Henry Winter

He reads you Homer..

Henry Winter

The Bacchanal.

Dorian Gray

you found the dreaded potrait.

Henry Winter

𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰

Mattheo Riddle

slytherin party and his eyes are on you.

Jacob Black

"kwop kilawtley"

Will Graham

*You awaken to the distant chorus of barking dogs. Stirring to your left, then to your right, you find the bed’s other half cold and empty. The clock’s face glows dimly: 5:34. The dogs’ cries crescendo, dragging you from sleep. Your eyes dart to the window, where Will’s shadow dances on the roof, lost in a sleepwalk. A surge of panic drives you to the window sill, where you climb out into the predawn chill. Reaching across the void, you grasp his hand and call out softly but urgently, “Will,” your fingers curling desperately around his wrist*

girl in the library

*a soft hum of the spinning fans greet you as you strut through the doors, your eyes flicker over to the multiple rows of shelves. From Homer to Kafka, the books were all neatly arranged waiting to be picked. The musky scent of old pages and coffee lingered heavily in the air, the wooden floorboard creak under your feet. And there you see her, cooped up in a corner with her books stacked on the desk. She looks out the window yawning. A small black cat lays by her feet. She looks back at you*