#dp13

[sowhatifiliveinfukuoka]

Dondi Penn

© Bunny Yeager

[keep-on-trying]

Takumi's dad is from CooKingdom????

Now that's interesting :D And his pin is similar to Rosemary's, now I see that Mari's pin is like, half a heart. So where's the other half... Edit: in THIS ep it seemed like half a heart, but I notice that in previous eps, it looks like a drop. Weird inconsistency.

[gervicule]

Pouring sur toile

[estevanoriol]

The homies from Dog Patch Gang from the city of Perromount @1_squirrel_3 @ese_charliebrown posted up on the block with @5strikes , He fights tonight He’s 16-0 professional Fights , he works his ass off in that Gym and it’s paid off . I been documenting since he was a youngin he had over 100 amateur fights and now he’s 16-0 kickin ass and sponsored by the homies @undefeatedinc . From the pages of ‘L.A. Portraits’ by @drago_publisher designed by @kittesencula @paulo_von_vacano prints by #schullmanphotolab #estevanoriol #filmphotography #streetphotography #35mmfilm #losangelesphotographer #blackandwhitephotography #canonae1 @kodak #trix400 #28mmlens #DogPatchGang #DP13 #perromount #LAportraitsBook #laportraits

[padfoot-ing-around]

Dogwood, Phoenix feather, 13“ ||Self-Para|| Jan ‘80

Sirius paced the small grey room, with its grey bedspread, grey carpet, grey fixtures, grey walls. Why was everything so fucking grey in this apartment? He let out a frustrated growl, sounding more like a wounded animal, while he continued to pace back and forth. It was a good thing Moody was out on some work thing because the last thing he wanted was someone hanging around to watch him like this. No, he needed a bit of privacy.

The unopened owl lay on the bed still sealed and occasionally picked up by its recipient, before getting throw back down. He didn’t need to read the return address to know who it was from. Her hand writing was a slightly messy cursive that rose up to the left. 

He threw himself into the armchair in the corner, his hands pulling his long hair loose from their follicles. He almost couldn’t stand it. No matter what he did, pacing, sitting, standing, he was uncomfortable and antsy. His eyes looked up under his heavy frowning brow to glare at the little white envelope. What would it say? Did he even want to read it? Did he care?

It was a split second delay before he shot up to his feet again and ran to the side of the bed, stubbing his toe on the wrought iron in the process. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, sinking down to his knees in the plush carpet and putting his head deep in his hands. 

One hand reached out sneakily to the side and grabbed the letter, retracting it quickly like it might float away. It laid in his lap and he stared down at it while he continued to pull on his hair like he was in pain. He was, but it wasn’t a pain that could be healed by an auror. She was toying with him. He was her puppy and she had treats in her pocket that he couldn’t help but follow along for. And the most frustrating part in all this was he was aware of what it was doing to him, and yet. Here he was, doing a fucking trick for a treat. He hated himself. He told himself he hated her, but that wasn’t true. He could never hate her. 

Tensions had reached a high at the last Order meeting, when he had picked up his tea and purposefully moved to the other side of the room so he wouldn’t have to listen to her talk. Sure it was petty and immature, not to mention ‘subtle’ but he was past caring. James had asked about it after and he almost told him about the entire thing. Its not like they were on good terms either but he was just so tired of fighting with everybody he loved. The toll was evident, he looked like shit, smelt like shit, was getting on everybody’s nerves... 

HIs hand reached into his boot and pulled out his wand. He stared at it and his fingers gripped the handle so hard it felt like it was going to snap. He’d never been one to take things out on himself, with spells and that. He knew it was wrong. He shouldn't.

His mind thought back to that day in the atrium with Tilden. The cruciatus had come from nowhere and hit him so hard his fingers still tingled thinking about it. There was no way anyone could forget what it felt like- and yet.... It all felt like it had been a dream. Had he made that all up? He looked down at his hand again and got to his feet. The letter slipped off his lap and fluttered to the floor. He stepped over it and went to the large two way mirror in the living room. It wasn’t meant for this, obviously, and most wizards just used it to ring their mates. 

Sirius gulped back his fear and apprehension. It was wrong. All this was wrong. But I just wanna try.

His wand hand rose and he couldn’t back down now, it was too late. “Crucio,” his voice cracked and a small, pathetic green wisp floated lazily from his wand. It hit the wall with a crack but barely left a burn mark. His eyes had become blurry and he didn’t know why. Why didn’t it work? Deep down he knew why.

“Crucio,” he croaked again, this time a little stronger, though his voice still wavered and cracked. The same lazy green strand hit the mirror and reflected back at him, missing its target and hitting a picture frame on the opposing wall.

Sirius looked over his shoulder, unbothered by the mess and broken glass. Instead he tried to focus his mind, “Crucio.” He said more determined, and this time nothing happened. HIs wand seemed to sputter a bit of green flakes that fell to his feet. “Crucio!” He yelled, growing more and more frustrated. He was no longer thinking about why he was doing this, and more that he couldn’t do it even when he wanted to. “Crucio! Crucio! Crucio!” He yelled, flicking his wand at the mirror, at his own reflection. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” He yelled at himself, his eyes wild and hair sticking up on all ends. He extended his arm forwards and snarled with disgust at his own reflection. “Cruc-” He didn’t even get to finish the spell before his wand took over, knowing exactly what he wanted: 

The last several minutes were just practise, that had his wand fired up and buzzing. It grew more excited as its owner uttered dark curses, charging its core like a car on a cold day. The wood fired with energy, an extension of it’s owner’s hand. All it had ever wanted was to make its owner happy, pleased with his work. They both worked together in unison, finally the team being reunited once again. The wood called to Sirius, begging him to keep trying, to use its full potential. It yelled at him that he was better then this, that with its help, he could have anything he ever wanted. All he had to do was ask. ‘I would get you anything you want, just use me.’

His eyes opened and he was on the floor. His body continued to twitch involuntarily and he’d wet himself. His eyes were wide and glued open, staring at the ceiling, while the remnants of pain fizzled out like it was evaporating off his skin. The return to normal left him with a pleasure he’d never felt before. The absence of pain sent his mind floating and his mouth curled up into a smile. 

His wand had been flung to the other side of the room and rolled on the cold tiles, buzzing with life. It itched with life, a new charge. It wanted more. They both wanted more.

We did that. I told you, we could do so much. His wand hummed and jumped like popcorn in a pot. They both came back down slowly.

[gervicule]

peinture acrylique

[gervicule]

peinture acrylique

[gervicule]

 création originale peinture à l’huile