing pleasure, but this? This was so… Interesting.

"- [Y/N]?" She called your attention after the conversation ended, and because you haven't been accustomed to people calling you "Avery", you turned around saying "what" instinctively.

And when you noticed Alexandra smirk for a split second, you regretted answering your parents call. Not that you needed anymore reason to regret it, but this was certainly the last nail in the coffin.

You begged for her to understand that you couldn't go back, you simply can't go back to them, ever again! You told her the whole sob story about how your grandparent had decided to run away from home and fulfil their own dreams as a musician, even if people didn't really hear their music all that much, and now that you think about it, that's probably the reason why no one have recognized their name at all.

Your grandparent had a really small fanbase, and you knew that because you were part of them. They weren't popular at all compared to Amaryllis Academy standards, yet they were happy singing their songs to the world.

You kinda wish your family hasn't broken the old recorder that belonged to your grandparent. Their first album was in there, it was cheesy and filled with errors, yet they sounded so happy when doing what they loved, and you wanted something like that for yourself!

You needed to live that hell hole and so you did. You rented a small apartment that was falling apart, the reason why you never gave people your address was because you knew they would bully the hell out of you because of how poor you are.

After finishing your story you noticed Alexandra snoring beside you. You thought she was only exaggerating, but then you saw her drooling and acting really dizzy after you woke her up.

"- Oh my God, so… That was it? You ran away to follow your dreams and stuff?" She asked, still kinda sleepy.

"- What? Of course it was-" You were fuming with anger, how dare she-

"- And I thought you only looked cool because I liked you! You're pretty strong for sticking up for yourself." She interrupted you, looking at you with admiration in her eyes.

She proposed to you a deal. How about you two keep this secret together, and, if anything does happen she'll still help you stay inside the institution. However, you'll need to work your ass out to become the best you can be, and you'll let her guide you through, because you're too much of a dummy to do it all by yourself. You'll have to spend time with her and let her help you out.

At first, you thought it sounded absurd, this woman is holding your whole life by a thin thread as long as you give her attention?? What?!

And although that sounded extremely suspicious, you accepted it, not knowing that for the next few years you would have to endure a harsh training to discover your talents and to improve them before you two graduated. However, you started to think Alexandra was starting to see your deal in a different light-

"- Why you never hold my hand? Come on, "Avery", won't you hold the hand of your dearest girlfriend?" She asked playfully while taking your hand anyway.

…. Girlfriend?

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#sheep stuff #yandere oc #sheep's stuff #yandere x reader #yandere bully #yandere twins #yandere oc headcanons #yandere oc x reader #yandere bully x reader #yandere bullying #yandere headcanon #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request #yandere

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illfoandillfie · 4 years

Text

5 Simple Rules for a Successful Fake Relationship: One Small Hitch

READ PART 1

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

summery: You and Ben have your first official date and settle into your "relationship". But, with filming coming to a close, you'll need to be more committed to the act than before, especially when Ben's keeping secrets.

Warnings: Again, nothing much. Some language. Drinking. Nothing else I can think of.

Words: 8355

AN: Chapter 2 is finally here! Sorry for the delay but hopefully the next part will be up faster. I'm really really enjoying writing this series and I am so very excited about what's coming! The song mentioned is Reckless Serenade by Arctic Monkeys. Sidenote: Can anyone work out the theme of the chapter titles?

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie

“I’ve got something for you,” you half shouted at Ben when you saw him walking towards you from across the field you were filming in. You shuffled your shitty takeaway coffee into your other hand so you could reach into your bag, pulling out a piece of paper folded in half. He took it and pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Funny cause I have something for you too,” Ben said as he let you go, reaching into his backpack and handing you a magazine, “Oh, shit, it’s our rules. You want page 15 by the way.” “Figured you’d want a record of them. What exactly am I looking f-” you let the word hang as you found the right page. It was decorated with a photo of you and Ben kissing on his doorstep, his hand around your back, the shirt you’d borrowed riding up just enough that it was clear you didn’t have shorts on underneath as you clutched at him. There was some text beside it, mentions of your most notable roles and his, a brief description of the movie you were in the process of making, and some speculatory remarks with a couple of innuendos thrown in. The usual gossip mag fare. On the other side of the paragraph was another photo, both of you leaving set the previous Friday, hand in hand and smiling. “We look pretty good together,” you laughed, getting only a noncommittal grunt in return. He’d suddenly become very interested in the sheet you’d handed him, staring at it like he hadn’t been there when it was written. You reread the brief article, trying not to gawk at the photographs. It certainly looked believable. “I’ve had about four people wish us well this morning,” Ben suddenly said, seemingly pulling himself together, folding up the rules and shoving them into his back pocket, “and I’ve not been here long. It’s kinda weird having everyone know we’re together. Or think we’re together,” he quickly corrected himself. “Yeah, Mel kept asking me questions about it while she was doing my makeup this morning, so I hope she took my awkwardness as me wanting to keep things private and not me not knowing how to answer some of them.” Ben chuckled, “yeah, Gail gave me a bit of a grilling too. I just told her we’d been sort of seeing each other for a few weeks and had only just like made it official or whatever and she seemed to buy it.” “Good, I told Mel the same sort of thing. Hopefully that’s enough for them.” “I’m more concerned with what my friends are going to say. I don’t think any of them read Heat though so hopefully it doesn’t come up any time soon,” “Lucky. My friend Felicity has the dumb site bookmarked. Checks it religiously. Bloody miracle she hasn’t called yet.” “Better turn of your phone then,” “And come back to a full voicemail and about a hundred texts demanding to know why I’m ghosting her?” “Tell her you were filming. I do it all the time,” he was grinning at you and you couldn’t help but grin back as you pulled your phone out and shut it off, “atta girl,” he pulled you into his side and gave you an affectionate squeeze that you leaned into , fully aware of how many people were around you, potentially watching. It was a feeling that didn’t really let up. You knew, rationally, that everyone there was focused on their jobs, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were constantly being scrutinised, and not just for your acting. It didn’t help when Seth had to stop recording to fix a problem with the boom mic and, good-humouredly, said, “don’t worry lovebirds, we’ll have her running in a second.” Or that one of the ADs delivered your call sheets for the next day with a, “I always thought you’d be cute together.” And it certainly didn’t help when you turned your phone on at the end of the day to find a series of texts from Felicity each with more exclamation points and capital letters than the last, and a missed call from Mary. “Better call her back,” Ben said, following you towards the carpark. You rolled your eyes, already holding the phone up to your ear listening to it ring. “Y/N, I was just about to try you again,” “Sorry, Mary, I had my phone off while we were recording, what’s the matter?” “Are you free this weekend?” “Um yeah, I think so, why?” “We’d like for you and Ben to go on a date this weekend. Somewhere in London preferably but it’s up to you. You saw the article in Heat? It seems to be going well. The hits your names have got on google have increased and there have been a few tweets about it. Nothing huge, you’re not trending or anything but you’re still relatively unknown so we weren’t expecting that to happen, certainly not overnight. But we think if we get a date story out quickly it’ll really help get people interested.” You rubbed your temple as you tried to process everything she’d just said, “Okay, I’ll talk to him and we’ll organise something. I’ll text you the details once I have them.” “Okay, let me know as soon as you can though. And send Peter the info too.” “Will do. See ya Mary.” “Was that about me?” Ben asked, smiling as he leaned against your car. “You up for a date this weekend? Apparently the first story went well and they want a follow up ASAP.” “Sure, where are we going?” “I don’t know, somewhere around London would apparently be best, but we get to choose. Any thoughts?” He thought for a moment, “This isn’t our first date is it? Like, we’ve said we’ve been on others before, right?” “Yeah, why?” “Well normally for a first date I take girls out for dinner and then, depending on the girl and how the dinner went, either a quiet drink or like a romantic as fuck walk in the park or something.” “That’s pretty standard stuff, Ben,” “Yeah, but in the fiction of us as a couple, this isn’t our first date. This’d be, what?” “Fifth maybe?” “Fifth. So I’m still trying to impress you a bit, but it’s like, more relaxed. We’ve done the dinner date, we’ve done coffee and a movie, we’ve even done the Museum. Now we’re getting into the fun shit.” “Museums don’t count as fun shit?” you chuckled, not sure where his train of thought was taking you. “It’s a bit overdone is all.” “What do you have in mind then?” “There’s this place that runs art classes during the day, right? Life drawing or like painting for beginner's type stuff. But a couple of nights a week they run these art and wine nights. They’ll give you a canvas or a ceramic figure or something like that and some paints and you can have a few drinks and do something arty. I did it with some mates a while ago, had heaps of fun. Seemed like the sort of thing yo- a girl might like to do on a date.” “That definitely sound fun.” “Really? You’re into it?” “Yeah, for sure.” “Okay,” Ben pulled out his phone and began typing, “shall I book us in for the Saturday night ceramics session?” “Go ahead. What time was that, so I can let Mary and Peter know.” “Seven thirty. If we get a cab in a little earlier we can grab something to eat on our way.” “Cool, okay I’ll text them. Is it BYO?” “Yeah. They do sell some stuff but it’s a pretty small selection.” “Okay, well that’s something to look forward to. Anyway, I should be going since I have about a million texts to sort through, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Wait, one thing,” Ben said before you could open your car door, “There’s a few people coming off set now so I’m going to kiss you, okay?” “Thanks for the heads up,” “No worries,” he stepped closer, his hand rising to cup your cheek as he kissed you softly. He took longer to break away than you’d expected, letting the kiss deepen instead, but you didn’t mind too much. It was a good kiss. And if it hadn’t been for Ben and the movie, you would have been severely lacking them recently. Which explained the vague feeling of disappointment that hit you when he did step back.

On your way home your phone beeped with another text from Felicity but you ignored it until you were inside and changed into the comfiest clothes you could find, flopping down on your bed to scroll through what she’d written. They varied from, “omg why didn’t you tell me about this Ben guy?” to “Y/N!!! Answer my texts!!!” all the way up to, “BITCH!!! CALL ME!!!!” She picked up on the first ring. “Where the fuck have you been all day?” “Some of us don’t have office jobs we hate,” you laughed, “I actually had to work, funnily enough, and because we were on location I had to keep my phone off while we recorded.” “Well I’ve been going crazy over here. Imagine my shock when I boot up my computer and open Heat and see your fucking arse being grabbed by your co-star.” “He was not grabbing my arse.” “Close enough. You didn’t tell me how fucking gorgeous he is.” “No, well, I don’t usually think about the people I work with like that, do I?” “Which is why I was so surprised to see you’ve shacked up with one of them.” “It’s not quite that serious.” “One night stands aren’t your usual thing. Definitely not with guys you work with anyway.” “I never said it was a one night stand, just that it wasn’t super serious!” “How many times then?” “We’ve been on like four dates.” “You fuckhead! You mean to tell me you’re actually dating this guy, who by the way looks like he could be a fucking underwear model, and you didn’t think to tell me? No so much as a I got dicked down by a total babe aren’t you jealous message?” “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it if it wasn’t going to go anywhere.” “But still, I’m your best friend, I tell you about every shag I have.” “In graphic detail,” “Exactly.” “Look it’s just a bit weird still. Neither of us have really hooked up with a co-star before and we didn’t want to say anything until we worked out what was happening.” “I guess that makes sense,” you could tell she didn’t mean it, “But, now that it’s out you owe me. I want to hear all about it.” “There’s not much to tell. We became quite good friends during all the pre-production stuff when we were rehearsing and all that. Our director wanted to make sure we clicked and had the right chemistry and stuff, since it’s a romcom and our characters get engaged in the first scene, so we hung out a lot. And then just before filming started he asked me out. Took me to this nice Chinese restaurant. It was fun so we agreed to go out again and it’s sort of just kept going.” “Those photos, was that the first time you’d stayed over at his?” “Second. First time was a couple of weeks ago. The night that led to the photos was just a few drinks after work with some of the others and we ended up ducking out a bit early and wound up at his.” “And?” “And what?” You had a hard time not laughing when you heard her groan. Her eagerness to know every sordid detail made her easy to fuck with, and that made the whole business of being secretive a lot more fun. “And, how was he?” “I mean…y’know,” “Y/N, I swear to god,” “He was good, okay? Really good,” you remembered what Ben had told you to say, trying not to laugh too much while you repeated it, “like, three orgasms good.” “Shit, really?” “Uhuh. And then another in the morning.” Felicity replied with a long whistle, “shit, girl, hold onto that one then. That’s definitely worth any trouble working together could cause." “Believe me, I know. We’re going out again this weekend.” It was surprisingly easy to lie about dating Ben. Though, of course, you weren’t technically lying since you would be going on a date. “Shit man, date five. That’s serious shit. You better tell me everything, in graphic detail.”

When you told Ben about the conversation the next day, admitting you’d spent ages praising his sexual prowess, he laughed and then thanked you, pulling you into a tight bear hug. You thought it was a slight overreaction considering he’d been the one to tell you what to say but his happiness was infectious, and you found yourself smiling more than normal as you hung out between scenes. An attitude which could only help your performance, making people more ready to believe you were a couple. His easy laughter and bright smiles continued until the afternoon when you were telling him more about Felicity and what you’d talked about. “She thinks you’re a keeper and kept telling me not to let you go.” “Your friend knows what she’s talking about.” “Lucky for you I can’t let you go since it’s all written up in a contract,” Ben laughed but when you glanced at him his smile seemed to falter. “You okay?” “Brilliant. Just had a bit of a late night and it’s catching up on me. Think I might try to have a quick nap before we’re needed again.” “I was thinking of grabbing another coffee if you want one?” “Thanks Y/N but I think the nap will do me more good.” “Probably better people don’t see us heading off to a trailer together anyway or they’ll suspect we’re getting up to mischief.” “Very true. I’ll see you a bit later.” “Sleep well!” Ben turned to leave, his smile seeming more forced than earlier. You would have worried except he seemed to be back to normal when he was called for your next scene. And it continued on through the week, his happiness only getting more pronounced the closer it got to the weekend.

You couldn’t quite match his energy on Friday, anxiety over your date getting stronger the closer you got to it. Hanging out at his place had been easy, even if it did include leaving half dressed. All you’d had to do was kiss him which you’d done enough times during filming that it was no longer too odd. But a proper date was something else. It was going to be the first real test you faced, the first time you’d really have to sell yourselves to the public as more than co-stars and more than a hook-up. “Hey are you okay?” “Huh?” “Your jiggling your leg a lot which you only do when something’s worrying you, what is it?” “Oh,” you forced your leg to stop moving, “nothing,” “Is it about our date tonight?” “What if it’s bad? What if we don’t look like we’re actually together and Mary and Pete have to cancel the whole thing?” “I’d get a decent night sleep not thinking about us,” he muttered. “What?” “I’ve been worried about it too,” he said louder, “but I think we’ll be okay. It’s not like we’ll be starved for conversation and we’ll have the paint and the wine and we’ll be fine. Plus, weren’t you the one who said this would be easy?” “Yeah I was,” you said sheepishly, “but -” “No buts. It’ll be a piece of cake. We go and have a good time painting a couple of plates or bowls or whatever, and then hold hands while we head home. They’ll get whatever shots they get, and they’ll spin it so we look like a couple.” “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry,” “It’s okay,” he reached out to rub the back of your hand, smiling softly at you, “the nerves might actually help you look like you’re legit. And worst comes to worst we can always run lines. I’m honestly so much more nervous about shooting that scene tomorrow.” “The one where we’re playing matchmaker?” “Yes! Have you seen how many names are in there?” “Theres like six, Ben,” “Yeah but they’re all repeated, and I know I’m going to get the order wrong,” You giggled and shook your head, “You’re unbelievable,” “Oh whatever,” he pushed your shoulder almost making you overbalance, “Just cos you know the lines already.”

Ben’s efforts to calm you down worked and you got through the rest of the workday without a hitch. Though your stomach was once again tight with nerves in the hours before the date. You spent a solid half hour standing in front of your wardrobe, freshly washed hair slowly dripping down the back of the towel you had wrapped around you, trying to settle on what to wear. When you were finally dressed you checked and rechecked the contents of your purse, and, in a moment of panic, you grabbed the heavily highlighted and notated script pages with the matchmaker scene and shoved them in beside your lipstick and bank card. By the time Ben arrived in an Uber to pick you up, ushering you into the backseat with a kiss on the cheek and a complement about how lovely you looked, you felt like you were on the verge of throwing up. But, once again, Ben’s natural charm eased your mind. The way he talked to you and smiled constantly had your heart rate slowing and your stomach settling within minutes. Even the way he squeezed your hand when he helped you out of the car, and the way he laced his fingers with yours as he led you towards your destination were welcome comforts. “D’you wanna grab something to eat?” Ben asked, stopping on a corner and looking around, annoyed people passing by on both sides. “Uhh, s’pose so.” “Has anyone ever told you you’re indecisive?” “I swear I’m not normally.” “Oh? Do I make you nervous, snookum?” he asked, playfully. “No, you git,” you laughed back, though you found it hard to meet his eyes, “I just don’t know I’m that hungry.” “Well, keep in mind there’ll be wine drinking. Don’t want to do that on an empty stomach.” “Valid argument. What’s nearby?” After some wandering you ended up in a McDonalds, Ben wolfing down a burger while you picked at the fries, not quite certain you’d be able to keep your food down. It was when you were coming out of a bottle shop, Ben holding the wine you’d agreed on, that you spotted the photographer. It was the same one who’d been outside Ben’s house when you stayed over, camera aimed at the two of you. Quietly you nudged Ben. He just wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side as you walked. You struggled to not watch the photographer as he followed you towards the art studio, having to keep reminding yourself to pretend he wasn’t there. “Relax,” Ben said softly in your ear, “He’s not important.” You nodded, afraid if you said anything you’d lose the meagre dinner you’d had. Ben’s thumb rubbing over your own gave you something else to focus on, counting each soft, smooth stroke, until you reached the right place.

You weren’t the only couple there, far from it. Most of the claimed tables were taken by pairs sitting close together, hands clasped or laying on thighs as they talked. A few tables held larger groups, double dates maybe or perhaps just friends. You felt a few eyes on you as you found a table close to the clear glass of the shopfront, but they turned away again quickly, more interested in their own little bubbles than yours. You glanced outside to check if the photographer was still there but couldn’t see much more than the reflection of you and Ben. His knee bumped yours under the table as he leaned toward you, pressing a finger to your jaw to turn your head towards him. “Forget the photographer. Forget Mary and Peter. Forget our arrangement. We're just two friends having a fun night out, okay?” “Okay,” “Okay. So what are you thinking of painting then?” He unscrewed the bottle of wine and grabbed one of the glasses you’d been handed on arrival. “Well what are my options?” “Well there’s your classic teacup, mug or plate options. There’s a couple of different jewellery boxes, I think. And then there are the statues, ummm, fairy, dragon, alien. Maybe a princess one, I can’t remember.” “More than I thought there’d be. What were you thinking?” “I did a dragon last time I was here. But I think I’m going to do a mug this time. Need some extras if you’re gonna be staying over more often.” “Maybe we should both do mugs, then? Something we can use at each other’s places.” “Alright, deal. But we can’t look at what the other is painting until they’re done.” “That’s going to be so hard!” you laughed, feeling properly relaxed for the first time all night. “Yeah but it’ll be fun though. Wait here, I’ll go grab us the mugs.” You took the opportunity to look around the room, trying to think of what Ben might like on a mug. There was art everywhere – paintings hanging on walls, examples of what the classes could teach you, decorated ceramics lining windowsills and shelves. Judging by the wildly differing levels of talent displayed, you assumed at least some of them were left behind and never claimed. There were plates decorated with fruit trees and ocean scenes, jugs covered in splatters of different colours, aliens in shimmery blue and princesses with green hair and orange dresses. But nothing that sparked your imagination. The noise of the room was steadily growing as everyone got stuck into their creations. Ben sat down, took a drink and got to work mixing colours. “You know what you’re going to do then?” “I have an idea. But I will warn you I’m not a particularly good artist so it might not look anything like what it’s meant to.” You picked up your blank mug and put it down again, tapping the end of a paintbrush against the table as you tried to come up with an idea. What did Ben like? He liked coffee. And dogs. And his guitar. More than once he’d brought it to set, playing it in his downtime. He’d been embarrassed the first time you mentioned overhearing him as you passed by his trailer, but you’d assured him you’d liked listening to him. You’d had the song stuck in your head for a week afterwards. “Made up your mind, have you?” Ben asked, glancing up from his handiwork as you mixed a pale peach colour. “No peeking,” “I wasn’t peeking. If I’d been peeking, I would have done this,” Ben craned his neck, leaning over to where your mug was. You laughed and pulled the mug closer to you, pushing him away with your other hand. He caught it in his own, taking the paintbrush from you, “Oi, careful with that.” “Oops, sorry,” Ben laughed and kissed your palm before letting you have your hand back, “No harm done. But y’know if you splattered me I’d have no choice but to get payback.” There was no need to reach for the script you’d brought as you and Ben fell into conversation while you painted. He asked if you’d had any more awkward phone calls with your friends and told you about what had happened when his mates had found out. Nothing like the conversation you’d endured, though there’d been plenty of teasing. You had to admonish him for nearly getting paint on your work when he began using the largest brush he had to artistically spray drops of paint over his mug. And then he’d laughed when you paused, admitting out loud that you weren’t actually sure how to paint the thing you’d planned on painting. He’d promised not to peek while you whipped out your phone to look up a reference image, going to far as to cover his eyes just to make sure. Once you gave him the okay he went back to painting, switching to a thinner brush and shushing you so he could concentrate. It was ridiculous how cute he looked, tongue between his teeth, bent over the mug as he slowly outlined the design. You shook your head to clear the thought and went back to your own work.

“Okay, I’m done. You wanna see now?” “Yes, absolutely. Unless you think we should wait until after they’ve been glazed?” “Fuck that, we can’t pick them up for a couple of days, I wanna show you now.” “Alright, show me then,” you put down your brush, focusing all your attention onto the mug in Ben’s hands. The base coat was a light purple, with splatters of darker purple over top. Slowly he turned the mug to show you the design on the front. It bore a slightly wonky engagement ring, similar to the one his character gave yours in the movie. On either side of the ring, in thin, not quite straight lettering, was the words we’re really good at this dating thing. You smiled as soon as you read the quote from the script, “I love it, Ben” “Thought it was kind of fitting,” he chuckled, “plus it’ll be a nice little souvenir once the movie wraps.” “That was a fun scene to shoot. Best proposal I’ve ever had.” Ben smiled and carefully turned his mug back towards him, “Best proposal I’ve ever given,” He seemed to be about to say something but stopped himself, shaking his head. You lowered your voice, “Promise I’ll get to keep it after we break up?” “Promise,” Ben said, matching your level and leaning in close, “Until then maybe you can use it as a reminder whenever you feel anxious about this whole dating thing.” “Thanks, I will.” You were suddenly very aware of how softly you were speaking, how close you were sitting, leaning in to hear each other over the rest of the room, and for a split second you thought he was going to kiss you again. But then the moment passed, the noise of the room intruding as Ben leaned back in his seat, “So do I get to see mine?” “Uh, it’s not quite done,” you said, picking up your brush again, the moment gone, “give me another couple of minutes.” “Masterpieces take time, I get it,” “This is by no stretch a masterpiece,” “I’ll be the judge of that thanks very much,” Ben turned to look out over the room while you tried to finish your painting without smudging anything, occasionally making comments about other people there or the art that decorated the room. You took one last look at what you’d painted, the guitar with the words stun gun lullaby written in cursive beside it, “Alright, I’m done now, you can look. Careful, some of it’s still wet.” Ben gently took hold of the handle and turned the mug so the design faced him. He broke out into a grin and you felt relieved that he liked it. “It’s definitely a masterpiece. For someone who didn’t know how to draw a guitar you’ve done an incredible job. And how did you know that’s one of my favourite songs?” “Is it? It's just the song I overheard you playing that one time. I thought that line was a good one for a mug. Nice and short so I didn’t have to paint too much.” “This is definitely my new favourite mug.” “Oh stop it.” “And hey, they kind of match.” You laughed when he pointed out the similarities, “Guess they do. Y’know that’d make a pretty cute Instagram post.” “You going to tag me as my mug?” “Of course. You could post a photo and tag me in it too,” “I don’t know. I don’t really post much personal stuff online.” “Well at least comment on mine,” “I can do that.”

After you’d taken a decent photo and posted it online you cleaned up, handed your mugs over to the woman running the night’s activity and stepped back out into the night. There was no sign of the photographer anywhere and you supposed he’d got what he needed and then left. Still, Ben grabbed your hand as you walked back up the street, just in case you’d missed the photographer in the crowd. “Guess that means we don’t have to worry about going home together,” you said, nudging Ben. “Guess not,” his lips quirked down in a soft frown.” “What is it?” “Nothing, nothing, just...feels kind of weird to just end the date here, I guess,” he scratched the back of his head and laughed, “Normally I’d offer to give you a lift home. Or at least give you a good night kiss, but I guess that’s not really needed now.” “Well, it’s like you said, we’re just friends having a fun night out. We could share a ride home though, if you wanted. You live near enough to mine it wouldn’t matter.” “Nah, don’t worry about it. I actually might go grab something to eat, don’t think that burger was quite enough. See you on Monday?” “Oh, yeah, okay, see you Monday.” There was a pause, both of you hesitating and then Ben gave you a much too quick hug before he walked off, disappearing into the crowd. You sighed and hailed a passing cab, spending the whole ride home wondering what the hell had just happened. But you pushed it from your mind once you were home, going through your usual nightly routine and very deliberately thinking of anything other than Ben. It didn’t help much. You still dreamt about him. Dreamt about the goodnight kiss you’d missed out on.

When you woke you had to laugh at yourself. You were sure that, had you binged a few episodes of a tv show or read something before you’d gone to bed you would have dreamt about it instead. Brains were suggestable like that. When you felt awake enough you rolled over and grabbed your phone finding a text from Ben and one from Felicity and an email from Mary. You opened Mary’s first, skimming over it and vowing to look at it properly once you had a coffee in your system. Ben’s was much easier to understand, a short message to say he had fun last night and that he’d pick the mugs up on his way to work on Monday. Felicity’s was just a series of question marks. You sent back a short response saying the date had been a lot of fun. It wasn’t enough and she was bound to come back at you asking for more details, but it would have to satisfy her. Slowly you got out of bed and made yourself a coffee, setting your laptop up next to you at the kitchen counter so you could try to read Mary’s email again. There was some information about some scripts she was going to send you, a couple of potential future roles, but the majority of the email was about you and Ben. She’d already seen the photos, apparently, and some of them would be run in the coming week’s magazine while others were being put online. She’d also seen the Instagram post and commended you for thinking of it. Another date would have to be organised, but it was better to wait until the next weekend or even the one after, so as not to fatigue the public.

So you and Ben fell into the routine of it. An email from one or other of your agents sometimes as vague as just telling you to organise a date, sometimes much more specific in what they wanted you to be doing, then the date itself, and in between work where you played up the romance as much as possible. You got good at pretending to stay over at each other's places, often just hanging out watching TV or running lines until the photographer called it a night and you were free to leave. Once or twice you’d opted to sleep in your own bed but get up early and head over to Ben’s for the required morning after shots but that process got old very quickly so you ended up actually staying over more and more. There was one day when your period came unexpectedly while you were at Ben’s. You were halfway through asking him to take you home when he offered to run to the store for you instead. “No, no, you don’t have to go out of your way like that, I’ve got plenty at home I just didn’t think I’d need any today.” “Y/N, I promise, it’s no trouble. I feel bad I don’t have anything here for you already. Been a while since I’ve lived with a girl and it didn’t even cross my mind. Seriously, it’ll take me two minutes.” When you still weren’t convinced he continued, “Plus, if I go we won’t ruin Peter and Mary’s plan for today. And the Paps can get a shot of me staring at boxes of tampons like a good caring boyfriend. It’ll help our image.” “Oh alright, as long as you don’t mind.” He was out the door a second later and back within ten minutes, though you did get a call from him at the shop, asking what brand you preferred. Once he was home, he made you a cup of tea, gave you a painkiller and, after checking you didn’t mind, cuddled up with you on the couch, teasingly calling you his cuddle bunny as he pulled you back against his chest. You almost complained, almost cited Rule 5, but it wasn’t so bad. Some might even go so far as to call it cute. It was better than snookum at any rate.

The dates themselves got easier after the first. You knew what to expect now so it wasn’t as nerve wracking as before. And Ben was always fun to be around, your list of inside jokes steadily growing as he became the one person you spent the most time with. You let yourselves relax a bit. On your third date Ben’s arm stayed glued around your waist as you walked around the zoo, only losing contact when a lemur jumped on his shoulder and you stepped back to take a photo. It wasn’t low enough to violate the rules you’d put in place but his hand was dangerously close to falling below your belt, and it was definitely something you would have put a stop to when you first started the charade. The Instagram posts had got more frequent too, though Ben still refused to post anything to his own profile. But he commented on everything you posted whether it involved him or not. And people were buying it. You’d been moved from page 15 to page 13 and then to page 10 in the magazines. You both picked up more followers online as your photos were shared across Twitter and Facebook and Tumblr. There were some downsides like rude comments and nasty messages but mostly they were easy to ignore. Worse were the phone calls and messages from family members and friends asking when they’d get to meet Ben. He’d had to fend off his own family as well, but you both stuck to Rule 4, making up excuses and promising it would happen eventually, but it just wasn’t possible right now. But your biggest problem was the issue of intimacy. It wasn’t the lack of sex itself, that was easily managed. It was that Ben had started to intrude on your fantasies. You’d be there with your fingers or your toys and suddenly it was Ben’s voice you were thinking of, Ben’s hands, Ben’s teeth and tongue and chest. Ben’s name falling from your lips. And you knew it was just because you were pretending to date him, on and off set. It was the dumb suggestable brain thing again. The thoughts were only there because you were pretending to be in love with him and usually sex was tied up with love or at least relationships. And really, you hadn’t been attracted to anyone much lately because you hadn’t been looking because you’d been pretending to be attracted to Ben so it’s really no wonder you’re brain got all confused and mixed him into those other thoughts. The first time you saw him after it first happened you wondered if he could tell, a slightly flustered awkwardness hanging over you. But it wasn’t worth mentioning to anyone. You just vowed to push him out of your mind as much as you could.

Nearly two months later you found yourselves back in the office where the idea of pretending to date was first floated. With filming drawing to a close Mary and Peter were keen to check in with you. The first thing either of them said when you and Ben turned up is how well the story was going. “Projections have the sales for this movie increased by five percent, just because of your relationship and that number is expected to grow as we get closer to release,” Mary spoke fast though whether that was excitement at the boosted numbers or just a busy schedule rushing her along you weren’t sure. “What happens now?” Ben asked, “I mean, since we won’t be filming together anymore after this week,” “That’s exactly why we wanted to talk with you both today,” Peter opened a pocket notebook and thumbed through a couple of pages, “so not much will change but we may occasionally need to balance out the loss of on set photos with shots of you out and about together. Nothing stressful and all very easily staged. You probably wouldn’t even need to be out for more than an hour or so at a time. People have been loving the domestic sort of photos you’ve been putting online, Y/N, that one of you using the coffee mugs you painted was especially good. So we’d like a few more of those sorts of moments. The two of you grocery shopping or walking a dog, do either of you have a dog? No? Hmmm, we could hire a dog and write a story about you sitting for a friend. We’ll put a pin in that for now. But yes, just some candid shots of you walking around London and doing regular everyday things together.” “We’ll also need to schedule the argument soon. We’re thinking somewhere within the first two weeks of filming being over. It means we can run speculation about whether the relationship is on the rocks now that you aren’t working together anymore. We’ll see how things go this week and make some decisions later, but we’ll give you plenty of warning before you have to perform it. Obviously, it has to be scheduled so we can guarantee someone will get photos but we need it to seem as natual as possible so we’ll leave the specifics of the argument up to you.” You nodded along but Ben had more questions. “What does this mean for any jobs we might be looking at taking after this movie wraps?” “You can still take on whatever roles you want provided they’re filming here. It’s harder to keep you in the public eye if you’re separated and while the drama of a long-distance relationship might be interesting at first, it’s not sustainable.” “If it was filming somewhere else in the UK we could maybe organise something. We’d have to look into it and see if it was possible to stick to our same plan but just shift the location. Maybe have a weekend visit angle to it, Y/N flies out to see Ben, Ben comes home to see Y/N, that kind of thing.” “Leave it with us Ben and we’ll get back to you on the logistics of it all.” “Oh, that’s okay, I don’t have anything set in stone, I was just curious.” “Is there anything else you have questions about?” “No, I don’t think so,” He looked towards you. “No, I’m all good.” “Okay, well, if you think of anything you can message us any time.” “Really, though, this is going very well. It’s already paying off but we need to keep the momentum during the post-production phase, so we need you both to be committed to this.” “We are.” “Unbelievably committed,” Ben added.

You and Ben left the meeting joking about potential arguments you could have and for the rest of the day, whenever you passed each other in the halls or had a moment alone you’d try to one up each other's suggestions. It was a good way to keep your spirits up even though the end of filming was fast approaching. One by one each cast member recorded their last scenes, saying an emotional thank you to the crew when the director called cut. You and Ben were the last to finish since you were the leads. A small pillow talk scene that you could do in your sleep. It was a nice way to end it, lying in bed with Ben’s arms around you, even with the heat of the studio lights. While you were waiting for the cameras to be positioned you and Ben joked around with the crew that were flitting around angling mics and adjusting set decorations. “Hey, Seth,” Ben said suddenly, “can you pass me my phone. I think we need to document this moment. What d’you say, cuddle bunny?” You laughed and poked him in the side but agreed. Ben stuck his arm straight up into the air, trying to angle the camera just right but he couldn’t quite get the photo to take without blurring. Seth took pity on you and offered to take the photo himself, allowing you and Ben to snuggle in close. “If you post it on Insta you better credit me,” Set laughed, turning it round to show you. “I’ll do that,” He said with a smile, “It’s pretty cute, I think I have to post it.” “Really?” you asked, surprised he’d volunteer to do such a thing. Ben didn’t have a chance to respond because everything was ready to go. Seth put the phone back away so you could film the scene, laughing in between takes until everyone was satisfied. “That’s a wrap on Ben Hardy and Y/N Y/L/N everybody,” A round of applause started as you pushed yourself to sit up, trying to stop yourself from welling up. “And that’s a wrap on The Perfect Match.” The applause continued and Ben pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You had to say a few words but you managed to get through it, and Ben’s little speech, without completely losing it. Afterwards, as people packed up the equipment and you headed back to your trailers to change, Ben pulled out his phone again. “I guess I should post that photo now, how’s this caption,” he said each word slowly as he typed it out, “Thank you Y/N for being the perfect Edith to my Andy. And thank you @theperfectmatchmovie for finding me my perfect match.” “Did you tag me?” “Of course,” “Did you tag Seth?” “Uhhhh, camera emoji by @seththesoundman. Now I have,” “Then it’s perfect. Little bit cheesy but I’ll let it slide.” “I’ll post another lot of photos with everyone else later and write a longer thing about how much fun this movie was and all of that, but I think this’ll do for the minute. Mary and Peter better fucking appreciate it.”

That evening most of the cast and crew headed out for drinks at the local pub. The official party would come later but everyone needed to get out and celebrate for an evening. You and Ben stayed for a few hours, Ben getting a little more clingy with each drink he finished. You limited yourself to only a couple. Ben wasn’t going to be able to drive so you decided to fall on that sword, switching to water quite early on. When he reached the point of intoxication that had him constantly complementing everyone you decided to call it a night, taking a final lap to say goodnight to everyone. There were a few wolf whistles and slurred comments about getting some as you left, Ben’s arm around your waist and his laugh in your ear, but you waved them off and led Ben out to your car. “C’mon Benny boy, I’ll drop you home.” “What about my car?” “Well you’ll have to come get it in the morning, won’t you.” He hummed and lay his head against the back of the seat, chatting animatedly as you made the trip to his. You wished him goodnight as he got out of the car and watched him make his way up to his front door. There he paused, patting his pockets. “Everything alright? You called out to him. “I don’t have any keys,” he laughed, turning around to come back to the car. “You fucking goon, did you leave them at the pub?” “Guess so,” he shrugged, “Can I crash at yours?” “Get in,” “Thanks cuddle bunny, you’re the best” You rolled your eyes, “Guess this means I’ll be your taxi tomorrow, running you around to find your keys and your car,” “That’s what girlfriends are for,” “If you say so.”

Once at yours you headed to the kitchen to make tea, Ben following to grab a glass of water and a snack. He knew where you kept everything by now, making himself a sandwich with whatever he found in your fridge, and then carrying it out to the couch. By the time the teas were made Ben already had Netflix queued up, ready to play the next episode of the series you’d started watching together. Nearly Twenty minutes into the episode Ben’s phone dinged. “Ah shit,” he said as he glanced at it, “forgot I said I’d call Joe. Do you mind if we pause the ep? We’re trying to organise travel stuff for him and it’s easier if we talk it through rather than texting it all.” “Sure,” “I promise I won’t be long.” “Take your time, it’s fine,” you were already reaching for your laptop. Ben smiled at you before ducking out of the room. You head him walking down the hall, footsteps fading as he got further away. For a while you just enjoyed the quiet as you checked your emails and social media profiles but after commenting on the photo Ben had posted and replying to a few messages from people you knew there wasn’t really much left to do. You drummed your fingers on your keyboard trying to think of another website you could visit. There was still no sign of Ben and you didn’t want to continue the show without him so you stood up, stretched, and headed back to the kitchen to grab some chocolate from the stash you kept. You were just about to shut the fridge when you heard Ben’s voice coming from the other side of the wall. Your spare room where he’d clearly gone to make his phone call. “Yeah, Joe, I fucking know. But I don’t have much choice.” He sounded more sober than he had when he’d got up. There was a pause as Joe spoke and then you heard Ben again. “I don’t know what I was thinking getting into this mess…..Yeah maybe. Doesn’t really matter though now does it…. What’s that supposed to mean? I can’t just call it quits now, the story is doing too well and Peter has assured me that the numbers are promising or whatever I don’t really know how they measure it. All I know is that people are going to see the movie because of us.” There was a long pause. You quietly shut the fridge and took a step back towards the doorway. This was not a conversation you should be listening in to. But then Ben spoke again, and curiosity got the better of you. “It doesn’t matter Joe. It doesn’t matter how I feel.” He laughed but it was completely devoid of humour, “Of course it sucks. It’s fucking shit, man. I just keep waiting for her to tell me she feels the same but it’s not happening…... No, I know it’s completely one sided…..No, I don’t think she knows. She wouldn’t have wanted to do it in the first place if she knew…. I just wish things were different. I love being around her and being able to hold her and kiss her but it fucking sucks that it’s only in public….. I don’t know. Maybe not filming together will ma-” You could feel your cheeks burning as you tiptoed back towards the lounge room, not quite sure what to do with yourself. You paced back and forth for a moment before deciding to go to the bathroom, at least then Ben couldn’t walk in on you as you tried to process it. You let the door shut loudly behind you, hoping that if Ben had heard movement he’d think you’d just got up to use the loo. He couldn’t know you’d overheard him. You leaned against the sink and tried to make sense of what you’d heard. Ben couldn’t have a crush on you, he just couldn’t. But it was the only thing he could have been talking about. What the fuck did that mean for your arrangement? What the fuck were you meant to do now?

#my writing #my fics #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ahhhhhhh #ya'll im so excited about this series #i have all the chapters planned out #i have all the titles planned out #i wrote a short synopsis of the film they're making #so that i can reference it throughout the fic and be consistent in what the scenes might be #god can ben please just make a romcom now #i want it more than anything in the world

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arecomicsevengood · 3 years

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Notes On The Dirty Plotte Box Set

Kind of embarassing I haven’t really dug into Julie Doucet and Dirty Plotte but that’s just how things go sometime. Maybe growing up a reader of superhero comics Doucet felt like the deeper end of the alternative pool, offering zero concessions to the kind of kid I was. I think the first Drawn And Quarterly comic I bought when I was in high school was their reprint of Ed Brubaker and Jason Lutes’ The Fall. And then when I wanted to look into it, in college, I think I was confused because the book I’d heard was good, “Lift My Leg My Fish Is Dead” is actually the English translation of a book that’s title is in French. Dream comics and autobio continue to sound unappealing, as pitches, and then by that point I think there was also sorta fancy artbook stuff coming out. It’s been an overwhelming or confusing prospect for quite some time. Now, what’s available is this big box set: Dirty Plotte: The Complete Julie Doucet, two hardcovers in a slipcase, for me to place on my bookshelf next to the Gary Panter Picturebox set. It’s a big-ticket purchase, but justifiable on account of how much crap I buy for cheap I end up not enjoying as much I would hope. (Also currently you can find discounted versions. but it might go out of print at some point.)

It turns out to be a pretty good format to read it in. I haven’t read The Complete Eightball hardcover, but I have a bunch of Clowes books — Caricature, Ghost World, Like A Velvet Glove Cast In Iron, Twentieth Century Eightball —- that work great. I’m not certain if Doucet’s books work as well. The only one I’d read before this is The Madame Paul Affair, which is incredibly short. From what I can tell reading this, My New York Diary is also really short, but it also depicts her drawing comics that had run in the series years before, and I feel like it makes the most sense to read them in close proximity to each other.

Of course, once you start grouping the My New York Diary material with the work drawn during the time period depicted, you isolate out the intervening work, done after the move to Seattle but before the creating of a longer autobio work. Issue 8, for example, which had pages by other artists — J Bradley Johnson, Jeff Johnson — that are not reprinted here, which is fine and understandable, even if those are two artists whose work I wish was more accessible. It’s weirder to me to not include the back covers other artists did for two issues, so the glossy stock just goes to blank pages. The second book in the slipcase includes a lot of testimonials on Doucet’s work by other artists and ephemera like a letter from Gary Panter asking for a page for an anthology that never came out. I guess what’s a bummer about this is this element of “history being written by the winners” where people who are successful now get to say this work was important, but the people who were Doucet’s peers (or that she was championing, offering a platform to) don’t get a seat at the table in the canonization process. It is cool that John Porcellino is in here from having struck up a correspondence during the late eighties zine days and now he’s at Drawn And Quarterly. They try to sell John Porcellino as being similar to Chris Ware and that’s funny to me.

It’s also funny framing Dirty Plotte as the first solo comic book D+Q put out when it’s so much more wild than most if not all of what they currently publish. In that context, the luxury-item production values seem weirder, like it’s walling the work off, or pitching it to art museum gift shops whereas their other books go to Barnes And Noble. I would like this work to be accessible to the next generation of burgeoning young artists but I think there’s an unspoken understanding that zoomers would not tolerate, like… Doucet advertising a back issue of Answer Me on a back cover. While these are explicitly feminist comics and there’s a back-cover blurb by Kathleen Hanna it’s also firmly in the tradition of underground comics whose legacy of transgression people are uncomfortable with. Still, while I might bemoan the sense that embracing the bookstore market was a mistake because actual “alternative” voices aren’t embraced, Dan Nadel’s lengthy introduction did remind me that the most successful alt-comics were sold in record stores, including the chain Tower Records, and that’s not a viable path anymore. He does mention PJ Harvey as a part of the nineties feminist alt-cultural moment — I would like to directly compare Doucet’s frequent castration references to this appearance of PJ Harvey getting laughs from Jay Leno’s Tonight Show audience.

Doucet’s comics themselves are great. I don’t really feel qualified to write about them. But they read well. It really does feel like a modern take on classic comic newspaper strips, in terms of what the sense of humor is vs. how it’s conveyed in this detailed cartooning. I love the deep focus foregrounds, I love the occasional silhouettes. Good inky drawings. This is maybe a shitty criteria to judge a cartoonist by but out of all the big-name high-profile nineties alt-comics cartoonists Doucet seems like the only one who could do a good Paper Rodeo page. The earlier stuff looks like Anke Feuchtenberger.

I want to read Renee French’s pre-Grit-Bath minicomic Sociopath. Sounds dope.

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testifytime · 4 years

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do everything for me, you already know about me BUT: im described as "chaotic faggot" by my friends, i have no filter, I can switch from being outgoing to really nervous in a second, i like drawing, dice, and divinitation. i hoard candles and incense, and i like paintball.

- A Pokemon team/type theme (+ fun facts abt your team!)

Your team is full of Poison types! They’re used the most often for rascly lil fucker trainers, so, it fits :3c

Your signature Pokemon is Toxtricity, though your team also consists of Whirlipede, Haunter, Gloom, Toxicroak, and Crobat!

Fun facts!

Your Toxtricity was sent to you by your juggabro. In his words, it’s a “cool Pokemon to fit your aesthetic but keep you on track”. It can be pretty overprotective, but sometimes it turns a blind eye to the more chaotic things you do.

Your Whirlipede is just an entire baby. Even though it’s got toxic spikes on its shell that COULD kill you, it’s pretty much a lapbug. You just have to try and remind it to be careful before it goes in for snuggles.

Your Haunter and Gloom actually kind of hate each other! Having them out at the same time often ends up with you either getting paralysed or put to sleep. They’re super sweet when they’re apart, though, and both LOVE scritches.

Toxicroak used to be really loveydovey when it was a Croagunk, but now it acts like it’s too cool for school. It’s really not. If you pay more attention to another Pokemon it WILL jab you in the stomach. And then it’ll pretend like it totally wasn’t even because it was jealous.

Your Crobat is the sweetest of the bunch!! It likes to collect (read: steal) things for you that it thinks you’ll like, and is almost always attached to your back out of its Pokeball. Sometimes without you wanting it to be. It can be a bit of a pain, sometimes.

- Bloodcaste/lusus/chumhandle as if you were a Homestuck troll (+lore)

You’re a purpleblood with a seaserpent lusus! Your chumhandle is acquiredTalisman.

You live with your lusus in a hive that boarders where the jungle forest ends and the beach begins. It’s a pretty popular spot for violetbloods, admittedly, but it’s also the only place your giantass Seaserpentdad can actually fit; the mouth of the river is deep and leads directly out into the ocean, where he spends most of his time. The hive itself is pretty cluttered - because man, you suck at keeping shit tidy - and filled to the brim with your dice collections, your religious paraphenalia, and all the random junk you’ve stolen (of which there is a lot).

You have a few interests, of which the main is your religion. You’re a diviner of sorts, oddly sought out by your fellow purplebloods to tell them what their purpose is in life as stated by the Great Mirthful Messiahs. You’re not entirely sure that they really do speak through you, but your readings are scary-accurate, and not only does it mean that you’ve made more friends, but you’ve made a fuck tonne of money, too. You’re more fond of practicing with your friends, or on your own, sneaking what you can beneath your lusus’ snout; so far, he hasn’t seemed to question the candle collection you have, or the alter with the Faygo bottlecaps, or the cards, or pendulum made from a grubbone you got from one of your customers. Actually, he hasn’t noticed much of anything? You’re hesitant to go TOO far, but you do like pushing at what you can get away with every now and then.

On top of that, you love to draw - mostly as a form of worship, but also just for fun with your juggabros. You send drawings back and forth, even though you’ve never been able to meet them, and it’s pretty fun! You hope one day that you can get them to your favourite hangout spot to cause a little chaos - which usually means trashing the violetbloods’ rich boy shit and stealing things you know they’re too proud to tattle about. You don’t... always remember doing those things? But you definitely remember the amount of violetbloods that give you nasty glares whenever you walk past. It’s okay, though. You have a rifle and you’re not afraid to use it.

Beyond that, though, you’re... kind of lonely. There’s nobody that you really consider a friend around you, and when your friends do visit you, it’s only every few months. Having all those customers and the nasty violetbloods hanging around is great, sure, but... sometimes you wish you could move your hive closer inland to be near your juggabros. You could, you guess. But then where would your lusus go?

Your lusus is kind of ridiculously huge. You really couldn’t miss him even on the horizon, his giant form standing stark against the two moons. Not that he spends a whole lot of time above the water, though. He pretty much only comes back to get fed and throw a fit if he sees any of your purpleblood customers hanging around.

- Symbol/guardian/chumhandle as if you were a Homestuck kid (+lore)

Your symbol is a and your guardian is your big bro! Your chumhandle is augmentedTemptation.

You and your older bro kick it in a sweet lil bottom-floor apartment. It’s kinda dingy, kinda shitty, but it’s the best he can afford and you’re not really one to complain when you know how hard he works just to keep the leaky roof over your head. It’s got everything you want out of a home, anyway; separate bedrooms, tiny bathroom, sweet hangout pad that doubles as a kitchen (which you’ve got a curtain draped over so that it looks like they’re two rooms) - it’s pretty neat. It’s also got a fire escape out the back and easy access to the lobby doors that’re easy to pick, so you figure it’s kinda home.

You absolutely fucking love to play paintball. You’ve got a painball gun that you maybe stole from the store once, and a couple pellets you’ve been buying for cheap online whenever you have the money. You don’t... actually have anyone to play with, but hey, cop cars make a great target. It feeds into your general need for chaos, which isn’t limited to - but has involved - petty theft, breaking into cars, and spray painting defametory phrases against racists and homophobes on billboards. You’ve never actually been caught. Okay, you got caught once, but you’re really good at crying. You’re pretty sure your bro doesn’t know about that.

You like to practice witchy shit in your spare time. You’ve got altars set up for your patrons, and a candle collection that you really don’t know that you’re ever gonna burn through. Plus, incense! Your bro kind of hates the smell, but you just crack open a window and it’s like he doesn’t even know. You’ve also got a pretty fair collection of crystals, but that’s more because people just keep giving them to you? It’s wild what they’ve thought were just normal rocks, and you’re pretty sure some of your collection could sell for a pretty buck, but they make way better offerings.

Of course, you also love to talk to your friends online. You have a bunch! You’re pretty easy to get on with, you think, so you end up just kinda collecting people into one giant group of friends that never stops growing. You share art, play games, chat, make them worried sick when you do dumb shit - it’s great.

Sometimes at dusk you like to go up to the roof of the apartment block you and your bro live in and stand right on the edge. It’s so high up you can see around for miles, and everything below you looks like a speck of dust beneath your feet. The stars twinkle above you in the darkening sky, just barely visible, and you think, every now and then, that you are very, very small.

- A FNAF animatronic design and name

You’re a broken down animatronic, probably one of the earliest of your kind. Maybe even a prototype? Nobody really remembers anymore. You’ve just kind of always been there, at the back of the store, half a body and more coherent than people expect you to be, but never fully quite there. Your head lulls back and forth, your arms moving sluggishly, and in order to get around, you drag yourself across the floor.

You can speak, but not by much. It’s glitchy and switched out more often than not, absolutely terrifying to hear in the dark - but you’re a pretty sweet soul, all things considered. The few who’ve been brave enough to slip back behind the old, abandoned doors, past the cobwebs and through the narrow halls, who haven’t run at the first sight of you, tell tales of a sweet carcass who seemed more scared of being found than anything else.

There are a couple kids who routinely come back to visit you. They like to give you things they’ve found outside the pizzaria, mostly coins and old dice and things that smell sweet to try and cover up how musty you are.

You’ve never hurt a soul the entire time you’ve been there, but your reputation has been built on the whispers of kids who’ve seen the rotting maw of your muzzle, the glint of your endoskeleton and the shine of your eyes in the dark. They call you Thing - as if giving you a name will make you come to life.

The ones that know you better call you Peppi.

- A BNHA Quirk and hero title

Your Quirk is Corroding Touch. Despite its name, and how terrifying it sounds, your quirk is pretty simple! Anything you touch wastes away, and you can control how far along its own personal timeline it decays through. For instance, you could touch a flower and have it start wilting, and stop there on its timeline - or you could have it waste away to a point that it decays completely and turns to mush.

The drawback here is that what you’re doing is essentially speeding up a natural process. Things that don’t waste away without outside forces - such as rocks through erosion - won’t be affected by your quirk. Things that live very long lives before decaying - such as turtles - will take up a lot more of your time to speed them through their natural timeline. Finally, you can’t reverse what you’ve done. Once you’ve sped it through its natural timeline, there’s no going back; another quirk will have to undo the effects.

Of course, it also means that if you plant an oak seed, instead of waiting hundreds of years for it to grow into an oak tree, you can just use your quirk to speed up the process. So it’s a good-bad thing!

Your hero title is the Wasteful Hero: Corrosion. You’re a sort of last-resort hero, and you don’t like being in the limelight. Your quirk is dangerous if not handled correctly, so you work on a team with another hero who has a counter-effective quirk to yours (essentially Hyper Growth!). A lot of civillians are scared of you, but that’s okay. You know that what you do is important, and that your ranking doesn’t matter so long as you’re saving lives.

You are a little bitter, though, that your partner is several ranks ahead of you.

#turnfagshithead #long post//#heartless prince rambles

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tarajenkins · 5 years

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And then there's the matter of the crap people have brought to my yard in the tags they put on my art and errant vagueposts, and my need to no longer smile and nod silently like the WoL. GANGWAY, IT’S THE DISK HORSE

When I was posting a lot of art with the Chais and Vauthry, it didn’t take me long to notice there was a distinct double standard at work in the tags of the reblogs. People who lovingly cooed over rat grandpa would tag my art--why they reblogged it in the first place, I wish I knew, I started blocking ones who did this--they would tag my art about how ew Vauthry is, how they were triggered by Vauthry, how they DEFINITELY WEREN'T REBLOGGING FOR VAUTHRY, etc.

Even though there is a very good case Vauthry had no choice in his behavior at all, as perhaps the Ascians didn’t. Even though what he did do is a fraction of the atrocities the Ascians have done, the breaking point for these people was literally the lesser of two evils. Rat grandpa is afforded an amazing level of sympathetic theorycrafting, Vauthry is just dismissed as a “bloated parasite” (interesting choice of adjective to the person who made that comment). Despite all in-game evidence the Lightwarden corruption rat grandpa forced on him before he was born likely twisted both his body and mind. Despite all in-game evidence Ascians took full advantage of their newborn pawn.

When @kasunshine pointed out that vaguepost in the Vauthry tags aimed at me, I saw a second one by the same person--it seems to be gone now?--calling me a "Vauthry Stan" who had gall to talk shit about rat grandpa for what he did to an unborn child.

Why does it take a “stan” to find what was done to him monstrous? Oh--right. Because rat grandpa. I probably would’ve made it under the radar if Lahabrea had done it.

No matter how much people may say it’s because Vauthry did bad things (that was sort of the point of rat grandpa corrupting him), or that he had no character development (hi Zenos), the fact remains that somehow, fat jokes are the preferred method of mockery.

Creating, liking, reblogging, not speaking out against (unless confronted), fat jokes. Fat jokes, imagine that.

Fat jokes even got defended in this recent round of discussion, under the guise of "concern", of course--even though it’s been thoroughly documented that shit is bullying and helps no one but the bully to feel better about themselves. Imagine upskirting Dulia-Chai’s model and laughing at her body, because haha, fat people are fat, gross! Imagine laughing at Dulia-Chai for eating because haha, fat people eat, gross! I’ve even read so many comments elsewhere about how Vauthry is absolutely a sexual predator, although nothing in-game backs that up. Yet when rat grandpa practically brags about all the kids he's had with unwitting partners, there is only silence from the same people. Silence, or excuses.

But haha, fat people would totally be predators, amirite? They’re gross!

I've dealt with this attitude before when drawing big guys in other fandoms. I’ve seen this phenomenon happen with them too. It’s always the same. Tumblr will gleefully reblog a fat woman for progressive brownie points (like my Dulia-Chai art), then will point and laugh and otherwise dehumanize fat men like kids on a playground (see disclaimers for EW VAUTHRY in the tags of the aforementioned Dulia-Chai art). If Vauthry had been a woman, or if rat grandpa had Vauthry's model, I am pretty sure most of this argument would not happen. In fact, if Vauthry’s model were reversed with rat grandpa, I would bet money people would all share my pain over the injustice of the Eulmore arc and all its poorly thought out shlock.

Square played the fat hate themselves, to the hilt.They used nothing but fat bodies in the trailer to represent the evils of Eulmore. Vauthry's introduction made sure to begin with a long, slooooooow pan from the stomach up. In German, Alphinaud straight-up called him a "fatass", apparently. Implications of cannibalism because we’re back in the Austin Powers days, I guess, even though meol made absolutely no sense if you bothered to do the math. But why bother to do the math? “Get in mah belly” haha fat people would totally eat people, amirite?

And finally, in the end, Square elevated the man who did this to Vauthry to a hero, because it seems they guessed correctly--not a lot of people would give a shit what was done to the fat guy, they’re too busy blaming the victim (and everyone else rat grandpa killed) because rat grandpa is just soooo tragic and

"aesthetically pleasing". (Modding rat grandpa into bed for screenshots is just a coincidence, it’s all about his character.)

I've read long discourse on how rat grandpa is innocent of all things he's done because Tempering, though rat grandpa's dialogue sounded like the Ascians expected to be Tempered ("of course" Zodiark Tempered them, "it was only natural".) It would be tragic if it pans out the Ascians were puppets, but before they were, there was a choice made -- of free will and immortal wisdom -- to commit to this bloody course. I don’t really buy the bullshit rat grandpa was selling about looking for other ways to achieve their goal. If there was really a less tragic path and they could choose it, why didn’t they choose it in the first place? They’re immortal. They have all the time in the worlds to achieve their goal. Yet they went headlong into the murder of billions of sentient creatures. Made a game of it. Oh, the WoL was being tested? Why does the WoL need to pass a test, when if they disagreed with the Ascians’ methods, it was stated plainly that the Ascians would then kill them anyway? Why does anyone on the Shards need to pass a test for the right to exist? Yeah, yeah, “moral relativism”, I know. Cool motive, still murder, and by rat grandpa’s own admission they freely chose to become the thralls of a primal, apparently fully aware of the monstrous things they may do in Zodiark’s name. Of course, rat grandpa said he’d do it all even if he weren’t Tempered. Hm. And I thought Raha was a shitty actor, lmao. BUT ASCIAN HUBRIS AND GENERAL JACKASSERY ASIDE

For all the mental gymnastics to excuse the Ascians of the deaths of entire worlds, the people I've countered about Vauthry go through comical, armchair-psychologist lengths to claim Vauthry was ABSOLUTELY aware and responsible for everything he'd done since rat grandpa corrupted him before he was born (corrupted him with Light, which the latest patch implied was very much like Tempering).

There are no examples in-game of Light corruption leaving a person unscathed, mentally or physically. Not Pixie Kings, not even the Hydaelyn-blessed WoL. But these people will look at rat grandpa, sigh lovingly, and absolve him of all these atrocities because Tempering--then look at his creation, his Light-Tempered corrupted from birth creation, the twenty-foot-tall Hume with the bendy straw neck and a Lightwarden forced into his chest, the guy quite clearly mad, the guy who was never asked if he wanted this and who wasn’t even born when it was forced on him, and condemn him for acting as he was made and conditioned to act by rat grandpa and rat grandpa’s pal, Vauthry’s father, because obviously Vauthry is not affected by the corruption forced on him at all, no sir. Against every bit of evidence to the contrary, Vauthry was in total control of himself, and so is to blame for everything. Because reasons. He was fully aware of reality despite being brainwashed into a bubble of lies. That uncontrollable urge to violence that was going to make your WoL kill their own friends? Nah, wouldn’t affect that kid without Hydaelyn’s Blessing, what a leap of logic that would be! Certainly wasn't rat grandpa’s fault, nope! Vauthry would’ve become a Lightwarden without anyone’s help! The Ascians just accidentally corrupted an unborn child and then saw him groomed to a “desired end”. Happens all the time. (Yoshi-P saying he would like us to consider if Vauthry was “really just a friend of the Sin Eaters, or was he being controlled by someone” was just a really oddly specific red herring. ) The folks I’ve countered definitely don’t give a thought to how frightened his mother looked while The Men (tm) discussed what to do with her body, either. Consent is only valid if convenient when it’s rat grandpa. (”Respects women” my fat ass.) And whatever happened to grooming children being fucking gross, Tumblr dot com? Because Vauthry was a child. Just because he didn’t grow up into your dating sim wet dream doesn’t mean what was done to him was remotely okay.

These people couldn't just relent neither one may have had control. There isn't a fraction of the Deeper Understanding spared to Vauthry that they seek to give rat grandpa for genocide.

They just have to make sure the fat guy they don’t want to, uh, take screenshots with gets what he "deserves".

#Vauthry #FFXIV #above all I ship this man with the life he should have had #and the happiness he never really seemed to know #jfc

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invertedeidolon · 4 years

Text

The Longest Library #3: Griffin & Sabine by Nick Bantock (Or, Eidolon again talks way too much about previous relationships, also, pretty art!)

(This is a series in which I attempt to read and review all (or most of) my library of 297 books.)

Rundown: Postcard artist Griffin Moss gets a weird letter from a weird lady who can apparently see what he's drawing telepathically. They form an ill concieved bond over it. The story is told in colorful postcards and envelopes you can open and then read the mysterious things inside. 4.5/5 for calling me THE FUCK OUT and having some BOMB ASS ART.

I can't give it a full 5 because not everyone is going to have that experience when they read this. It's just going to look very strange and floaty and things won't make very much sense. This book hits close to home with me because it heavily echoes (more like yells about) my first long distance relationship. I'm not really able to see this book through any other lens, so that's what my commentary is mostly about.

So for the part that ISN'T about that stuff though: The art is amazing. Even though it's made by one person technically, both fictional artists have their own, distinct style. Let's be real: The art and the interactivity is the main draw of this book. There are envelopes inside with letters carrying a myriad of little details: Griffin uses a typewriter for his long-form letters, and bits where he's crossed out typos or added in letters with pen, or that Sabine's correspondence is something I now recognize as someone who uses quills or manual dip pens. The inconsistency in the color of her writings suggests she's using a homemade ink, brownish in color, slightly too watery. Maybe it's even watered down watercolor and not even ink at all. They've also made the background of her letters and cards a rich dark gray, while Griffin's is a clean, sterile white.

"Will you explain to me about those geometric paintings you did at Art college? I want to understand their hidden language of color and shape. It's so alien to me."

So this is about the fourth time I'm reading this book since I first got it, and now that I have to write about it, I'm noticing so many more details. Here the line "It's so alien to me."is written in smaller, slightly more rounded letters. The ink is much darker here too, suggesting she wrote this slowly, thoughtfully. What a detail!

Anyway that's it for the objective bits of the book, the rest is entirely subjective from here on out.

"The phenomenon that links us has taught me much about you, yet I am ignorant of your history."

My years and years of suffering emotional abuse set me up to be able to read and predict what was going on in your head perfectly, as well as respond in the most helpful ways with eerie precision, yet I am ignorant of your history, and who you really are (because you use such obtuse floaty language and metaphor. Who were you really? Suffering, but that's about all I could tell.)

"Why doesn't this alarm me as much as it should?"

Because we're already "in". And I "feel safe" to you because I've been trained to be the least offensive, most placating being in the universe. If I could build a business model on conversational comfort, if I could sell my goddamn empathy like the capitalist machine really wants me to, *I'd be so rich*. It would be like, a step down from therapist. Anybody want a virtual friend for like an hour? Gimme 20 and we can watch stupid videos or I can calmly talk you through bread making. It's okay, you can cry. GOD PLEASE LET ME JUST SELL MYSELF SAFELY, I WAS MADE FOR THIS GODDAMNIT.

"I want to hear everything. Write in detail. Tell me all about yourself. I demand to know - please."

This is like fucking CRACK to those with a suppressed self. An unwitnessed self. "Someone who's interested in ME, and won't yell at, ignore, or dismiss me for talking! Holy fuck I love you!"

"Finally I knew who you were. I counselled myself to be cautious and find out what you were like before revealing myself fully."

Sabine at this point is to the reader who I was to Him. A weird mythical creature, the non-human monster of your lonely adolescent imaginings, who is intimately aware of your secrets, "I've been watching you" it says before introducing you to a wondrous world free of the pains of living, where you actually feel loved and all is well forever and ever. Except I wasn't as inhuman as I wished to be.

"Occasionally I'd come home to a re-enactment of The Battle of Britain in the front room. [...] My entrance would make no difference to their dogfight, but when one of them accidentally (and inevitably) knocked over a pile of books, they'd stop instantly and unite to examine the extent of the damage."

The whole 'making light of a not-great home life because it was your normal for so long that you still haven't learned that you need to be horrified about it' thing. As well as passing it off as something funny. Thankfully this character's parents (SPOILER?) get literally run over by a truck and he gets sent to live with his mom's step sister who is really good and lets him ditch school to become a potter's apprentice and eventually go to art college. He never really deals with the grief when the step sister dies, OBVIOUSLY.

"And hearing that my existence eased your pain made my heart race. We have found one another, and I give thanks."

Hearing that my existence wasn't going to be punished but instead, made someone happy? Fucking HEROIN. Downplay it a little with grateful gentleness, I don't want to be punished for being presumptuous or for seeming like I like it too much. If I like things too much they get destroyed, hard.

"My kinsmen are responsive to me - but there is no one to reach my heart, and you who are so far away, have been closer to me than any man on the Islands."

This is something I remember. So far all they've done is shared eachother's life stories and gushed about how close they feel now. She (like my past self), has confused the feeling of 'finally, a witness! they're witnessing me! I've been Seen!' with the feeling of attachment. Of course she would feel infinitely more attached to this man. She's witnessed his most private moments as a creator for a good portion of her life. It's been a mainstay throughout her adolescence through adulthood, so of course an unwarranted sense of intimacy is going to be attached to this mysterious figure. The whole thing wrapped up in a dream like sense of mysticism.

"I remember your first erotic drawing; I was trembling from head to foot by the time you'd finished. Was that Sarah? No don't answer; I'm only teasing."

...Unless? (Man the implications hurt to think about. I REMEMBER THIS FEELING. This author has unintentionally called me out. I wonder how much of Sabine’s writing is actually calm, or if she’s reigning herself in almost constantly?)

"I was finding it hard to get over the idea of there being other men in your life when I reached the part in your letter about my erotic drawings. I stopped being jealous. We were lovers and I hadn't realized it. The drawings weren't of Sarah; they were of you."

ow ow ow ow ow ow JUST SAY IT ow ow ow ow, Also, I REALLY wanted her to be like 'bitch that looks nothing like me, what the fuck', but instead she's all like "So you've been making love to me ten thousand miles away - how tantalizing." URGH. TOO CLOSE, TOO FAST. DISENTANGLE YOURSELVES NOW. GRIFFIN GET HELP.

"I had failed to understand how unhappy you are. You cover up with jokes and a front of being self-contained. I'm worried for you."

EVEN SHE SEES IT, GET HELP.

"When you found me, I thought my loneliness had gone for good. I was kidding myself. I desperately desire your company. I haven't talked to anyone in three days. I was sure I was going to start seeing your pictures like you see mine. I've tried so hard. [...] How can I miss you this badly when we've never met?"

BECAUSE YOU MISS HUMAN CONTACT AND YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FAMILY LEFT YOU NERD, GET HELP. DON'T HANG IT ON ONE PERSON WHO IS TOO FAR AWAY TO HELP YOU IN THE WAY YOU NEED.

"Island magic works on island souls. You and I will heal eachother."

ANTIDEPRESSANTS MAYBE UUUUGGGGHHHHH

"I've started to hate this city, this country, all these stupid fucking people [...] I finally snapped. [...] I want to know what you look like."

*HEAVILY RECOILS*

"Why, my kindred spirit, are you prepared to settle for a postcard of my face? If you wish to see me, why not come here? What is there to stop you - you're clearly unhappy where you are. Come."

Yes. I offered and I offered and I offered. What's to stop you from just fucking TALKING TO ME instead of DISAPPEARING OVER AND OVER AGAIN. and then COMPLAINING THAT YOU'RE SO HURT AND LONELY. I'M LONELY TOO. WHEN I HAD THE MONEY YOU DIDN’T TAKE MY OFFER FOR ME TO COME SEE YOU, SO WHAT THE FUCK IS UP KYLE?

"Foolish man. You cannot turn me into a phantom because you are frightened."

This kind of sentiment is what lead to the breakup. This feeling of being large, and dark, and slighted. Being real and supernatural. Make your choice. Say REAL words instead of just flagellating yourself. Do I exist to you?

"If you will not join me, then I will come to you."

Unfortunately, Sabine has what I definitely did not: Mobility, the ability to make things real. She had a job and money and her own life and the ability to travel. I had a shitty little shared room in my parent's house where I spent most of the time partially starved and dodging devils in one form or another. Many many times I wanted to spontaneously show up and give him the closeness that he needed. But I couldn't. And he wouldn't take my words. He wouldn’t take me.

3 down, 294 to go.

#thelongestlibrary #griffin and sabine #nick bantock #origin1 #wri1

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darkobsidianquill · 5 years

Text

Harry Potter and the descent into Darkness..

Chapter 27

The day after Harry had been dragged out to the Quidditch field to learn the details of the last task, Sirius had written to him asking him what he'd found out. Harry had replied and relayed all of the details he had learned from Mr. Bagman, while leaving out the far more useful details he had gotten from Barty.

Since then, Sirius had been writing him every other day with advice on spells to try practicing and voicing his concerns about the various dangers and speculating on how the plot to get Harry killed, by getting him entered in the tournament, could be played out before the end of term. Sirius was clearly worried about Harry's safety and wellbeing. Harry knew it was entirely invalid and had no fears at all about the upcoming task, but he was still touched by Sirius's concerns.

Sure – if he hadn't gone to Tom all those months ago and joined the man, the third task would have been the event where the Dark Lord had originally intended to abduct Harry and perform his original resurrection ritual, but that plan was obviously out the window now since it would be blatantly counter-productive to their plans. Instead he had given Harry a hard look and told him in no uncertain terms that he would be disgusted if Harry did not win the tournament by an obscene point margin. Harry had laughed.

The first week Sirius sent a letter every two or tree days, but three weeks prior to the tournament the letters started coming daily. Even if they were nothing more than a few brief words of encouragement, a tip or two, or just a muddy paw-print; it was still clear that Sirius was doing everything he could think of to try and help and encourage Harry. Harry was touched.

Harry had continued to send care packages every week ever since the meeting with Sirius after the second task. He had started out by just having the Hogwart's kitchen house elves prepare as much non-perishable food as they could and then shrink it, package it up and send it off with one of the school owls. In more recent weeks, he'd been getting Mixey to prepare things for him since she could go out and buy things that were specifically intended as camp food to last and be easy to prepare.

Tom knew he was doing it but never really commented. Harry knew that Tom didn't exactly hold any fond feelings for the ex-auror. Sirius had been a real thorn in Voldemort's side during the last war. He was dedicated, talented, and creative. He was also, apparently, a very skilled dueler. He had apprehended quite a fair number of Death Eaters during the couple years he worked as an auror for the Ministry.

There were just under three weeks left till the final task and Harry was sitting in Tom's study while the older wizard scratched away at a parchment and periodically reference one of the large tomes he had stacked around his desk. Harry wasn't entirely sure what he was working on, but it seemed important. He had been working his way through a theoretical book Tom had told him to read on magical energy management and conservation during long drawn out battles. He had insisted that Harry wasted far too much energy during their duels and finally grumbled at him to read the damn book.

But he had started to go cross-eyed from all the reading and he was getting a headache. This probably was mostly due to the fact that the book was hand-written in tiny, cramped little letters.

He set it aside, sighed and started to dig through his bag. He pulled out a folder where he'd been keeping the letters from Sirius and started to slowly flip through them. He'd been feeling more and more troubled about his godfather lately. He really wasn't sure what to do about the whole situation.

He had come to terms with the fact that by joining Tom he had essentially abandoned all of the people who had looked after him and cared for him since he first entered the wizarding world, but he found he didn't have a lot of trouble with ditching most of them. Dumbledore was a manipulative bastard who had not only fucked over Harry, but a great many other people, so Harry had no moral problems with considering the older wizard his enemy now.

Ron was an ignorant, childish, and jealous prat. Harry considered him a occasionally-useful friendly acquaintance now more than anything, and that was only to keep up appearances. The more time passed, the more he realized he really didn't like Ron much at all. They really had next to nothing in common. The only shared interest that remained was Quidditch, and even his interest in that had waned considerably. He wasn't even sure he wanted to continuing playing next year. He probably wouldn't, but he knew it would draw a lot of curiosity and suspicion if he quit.

Hermione... Harry really wasn't sure about Hermione. She was bossy and annoying, and exceedingly nosy, but she was also clever, and she did care about him... He was still on the fence with Hermione. He had been ready to put her in the same category as Ron and consider his once-close friendship with her a lost cause, but his companion had been hinting in recent weeks that Hermione could be turned, if he made the effort.

Harry couldn't even fathom this, but the piece of Tom's soul never mislead Harry or gave him bad advice. He didn't exactly spend a lot of time with the soul piece anymore, but it was nice to have him in the back of Harry's mind during some of his classes. Short bouts of discussion kept Harry from going crazy from boredom in his classes. At one point, during a Charms class where Hermione was being especially annoying in her pestering of Ron, and Harry had decided that they were both a total wash, Harry's companion had said to not give up on her so quickly. He basically said to just keep chipping away at her faith in the current authority figures, and she would begin to see the logic in his views. Harry was skeptical, but he figured it couldn't hurt.

However, it was the issue of what to do about his relationship with Sirius that had been worrying him more than the others.

Harry sighed heavily and let the letters setting into his lap.

He felt Tom's fingers lace into his hair and he closed his eyes, feeling some of the tension leave him.

"What is it, Harry?" Tom asked in a soft tone. Harry smiled at it but then frowned lightly.

"I'm... well I'm worried about Sirius."

"Black? What about him?"

"He's still living in that cave outside Hogsmeade. It's just... crap. The only food he's getting is the stuff I'm sending him, but he's still practically starving out there. He sleeps on the ground, and is still living in the same shitty prison robes he escaped from Azkaban in. It's disgusting. Him being on the run like this just... it just sucks."

"I cannot even fathom why he's staying in a cave," Tom scoffed. "Surely he could have found something slightly more hospitable. He's the heir of the Black line. I don't see why he doesn't just go to one of his family's houses. I know there's at least one. From what intelligence I've gathered, I know that after Black was incarcerated Narcissa petitioned to gain control over the family's assets but lost, so as long as he lives your godfather still retains control of them. If he is declared dead, it will probably go to her then."

Harry frowned. "Narcissa? As in Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Yes, your godfather is her cousin."

Harry blinked, gaping slightly before he shook himself and refocused.

"Er, yeah. Anyway, I know that Sirius has stuck to that damn cave because he wanted to be near me. He's afraid that..." Harry barked out a humorless laugh, "he's afraid that you're after me. Or at least some old Death Eaters are. He wants to be nearby to help me out when the time comes. He's doing all of this suffering for me. I just really hate it. Especially since it's entirely unnecessary."

"We've discussed this before. If we hand over Wormtail and get your godfather freed then Black will expect you to come live with him."

"I know." Harry sighed heavily again. "I know it's idiotic, but I can't help but wish he could just stay here." Harry scoffed at how idiotic that idea sounded.

Tom chuckled. "Yes, I imagine that would be difficult to sell. Sirius Black was about as against the Dark as he could get, despite his own magical affinity."

"Wait, what?"

"Even if he fought against it, Sirius Black was a dark wizard. A very borderline dark. Practically neutral, especially after a few years with the Aurors since he refused to use any of the dark spells he'd learned, but there is only so much one can do against that level of hereditary affinity influence."

"Okay, you've lost me. What are you on about?"

Tom sighed and set down his quill completely. "Sirius Black is a Black, Harry. They are one of the oldest, darkest magical family in Britain. If you were to trace their lines all the way back to when humans first mated with magical creatures, almost every creature they descend from was a daemon of some sort. Dark magic is in their blood. In addition to that, I know for a fact from Regulus that he and Sirius received tutoring in the Dark Arts from age seven until they got to Hogwarts, and then every summer afterwards. Sirius rebelled against his family and got himself sorted into Gryffindor – Regulus suspected it was to piss off their father. And if I recall correctly – which I always do – young Sirius ran away from home and ended up living with your father when he was fifteen or sixteen. So that's at least eight years of exposure to the Dark arts, combined with a hereditary propensity for Dark magic. There is no way that Sirius Black could have anything but a dark affinity, no matter how much he personally would have liked to go light, just to anger his family."

Harry was stunned. "Is that another reason why everyone was so quick to suspect him of betraying my parents?"

"Most likely. All it would take is an affintatum reveleo and the natural dark affinity would be obvious. And since all Dark Wizards are Evil Wizards," Tom sneered mockingly with a chuckle, "having a dark affinity would be more than enough for certain factions to instantly judge him guilty. Just one more level to the magical world's ignorance."

Harry sat there quietly for a long time afterwards and Tom finally picked his quill back up and resumed his work.

"Hey Tom?" Harry said, breaking the silence after a very long quiet.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think there's any chance I could turn him?"

"What are you talking about Harry?"

"Sirius. I mean... if I told him the truth about all that Dumbledore's done – all the manipulations and the lies; the fact that it was Dumbledore's doing that got my parents killed, and that left Sirius rotting in Azkaban, I wonder if... if just maybe I could convince him to come to our side."

Tom set the quill down and leaned back in his chair.

"It's incredibly risky, Harry. I don't think you realize just how much Black despised the Dark. And I doubt that having been left to rot surrounded by dementors has helped his sanity any."

"But if I could do it, would you take him?" Harry asked turning a bit and looking up at Tom with hesitant hope burning in his eyes. Tom turned and looked down at Harry for a long time with a blank, calculating look.

"Perhaps..." he said, slowly. "Black was incredibly skilled. If nothing, it would be nice to guarantee he wouldn't be fighting against me. Of course, it's up for debate how much of that skill has stayed with him, and how much of it has been sucked away by the dementors."

"He spent most of his time in Azkaban in his animagus form. The dementors didn't have as much effect on his mind because he was a dog."

"Yes, yes, Harry. You've already told me this."

"Oh! I've got it! What do you think about a swap?" Harry said suddenly.

"What?"

"Pettigrew for Sirius. You're always saying that Wormtail is a worthless piece of trash. He's a miserable minion and he annoyed the shit out of you. It can be our bargaining chip to keep from having to reveal my loyalties straight out. I can go under Polyjuice or something and offer Sirius the information on Dumbledore, and then make the offer that we're willing to hand over Wormtail – with the last year of memories obliviated, of course – if he's willing to come to our side."

"Hmm..." Tom hummed slowly and Harry could see the wheels turning behind his thoughtful eyes. He was planning and Harry grinned widely.

"The only people left who Black is loyal to are you, Dumbledore, and Remus Lupin – correct?"

"Right."

"If we can destroy his loyalties in Dumbledore, that only leaves you and the werewolf. If he shows any indication that he could be swayed at that point you could reveal your loyalties to him as well. It is possible that at that point, he could be fully convinced. At that point, it would also be much easier to sway the werewolf. As a Dark Creature he feels an instinctive pull towards me. The wolf wants to be loyal to the Dark Lord, it is the man who fights it. If we could turn both of them..."

"Yes! Yes!" Harry said excitedly.

"It has potential, Harry, but neither of them have the stomach for what we do. They have both spent their lives denying the darkness within them. Getting them to accept it will not be an easy task."

"I want to try. They're the closest thing I have to family. If there is a chance that I can save them from Dumbledore's schemes and agendas then I have to try."

"Lupin would be a useful resource. A public face to lycanthropy that is non-threatening. Having a werewolf such as him working towards my cause would help build support for the cause of Dark creatures, which would in turn bring more of them to my side..."

"Lupin will probably be harder, but if I can get Sirius to join, I'm sure I can get Lupin too." Harry said with determination.

Tom took on that calculating look again for a moment before a wicked grin began to spread across his lips making Harry suddenly wish he were kissing them.

"And best of all, Dumbledore would likely recruit the both of them when he starts up his little Order of the Phoenix again. They were both members during the last war... it would be good having additional spies inside Dumbledore's midst."

"Yes!" Harry agreed enthusiastically.

"This idea has legitimate merit, but we must tread carefully. Gaining either's allegiances will be tricky and we cannot risk exposing you until we are sure we can convince them, or gain an unbreakable vow of their secrecy."

Harry agreed and the pair began to brainstorm on ideas. After about twenty minutes of discussion Tom stood to his feet and beckoned Harry to follow him as he led the way down to his lab in the basement.

As they passed the door that led towards the hall of cells Harry couldn't help but wonder if Barty Crouch Sr. was still down there or if Tom had finally just killed the man. Tom disappeared inside the lab and Harry quickly hurried after him.

Inside, Tom was standing beside the large work table in the center of the room. All of the potion brewing tools and supplies were shoved to the side or put away. In the center of the table was a stack of parchment that appeared to have a lot of arithmantic equations scribbled across them in Tom's elegant scrawl, and a few other sheets with various rune diagrams.

"What is all this?" Harry asked as he looked down at the complex sheet of numbers and symbols on the table beside him.

"I've been crafting an object. I've been layering some rather complex bits of magic into it and it's taken some work to get all the magic to cooperate together. It's almost done, actually," Tom said absently as he moved aside several things and pulled a very small box forward.

"Crafting something? You mean, like that orb that you had me use on Snape?"

"Not exactly, no. This," he paused and held open the box to show it to Harry. Inside was a silver ring with a thick masculine band and a perfectly spherical green gem set into it. "is for you."

Harry blinked at it in confused shock. "What?"

"As I said, it's not done yet, but when it is, you can key in a very specific set of glamors. Powerful glamors. Not just those worthless childish ones that they teach you in school. It will remember one specific set of glamors, although I'm considering crafting another one that can hold multiple appearances that a person could switch between. For now, this will do. In addition to putting up the fake appearance, you can key certain people into the ring. Anyone that you key into it will see past the glamors and see you for your true appearance."

"Oh! Oh, wow..." Harry said, stunned.

"I've been working on it for you to use during your summer stay here in the manor. By then, more and more of my Death Eaters will be frequenting this place and I am not yet willing to reveal your identity to most of them. Those who will be aware will be selected individually. This will allow you to wander the manor without having to worry about being seen by the wrong person. You will even be able to attend the meetings."

"That's incredible," Harry said with awe in his voice as he looked down at the ring in the box.

"Once I am finished with implementing the last of the spellwork we can set the appearance you wish to use for the glamor. It will also be necessary for you to come up with an alias. There was that alias you were using earlier in the year... Notechus Noir, was it?"

"Oh, yeah... hmm... Well, yes, that is what I used, but I don't think I'll stick with it for this. Too many things were mailed to Hogwarts under that name. I'll come up with something new."

"That is probably wise."

They discussed their plans for a short while longer before it was time for Harry to head back to Hogwarts.

– –

A few more days passed and the populace of the school was slowly growing more and more anxious for the coming task. Exams were also a week away, which was also causing a good amount of tension and anxiety among the students.

Harry was excused from exams because of the tournament but he still studied with the others. He wasn't even convinced he would take advantage of the option to skip out on his tests. He'd come a tremendous way as far as his academics were concerned and he was curious to see if he could manage 'Outstanding's on all of his tests.

That day during a study session that a very insistent Hermione had dragged Ron to, and that Harry had willingly joined, Ron remarked on Harry's willingness to take exams and how utterly insane he thought Harry was because of it.

"If there was any doubt in my mind before, I'm convinced now," Ron started as he shut his transfiguration textbook. "You are completely mental," he said to Harry with absolute conviction.

"Why's that?" Harry asked disinterestedly without looking up from his own book and parchment while he continued to revise his notes.

"Why? Because you've basically got a free pass! I mean, if nothing else good came from you getting forced into this tournament, at least you get out of taking your exams and yet you're still studying! You're mental!"

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded him with a mild scowl.

"What! I'm serious! It's insane!"

"I personally think it's fantastic that Harry's taking his studies seriously this year! You could really benefit to learn from his example!"

"Oh, not this again!" Ron groaned.

"Besides, Ron," Ginny said coming up from behind them and plopping down on the couch beside Hermione, "getting out of exams is hardly the best thing that will come out of Harry being in the Triwizard Tournament. With the lead Harry already has, I'd be willing to bet money that he's going to win. Then he gets the prize money too."

Ron groaned. "Ugh. Don't remind me about the money."

Harry kept his head down, ignoring them, but he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"What are you going to do with the money, Harry?" Ginny asked in an excited conspiratorial whisper. "I can only imagine what I would do if I came into that much money! It would be amazing." She gave a slightly sad sigh and leaned back into the couch.

Harry just made a non committal mumble and shrugged. The truth was that Harry really wasn't sure what he was going to do with the money. He certainly didn't need the money. The correspondences he'd had with Gringotts in recent months made him more and more aware of just how loaded he was. His trust vault was overflowing with gold, and when he reached his magical maturity he would gain access to the ancient Potter family vault which was considerably larger. He had offered the winnings to Tom, since it was Tom's doings that got him into the tournament in the first place, but the man had scoffed and told Harry that it was his money and he should do with it what he wanted. And that 1,000 Galleons was hardly a drop in the water of his funds.

Harry had again insisted, suggesting that it could go towards the war effort but Tom had told him that the considerably sizable sum of money that had been in Tom's vault during his 'absence' had been gaining interest over the years and was more than enough to fund his war for a while. He was also sure that he would have no trouble getting additional financial support from several of his followers.

So again, Harry was left wondering what to do with the Tri-Wizard tournament prize money.

The next morning, Harry was sneaking through the common room under his invisibility cloak – he had just come back from his morning workout, which had degenerated into a very heavy snogging session, and Harry had yet to check himself over for the marks that Tom always left, so he opted to stay under the cloak until he could get up to the 4th years bathroom, when he saw the Weasley twins huddled in a corner over a stack of parchment.

With exams coming up it wasn't odd to find people studying, but it was odd to come across the Weasley twins studying – especially so early in the morning. It seemed far more likely that they would be planning some epic end-of-year prank than actually studying. If that was the case, Harry would prefer to be forewarned so he could try and dodge it.

Harry crept over to the pair silently and stood just to the side to listen in.

"We're going to need some serious capitol if we're really going to do this," Fred... or maybe George, said with a sigh.

"I know my dear brother. If only Ludo Bagman hadn't renegged on our World Cup bets! We'd have enough!"

"We can still get in some betting in the tournament though."

"Harry's a shoe-in to win."

"He's already in the lead and Ron says he's practically turned into a defense genius."

"True, true... but we still need starting capitol for the bets."

"And we've hardly made up from our losses to Ludo."

Again they sighed, this time simultaneously.

"What do you guys need money for?" Harry said as he pulled the hood of his cloak down and exposing only a floating head and neck.

They both jumped and turned in their seats to look at Harry with wide startled eyes.

"Harry!" they both said.

"What are you doing up so early?" one of them asked.

"And sneaking around in your cloak, no less!"

"Are you up to something you shouldn't be?" they were both smirking at him inquisitively.

Harry chuckled and simply shrugged – which probably didn't come through very well considering that he was mostly invisible.

"That's for me to know and for me to know," Harry said smirking. "So what's your deal? What do you two need money for?"

The twins looked at each other doing that silent communication thing that the pair seemed to do before nodding silently and turning back to Harry.

"You absolutely can't tell mum," one twin said sternly.

"Or Ron. He's absolutely worthless at keeping secrets."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. Don't worry, I'm much better at keeping secrets."

They snorted. "So we've heard," they said in sync.

"Well?" Harry persisted.

"When we graduate, we're going to start our own joke shop," one of them said.

"We've got a bunch of inventions already down,"

"And a lot more already planned and in the works."

"But we need to do some research and development capitol before we can really get started."

"And even after we've got everything ready, we'll still need a down payment for a shop."

"Or at least rent," they finished, shrugging.

"Hmm..." Harry hummed slowly, giving the pair a long hard look. It certainly wouldn't hurt to have the twins indebted to him. Weasley's were a strictly light family, but Harry got the feeling that the twins were far from having a Light magical affinity. They weren't dark, but they weren't afraid to use questionable magic. And while it was true that they didn't exactly perform all that well on homework and exams, Harry knew they were both brilliant, not to mention incredibly inventive and creative. Would there ever be any chance of him making use of their skills in the coming war, or would that be a pipe dream? Even if it was unlikely, getting them financially indebted to him would be a good first step.

"I can do it," Harry said with a dismissive nonchalance.

The twins blinked at him with obvious confusion.

"Do what?" one of them finally asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I can front you guys the money. Hell, if I win this stupid tournament you can have the winnings. A thousand galleons should help get things started, right? In case you guys didn't realize it, I'm the last Potter and have apparently inherited a mountain of gold, and a bunch of property. I'm loaded. I certainly don't need the prize money from the tournament."

"Are you joking!" The other one choked out, gaping at him.

"No that's your job. You're the pranksters, remember?"

"You would really give us your winnings!"

"Sure," Harry shrugged.

"We'll pay you back," one of them said with a determined nod and the other one assumed the same determined face and nodded his agreement.

Harry waved it off, "Don't bother. Maybe I can be a silent partner and you guys can give me free merchandise."

The twins were still stunned but finally they looked at each other for a minute. They turned back to Harry, both looking uncharacteristically serious.

"We won't forget this Harry. And we'll find a way to make it up to you."

"Don't worry about it. Just make sure you succeed at it. Come up with some brilliant inventions and once you get the actual shop started, make sure it doesn't flop."

"We won't let you down, Harry!"

"Yeah, we'll make sure you don't regret your investment."

"Do you need any help preparing for the last task?"

"You're already in the lead, but that's no guarantee that you'll win."

"We'll do anything you need!"

"Help in any way!"

Harry laughed. "Don't worry guys. Besides, even if I don't win – which I will – I'll still give you guys the front money. But like I said – don't worry. I'm going to win." He smirked wickedly and the twins shared a look before grinning back.

They spoke for another minute or two before Harry turned to head up the stairs, just as he reached the bottom of the stairs one of the twins called after he and he turned back to face them.

"Yeah?"

"Is that a hickey we see?" Fred and George asked in sync with a wicked salacious grin on each identical face.

Harry's face went red and a moment later he was scowling back playfully. The twins burst out laughing and Harry shook his head at them before jogging up the stairs.

– –

One week before the task there was an article in the Prophet that caught Harry's attention. Apparently the wizarding world had finally woken up and realized that Mr. Crouch was missing. According to the Prophet his assistant – who just so happened to be Percy Weasley – had been convinced that he had been receiving instructions from Crouch Sr. on a weekly basis, going so far as to insist that he would certainly recognize his own boss's handwriting. Harry found this exceedingly funny since he knew that half of the letters had been sent from Barty, and the other half from Tom himself. They had been coming from two different people, depending on which one of them had had the time to write them, and Percy hadn't even realized.

A thorough search had finally been conducted and people realized that absolutely no one had any idea where Bartemius Crouch Sr. was. Percy had been put under a magnifying glass since then, and had been heavily questioned to determine if he really was an ignorant bystander, or if he had perhaps had something to do with the man's disappearance. Because of this, he would not be allowed to sit in as judge in Crouch's place for the final task like he had for the second task. Instead the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge would be taking that honor.

When Harry read this, he couldn't help but grin. He'd been hoping for an opportunity to speak with the Minister for Magic again. The last time had been before his third year after he accidentally 'blew-up' his Aunt Marge, and he had been too stupid and naïve to understand what an opportunity it was to gain such a powerful ally at the time.

Tom was positive that Fudge felt extremely threatened by Dumbledore. Fudge had been in office for a very long time, by this point – having gotten elected only three years after the unfortunate events that destroyed Tom's original body. There wasn't a term limit for the Minister for Magic, but after having been in the job for as long as he had, the public could easily get bored with him and want something new – or at least something different.

From his research and the intelligence that he'd collected so far, Tom was convinced that Fudge believed that Dumbledore was after his position. Harry had asked Tom if he thought it was true but Tom didn't think so. He knew that Dumbledore would never give up his position as headmaster of Hogwarts, and that would be necessary if he were to take on the job of Minister.

Still, whether the fear was founded or not, it was still there. Fudge thought of Dumbledore as an adversary, and if Harry could demonstrate to the Minister that he was on his side, it could be extremely beneficial to him.

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lucy-sky · 5 years

Text

Home

A Lawn Dogs drabble

***

He sighed, sitting at the bar counter. Ordered whiskey. Why the hell does he feel so goddamn tired? It’s Friday night after all… Apparently these times when Friday nights meant parties were gone. Well, what did you expect? You’re almost 45, Trent… No, actually 45 is not that old yet. Bullshit. Maybe it’s some kind of a midlife crisis or something?..

He sighs again, takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, then puts the glasses back on. Takes a sip of his drink. He’s thinking about how tired he is of this whole routine where every day seems similar to one another.

He can’t really tell what’s wrong with him. Everything is fine. He’s got a job. Not super exciting, but selling lawn mowers is definitely way better than mowing the lawns. Of course there were times when he used to dream bigger, wished to become a professional sportsman, for example… But he can hardly remember these days. Most of his youth he just wanted to find a decent job with decent salary, to become somebody - not just a trashy lawn mower boy living in a dirty trailer in the woods. And he succeeded. He earns good money, owns a flat in the city center, people respect him and no one calls him “trash” any more. He did good.

So… Why is he in such a shitty mood? Everything is fine. Even better than fine. But he feels like something is missing. This feeling doesn’t let him enjoy this Friday night and this really good whiskey he ordered. What the hell?

It’s totally not about relationships. After his latest breakup he realized he actually quite enjoys being a single man. Women seem to find him pretty charming, so… Casual flirt, casual sex even… For now he was okay with it and didn’t feel the urge to settle…

But at the moment he feels lonely. Lonely and tired.

He empties the glass and orders another.

So weird. He used to hate his life back in the days. He was nobody. With no money, no normal job and place to live, practically a hobo… But there were moments he felt so stupidly, ridiculously happy and free. Right now in the hustle and bustle of the city and the office routine he’s almost forgotten this feeling. It would be nice to go back there, to that beautiful and quiet place by the lake. Switch on the music, jump into cool water… No. He’ll never come back. That’s the page of his life he’s turned ages ago and there’s no return.

It’s not his home.

But where is it though?..

- Hey there.

He turns his head to the sound. A girl. Definitely younger than him. Rather tall and slim. Long blond locks. Her big grey eyes are scanning him with a hint of curiosity and he catches himself on a thought that this look is somehow familiar.

- I figured… If we’re both lone rangers tonight, it might be a good idea to join you, - she says and for a split second he’s a bit baffled by her boldness.

- Do you always approach strangers in the bar just like that? - He finally asks, chuckling.

- Well, let’s call it my style, - she smirks. - So, may I?..

He shrugs and she takes a place next to him. The barman approaches and she orders martini. Trent gives her a curious glance.

- Um, may I ask…

The girl looks at him questioningly, taking a sip from her glass.

- What is a pretty young woman doing alone in the bar on Friday? Bet you’ve got a bunch of guys who’d be glad to accompany you… Or at least a bunch of friends to hang out with?

- These guys are boring me, - she replies. - I’ve always been a weird one. As for friends… To tell the truth, I probably had only one true friend in my life.

- Oh, - he nods. - I can relate to this, I guess.

- Really? - She smiles again. - I thought handsome men like you are never lonely.

- Jesus, - he lets out a small laugh. - Your flirting style is really on point.

- Thanks, - she gives him a proud look. - Your laughter… It seems somehow familiar… Could we possibly meet before?..

- I doubt it. Most of the time I’m busy at work, you know…

- What do you do?

- Nothing special. Just a boring job of a boring man. You won’t be very impressed.

- Okay. And I’m an artist.

- Artist? Do you um… paint?

- Not… exactly… I do some other… artistic stuff… - She stumbles for a second. - Well, actually at the moment I work in the museum of modern art… But I do something in my free time… I’ve got lots of projects.

He smiles, looking at her. Apparently, the routine hasn’t consumed her yet, hasn’t made her give up on big dreams… Good for her.

- Well… Cheers to your projects to become reality than, - he says, raising the glass.

- Cheers.

For a while they keep talking, laughing and drinking. Trent feels warm inside and he’s sure it’s not only because of alcohol. He likes her company. And she seems to like his company as well. At some point he realizes they don’t even know each other’s names. He’s about to ask when she suggests going for a smoke. It’s one of those bars where you can’t smoke at the counter and at the tables.

He follows her to the smoking room, his mind already pleasantly fuzzy due to the alcohol. The bar was dimly lit, and here it’s even darker. At the doorstep he awkwardly trips, almost bumping into her, but manages to hold onto the wall.

- Sorry, - he mumbles, realizing she’s trapped between him and the wall, his hands at her sides.

- It’s okay, - she smiles, her face so close he can feel her breath on his skin.

- Your eyes are really beautiful, - she suddenly says, bringing her hands to his face and taking off his glasses. She puts them on a small table in the corner and for a split second they just stare at each other. He’s not sure how it happened, probably alcohol is to blame once again, but the next moment his lips are on hers. She seems to be waiting for it, eager to return the kiss. Her lips are soft and warm against his, it feels nice, yet he senses there’s something wrong about kissing her. Something he just cannot quite catch. So he chases the thought away, deepening the kiss. They’re both are adult people after all.

Her hands skim down his chest, slip underneath his shirt, and he shivers as her fingertips brush against the old scar on his belly… That’s when she suddenly stops kissing him. Her face changes as she’s drawing away from him.

- Trent?..

He blinks at her in confusion, his foggy brain struggling to understand what’s going on. He wants to ask, but the words stuck in his throat as her fingers move to undo a couple of buttons on her blouse. Enough for him to see a long scar between her breasts.

- D… Devon?..

His heart skips a beat at the realization as she nods slowly, looking into his eyes before reaching out to cup his cheeks. And at this moment he sees very clearly that little girl he used to know twenty years ago. Probably the only true friend of his. “Home is in my hands” - she said to him the last time he saw her. Now he’s back home.

- I missed you, - she breathes out, pressing her forehead to his.

- I missed you too.

He examines her face. It’s ridiculous. How come he didn’t recognize her? He smiles.

- Man, look at you!…

She smiles back, fighting the urge to cry, tears already twinkling in her eyes.

- Come here.

He pulls her in a tight hug and she buries her face into his shoulder.

Words become useless as they stand there holding each other.

- Trent and Devon. Devon and Trent, - she whispers. - Do you remember?..

Of course he does. Always did.

#sam rockwell #lawn dogs #lucy tries to write

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adaar-i · 5 years

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I used to write down my feelings a lot and figured I’d do it again. You don’t gotta read, it’s very long haha but just needed to put it somewhere so. Under a read more because it really is super long and stupid

Well I’m here again, mid crisis at the ripe ol’ age of twenty seven. My head is all over the place, I’m feeling all sorts of things, all sorts of just…lost. And I thought to myself, what do I usually do when I’m feeling like this? And the answer to that is I used to write. I used to write a lot. I love writing, always have and always will. The sound of my fingers typing rapidly on my keyboard is music to my ears. I would hand write things, but more often than not my hand can’t keep up with my brain, whereas my average 80wpm typing speed is well efficient when it comes to trying to follow my train of thought. I was tempted to go back and edit what I’d written just now, but no. Not allowed. I just have to keep typing and typing until I feel some sort of…I don’t know, closure?

I feel lost. I feel trapped. I still feel like I’m sixteen and I think that’s what terrifies me the most. I haven’t really had the chance to grow up, to ‘become an adult’. What does that even mean? Who knows. I just know that I am not there. I have no clue how taxes work, haven’t had a stable job in…a long time. Still live at home with my parents, my two dogs, my three guinea pigs and three goldfish. Still in the same room, that’s been purple for a while now. Shelves still filled with plushies, fanart, kid things. So many kid things. Are adults allowed to have kid things? I don’t know, that idea plagues me. Am I allowed to be an adult and still have my corner bed, 500 pillows and soft toys to cuddle?

When I think of adults I think of minimalism, white, boring, the dreaded bed in the CENTRE of the wall (HOW IS THAT EVEN COMFORTABLE? DO PEOPLE NOT FALL OUT OF BED?). I think of business people, married people, people with kids, careers, nice clothes. The only thing I have is nice clothes. Can I still be an adult if the walls of my bedroom are bright purple? Or if most of the books I read are YA fiction and not like…self help books? (though I do have a couple of those lying around).

I’ve been trying to do the career thing for years and to no avail it seems. I’ve done two university degrees and do you think they got me anywhere? Not really. Why did no one tell me that employers care more about experience than they do about degrees? Or maybe people did and my stupid anxiety just made things difficult. Yeah alright lets be real it’s probably the anxiety holding me back in everything.

Anxiety about being good enough. That’s the big one. Do I ever feel good enough? Not really. That kinda sucks haha. I have plenty of useful skills, I am a hard worker, I wear my heart on my sleeve and I want to please to no end. But that hasn’t really gotten me anywhere. I’m always stuck. Stuck in the same spot with no clue of what direction to go in. I know where I want to be in the end. I want to have my own home, I want to be married, I want to have kids (biologically and adopted/fostered). I want to rescue animals and live on a farm of some kind. I want to be a successful business owner. I want to be a successful photographer and artist, maybe even a writer. I want to have enough money so I don’t have to worry about not being able to afford things. And I want more money on top of that to help as many people as I can. That’s all I want to do. I want to help. I want to help, I want to be successful, comfortable, and above all else I want to be happy and loved and to love.

So how do I get there? Well I need money. Money is the big issue with me right now. I’ve relied on government payments since I was old enough to start getting them. And there were a few times where I thought I could finally be independent, and they’ve all backfired on me. All of them. I don’t want to be on government payments for the rest of my life. I don’t want to have to depend on anyone other than myself for money. And it’s not like I’m flat broke right now either, I’ve been smart and saved. But when you don’t have a stable income you and everyone around you start to worry. So what do I do? Get a job? Wish it was that easy. I’ve been looking for work for years, and I’ve gotten maybe…two interviews? Oh and it’s not like I haven’t had a job before I’ve had a couple but that was back when I was in high school and just after. Nothing fancy, pizza shop, maccas, and a shopping centre activity stall.

My brain is starting to get tired now. It’s going quiet.

Hmm. Jobs. Right. The one thing everyone keeps bothering me about. I’ve bloody tried guys. “Just get a job to pay the bills” IT’S NOT THAT EASY. I’VE TRIED. You think I want to be like this? That’s why I studied so much. Because no one would give me a chance and hire me. And then I thought, you know what? Fuck it. I’m going to chase my dream. I’m going to get a degree in photography and have my own business and live my dream. And you know, I got the degree, I started the business. I got a couple of clients, got a bit of interest. My love for drawing came back, and I added that to my repertoire. I got commissions. I got bloody patrons, who support me every month. And I thought, you know maybe this could actually work.

But it’s never enough.

I was so excited to do my first artist alley. I had dreamed about doing it for years and years. And I finally did it. And to be honest, it sucked. I mean it also didn’t because I learnt a lot, but when you spend hundreds of dollars, hundreds of hours, so much bloody hard work to get there and to be ready, and you make $66 dollars overall, you kinda think well that didn’t work. Haha. That didn’t work at all. I thought I was good enough, you know? I really did. And you can see the light leave my eyes in the vlog that I made about the whole thing. I am completely and utterly defeated. I had sacrificed so much, I had put SO MUCH WORK, so much. I worked so hard. And right now it feels like it was all for nothing. I was lucky enough to get into a startup business program, which was my savior. I thought that’d help give me the boost I so desperately needed. And again, learnt a lot, got some financial support, but all in all I feel like I wasted so many peoples time and money.

And now I’m back at square one it feels like. Back to the beginning. Where I have no job, no booming business, and a stubbornness to not want to give up, but also feeling so defeated and so god damn depressed. I CRIED AT HARRY POTTER. I’ve seen those movies a hundred times over and I still bawled my eyes out when Cedric died. I’ve never done that before. I even forced myself to watch ‘A Dog’s Purpose’ so that I would cry, thinking that would help. I bawled. Felt a little better, but now I’m back to feeling like a heap of crap. I always come back to this place at some point or another. But this time feels like I just might not be able to get myself out of it. What a scary thought.

When will my time come? When will all my hard work finally pay off? I want to know, and so does everyone else around me. The constant ‘how is your business going?’ ‘oh something will happen’, WHEN? WHEN WILL IT HAPPEN? That’s another thing. What I make is never good enough for anyone. I myself have learnt that money at the end of the day isn’t the end all and be all. Of course people need money to live, but I don’t need that much right now to be comfortable and people just can’t get that into their heads?

I don’t need money. I don’t. But I do. God capitalism sucks. Capitalism can bite my big fat ass. And anyone who ever doubted me can too. Now I’m just mad. I’m mad that all I’ve done is be kind and work hard and it’s gotten me to feeling like shit. So now what? I booked Brisbane Supanova. Might as well kick the dead horse or whatever the saying is. Might as well try once more, and if that doesn’t work than that’s it. I think I’m done. But that’s not until November, and “I need money” between now and then. Blah blah. I hate money. Money can bite me too.

Come on, try and get your thoughts straight.

I’m tired. Yes I know, I’m sad too.

It’s not time to give up just yet. There’s still a little bit of fire left inside you somewhere. It’s small right now, but it can grow. I’m too stubborn to let it go out completely.

So what do I do now. What do I need to do to make things less shitty?

Find a way to get some sort of stable income. Look for work again (not that I think it’ll work but better try anyway). Work on new art pieces, add new stock to Redbubble, advertise the shit out of your awesome work. Do more free shoots to make a pretty portfolio just in time for Supanova. Sell some personal stuff if needed, we don’t need a lot of the stuff we have. Save those to sell when we really need it.

Go back to the gym. Just move more. I get real sad when I sit at my desk all day. Need to get away from the computer. Go for a walk, go to the beach, whatever it is. Just move. Get those endorphins. Feel good about yourself.

Still fat though.

Probably going to always be fat. That’s fine. Exercise, make healthier food choices. And god dammit stop eating so much sugar. Drink more water. Eat more fruit and not chocolate. Stop bingeing. It ain’t healthy. Alright. I’ll make a list, and I’ll try be healthier again. I do miss going to the gym. It makes me feel strong. I need to feel strong again. I will go back.

Still tying my self worth to what others think of me. Which isn’t ideal. Isn’t great at all. I’m constantly going between ‘ugh I hate everything that I am’, ‘who would ever love me like this’, and FUCK EVERYONE WHO DOESN’T APPRECIATE ME. It’s so constant. It’s so exhausting, knowing that my thoughts are being little bitches and yet I still can’t just…not listen? What is with that.

Oh my god. Can I still be an adult if I have blue hair?!

#long post #feelings #meh if this is annoying anyone just tell me what else to tag it with so ya'll dont have to see it #just needed to get some things out

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mundvngus · 6 years

Photo

“i pour alcohol into the gaping hole inside my chest. it does not heal. not today. maybe tomorrow.”

MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER is 26 years old and works as a THIEF/DRUG DEALER/ALL ROUND CRIMINAL and is loyal to THE OOTP they were an RAVENCLAW and are a HALFBLOODED. HE look like FRANK DILLANE.

CHARACTER PARALLELS: nick miller ( new girl ), creed bratton ( the office ), doug judy ( b99 ), jason mendoza ( the good place ), chris miles ( skins ), jesper fahey ( six of crows ), scott lang ( marvel ), lillian ( unbreakable kimmy schmidt ). AESTHETIC: scuffed knees, flicking a lighter over and over again, flowery shirts, walking in the middle of the street after midnight, a body covered in bruises and tattoos, naming stray cats, falling asleep on the subway, watching smoke curl against a starless, black nightsky, throwing empty beer bottles against a wall. LINKS: stats. pinboard. character tag. HEADS UP: there’s quite a bit of talk about drugs and stuff in here -- as well as shitty parenting. i trigger warned it before every bullet point tho!

history

ciannán o’donnell was a flighty man, one of many relationships and flings and little loyalty, and so his affair with kiyana fletcher did not last long. when she told him he was pregnant, he moved on to a different woman, and kiyana had her son alone, with her sister on her side. dung was born to a lonely and angry woman, who had fallen for the charms and winks of a crooked criminal who spoke empty promises and lied for a living.

he grew up with his mum – a halfblooded witch and by far his favourite person in the world – in cork, attending muggle school there. he knew who his dad was, but wasn’t quite sure how to feel about —- EVERYONE knew who his dad was, a well known muggle criminal and dealer, a name notorious among the older kids at his school, a father to many. he’s like the robert baratheon of ireland, to be honest, planting bastards on every corner. lol. knowing he was one of his many kids was hard; he’d never met any of them, but he knew they were there, from his mother, from his aunt.

he met his dad for the first time at age seven, and was nothing but impressed. his dad showered him with gifts, his mum watching with a furious look on her face but biting her tongue. that moment was a switch for dung; he felt the need to impress his dad. he stole some sweets from a store on his way home from school a week later, fished some pennies out of the pockets of his classmates a few months later. when he phoned his dad to tell him, his laugh was warm and filled with life.

his relationship with his dad got better as his behaviour got worse. the thrill of stealing, of doing stuff he wasn’t supposed to, lit him not only on fire because ti was exciting, but also because he knew his dad would adore it. his mother’s worried questions and look only drove him to his dad, who liked it when he did bad things, who didn’t try and ground him ( looking back, he knows that that was stupid, but back then he was blindsided, obsessed with the mystery that was his dad ).

abuse tw // his father was abusive. period. he’s a wicked man, who has blood on his hands of people who were in his way, and he doesn’t love anything but winning and money and the high of victory. he manipulated mundungus, pushed him towards bad behaviours, showed him his bad sides when he was disappointed. most of the abuse was mental and verbal, but sometimes it turned physical as well. it’s toxic. mundungus hasn’t allowed himself to admit that to himself yet, though. end of tw //

drugs, smoking, alcohol tw // attending hogwarts was good, at first. it forced him to focus on other stuff, for a while, but his summers and winter breaks forced him back into his old behaviours. his world was split; at hogwarts, he was a loud and lively, but still a pretty good student, while at home he fell deeper and deeper in crossing lines and boundaries. he lit his first cigarette at age ten, drank his first beer at age twelve, smoked his first spliff when he turned fourteen, as a present from his dad. end of tws //

hogwarts also meant friends --- the dick squad was founded here, consisting out of dorcas, doc, daisy and dung himself. these three people meant everything to mundungus, to be honest, let him see the ways people could love each other without conditions or out of obligation. they were chaotic and messy and wrecked havoc on the castle but --- damn it, they’re his family, and he’d die for them.

drugs tw // it was in his later years that these two worlds started overlapping. his dad trusted him with a bit of produce, gave him some weed to sell at hogwarts after his christmas break in his fifth year, and it was a success. ever since, dung became pretty well known for selling a little bit of this and that. a lively spirit, he always did so with a bit of a grin, but he was also pretty fond of the stuff he sold, indulging quite a lot when business was a little slow.

he also stole a lot from rich purebloods, because fuck them

i guess ... this is where the messiness really did ... explode? mundungus liked the taste of drugs. he liked the taste of doing illegal things. he liked the taste of earning money and feeling powerful and he loved it all. he grew more dependent on alcohol and drugs. he wanted to flee, too. the world was a nasty fucking place and he knew that all too well and, fucking hell, don’t blame him for wanting to escape every now and then. end of tw //

he graduated at one point which? is a miracle? i think they just wanted to get rid of him tbh!!! but yeah, dung did Try a little at hogwarts, as he respects the hell out of dumbledore and stuff, but he was still not a good student. after graduation, he kind of joined up with his dad and started doing some illegal stuff in the wizarding world too, because why the hell not? he was good at it.

dung had no plans to join either side of the war, tbh, even though he’ss v much against the de’s cause. he’s a self serving kid!! but then he kind of got in a nasty situation where both alastor and dumbledore got him out of trouble ( that might have sent him to fucking azkaban, what a fucking idiot ) and well, dung might be a shithead, but he felt indebted to them and kind of rolled into the order.

and well --- the order was a newfound family. messy, of course, and full of chaos and distrust, but --- heck, mundungus found a lot of people there that he did end up feeling loyal to. and while that was scary, as mundungus prefers being a lone wolf ( or raccoon ), it was a kind of wonderful, too?

and -- get this -- he was an asset. his ties to the criminal world, with his ability to steal and sneak around like less than a shadow. he was useful, and mundungus fletcher had never been useful in his life before. what a weird feeling that was --- oh boy, but it was good, too. mundungus likes it. he could build on that and improve greatly and he has fucking potential to become a better person. he really wants to, too, because he feels incredibly indebted to alastor and dumbledore akjfsdf.

dont hold your breath, tho, he’s probably not going to improve a lot

mundungus doesn’t technically have a home. his mother’s place is his home, i guess, but he’s not there a lot. he crashes on couches, breaks into muggle homes of people who are on vacation ( always leaving it the way it was, but with a bit of a smell ) or in a squatter’s home, which he thinks is an iconic scene.

drugs tw // besides his work for the order, mundungus does a bit of this and that. he still works for his dad a little, dealing some drugs for him, but he’s mostly focused on making his way through the wizarding world’s underground and making a name for himself there. he sees no reason to try and find another career, finds the things he does now thrilling and exciting and honestly, he doesn’t have much of a way out.

abuse tw // his dad has a hold on him. sure, he can drop his criminal activities in the wizarding world, but when it comes to his dad's business, he’s stuck. his father isn’t going to allow him to walk away – that much should be obvious. he knows too much. and then there’s mundungus’ wish to always please his father, and his father’s endless dissatisfaction. it’s messy and bad and toxic and we all hate mundungus’ dad. end of tws //

addiction tw // what it all boils down to is that mundungus is chaotic. he never stays in one place too long, doesn’t have a consistent job, strays away from commitment and stability. he’s addicted, to drugs, alcohol, cigarettes and adrenaline. he’s self serving, in the end. he’s seeking for validation, deep down, and endlessly scared of all that’s happening around him. he’s alone, dreadfully so, but that’s the way he prefers it. end of tw //

personality & tidbits

mundungus is a lowkey tortured artist. he writes awful poetry and draws a lot and he loves painting if he has time. he’s in love with the beat generation, mostly. he’s very private about this kind of stuff, though. it's his thing, and his alone. some of his tattoos he’s designed himself tho!! and we love and stan!!

his stance in the war is something that’s … pretty unknown, i imagine. mundungus benefits from appearing neutral, has connections in both the pureblood and muggle world. he likes to come across as that shady dude who will do whatever you ask of him for the right price.

can usually be spotted wearing The Coat, a rly expensive, vintage long coat that he once stole of a pureblood. he’s enlarged the pockets with some handy spellwork and pretty much carries everything he owes in there, like his produce and his money and his second pair of shoes and his art supplies and probably some random trash.

is a bit smelly, so give him a shower

most likely to show up at your doorstep at 5am with some flowers and a shit eating grin, saying “can i sleep on yer couch?”

mundungus LOVES animals but doesn’t have any because of his lack of a home. his mother has a dog, though, and he loves that dog. he also feels v connected to stray dogs and cats and can be found petting and feeding them a lot.

hates himself deeply, doesn’t think he’s worth anyone’s time (despite constantly demanding it), has a low opinion of himself. he doesn’t get it if people care about him, to be honest? the only person he can properly accept it of is his mother, but even that’s complicated.

plots!

CUSTOMERS // a simple, easy connection! basically someone who buys drugs (also does like medicinal stuff? but also drugs-drugs) of mundungus or has paid him (good money) to nick something for them. he’s pretty down to do most things as long as it’s for the right price!

PARTY FRIENDS // dung likes getting wasted / high / fucked up and having a good ol’ time with people. sure, he’s done it alone, but he prefers doing it with others. there’s a lot of room for diff options here?

YOU SAVED ME ONCE // ( alcohol tw ) a plot where someone got dung to a hospital when he got alcohol poisoning and basically saved his life?? meaning?? mundungus feels indebted and he hates that but!! he’s gonna pay your char back! he promises!

UNDER PRESSURE // i imagine that dung has some ties to de’s as well bc of his less than legal work so? maybe some death eater could try and put some pressure on him? get him to do some dirty job bc it’d not matter if he died … etc etc

UNDER PRESSURE 2.0 // on the other hand, i bet some order members are like 👀 at dung? this one’d be for order members who’re like … making sure that dung is still loyal and here?? making him feel a bit?? queasy??

ONE NIGHT STANDS // dung isnt rly good at romance but he’s good at no strings attached sex. this’d work in a lot of ways and w a lot of characters so imma keep this p open! dung is bi btw!!

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY // your average angsty exes plot? mundungus is flighty, and while he does feel feelings for people, he’s not … good with commitment. this’d be a relationship that he broke off bc he got scared or ?? something else??

COUCHES // i need some couches that mundungus can crash on adkjfhsdf he needs a place ... to sleep. he will pay you back with drugs or ... stolen goods? money? something that he didnt acquire lawfully

#maraudrs:intro

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iveonlyeverseenliketwoanimes · 6 years

Text

Hawks: Day Off (Part 2)

A/N: I got a couple of requests to do a second part to this and so I tried my best to come up with something! Sorry if it's not great, I wasn't planning on turning this into a multi-part story but hopefully you enjoy! :)

PART 1 MASTERLIST

It had been a couple weeks since that shitty day in the office, you weren’t all that mad because you got paid overtime, but still, it wasn’t exactly how you wanted to spend your day off.

Everything had calmed down a little in your work life, nothing too interesting had been happening in the land of Heroes, just small crimes and a ton of paperwork. The big mission you had been working on with Endeavor and Hawks had come to an end last week, it all went smoothly, and you’d managed to take down a huge part of a current crime syndicate that was trying to illegally sell power enhancing gadgets.

Obviously, the end of that mission would mean the disbandment of the team, or rather meant that Hawks should go back to spending time at his own agency rather than annoying Endeavor on a somewhat daily basis, but that didn’t appear to have happened. You assumed that the pair had become friends after working with each other for so long, but the look on your boss’s face every time Hawks entered the building seemed to debunk that theory.

Every time Hawks came to visit he always made an effort to swing by your desk and wish you a good morning or afternoon, which ultimately ended up turning into a lengthy conversation about anything and everything, one time you spent a solid hour debating whether or not Die Hard was a Christmas movie and during another visit you discussed how winter was a way better season than summer – he disagreed but that’s beside the point.

Hawks might have been a complete idiot at times but dammit he was the cutest idiot you’d ever seen, he always brought a smile to your face with his stupid theories on different films or tv shows and he told some of the corniest jokes, that was his charm, and oh boy was he charming your socks off. Just seeing his adorable little smile when he walked into a room seemed to make your day so much better, he was, quite literally, an angel.

You’d both seemingly fallen head over heels for each other, but you were both so caught up in your own feelings and anxieties over what to do that you hadn’t realised how each other felt. It was cute, or at least your co-workers thought so. Other people were fascinated by what was occurring between the two of you, it was like a love story unfolding before their very eyes, the two clueless superheroes that had met on mission and had developed feelings for each other without realising were now subconsciously trying to spend loads of time together, it was great, they’d even started a betting system on how long it would take for one of you to ask the other out, most people betting that Hawks would finally live up to his flirtatious actions and actually just ask you to dinner.

You had been a rather busy with some personal stuff lately, you’d only just managed to find a dress for your cousin's wedding and now you were having to deal with all your relatives breathing down your neck over the fact that you hadn’t said you were bringing a plus one to her wedding. It wasn’t exactly your fault – you were so busy with work that the concept of dating was somewhat side-tracked in your life path right now. You weren’t against dating someone, a lot of high profile Heroes swore of dating due to thinking their line of work was too dangerous and it would put their partner in danger, you, on the other hand, didn’t consider yourself high enough profile to warrant any form of arch nemesis, you’d arrested a fair few small scaled criminals but nothing compared to the likes of All Might, Endeavor, or even Hawks.

While you did like the idea of having a significant other, the concept of weddings was a little much. Your cousin was going all out, a big, grand display of her and her partner’s love for the world (Well a select group of friends and family) to see. You thought the whole little was over the top and having to deal with your family going on and on about how you could be the next one to walk down the aisle wasn’t fun, maybe one day you would, but that wasn’t going to be any time soon.

You woke up on an average Monday morning and went into work, it was a nice day out, not too hot and not too cold, the few clouds that were out made some beautiful sky art and the sunshine made it warm enough to where you wouldn’t need a jacket. You spent the first half of the day on patrol with some of the other sidekicks currently working under Endeavor, but nothing too interesting went down so you and a couple others returned to the headquarters in order to get some in-house work done. The whole office space was currently getting a revamp and so your desk was very messy as you were trying to get all the documents out of the draws for when your new equipment came in. You had paperwork and all sorts of personal items everywhere and you were desperately trying to get it all into piles so you could have some form of organisational system in place.

As you were shredding a bunch of old documents you saw someone pick something off your desk out of the corner of your eye. Turning to fully look at them you saw the cute little angel boy himself holding a small A5 card, you weren’t sure what it was at first, to be honest, you were a little messy and probably had stuff from your first day still lying around. You sent him and smile as a form of greeting and he returned the gesture.

“Wedding huh?” The messy haired blond said. “I always loved weddings, they’re fun – dancing, drinking, the overall theme of love, it’s great”

“Well if you love them so much why don’t you go? I’m dreading this damn thing and dress shopping has been a pain in my ass” You replied sitting back in your seat, relaxing a little seeing it was just the local red feathered chicken man.

He laughed a little at your statement, he always enjoyed your company, you were honest and always really light-hearted about everything, so it made falling for you easy so it made befriending you easy. “Is that an invite to be your plus one or are you saying I’d look good in your dress?”

You snapped your head up to look at him, he’d made some silly little comments here and there but this one was very direct and personal. You were a blushing mess, you didn’t mean to accidentally somewhat ask the number 2 Hero to go to a wedding with you, yet here you were. You also weren’t sure if he meant it, I mean what did he expect you to say? ‘Oh yeah, I've actually been meaning to ask you to come to this wedding as my date so all my relatives can poke and prod into our lives and get a couple year head start on planning our wedding’ how were you supposed to joke it off either? ‘hahaha yeah funny one Hawks, us going on a date is so out of the blue and hilarious, I would never want to actually go to any kind of personal event with you ahahahaha’.

“I- um, I gue- I erm” You were in a weird state of confusion and embarrassment. You were a complete mess while with the one person you really wished would never have to see you like this.

“Well I mean, I am known to be great company, kids and grandmas love me so I’m sure I’d fit in just fine” His internal thoughts seemed to be going 100mph for the same reasons as yours. What was he doing? What was happening here? Why was he going along with this little joke that was very quickly turning into a serious proposition? In his mind he was a wreck but, on the surface, this was his moment, he was putting on the smile and making sure he seemed somewhat unbothered by the whole situation, you said yes? Cool, he’s excited about the cake, you say no? That’s cool he can go down to the local market and buy his own damn cake and not have to share with anyone. Everything was fine, apart from the small fact that he was low-key asking out the love of his life in a very odd way, and you were probably going to say no because he was an idiot and should have asked you to something normal like a coffee. Why was he like this?

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being serious or not right now” You finally said. You were very confused, this was supposed to be a normal, if not slightly boring, day at work and yet it had very quickly turned into a day you were sure you wouldn’t forget.

“I just noticed that you hadn’t ticked the ‘plus one’ box on the invite and if you’re ‘dreading this damn thing’ then maybe I could make it a little more interesting” The red feathered man had now turned up the flirting to a full 10, there was no backing down now, he was too deep into this.

You were shocked, it was a good kind of shocked, you loved Hawks’ playful little comments, but you never thought that there were actual feelings behind them. Asking to tag along to a wedding with you was definitely not a playful little comment, that was a serious situation, who does that? Who willingly wants to go to a wedding? You had to admit that you liked the idea of going together though, Hawks was so carefree, bubbly and social, so having him with you at this wedding would definitely make the whole ordeal a lot more fun. Oh God were you seriously considering letting this guy come to a family event with you? What would your family think? Just imaging all of the looks and questions about the pair of you being together made you a little more nervous. But what if this was your chance? What if this was the one chance to get a date with a genuinely lovely guy? I mean he’s basically already said he would like to go so all you have to do is say yes.

All you have to do is just say yes.

Just say yes.

“Yes!” Hawks eyes shot up in your direction, he’d subconsciously been fiddling with the small piece of card in his hands while waiting for you to respond with something, your silence breaking his heart as each second passed. But now? His heart was all over the place for a whole other reason. “I would like that, I mean if you’re being serious, because if you’re not then this is really awkward and nowimnotreallysurewhattodobecau-“

“Awesome! March 9th right? I’ll pick you up at 12 and we can make our way there together!” Your cute little ramble just made his heart all the more giddy, while his nerves were hidden by his confident smile yours seemed to be less subtle and that made him extremely happy. The cute girl he’d been low-key obsessed with? He just bagged a date with her and he couldn’t contain the huge smile that made his way onto his lips. All this time he’d been anxious about asking you out? He doesn’t remember it because all he knows is that he has a date, with a cute girl, who just so happens to be you. All the teasing looks he was currently receiving from your co-workers (who were currently cashing in their bets)? They’re looking at the number 2 hero who just bagged a date with the love of his life. Today was the day that Hawks finally asked you out and the only regret he had was that he wished he’d done it sooner.

#hawks #bnha hawks #mha hawks #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #hawks x reader #hawks imagine #hawks oneshot #hawks story #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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