A person on G+ (because where else would they be) called Why™ is taking and reposting people’s (like @marielgum, @lum1natrix, @markired, @dork-iplier, @floatingmegane-san etc. There’s too many to list, honestly) gifs and art without permission and thinks that simply linking to SOME of the accounts is enough. (ps. its not lol)
In fact, they put the credit in a place where barely any people look. (It’s like the YouTube description. A small percentage of people go there.)
Then they claim that I need to look for it. (ps i dont ha should be visible)
And even then, they never got permission in the first place.
Go report them please. Reblogs are very much appreciated.
Following from that Bob's Burgers post, have you ever watched Archer and if so, what's your opinion on it. In an odd sense, I find it like one of those comfort shows, something that's good to watch every now and then and you feel like of relaxed when watching it, which is strange considering I like maybe 3-4 of the main characters and the rest I wish would just die in a horrible Scott Tennerman's parents-style way
I enjoy Archer quite a bit, but it’s not in my lineup of shows that I tune into regularly, haha. Like, I’ve been around people who put it on as background noise while they work, or for stay-in date nights, and I’ve always found it pretty funny. The writing is sharp and the delivery is really funny. And I like the characters just fine, but I don’t care about them an awful lot. Which isn’t a bad thing, not every show sets out to make you care about characters or whatever and I still enjoy plenty of shows like that. I’m just not super compelled to keep up with it. I guess I’m kind of in the same boat with you… it’s nice to watch every so often! I enjoy it when I do.
Wow! There was such a huge reaction last chapter, I am very honoured. I really love each and everyone of you who reblogged, liked or commented. Seriously. So much. I hope this stands up to the hype though. It is actually only the first part of what was going to be this chapter, but it got so long that I split it in two. I hope you enjoy it xx
Curling russet hair, hazel eyes shining gold in the mid morning sun, a pale face spattered liberally with freckles. Long aristocratic nose and wide mouth. Percival felt his mouth go dry. Jesus Christ.
“Sir? I’m Newt Scamander, the owner of this practice. How can I help you today?” Oh and he sounded like an angel too. Percival barely took in his white coat, unbuttoned to the waist over a royal blue jumper and white shirt. One thought was in his mind; he had to impress this man.
“Ah, yes.” Not a great start Percival, keep going. “I just came here this fine morning to thank you.” Yes. That was good as an opener. Said what he wanted, not at all forward. Good.
“I, uh, what for? I mean, you’re welcome?” He appeared bewildered. Shit.
“Last night, you saved some particular friends of mine. I am greatly indebted to you.” Percival took the hand resting on the counter and bent over as if to kiss it. Ha! Now he had done it, dear Mr Scamander had to understand this time. And he fitted a kiss in! He basked in a glow of self-satisfaction, even as the hand was hastily withdrawn with a delightful squeak.
“Oh, no, that was no problem, Hippocratic oath and all, do no harm, help who you can, I mean, you’re very welcome, um-” the other man it himself off, blushing a very fetching pink in the face (and ears, Percival noted with delight). Oh sweet baby Jesus he was adorable. Percival kind of wanted to listen to him talk forever. “Are they well though? Your friends?” He seemed to have steadied himself and was now watching him intently with the protective gaze of a mother hen.
“Oh yes, they’re fine. The doctor that check them said it was most excellent work, highly professional. She was highly impressed. As am I.” Nice segue. He could do this. “So I was wondering if I could give you a little show of my gratitude.” He dropped his voice low at the end of the sentence. And- oh look, there was that blush. “You, me, dinner tonight? How ‘bout it.”
The redhead took a moment to respond. “I am honoured, really I am, but I don’t need your gratitude.” He met Percival’s eyes for the first time so far. Percival’s knees went a little weak. “I do what I do because I want to help people. My actions last night were taken in that spirit. If I can save even one life with my work then I consider it more than worthwhile. So I understand that you are grateful for your friends survival, and I thank you for it. But I couldn’t accept your offer as recompense for it. And I especially couldn’t accept it for dinner tonight, as I open late every other day.” Oh shit. This man wasn’t going to accept it as a debt, was too proud for that. He was goddamned perfect.
“Then will you accept it as a date with me? No strings attached, just a nice dinner. Whenever you like?” He slung out the offer before he could really think it over.
For a moment, silence prevailed. Then a little smile turned up one corner of Scamander’s mouth. “Yeah. Yes, alright. One date.” Yes! Well done Percival, he patted himself on the back. It had taken a while but he had got there in the end. He felt his face crease into a foreign soft smile.
“OK. OK, that’s great thank you so much. I can give you my number, yeah? Call anytime.” He fished a pen from his jacket pocket and nabbed a leaflet from the counter to write his number, eagerly shoving it over the counter to the other man.
“I will.” The copper head smiled at the paper and slipped it in his breast pocket, folding it gently. Percival nodded.
“Right. Great. Well, I guess I will be going then. I eagerly await your call.” He gave a slight bow and reluctantly turned to leave. He had made it out the door, whose lighthearted closing bell seemed to mock him, and had gone a few metres up the street before he heard a call.
“Wait! Wait.” Scamander had run out after him and was half out the door. “Who are you?” He called up the street. Percival paused in horror. Tina, who had gone ahead of him, was shaking silently with laughter. He turned and walked backwards, affecting a casual demeanour he definitely didn’t feel.
“Graves. My name is Percival Graves.” With a jaunty wave he stepped into the Mercedes and left Scamander on the sidewalk. An air of mystery, that would salvage that fact that he hadn’t even introduced himself.
“Shut up Tina.”
“No seriously I have never seen you fuck up a conversation in quite such an impressive manner. Or recover that well either. I’m just saying, you got lucky there.”
“Oh fuck off.”
Newt, for his part, thought that Percival Graves was potentially the most attractive person in New York. When the man had first come in Newt had been in the back unloading the free flu jabs he would be offering in winter, and he had thought him just another customer. Big mistake. The moment Newt had hurried to the front and seen the man he had instantly regretted not cleaning himself up a little.
He was smoking hot. Seriously. Tall, well dressed. Broad shoulders and trim waist. Salt and pepper hair and consuming dark eyes, an air of danger. Looked like he could hold him down and just take him. Exactly Newt’s type. He had given his introduction by force of habit. And then- then he began to speak.
His voice was like silk or dark chocolate or something equally cheesy, Newt had thought, slightly dazed. Very good on the ear. Soothing. He could listen to this man recite the phone book and be entranced. He only really noted what the guy had said an embarrassingly long time after he had spoken. Newt made it through the conversation in a halting fashion, until the man had kissed his hand. The brand hot fire of his lips on pale flesh made him squeak in a manner his mother would certainly have punished him for.
Stuttering past the haze in his head and burning on his cheeks, he managed to force a focus on the twelve patients last night. None of them had been critical wounds; three gunshots, two to the legs and one in the shoulder. Seven knife slashes on the arms and abdomen. A couple of concussions he could do nothing about. It was obviously underground though, and this man said he was their friend…what if he was their squad leader? Newt couldn’t bring himself to regret his actions in saving them, a life was a life to him, but. The Mafia. The Mafia he was kind of hiding from. He had come to the USA under his own name because the underground there was very unfriendly to the British one and unlikely to give him away to his family out of spite, if nothing else.
Then this man had offered Newt dinner. Now, Newt would very gladly have dinner with him. It may be a bad decision given his past, but Newt was a master of bad decisions. It was practically his MO. However, the slight the offer cast on him, the way he had implied Newt would have to be recompensated, like the men’s survival and wellbeing wasn’t payment enough. He could not let the man continue with that opinion of him. Thankfully, his rebuttal hadn’t put Percival Graves off at all. If Newt was any judge of behaviour then the man had seemed even more eager to have dinner.
He had given in. Percival seemed attracted to him, he was definitely attracted to Percival. Why not? Giving his permission and receiving a number in return, he was entranced by the smile on the other’s face. He seemed so genuinely happy to have dinner. A fizzle erupted in Newt’s belly. Would asking about his availability tomorrow come across as too needy? Before he could even ask, the man and his friend had left the surgery. It was only as he reached out for his phone to program the number in that he had realised that he didn’t even know his name. Dashing out the door after him in the hopes of catching him before he left, Newt threw caution to the wind. In the daylight of the street, he had appeared even more inhumanly attractive. As the man drove away, Newt’s returned to the back room. Percival Graves. What a man.
In the end, they did have that date. Newt didn’t summon up the courage to call until the next day, so they set a dinner date up for that weekend at Percival’s favourite restaurant. He had decided against a fancy one, it would be a bit too extravagant for a first date. Instead they went to a smaller, but still classy place, with an excellent variety of Indian dishes.
It was there that Percival learned that Newt was vegetarian, heard from his own mouth some of his experiences from his travels across Europe and Asia, found out that he had picked up four languages as he went “because it would be rude to just expect people to know English” and was still in contact with a great deal of people he had helped.
Newt for his part, managed to tease out stories of Percival’s time at NYU studying business and politics, tales of his parents and of his friends. He manfully ignored Tima and Queenie having dinner together a few tables away with a couple of other guards. In the days after calling so set up the date, Newt had done his research. The Graves name was whispered on the grapevine as the kingpin of most of New York, who had risen over the last ten or so years from a mid-level group to incorporate almost every gang in the city. The boss was rumoured to be one of the most brutally deadly men alive, with the most fearsome assassins under his command - who it seemed, were having a competition over who could stuff the most breadsticks in their bag without the waiter noticing. As for the boss himself, he was winding up a story about how he and his college friends had pranked the dean by stealing all his office furniture then flogging it in a college-wide auction. Newt found himself giggling helplessly by the end of it.
“So, you really got away with it? He couldn’t find the proof of who did it?”
“Not quite. He knew it was us, but the whole college population thought it was a great joke and everyone said that they had done it. He could hardly expel the entire student body. He was fuming for months though.”
Newt burst out laughing again. He hadn’t laughed so much for a very long time, and his sides ached but Percival had put him so much at ease, was so considerate and lovely that he was falling dangerously fast for the mobster.
Percival was so happy. He didn’t even mind disclosing some of his more foolish moments if it made Newt glow like that. He too had the file on Newt expanded. Queenie’s contacts in the UK had managed to expound on the reasons for his feeing the country; according to one of the ex-maids of the Scamander Manor, he was treated more as a piece of furniture than a person by his parents. The neglect had been entrenched from childhood- from neglecting to pick him up from Westminster School at the end of semesters, to leaving him the care of the servants his whole life, they shows not an ounce of care for him and his wellbeing. His brother, Theseus, tried his best but was forbidden from interacting too much with Newt. The maid had gone on the emphasise how kind he was to the staff, how he tried his best to protect them from his parents whims. They were all glad when he ran away, she had confided, he deserved better. Everything he had heard made Percival’s blood boil. Getting to know the sweet young man over dinner had been one of the most enjoyable nights of his life.
They had parted ways that night with the promise to meet again the next week. Newt had even summoned the courage to kiss Percival’s cheek “as repayment” just before he ran down the steps to the subway, his face glowing red. He left Percival standing with his hand on his face, smiling helplessly. Even as his men caught up and he was ushered into his car, he was quiet.
“He seems nice.”
“He is. He is wonderful.”
“Way out of your league though.”
“Tina I swear to god-”
That was the precursor for several more dates of that kind. Between Newt’s punishing work schedule and Percival’s obligations both legal and not, they revelled in the hours they kept solely for each other. They didn’t progress further than kisses on the cheek and hand, though both silently wanted to. This seemed too important to rush. Instead Percival took Newt to art galleries and restaurants, and Newt pulled Percival out on walks through the city absorbing the buzz and life of the place. A month passed like this, their cozy hours together uninterrupted by many cares as they fell further and further in love. As far as Percival was concerned, this could have gone on forever, albeit with more action of the sexual variety. Sadly, this was not to be the case.
It was a Wednesday mid afternoon tea break that changed everything.
Ok... *insert weird shit*, haha it's only funny in my head, stupid really, I'm so weird...
OMG, what an amazing thought! Imagine a story about that, no, a book! There could be a whole series, gaaah this is the best idea ever! We so have to do this, you can write the music to the coming films based off of these books-
That we haven't written yet...
-And we can totally illustrate this long book series, create a spinoff musical and live in an eco farm house as writers together with all of our friends in the future, saving the world!!!
That sounds great, we'll just have to build a time machine to have time with this and the other five million projects that you have suggested this week.
I'm serious though, it's a good idea.
What are you thinking about now?
Oh, um nothing.
Tell me, tell me, tell me!
*Too tired to deal with this much enthusiasm but also enchanted by ENFPs unbridled enthusiasm and appreciation amongst the cynical masses* Ok...
America started really badly. Our first ever show was at Popscene in San Francisco, loads of UK bands do their first shows there. The night before we’d played Benicàssim (in Spain) and I’d lost my voice completely…We got to San Francisco, I had no voice I couldn’t talk, couldn’t sing… our label were there, first time we met the team - everyone expecting everything. This quack doctor came along with a Starbucks bag full of drugs. He gave me a steroid injection in my bum, my left bum cheek. I was like, ‘Dude it’s my throat!’ My whole leg went into spasm, so not only couldn’t sing, I couldn’t walk. I just saw my manager’s face drop from the side of the stage, it was like - welcome to America guys…