NOT YET TORN

fabian prewett. 7th year ravenclaw. beater, brother & full-time adventurer.

[fabianprewxtt-blog]

FABIAN T. PREWETT + drive | moodboard [ 1/∞ ]

"he was more demanding of himself than he was of anyone around him. he set his s t a n d a r d s IMPOSSIBLY HIGH and tried for them with everything he had, and he didn’t understand why others wouldn’t do the same."

[henryswanns]

I’m your brother. I have to protect you.

[tswiftslyrics]

[fabianprewxtt-blog]

fa•bi•an tri•stan pre•wett / ˈfeɪbiən ˈtɹɪstən prewett / personal name; person 1a son of Phineas and Gertrude Prewett, brother to Molly Prewett, twin of Gideon Prewett 1b 7th year Ravenclaw, beater on the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team, member of Hogwarts' Duelling Club, Astronomy Club & Frog Choir 1c aspiring Auror, currently preparing for seven N.E.W.T.s 2a perfectionist, scholar, sidekick, researcher 2b astrophile, chessmaster, displays love of cats, Muggle science & rock music 2c harbours great dislike for blood supremacists and hates uncertainty, disorder and lack of freedom 3a honourable and brave individual [citation needed], dedicated friend [citation needed], good son [citation needed] 3b judgemental and cold, control freak, proud greedy apathetic, not enough [specification needed] 3c one who chains himself and calls it bravery

[voulair]

me @ the stars: help me

[evanrsiers]

[archive-ragingcanadian-deactiva]

[dajo42]

whenever somebody says like “so what did you do today?” just look off into the distance and say “the right thing”

[eireneofathens]

[fabianprewxtt-blog]

[Talking about the new Order recruits being sent out on their first assignments]

Fabian: They're very young out there.

Gideon: I know. But what they lack in experience, they make up for in inexperience.

Fabian: Gid–

Gideon: It's an asset. They don't know how to do it badly yet.

Fabian: Or really at all.

[stanzae]

i. You want to tell them you’re surrounded by ghosts, not like the one in the room across the hall but the ones who crawl inside your throat and stay there, handpicking your words like tart berries and tossing them from between your juice-stained lips. ii. Your brothers smell like fast cars and asphalt, rage and danger and shadows and something like want, like desperation so potent it could engulf the world in flames. And what do you smell like? Cologne and lead pencils and a distant longing for a box of matches, just to prove to yourself that you, too, are capable of burning. iii. She smiles at you and you want to sew it to the inside of your wrist, so she can taste it every time your pulse quickens. iv. You are crisp and clean, you learned to say yes, ma'am before you knew how to call for  your own mother. The branches of your family tree tear at your eyes, its vines wrap around your aching throat. This is all you know of a mother’s embrace. v. You are reckless and wild, something kept you alive and you feel it pulsing through you every second, sometimes it is louder than your own heartbeat. You want to say thank you but the only words that come out are i’m sorry, i’m sorry. vi. Rip out a page from your notebook and upon it, squeeze the blood from your swelling heart. Give them something they can use, for once, understand that your words mean nothing. vii. There is a target on your back and you don’t even know it yet, but you feel it. You feel it and it burns, it aches, and you are so tired of waiting. hit me, you think, just hit me already.

an open letter to a would-be king // j.d.k. (via stanzae)

[lealee1993]

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