turn out quite good for my first attempt at this art style

The Parisian Dossier (Eggsy Unwin x Reader)

Fandom: Kingsman: The Secret Service
Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x Reader
Word Count: 4,353
Summary: You and Eggsy are sent on a mission in Paris to stop the assassination of a museum director. The two of you have worked together before, but this time Merlin requires that the two of you pose as newlyweds. Along the way there are several death threats, several art museums, and maybe even something along the lines of actual love.
A/N: I don’t own anything and this wasn’t edited, so any errors are mine. All French phrases are translated at the bottom of the story!

It suddenly occurs to you that, were Merlin not physically barring you from it, you could actually kill Eggsy.

Scanning the room quickly, you can think of at least 3 painless methods of execution and 17 incredibly painful ones. 

You wonder if the stylus in Merlin’s grasp could be sharpened fast enough to stab Eggsy in the throat.

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Don’t Leave, Stay

the one where Y/N fears that Harry only wears Gucci, Harry can actually cook, and Nick is growing more creative in his match-making. 5.7k

A/N: I enjoyed writing this. It’s a bit based off of some of my TFLN series, which you can check out here if interested. The simple interactions speak the most to me, as I believe they do for everyone. I hope you enjoy. Thank you so much, anon, for sending this in! You’re right, it was cool. xx.

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His Name [5]

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
Words: 7.6k
Genre: Angst, Multiple Personality!Au
Summary: Jeon Jungkook is a puzzle with too many missing pieces from his past and too many sides. Somehow, it’s become your job to solve him.
→ Inspired by the Korean Drama - Kill Me Heal Me
Warnings: Topics of mental health. Mentions of death, suicide and medical disorders.
Disclaimer: Although this piece of work required lots of in-depth research and was attempted to be as accurate as possible, at the end of the day, I am not a psychologist and this is fanfiction. Specific things may be altered or exaggerated for story-telling purposes. Please take all medical terminologies and procedures with a grain of salt.

Cr.

You’ve always hated the colour orange.

It reminds you of the eerie jack-o’-lanterns that haunted you as a child every Halloween. It reminds you of the sour citrus your mother used to give you, the carrots you used to dig out of your soup, your pet goldfish that you had to flush down the toilet once it died, the basketballs that hit your face and gave you a bleeding nose.

As an adult, you still hate the colour orange - especially because when he’s wearing it.

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Blankets [JungkookxReader](Pt 2/5)

Originally posted by kissing-pleasure

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Feat. Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung)

Genre: Romance/Angst/Smut BadBoyAU!

Summary: A one night stand turned into various visits. No strings attached, or at least that is what you told yourself every time he walked through the door. His first name was the only thing you knew, besides having memorized every sensitive spot that laid upon his skin.

One night you catch a glimpse of his world. One that you had never had the temptation to roam on your free will. Jungkook though was addicting, and your craving for his touches led you to venture into his life. This new found world offering you a freedom you didn’t know existed. The consequences of your actions instead of taking you a step closer to him, formed a barrier. Jungkook’s sweet touches turned rough with rage, his passionate kisses turned possessive, and his comfortable casual talk went to promises/lies of a forever.

Rating: M [Language, Strong Scenes, Drug usage, Sexual Scenes](Will add a warning prior if that chapter will contain any smut scenes)

Author’s Note: Sorry for the small delay. I am still not super happy with the way this came out. I scrapped half the chapter that I had already finished, and rewrote it since my vision of where this fic was heading changed. This also triggered the fic to grow in complexity now expanding it from a 3 part to a 5 part. Hope ya’ll enjoy.

Also quick confession….. I have never written in 2nd POV till now, so sorry for any mistakes I might commit while writing in this form.

Trigger warning: Drugs, alcohol, and Sexual scenes

Not 100% edited yet. Might have minor mistakes :)

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Word Count: 4,900+

Blankets

.Part 1.



Better an Oops than a What If - Unknown

You had always heard the saying: ‘People do crazy things for Love’, but you weren’t in love, so why were you doing it? You had not figured out what temporary madness drove you to commit such a radical act. Jungkook had never played an important role in your life, nor he changed your daily routine, other than serving as an extra source of warmth through the night. How can a simple act of possession drive you to such madness. Actually, whenever he was not around to intoxicate your coherent thoughts with lust, you would dream of a faceless man who would make you fall in love chickflick style. The thought of the possibility of Jungkook filling in those shoes would make you laugh. He was a good fuck. He was an amazing source of relief, but when you looked at the boy asleep in your bed it did nothing for you.

Jungkook was handsome, that was something you couldn’t deny. From his soulful eyes to cheeky grin, it was perfection. Even the scar that lay upon his cheek looked like it was carved on purpose into his face to create an even more intricate structure. As much as he was handsome though, he was  far away from perfect. Jungkook had a bad temperament, and you had witnessed it in quite a few occasions, when he came home beat up only to take out his frustrations by pounding you so hard and rapid that it left your center bruised. Those nights he would escape the security of your bed right after without even a goodbye. Other than cooking skills and casual talks, Jungkook never bothered to find out much about you. He like you, seemed to find those specifics irrelevant. Jungkook was immature. He threw tantrums if you didn’t open the door right away, and the few opinions he shared with you over frivolous topics seemed to be based upon illiterate sources. Jungkook was stubborn. He liked things his way or not at all, and that would’ve been okay if you weren’t stubborn as well, which would lead to boundless amounts of arguing and angry sex. Jungkook was just sex. That’s what you have told yourself repeatedly, for the past year when you laid alone upon your bed, inhaling his scent from the unwashed blankets, as if by doing so he would materialize beside you.

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Letters to You

  • Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader ft. Kim Namjoon
  • Genre: Time Travel, Angst, Slight Fluff
  • Words: 7.2k
  • Description: Through a series of letters, Jungkook is able to re-live a life that never was. 

Originally posted by btsmwah


Would you still love me even if we never met?


There is an old library on the outskirts of town that Namjoon had stumbled upon online, one that even he, to Jungkook’s surprise, has never been to.  

This is actually quite mind-blowing because Kim Namjoon is what most people would call a bibliophile. He doesn’t just read in his spare time and browse around libraries and bookstores occasionally, no, Kim Namjoon lives and breathes books; those binded pages of pure information, worldly knowledge, and eye-opening stories are what he lives for. He has multiple copies of his favorites, views them as home décor, and is even the type to judge people based on what kind of books they like to read.

At this point, Jungkook wouldn’t even be surprised if Namjoon decides to have some sort of book sculpture as the centerpiece of his wedding in the future.

But it wasn’t because Jungkook, as one of Namjoon’s best friends, knows that Namjoon loves spending weekends immersed in the serene and peaceful realms that librairies have to offer that he decided to tag along this Sunday. It was because he lost a bet over being able to do ten pushups with Yoongi sitting on his back last weekend, and the so-called punishment was to find a book (physical copy) and actually read it, something Jungkook hasn’t done in a long, long time, which is how Jungkook found himself accompanying his intelligent and philosophical friend on this latest excursion.  

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carr-crashh-heartss  asked:

I'd like ... 'are you still awake ... ?', if you wouldn't mind. :)

Months ago while searching for writing inspiration, I found an prompt that said  “You were supposed to be a one night stand, but we ended up talking till dawn instead of sex. And wow we really click, so do you maybe want to have breakfast and stay longer?” and I’d really wanted to write that for these two (it just seemed to fit so well!) and with this sentence prompt I was finally able to do it! So enjoy a modern, not-quite-a-one-night-stand AU :)

AO3


The first fingers of light were coloring the distant horizon when the balcony door slid open behind her. She didn’t turn at the noise, leaving her head resting on her hand and her eyes trained on the early sunrise.

“Are you still awake?” Cassian asked gently, the accent that first intrigued her last night at the bar thicker now, more tired than it was when she’d first heard it.

“Yeah.”

“You’d been quiet for so long, I wasn’t sure.” At that, Jyn turned to him, enjoying the way his lips curved up into a half smile and his eyes softened as he looked at her.

“What can I say?” Jyn gave him a smile of her own, teasing. “You wore me out last night.”

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always us

my sixth entry for klanceweek! this time, for prompt #6: quote. this is a continuation of prompt #5!

still debating whether or not to cross-post these entries on ao3 so let me know what you think. again, you can also find these short ficlets on twitter!

day 1 / day 2 / day 3 / day 4 / day 5

I’m picturing us on rooftops

in strange cities,

with strange people,

and us.

Always us.

— “I’m not sure if this is for love or old friendships or new friendships” by Claire Luisa

So this is what Keith’s life has come to.

Guests from every corner of the universe seem to be gathered for the day’s celebration. Each is dressed lavishly in the traditional attire of their people, creating a stunning spectacle of rich cloth, dangling jewels, and enchanting body art, like thousands of dancing canvases.

As a prince, Lance is dressed like royalty. Allura managed to find an old suit of her father’s on board the ship. Thankfully, the Altean style is similar to that of the Vruan’s. The suit material glimmers a dazzling baby blue under the light of the levitating chandelier overhead. Lance wears a white button-down beneath his suit jacket with the top two buttons undone. Blue swirls adorn his collarbone, as well as his shoulders, hidden for now. Tiny white and blue dots stretch the length of both eyebrows, and the makeup Allura chose makes his eyes stand out even more than usual. Turquoise gems adorn the rings on his fingers and dangle from fragile silver chains on his ears.

As much as Keith hates to admit it, Allura and Coran did an amazing job. Lance certainly has an ethereal, royal air about him.

Which is great for the mission but terrible for Keith’s sanity.

Every few minutes, while they make their way through the crowd, Keith convinces himself everything is fine. Then, he stares at Lance for a second too long and the allusion is shattered. Lance is easily one of the most beautiful people in attendance. It’s almost impossible to ignore the whole crush thing when said crush practically looks like an otherworldly being, like a fucking god or goddess or something.

Keith, on the other hand, feels… out of place.

The prince’s escort is not allowed to dress more extravagantly than the prince himself. His suit clings comfortably to his figure, and the black color with red accents certainly complements Lance’s outfit. A silver chain hangs around his neck with a small charm, adorned with the Vruan crest. The ring on his right hand matches one of Lance’s, boasting a sizable ruby. In the Vruan culture, a matching set represents the bond between the prince and his escort.

“Like wedding rings,” Pidge was all too happy to point out when Coran presented the rings to them.

At the moment, Lance is chatting up two lanky aliens. Keith doesn’t recognize them, but the tiny gold crowns on both of their heads are explanation enough.

“Of course, of course,” Lance answers with a little chuckle. “Thank you for your time.” He bows to both in turn and then grabs Keith’s hand. Even through his gloves, Keith senses the faint trembling of Lance’s fingers. He’s nervous?

Keith lets Lance drag him toward the center of the dancefloor. There’s a lull in the music and most guests have cleared the area. Once they reach a spot far from any potential eavesdroppers, Lance stops and fixes his attention on Keith.

“None of these people know where that stupid Galran prince is,” Lance hisses, lowering his voice. “Hell, the first few couples I talked to didn’t even know the dude was alive.”

Before Keith can answer, the band picks up where it left off. But, this time, the music has a more pleasant, slow melody. Keith curses softly under his breath. Of course the next song starts right as he and Lance reach the center of the dancefloor. They need to move and fast.

But Lance doesn’t seem to be on the same wavelength.

Far too gracefully, he wraps an arm around Keith’s waist and draws him closer. Keith is too busy having a minor heart attack, what the fuck, to stop Lance from intertwining their fingers and lifting their clasped hands. Unsure of what to do, Keith lets his other arm hang awkwardly at his side. “Uh—Lance?”

“Put your other hand on my shoulder,” Lance whispers. “Get rid of that noodle arm right now.”

“But… what… are we dancing?”

“Not yet, but we’re about to be.”

Keith reluctantly obeys Lance’s instructions. His gloves feel far more constricting than before, and, yep, here comes the sweat. He silently hopes there aren’t pit stains on his suit. And if he starts to smell, too, that’ll be the end of him. No more Keith Kogane.

Lance slowly begins to spin. Completely out of his element, Keith blindly follows. Or at least attempts to.

“You’ve never danced before, have you?” Lance prompts.

“Uh… no…”

“Right. That explains why you’ve stepped on my feet, like, four times now. Even though you’re looking down like a weirdo.” Lance scoffs and shakes his head. The light catches the jewels on his earrings as they swing. “You really never went to any of the Garrison dances?”

“Seriously? Of course not,” Keith huffs.

“Alright, geez, calm down. I should’ve known.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You look way too good in that suit to be giving me such an awful headache,” Lance whines.

He thinks I look good. Keith feels his heart crawl up his throat. That had to be a joke.

“And you look way too good to be giving me shit right now,” Keith quips. Two can play at this game. “But here we are.”

“You think… I look good?”

Keith considers tearing out his own tongue. Maybe it’ll keep him from saying embarrassing things for the rest of the evening. “I mean, Allura and Coran did a good job of making you look like a prince.” Smooth.

“I guess they did,” Lance mutters. He almost sounds… disappointed. “Now, to avoid blowing our cover, please just follow my lead. Okay?”

“Okay.” Keith can’t bring himself to protest. Lance makes a good point. A prince and escort would definitely know how to dance.

Lance resumes turning, carefully guiding Keith along. Other couples smile fondly whenever they pass on the dancefloor. To his delight, by the tenth or so turn, Keith quits stepping on Lance’s feet. They develop a comfortable rhythm, each footfall in time with the beat of the song. As the musicians continue to strum their instruments on stage, Keith takes a second to close his eyes. The melody really is beautiful.

The longer they dance, the closer they seem to get. Keith isn’t sure who’s responsible, but he likes to think they’re both at fault.

Keith inhales Lance, savors the body heat and comfort of being so close without the worry of what others might think. That’s the beauty of disguises. For a time, no matter how brief, you’re someone else. You can do just about anything under the guise of staying in-character.

At least that’s the excuse you can use if someone later questions your actions.

This moment feels fragile to Keith. It’s almost as if he and Lance are an actual couple, dancing together at a party. Keith wonders what it would be like to travel the universe like this. Lance at his side, a steady presence, a constant.

Keith lets himself be a bit selfish. He leans his forehead against Lance’s and breathes. His heart beats a frantic staccato in his chest, but he doesn’t pull away.

And neither does Lance.

anonymous asked:

Hi, I just found your blog and I already adore your art! Keep it up! Also, could you describe the process of a piece, from start to finish? I would like to improve my own technique, so some tips would also be nice. You don't have to, ofc!^^

hi! thank you so much ♥ 

Honestly probably the best way to do this is just to start a new piece so, here we go: it’s not finished but I’ll just update as I go since its been like 3 weeks since this ask! 

1. Theme/What is it?

I mean this isn’t always number one. Sometimes we all make a nice head and make a picture around it but. I usually try to divide everything by whether the piece is just prettygiving information, or asking for it

This is probably a better worded concept somewhere but it helps me plan a little better. 

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Zach Imagine #1 (snippet)

Note: As promised, but kinda late ‘cause it took me some time to translate, here it comes. It’s a small part of a imagine i’m doing based of this post of @imaginesforanyonex


To be honest, you were a little ashamed of where Zach had brought you. You were perfectly dressed, so was he, and so far there was nothing specific that would cause you such a feeling, but you couldn’t stop feeling a little inadequate at the extremely fancy restaurant he had decided to bring you. Of course, the food was delicious, and being her mother well versed in the arts of organizing large charity dinners for the town’s Women’s Association had provided her with a good sense of etiquette and a quite useless, yet enviable knowledge of the use of all varieties of cutlery arranged in front of her, on the table perfectly adorned with porcelain plates with gold details and crystal goblets. The napkins were woven and embroidered with gold thread and the white lilies of the centerpiece arrangement would be perfectly suitable for a wedding. You had avoided looking around because the place was so fancy that it made you feel a bit queasy.

In front of her, Zach did not seem to be dealing with the situation much better - he was a compelling color of pink, his lips pressing into a movement that you had learned that was characteristic of when he was nervous, looking anywhere but you. Which was odd, since he was the one who decided it would be a good idea to go there.

Well, the situation was simple. Your mother usually worked organizing events with the city’s Women’s Association, so you were accustomed with being carried by her, obliged to wear any black dress that fit, and help welcome the guests into the big dinners, being perfectly polite, with not even a strand of hair out of place - because her mother was nothing less than a perfectionist, bordering on obsessiveness, in truth. Finding Zach Dempsey at one or another of those dinners was actually quite common, since his mother was on the board of the Association. But the big surprise came with the announcement of the debut of the daughters of the associates, which would be presented at a party in the best style of the association: exaggerated and pompous. And (what a surprise!) when Mrs. Dempsey came to talk to you and your mother, and she was literally hopping, apparently wanting to contain a smile of excitement that threatened to engulf her entire face. Honestly, it was scary. You could swear that your mother had whispered a quick prayer in fear of the revelation that the Asian woman would bring. Then she had informed you, looking extremely happy and pleased with herself, that you would be part of the girls who would be introduced to “society”, even if you were already 17, since you and your mother had moved in a few months and, according to her, you deserved a good introduction because of the wonderful girl you were. You’d flushed from the tip of your toes to your hair with the compliment, but accepted it with a smile and a thank-you to Mrs. Dempsey. She was a picky woman, but you could see that she had a good heart. And, of course, she was also a wonderful strategist, because shortly afterwards she launched:

- “I’m sure Zach would be delighted to be your date!” - She beamed. - “I’ll talk to him right away, dear, do not worry! You’ll be the most beautiful couple in this debut!”

And that was how you found yourself at a date with Zach Dempsey, in this unbelievable fancy restaurant: Because his mother could not accept you being his date on the debut without him actually taking you to a date before.

Some may think having a date set by the mother of the boy is a bad idea, but discussing it with said mother, when she is this epitome of uptightness, and has those eyes that could bore into your soul, and your own mother’s kinda pleading with her eyes you don’t mess this up with some very displeasing reject of the so called son who would be your date, is way worse. While it were a very good bonus that he was cute, you could feel that he wanted to be here just as much as you. 

- “I’m sorry.” – was the first thing he said to you since you had seated at the table. He had been nice enough to say you were beautiful when he picked you up at your house. And well, he was beautiful too, so you didn’t had any problem returning the compliment. – “My mom… she can be very insistent.”

- “Oh.” – You were surprised he actually dared to say it. It made you hold a giggle. – “Well, yes, she can.” - This time he looked at you, and you could see the silent sorry in there too. He gave you a tight smile, apparently uncomfortable with something. – “She… hm, she’s just hell-bent on matchmaker this year.” – He groaned, apparently not very happy with his mother’s plans. He probably misses the way your face fall and eyes turn very judgmental. You don’t like being someone’s who knows which number’s option.  – “She’s just determined for me to find someone within her group of friends.” – his voice seems very troubled and that’s what makes you have a little sympathy for his situation. But it still displeases you that his mother sought you out so crudely just for achieving her goal. This probably made you became a little rude, what made you ask:

- ’Which date, exactly, am i?” – You’re not specifically hurt, just displeased, so you just shrugs at his stare and at his surprised look by the question. - “If I’m being one of the options, I just want to know at least what exactly my priority is.” - Your statement has him going red from the point of his nose ‘till the point of his ears. You admit to yourself it’s kinda cute. He’s fidgeting and looking anywhere but you, what makes you very displeased, moving to lie back in the chair, holding your will to fold your arms in a critical expression.
- “That down, huh?”

He finally looks at you and all the color seems to drain from his face in a look of pure horror. Zach stutters and his attempt to approach you makes the chair creak on the perfectly waxed floor of the very expensive restaurant, drawing everyone’s attention around to your table; You feel yourself blushing immediately, your face warming up, and curls up in the chair to run from the curious and judgmental eyes that are directed at you now, mouthing a silent apology. Zach has a beautiful red coloring and you can not hold giggle by the exasperated expression of his. This makes him look at you again and he takes a deep breath before finally saying:
- “You’re the first one I’ve actually accepted.”

Behind the Lens

In the proud tradition of “anything is a fic idea, particularly when there’s actual work you’re supposed to be doing!”, this photo came across my dash, and for some reason my brain immediately said “Derek Hale as a landscape photographer” and things kind of snowballed from there. So, step one, go look at that photo, because it’s relevant to the fic. Then read. I’ll wait.

(I also encourage you to go look at that photographer’s 500px page as well, because it’s excellent.)

[Also on AO3.]


Stiles didn’t claim to know a lot about art. Sure, he could fake it with the best of them; he’d spent many, many hours listening to Lydia’s opinions about new artists she’d agreed to represent at her gallery, not to mention her more scathing commentary on artists she found overhyped by reviewers. Mostly, though, he just ended up coming in when she had a new show going up and hung stuff as directed. (And then maybe attended the opening and seeded conversations with some of her key phrases. He wasn’t proud. There was free food.)

Usually how this went was that he came by after the gallery closed, helped take the outgoing show down, moved hooks and whatnot, and helped put up the new pieces. By the time they were done, he’d have a good idea of what the artist’s style was, some sort of vague, academic appreciation of it, and no particular desire to look at any of it long-term. It was just art. But this time…

This time was different.

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*No Monet* Newt x reader

anonymous asked:

Dear Kelly, could you write something fluffy about Newt x artist!reader? She doesn’t see any worth in her work and gives up. Thank you very much! ❤

Newt emerged from his case, his hand running through his curly locks as he yawned and stretched. The smell of tea wafted through the apartment and he smiled as he began making his way out in to the kitchen. He found you pouring a cup of tea in your nightgown and robe; your hair tucked around your shoulder. 

“Evening, love.” Placing a gentle kiss to your lips, Newt reached over and grabbed a cup and proceeded to pour himself some tea. “How are your drawings coming?”

Newt loved your art. He told you every day. When he asked you to help with his book you nearly jumped at the idea. That was until he clarified that he wanted you to draw the pictures.

You shrugged, turning away. It wasn’t like you to just dismiss a question but before Newt could ask anything more you were already making your way towards the bedroom and saying goodnight.

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Strive Pt. 13

{PART 1} {PART 2} {PART 3} {PART 4} {PART 5} {PART 6} {PART 7} {PART 8} {PART 9} {PART 10} {PART 11} {PART 12}

Pair: Tomarry

Rating: M-E(depends)

Tags: Mild Language, Homosexuality, Sexism, Obsessed Tom, Time-Travel/Dimension-Travel, Teacher/Student, Eventual Romance, Teacher-Harry, Grey!Harry, MoD(sort of), Death!being,


On the train ride back to Hogwarts, Tom Riddle found himself inside a compartment with his Slytherin contemporaries. They spoke calmly and quietly about the drama that had occurred at Malfoy Manor over the course of the holidays. Abraxas was being as dramatic as possible to make the story even worse than it actually was. Tom had managed to remove himself from the situation well enough, until Abraxas mentioned that the Aurors tried to unlawfully search his person.

The others immediately turned their eyes upon his form, looking mildly horrified and curious. There was no choice but to join the conversation by then, and Tom nodded regally. 

“It was amusing when Lord Malfoy pointed out that they needed a warrant to check individual people on the premises. I believe I have also lost all hope in the Auror forces if they plan to listen to the hearsay of random wizards with no actual proof. Something else that will eventually need to change, I assure you all.”

A moment of silence met his words and he made sure to eye each of them considerably, before returning to his tome about potions and their potency.

The peace was disturbed when the compartment door slid open to reveal the Trolley Witch, who was looking expectant. “Anything off the trolley?” she inquired, waving a hand toward her wares.

Tom’s eyes noticed the large amount of Daily Prophet rolls. The woman glanced over and smiled. “We were given a massive amount to sell on the train, dear. Some drama in politics as usual.”

Abraxas immediately bought a paper as well as several Chocolate Frogs.

After several moments, the blond’s jaw dropped. “Dumbledore is currently being investigated!” he announced loudly.

Tom hissed, waving a hand to lock the door to the compartment and silence the entire room before the fool could make an even bigger spectacle than he already was.

The paper was passed into Tom’s hands immediately, who folded it carefully, eyes trailing over the words that proceeded to condemn Albus Dumbledore for foul action against the Lord of an Noble House, as well as call into question, his behaviour at school.

MALFOY FAMILY UNDER ATTACK FROM AN OUTSIDE SOURCE?

During the Yule holidays, the Auror Force headed a raid on Malfoy Manor in search of what is being termed, ‘Dark Artifacts’. An inside tip had alerted the Aurors of devious actions taken by the Malfoy Lord and an expressed concern for the visiting Hogwarts student, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Head Boy and Slytherin’s star pupil.

The Head Auror was among the group who searched the Malfoy’s home and found absolutely no trace of anything Dark. One of the Aurors on the team, who shall remain anonymous as requested, admitted to the group attempting to search the people inside the building without having a warrant to do such. Lord Malfoy has done as he had promised and filed a complaint with the Minister himself.

An inside source admitted to this reporter that the warning the Aurors received came from a golden and red Phoenix and was written in fanficul script. As there is only one wizard within our Magical community who has a Phoenix familiar, we have come to believe that the anonymous tip to the Auror Office was from Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Deputy Headmaster and Transfiguration Professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Many would question why Professor Dumbledore would even involve himself in such matters when he is but a school teacher, but it turns out that Mr. Dumbledore is also working to become Chief Warlock of the British Wizengamot. Such a thing is not something a passive school teacher would do. It is also very interesting when we consider what some individuals have divulged to us in concern.

“I have known Albus for many years. He was a bright pupil and always ready to learn what was available. However I have noticed that he has always been a bit too superstitious and tends to believe the worst of everyone upon first glance if their immediate impression isn’t positive. His attitude has changed quite drastically over the course of these past seven years, though I cannot for the life of me understand why,” said Armando Dippet, current Headmaster of Hogwarts. “If he was truly behind such a thing, I wouldn’t be able to give you a reason.”

“Albus has always been a delightful mind to pick and prod!” Potions Master Horace Slughorn stated enthusiastically. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the only pleasant thing he had to say about Hogwarts’ Deputy Headmaster. “Albus has a tendency to be rather biased. He is quick to jump on a Slytherin should they appear to be doing anything even remotely questionable. I have noticed that he neglects to pay Slytherin students the attention they deserve while lavishing his Gryffindors often and unnecessarily. He doesn’t even acknowledge the Slytherins unless something unpleasant happens, in which Albus will be the first to accuse a Slytherin. It is concerning behaviour.”

Finally, we spoke with Hogwarts’ new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Harry Potter. Professor Potter has been seen by many students and staff, in heated discussions with Mr. Dumbledore. This has lead many to believe that the two do not in fact, get along.

“Professor Dumbledore becomes visibly irate whenever he spots a Slytherin so much as looking at students from another House. He gives detention to Slytherins without proof of them doing wrong, and often times, Professor Slughorn must intervene upon his student’s behalves. A Gryffindor student was caught bullying a Hufflepuff student and Professor Dumbledore did nothing but waive the detention I assigned. He proceeded to give detention to a Slytherin Prefect for being out after hours, despite the fact that it was said Slytherin’s duty to patrol on the First Floor for an hour after curfew.

“I have witnessed him refuse to acknowledge the efforts of students who are not Gryffindors, yet raise his Gryffindors far above a level they deserve. He was displeased with my teaching style, claiming that ‘the good and just students of his House deserved better grades’. The fact is, a good percentage of his students did in fact, not do well in my class, and I have steep grading expectations.

“In addition to his questionable behaviour toward Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, he also has controlling tendencies, having attempted to coerce me into believing particularly terrible things about certain Slytherin students that he does not like. I am in no way shocked that he would try to put the Malfoy family under fire, seeing as he constantly puts the Slytherin students under similar stress and undeserved punishment.

“Sometimes I worry for the students with him here, which is why I did not take a holiday like many of my fellows. I was concerned for the Slytherin students who remained behind without their Head of House to be there to defend them.”

With the statements from these three individuals, plus many lingering comments from many Hogwarts students and other members of the staff, it has lead us at the Daily Prophet, to question whether or not our children are safe among the influence of a man who lacks any respect for his peers, nor any caring for some of the students under his purview.

An investigation by the DMLE is underway. We will keep you updated.

Garrison Bespoke,
Special Correspondent to the Daily Prophet.

A dark grin that felt well deserved in his opinion, spread across his face. This was the perfect way to destroy Dumbledore’s reputation. To shed light on his internal bias that he was incredibly poor at hiding. And then soon everyone who adored him, would see the type of person he really was.

“Professors Slughorn and Potter weren’t merciful in their comments. Even Headmaster Dippet spoke out against his attitude.”

If there was any more of a reason for Tom to like Professor Potter, he had it now.


Looking up at the Head Table and seeing Professor Potter sitting there calmly while the seat Dumbledore usually sat it, remained vacant, made Tom incredibly please. Enough to smirk openly. How he despised Dumbeldore’s very existence.

However, this would not distract him from his mission. he needed to find out why the professor knew about about Tom’s blood family.


He knocked thrice and waited a few seconds.

“Enter.”

When Tom stepped into the man’s office, he found Professor Potter sitting with his… friend Mortimer.

“Hello, Tom.”

Mortimer glanced between them, before standing. “I will take my leave now. Remember what we discussed.”

Professor Potter gave a firm nod as Mortimer strode out the door without even giving Tom another thought.

“Come and sit, Tom. What is on your mind?”

Tom closed the door behind himself and waited until he was seated before placing the ‘anonymous’ letter on the other man’s desk. Seeing no reason to extend the awkward feeling he was experiencing, Tom asked, “How do you know who my mother was, professor?”

Potter’s eyes grew wide and for the first time since meeting the man, Tom saw him without any self-control or his aloof demeanor he’d become known for.

The following muttered curse, was enough to make him feel good. 

Too good.

His Best Friend’s Sister

Notes: Fluff. I think this is really an adorable idea! Thank you for requesting this ahh! This was extremely fun to write although I had a bit of trouble because I wasn’t sure whether I should focus on Eisuke mostly or Soryu. So, it wounded up in a mix with both of them fighting over the MC (*cough* you *cough*). My apologies in advance, if this isn’t what you wanted but I just thought this would be more fun and lighter to read! 

Tagging these dudes because I think it’d make them smile (it’s a 50/50 chance though): @carinecaldre69 & @miyukushina & @dumb-and-dumber-with-leah & @tresspadesmaid@catchthespade

Let’s get more air—because you might need it for the incoming laugh fest!


It was a normal Tuesday when Eisuke called forth for a special dinner. At first, Soryu and the others didn’t understand why there was a need to have dinner together since 99.3% of the bidders time was spent at Ichinomiya’s luxurious penthouse. But the millionaire was persistent! He promised that he would be paying for everyone’s meal and he’d be bringing along a… marvelous surprise.

While the other bidders were astounded by his sudden generosity, Soryu couldn’t help but wonder how “marvelous” was this surprise. He would have been the first person (or so he’d like to think) whom Eisuke would confide about news. Good or bad. However, for the past few days, the mobster noticed that he was acting quite odd. A bit more… approachable and less cranky. It meant the news was something really good—but he never came up to Soryu.

Strange.

In the end, everyone agreed to join the dinner and everyone wore their best attires—suits, neckties or maybe bowties, gelled hair and manly cologne—knowing they’d be spending the dinner somewhere in a fancy restaurant… And as expected, Eisuke has overdone it again as he led everyone to one of the best five-star restaurants in the city. The folks there even let them have their own private room, away from the other customers. 

Only Eisuke Ichinomiya. 

Once everyone was settled in their seats. Eisuke tapped his glass formally, clearing his throat before saying, “You are all here tonight because you are all considered one of my most special… friends.”

“We’re your only friends,” Mamoru had muttered under his breath and Soryu found himself agreeing with the bearded slacker for once. Ignoring the snide, Eisuke motioned at the door, trying to get someone to walk inside. “Gentlemen. And Mamoru. This is my sister.”

As if rehearsed (probably was), you walked in.

Everyone gasped and clapped upon your arrival. You smiled. 

To Eisuke, this moment was gorgeous, precious and quite satisfying since this meant you would easily fit in this new lifestyle more. While everyone was cheering for the long-lost-but-now-found sister, Soryu’s mouth was still left wide open in utter disbelief. Eisuke wasn’t an idiot but… what if you actually weren’t his sister? Perhaps, that’s one of his reasons why he hasn’t told Soryu about you. He is probably scared about me noticing she isn’t the one and… Soryu frowned as he kept picturing Eisuke’s torn face. The millionaire often claimed he has never broken down but… he was still human.

While thinking deeply about his friend’s reaction, your eyes met Soryu’s and you tilted your head, questioningly. 

Shoot. He quickly shut his mouth and instead of following his gut that was telling him to look away, Soryu did his best to glare at you, trying to establish that he wasn’t the friendliest human being and should be avoided at all cost. Although his cheeks were reddening. Hang on. That wasn’t quite right. Well… He… was a bit caught off guard upon seeing you in such a strapping outfit—a scarlet red dress with delicate ruffles and tight curves—no doubt that Eisuke bought it from one of the most expensive clothing lines. 

And yet as time ticked, the formal introductions went by, jokes were made and everyone was either too happy or too drunk to hold onto one conversational thread. Currently, Ota and Baba were humming along to a Barenaked Ladies’ song in their head, Mamoru has fallen asleep on the dinner table and Eisuke was pulling out his wallet to pay for the bills.

Soryu was quiet the entire time. He made sure he was still sober enough—just to study you mostly. He needed to make sure, for his best friend’s sake that you weren’t an impostor. Technically, Soryu didn’t have any basis to say you were one. He only knew a few things about Eisuke’s “long-lost-sister”… You would obviously have that “mark” Eisuke once said. But it might have been fake. Who knows? … Gun in hand, he’d just have to watch you for anything suspicious.

However after a while, he wasn’t sure why you approached him with a smile spreading on your face—was it because he was sober/awake or you simply caught his not-so-subtle staring? Before Soryu could figure it out, you both started talking and he found it quite… easy? Normally, he found women quite annoying especially with their stench that they called, “perfume”. You probably had one but Soryu didn’t find himself smelling it. He was instead, more focused on your eyes. Your lips.That smile.

“Are you really part of the mafia?”

“… Eisuke told you?”

“He tells me everything,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “Mamo is a detective. Fedora man is a thief. Kisaki has something to do with the art. And you are a mobster but I find that hard to believe.”

“Why is that so?” 

“Because my brother says animals magically like you.” 

Soryu isn’t sure if you were teasing him but he did find it a bit… charming. In response though, the mobster pulled out the gun he was holding, making sure that none of the personal waiters could catch a glimpse of it. “Whether you find me threatening or not, I am a man who knows how to shoot and I am not afraid to pull the trigger. And you?” 

“Huh?”

“… Are you really Eisuke’s sister?” His eyes glinted.

“I am.” You smiled. “And because of your deep concern, I guess… you really are his friend. By the way, does Eisuke really buy you all the hair products to make that hair style?”

“… No.”

“Liar. He totally did.”

Soryu scowled at you. What an annoying woman. Now, he could say with certainty that you were related to Eisuke by blood. Before he could rertort, two drunk men—namely Baba and Ota—dragged you off. They also apparently wanted to play with Soryu’s new toy, your eyes though while walking away still trained on him. He didn’t look away either.

“I saw the look you were giving her,” said a voice.

Soryu swiftly turned to find Eisuke who folded his arms. His glowers were even more hellish… and murderous. “I don’t like that look,” he growled.

“Oh, I was just suspicious if she could be an impostor,” Soryu spoke calmly as he tried to choose his words carefully. “I figured that’s why you didn’t tell me about her days ago because… you didn’t want to hear me say that she might not be…” 

Soryu faltered as Eisuke shook his head.

“Dumbass. She is my sister.”

“… I was just looking out for you.”

Eisuke sighed. “I know… But what I meant by look I meant is—you’re giving her the kind of look that Baba makes when he sees a woman.”

“I-I wasn’t thinking of that!” Fully familiar with that Baba look.

“Good. She’s not up for a one-night-stand.”

“… But I could ask her on a date, right?” It was supposed to be a joke but hearing it out loud, it didn’t sound like one. In fact, it made his heart beat faster. Why? Was it because it sounded… dangerous? It absolutely did with Eisuke’s glare stabbing Soryu.

Stay away from my sister, Oh,” growled Eisuke as he briskly brushed past Soryu, bumping his shoulder and making him lose his balance a bit. Dumbfounded, Soryu watched Eisuke saunter towards you—clearly annoyed that you were being toyed around by Baba and Ota. He really had no intention of making a move on you or whatsoever. But there was still something about you that he wanted to know more of. Soryu doubt that Eisuke would allow him to talk to you personally alone again but… He marked this as Attempt 01. Heh. The mobster wasn’t giving up. 

Neither was the millionaire as he also marked this moment as the first attempt. And so, the unspoken battle begins with Soryu’s attempts to win your heart—and Eisuke’s attempts to shove those attempts back into the mobster’s ass.

Attempt 07. 

You and Soryu have both been talking a lot and most of the time when the bidders come over, Soryu noticed that you’d be paying more attention to him… Not that he found it bothersome. Instead, he saw how precious you were to even notice him first in a room full of men who are obviously so much better than him—even the slacker detective sounds better than a stone cold, dangerous mobster. And yet here you were, entering the elevator and looking up to Soryu.

“Hi,” Soryu heard you say.

“Hello,” he greeted back with a smooth voice. You both wounded up inside the elevator together. But not alone together. You were with your older brother and Soryu came along with Ota who was going down to check the antique to be auctioned. An unsettling silence stayed in the elevator as it went down the famous hotel. Ota leaned against the elevator rail. Eisuke wrapped an arm around you, almost territorial. Soryu just had his arms folded, finding his shoes more and more interesting. 

It was awfully quiet and Soryu could practically smell the tension until Ota broke the silence in a singsong voice with the worst statement ever: 

“Hey, Soryu has a pick-up-line for you!”

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Husky Voice

Originally posted by bangthebae

Taehyung x reader

angst(?) fluff

1234 words

In which you confess your insecurity and Taehyung consoles you.


You and ​​your boyfriend Taehyung ​entered your apartment after a night of karaoke with the boys​. ​It wasn’t unusual for you two to go over to each others’ homes, and the karaoke bar was a block away from your apartment. ​

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This ask is from @gynzygwynn, and it is ‘You can see creatures living on a different plane of existence. One day you see someone drawing those creatures on the road’ The actual ask was a bit longer than that but I cut it down, hope you don’t mind! This was really fun to write and I have planned some more story for it if anyone’s interested :D Enjoy!

He has always been able to see them. The creatures, hovering at the edge of his vision, haunting flickers of another world. They have no bodies- are simply crimson patchworks of veins, a strange woven mess of blood and other fluids he’d rather not think about. Lukas knows it’s not normal. He knows no one else can see these ‘things’. But that doesn’t stop him from thinking about them obsessively, wishing he was rid of them and wanting to know just what they are at the same time. They thrive on shadow, on all the dark spaces of his little flat, so Lukas walks. Down roads, past shops, through parks and playgrounds, everywhere the sun touches. It is only at night that the creatures truly torment him. The second he closes his eyes they are there, clamouring behind his eyelids, a constant crimson nightmare. Lukas never sleeps well. Sometimes, when it is especially bad, he throws caution to the wind and ventures outside again. After a few midnight jaunts the cold does not bite at him so much. And yet, often he feels as though he is going mad. No psychiatrist would believe him, none of the almost-friends he sees every day at his safe little accountant’s office. So Lukas smiles at the world, and pretends the one in his head is not real. Not going to kill him.

Today is Saturday- the worst day, meaning Lukas has a whole forty-eight hours to spend with his demons, when during the week he is preoccupied by spreadsheets full of numbers. Today he decides to walk through the town centre. It is a riot of activity, bustling crowds of pedestrians and the roar of traffic filling the air, but all that helps to suppress the creatures. Lukas spends much longer than he should in the park. The air there is cool, tucked away from the city’s cacophony, and he can sit reading a book for as long as he likes. But dusk arrives with irksome speed. Lukas rises, joints creaking from being still for so long. His eyes flicker immediately to the tree in front of him. Its leaves cast thousands of small shadows, each one concealing a red web of horrors, yet Lukas cannot tear his gaze away. He stares, half-fascinated and half-repulsed. If he squints they become less demonlike. Strange instead, almost beautiful with their delicate scarlet skins. He tucks the book into his jacket and begins the journey home.

There is a road Lukas likes to walk down, mainly because it is not shadowed in the evening like all the others. But the concrete is a work of art. It is covered by bright chalk drawings, everything from childish scribbles to intricate patterns. There are messages, declarations of love, doodles and cartoons, yet another feature of the cheerful world Lukas has never quite belonged to. He longs to draw something himself- but what? All that springs to mind are his creatures. Shaking his head, he continues down past the drawings. But something stops him in his tracks. There is someone right at the end, knelt on the pavement, hands sketching out a red blur. Lukas moves forward despite himself. The artist is a young man with a shock of dark blond hair, sleeves rolled to his elbows and forearms dusted with chalk. He draws well, every stroke of the chalk having a purpose to his creation.
'That’s good-’ begins Lukas. And then he stops dead. Drawn on the pavement, accurate to the millimetre, are the petrifying demons of his mind. Just seconds ago he was marvelling at the artist’s skill. Now he finds himself cursing it.
'You- you can see them too?’ Lukas blurts out. He slaps a hand to his mouth, but the damage is already done.
'What do you mean?’ says the artist, climbing slowly to his feet. He holds a stick of chalk in each hand- one red, one white.
'The creatures,’ stammers Lukas. 'Those…things.’ He gestures at the drawings. Just as it had been serious moments ago, the young man’s face breaks into a wide grin, and he attempts to siphon off some of the chalk with a tissue.
'This is great!’ he enthuses. Lukas did not expect that to be his first reaction, but he supposes it could have been much worse. 'All my life I’ve thought I was mad- probably true- but now there’s someone else!’ The grin is so wide, so sincere that Lukas cannot help smiling too. 'What’s your name? I’m Mathias.’
'Lukas,’ he replies, shaking a hand smooth with chalk residue. His heart is acting strangely, fluttering one moment and slowing the next. I’m not mad. I’m not mad. The revelation is so liberating, so beautiful, that Lukas could have jumped about and shouted like a child. 'Do you draw here every day?’ Mathias’ eyes catch his own. They are a light, clear blue, like the summer sky- a pleasant colour. Lukas’ own are deep and dark as an ocean.
'Mostly,’ replies Mathias, waving a hand back at the pavement. It is obvious now- some of the dragons and mermaids and fairies have his style, the soft shading and sharp, distinct lines that first captivated Lukas. 'My brother’s kid loves it, and so do a load of his friends, so I get dragged here a lot.’ He has a brother. A nephew. A normal life. Lukas swallows, trying to forget his gloomy little flat and the horrors within that haunt him every night. 'But this is different.’ Mathias becomes serious again. 'I’m an artist- when I want to draw something, I won’t rest until I’ve done it. That’s what happened with our creatures.’ His grin returns, though more wry and subdued.
'What do you think they are?’ Lukas dares to ask. His own suspicions are dark ones- demons, devils, spirits sent to torment him for no apparent reason.
'Honestly? I have no idea. But I’d like to know.’ They exchange nods. Something is itching in the back of his mind. Intuition, perhaps.
'And they- they never go? You can always see them?’
'Unfortunately.’ Mathias taps his lip, as though struggling to remember something. After a moment he pulls a card from his pocket and hands it to Lukas. 'Mathias Andersen, Professional Artist’ it reads, along with his qualifications and contact details. 'Call me sometime. We can talk about our, ah, mutual aquaintances.’ They grin at each other again. Lukas says his goodbyes, and is just turning away when Mathias calls out again. 'They tell me things. Warnings, advice- and names.’ A chill of foreboding scurries down his spine with icy claws.
'Which names?’ says Lukas before he can stop himself. His mouth is dry- fear, or anticipation? Though maybe they are the same thing.
'Yours. Lukas Bondevik.’ This time Mathias’ smile is almost apologetic.

Thanks for the ask! :D  

“Home remedies” - h.s. Part 7

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

—–

—–

“Life, if anything, is nothing more than a series of moments captured frame for frame as our eyes take in those around us and impact us monumentally,” Harry said, attempting to not sound like he was reading from a card but you knew he totally hadn’t memorized the whole speech completely. You couldn’t help but smirk as you leaned back in your seat and just let it happen.

He’d been keeping the speech a secret from you for weeks. You knew he was presenting and you’d come to terms with that, but you had been nervous for whatever flowery declaration of love he may attempt to pepper into the whole thing. But he was doing a pretty good job, and so far you weren’t as embarrassed as you thought you’d be. 

“That’s why photography is so important though, right?” Harry continued, “Because we have so many moments during the day that cause so many different emotions, that we oftentimes look over the most important ones. I know, that with two kids, the little moments can sometimes go unnoticed. But that’s what photography does for us - it allows us to ponder and remember on those little moments that may have passed up by, that make us feel something we didn’t know we possessed, and to help us give thanks for the moments we’ve cherished with others.”

Okay, so maybe now you were crying a little bit, but you weren’t going to let the small tears show as you continued to slouch slightly in your chair, your arms crossed lazily over your stomach as you attempted to act as cool as a cucumber. 

Internally though, you were freaking out.

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CSBB Artist Spotlight: psychicruinsuniverse

Today’s Captain Swan Big Bang Spotlight features @psychicruinsuniverse!

What kinds of artwork do you make?

Traditional specifically graphite drawing, pen sketches and digital.

What’s your favorite thing about creating artwork?

I like to get emotions out through art and it’s been a really good outlet for me with the recent ups and down in my life.

What’s one of your greatest strengths when it comes to creating artwork?

I would say one of my strengths when it comes to artwork is I’ll tend to try to change up my style as I create more and more pieces, because I haven’t quite found my style yet and I’m still looking but this way I get to create very diverse pieces of art.

What’s something you’ve always wanted to try your hand at, but haven’t had a chance yet?

Probably making clothes or work with oil paints.

If you are new to the Captain Swan Big Bang, what made you decide to sign up? What are you looking forward to?

I decided to sign up because I have never been particularly active within the fandom but always enjoyed the show, so I figured this would be a good started to get introduced into the creative working within the fandom, and I wanted to create some art for hopefully some good stories.

First Artwork: https://psychicruinsuniverse.tumblr.com/tagged/waiting-for-dnd

it’s one of my first self portraits that turned out accurately and overall well, it’s been awhile since I made it and I’m still very proud.

Second Artwork: https://psychicruinsuniverse.tumblr.com/tagged/my-lovely-star-boy

I’ve created this relatively recently and it was inspired by a dating suggestion from @crypticdatesuggestions and it inspired this piece that I’ve fallen in love with.

Third Artwork: https://psychicruinsuniverse.tumblr.com/tagged/kinda-self-portrait-somewhat-except%C2%A0I%27m-deathly-pale

I’m proud of this piece because it represents when I decided to start learning a new way of drawing and or painting on the computer, I like how it turned out despite the fact that it is messy I appreciate my personal attempt to try something new.

Check out psychicruinsuniverse on Tumblr

captaincrowcaw  asked:

I don't know how much of this kind of thing you do, but could I have some advice on drawing people or coloring things digitally? I've been having a really hard time with both of these things recently and you're really good at both of those thing and I really love you're style. C:

Thank you! I can try my best to give some advice; “coloring digitally” is a broad subject and so I don’t expect to be able to cover everything you’re looking for, nor can I talk about every aspect of my coloring in this format, but I can give some tips.

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title: unsaid, unspoken, and then the spell was broken

author: Lia, aka pumpkinsplce

artist: Jana, aka ilovebooks-forever

beta: Liz, aka thatgirlwithnosociallife

word count: 13.528

rating: nc-17

warnings: smut scene (blowjob), language, mentions of bullying, homophobia, alcohol consumption, violence and thievery.

summary: In which Dan is a misunderstood douchebag, Phil is a Ravenclaw with a sassy streak, Carrie is bossy, PJ likes firewhiskey, Alex and Chris don’t have nearly enough lines and a stupid challenge turns into something more. Also featuring Harry Styles because why the fuck not?.

Or, a completely self-indulgent Hogwarts AU, because everyone needs Hogwarts AUs.

art: here

author’s notes: this is the longest thing i have ever written, so please excuse my writing being a little all over the place. it’s actually a pretty wonderful experience, writing a long fic, because it grows with you and you learn from it and you see your characters change so much before your eyes and really, i can’t express it but it’s amazing. so thank very much to my beta, liz, and my artist, jana, for helping me with this. i hope you like it :)

written for the phandom big bang

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Amore Toscana, Chapter 2

He accompanies you to your room, and you both now stand like two teenagers in front of the closed door. Harry has his hands in his pockets and sways back and forth.  “Good Night,” he says softly.

You turn around and push the door handle down. You take a look over your shoulder. “Thanks for the evening,” you whisper. You see how he fights with himself.  Finally, after a lifetime of looking into your eyes, he shakes his head and turns away.

A collaboration between @little-black-dress-24 and @whoopsharrystyles

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