#fantalf

[dewitty1]

Dear Drarry Fandom -(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

My gift to you for my 1k celebration!☆*･゜ﾟ･*\(^O^)/*･゜ﾟ･*☆

A commission I had the amazing @fantalf do as an extention of the violinist Draco piece. I love it so much! (´ ▽｀).。ｏ♡

And, I hope you do as well!

[m0srael]

I'm back on my Choose Your Own Adventure bs! This time with gorgeous art by @fantalf!! 2k (so far) G (so far)!! Big thanks to @crazybutgood and @corvuscrowned for the alpha/beta work!! How does this work? I wrote the first episode entirely from their own brain, then Lory illustrated three possible scenes for the next installment. This is where you come in! Read the first episode and indicate your favorite of the three images in the comments. I will write the next episode around the scene that gets the most votes here and on Ao3. Rinse, and repeat, until the story comes to an end! Summary: Years after the war finds Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger working side-by-side to rescue and rehabilitate retired race-thestrals. It's an avoidable inconvenience that The Chosen One has chosen to drop out of Auror training and move to the preserve to help them. It's just plain torture, though, that Draco has to stare at Potter's soulmark every day, a glowing reminder that his secret fantasies will never become reality.

Draco Malfoy has always been a morning person.

Even on his worst days, he rises with the sun. He feels protective of--and protected by--those still, silent moments before the rest of the world wakes. He knows, better than most, that time has no morality--the dead of night is not inherently evil, and midday is not good by default. The arrival of dawn does not erase sins committed in darkness, and the setting sun does not eclipse daylight’s good deeds.

That he knows this, believes it to his core, does not stop him from feeling just a little righteous, a little more virtuous, in the burgeoning light of early morning. There’s something about that time of day--clean and bright with overflowing potential, untold promises for a new day blinking awake in creeping shafts of sunlight--that grounds him. The capacity for virtue is boundless at dawn.

When he was little, he would rise before the sun, tip-toe quietly through the halls of the Manor, and slither through a crack in the kitchen’s back door into the cool, misty morning.

He relished the shock of the icy dew on his bare toes and ankles as he leapt about, waving a twig like a wand and imagining that the tendrils of swirling fog were traces of spells he cast across the warming fields of Wiltshire. He dueled spectres in the vapor rising from the damp grass, vanquished foes that lurked behind bushes and trees, and bowed before kings and queens grateful for his valiant service to their empires.

Inevitably, he would battle his way across the back field to the stables. The Malfoy family was renowned among Pureblood society for their champion racing thestrals. His father forbade him from going near the foals every spring, lest he spoil their carefully monitored diet with too many sugar cubes, or tempt fate with an unsupervised gallop through the woods. His father needn’t have bothered, however, since between the hours of eight and six o’clock the stables buzzed with activity--veterinarians weaving webs of glowing diagnostic spells, farriers nailing magically-enhanced shoes into filed-down hooves, trainers and jockeys putting each thestral through rigorous exercise regimens, stable hands mucking out stalls and levitating in fresh bales of hay. There was no room for him then.

But before eight o’clock, the stables belonged only to Draco. He would hike up the legs of his silk pajama pants and clamber through the small window in the tack room that no one seemed to remember to close.

His favorite thestral was called Vincet--He Will Conquer--but Draco’s five-year-old brain heard Vincent--They Will Conquer. He’d always assumed that included him--he and Vincent, together, on a quest to banish evil from the realm.

Draco loved Vincent for many reasons, not least because he was there the day that Vincent was born. The chaos of foaling season meant Draco could slip through the stables virtually undetected as the racing team staff, his father, and their wealthy patrons were otherwise preoccupied. He watched--wide eyed and slack jawed--from behind a mound of hay as the vet murmured charms and wove a magical barrier around the mare’s hind quarters, reaching out a gloved hand to ease the baby into the world with a wet-sucking splatter. Vincent looked right at him, with his fresh, milky eyes, as his spindly legs and wet-paper wings flapped and flailed about.

Every daybreak thereafter found Sir Draco tending diligently to his steed--his own mount--as the newborn colt found its wings and learned to fly. They grew together, both becoming taller and stronger, each praised and celebrated for their good breeding and superior talent.

The two years after Vincent’s birth are the happiest in Draco’s memory. His father noticed his particular attachment to the young thestral and, instead of shooing Draco away like always, used the opportunity to indoctrinate him into the family business. He was put in charge of Vincent’s care, and, as soon as enough time had passed, his early training.

They shared a special bond, Draco was sure of it. Vincent was always waiting for him, with his skeletal snout thrust over the gate of his stall, wide-open nostrils flaring as they searched for Draco’s scent in the air. Draco had never needed a lead when working with Vincent, the thestral followed him instinctively and never wandered. He was the only person who could mount Vincent without being playfully bucked off. They spent hours and hours in the sky above the Manor, Draco telling Vincent all about the imaginary little fiefdoms and friaries that comprised their kingdom.

Then, one day, Vincent was gone.

“But, dad, he’s my thestral--”

“No, Draco, he is my asset. He’s a prize stallion, a favorite to win the Triple Charm. I’ve allowed him to run wild with you for far too long; he needs to be broken in properly before his debut. Besides, we’ll make far more money from his covers than we ever would letting him languish here getting fat and old.”

“But--”

“No buts, Draco! We have all, you included, paid too high a price to let our vigilance falter. I shouldn’t have to remind you, my son, this is a business that we’re running, not your personal petting zoo. Don’t make me think twice about leaving you in charge of it all one day.”

So, Draco swallowed his heartbreak and devoted himself to the care and breeding of the Malfoy flock. He learned everything he could about the great Thoroughbred lines, memorized all the past champions and the names of their jockeys, accompanied his father on meetings with all the other breeders around Great Britain, and even began his certification as a race-thestral trainer. He was determined to know and dominate the industry from the inside out by his seventeenth birthday. To make his father proud.

The summer before his fifth year of school his father even sent him away to apprentice at the number one stable in all of Europe, famous for producing the most international champions in the world. Draco learned two very important lessons that summer, lessons that would change the way he viewed the world, his father, and himself.

First, he learned that the world of race-thestrals is saturated by violence and driven by greed. In his childhood naivete, he assumed his father and his colleagues loved thestrals the way he loved them, that they bred them and raced them because they are magnificent, clever beings whose quiet power is unmatched by any other magical creature. He only had to spend one evening tending to the wounds inflicted as punishment on a young, high spirited colt to realize the people running the industry don’t care for the animals, not at all. They only care about their profits.

Second, and most shocking, he learned that most people can’t see thestrals. It had never occurred to him to think otherwise, since every stable hand, every breeder and potential buyer, every jockey and trainer, even his mother and father, could all see them.

“How’d you get it, then?” one of the stable hands asked Draco one evening as they made the rounds, ensuring each tiny stall gate was closed and locked tight.

“Get what?”

“The sight--what happened, so you can see them?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Draco replied, dismissively, turning to leave the stable and the conversation. He had tried very hard not to make friends, intent on absorbing all he could to take home to his father.

“I mean,” the stable hand insisted, “who’d you see...you know…” he dragged his thumb lewdly across his throat, his tongue flopping out of his mouth around a wet, gagging noise.

Draco stared blankly, still uncomprehending.

“For me, it was me dad. Owed the family--” he gestured up toward the large mansion on the property “--loads of money. AKd him right ‘ere,” he pressed the pad of one finger right between Draco’s eyebrows. “Right in front of me and me mum. S’why I’m here, workin’ off the debt ‘n all. So, who was it for you? Dad? Mum? A cousin, maybe?”

“I’m afraid I - I don’t have any idea--” Draco began, deeply unsettled and intent on ending the strange encounter once and for all. He didn’t even finish his sentence before hurrying clumsily into the dark.

That night, after the rest of the house was asleep, he crept into the mansion’s library. Never in his life, not even in his first set of race-thestral training courses, had he ever actually picked up a book and read about them. He trusted what his father taught him, what his father’s trainers taught him. He trusted what he saw with his own two eyes, every day, in the Malfoy stables.

The only people who can see a thestral, are those who have witnessed--first hand--the death of another.

Only, Draco hadn’t seen anyone die. Had he? Wouldn’t he remember something like that?

He couldn’t recall--

Had no memory of--

“For Salazar’s sake, Draco,” his father hissed through the library’s Floo connection, angry at having been awoken in the small hours of the night, and angrier still at being pelted with stupid questions, “Don’t be such a child. How else were you to take over the family business? It’s common practice, all the old families do it on a child’s first birthday. It’s something to be proud of! You are special, Draco! You can see what others can’t! It’s part of your birthright as a Malfoy!”

He cried himself to sleep every night until he left Denmark.

*

Despite all the pain, terror, and tragedy that swallowed everything after that fateful summer, he can’t help but be grateful now that the family business went to shit as a result.

He’s doubly, triply, grateful that Hermione Granger accepted his apology and agreed to publicly support his initiative to lobby the Wizengamot to formally ban thestral racing.

He still isn’t over his profound shock that she left her cushy government position to help him build and run a rehabilitation facility for retired race-thestrals. He knows his work won’t bring Vincent back, but every new thestral brought to the preserve, every sweet old broodmare allowed to finally find some peace and quiet, every new foal welcomed to their flock is a testament to his best friend.

Draco Malfoy has always been a morning person.

And so, the golden light of this very early Spring morning finds him sprawled, legs akimbo, white linen shirt halfway unbuttoned, and suspenders loose around his hips, lounging on the floor of one of the birthing stalls. His sketchbook is open flat on his lap, and his fingers are black and powdery from the charcoal nub clasped gently between his thumb and forefinger.

A new baby was born during the night, and Draco hurried over as soon as the sun peeked over the ridge around the preserve to make a portrait.

“I think I’ll call you Pax,” he whispers as he sketches, delighted by the foal’s high-pitched chirps, “it means--”

“Peace,” a deep voice rumbles softly from his left. Harry lifts a hand to fist at his tired eyes and yawns deeply. He leans forward on his sweater-clad elbows, which rest atop the stall gate, to peer over at Draco’s sketchpad.

“Potter,” Draco says, aiming for casual and landing somewhere near nauseous. He snaps his sketchbook shut firmly, cursing silently at the smudged, black mess he’s sure to find when he reopens it later. A small price to pay to keep Harry from laying eyes on his other doodles, full of silly, round glasses, sharp, lightning-bolt shaped scars, and deeply-dimpled smiles.

Harry straightens and pushes a hand through his morning-messy curls, stifling another big yawn behind his palm. Draco’s heart clenches.

The day they had officially opened the preserve was the best day of Draco’s life. The day after they had officially opened the preserve--the day that Harry Potter had turned up, claiming to have quit his basically-new job with the Aurors to lend a hand--was the worst day of Draco’s life.

Because now, Draco’s mornings and evenings, his days and his nights, are full of Harry.

Harry--his childhood rival.

Harry--the Boy Who Lived Twice.

Harry--his soulmate.

If only Draco were Harry’s soulmate, too.

Choose:

(1)

(2)

(3)

[fantalfart]

I’ll be streaming my beautiful face and my procreate screen this weekend on twitch (same user) and CCXP.

SATURDAY 15PM GMT-3

SUNDAY 15PM GMT-3

I am accepting ideas for what to draw, my asks are open! 🥰✨

[practicefortheheart]

Hello! How about 🎁🙌 and 🦋 for the asks???

Do you prefer drawing fandom stuff or your own characters?

I don’t have a lot of OC’s - my personal artworks are either portrait studies or landscapes. I love a landscape - it’s like meditation. The result isn’t even all that important. I like doing both for different reasons.

Draw a doodle with your non-dominant hand

gOD that’s difficult!

Do your drawings resemble you?

I don’t think so. I usually draw strong noses and angular faces and that is Not Me. XD 

Thanks for asking, lovely! <3

artist ask meme

[harrydracobang]

Harry/Draco Big Bang Fic & Art: Days Like This (Explicit)

Title: Days Like This Author: space_wingding Artist(s): @fantalf Pairing(s): Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy Other Key Characters: Gawain Robards, Original Character(s) Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~52,000 Era: Post-Hogwarts, EWE Content/Warnings: Mystery, Off-Screen Murder, Attempted Murder, Casefic, Aurors, Unforgivable Curses, Recreational Drinking, Recreational Gambling, Forced Proximity, Explicit Sexual Content, Enemies to Lovers, Village Life, Merrymaking, POV Draco Malfoy Summary: Draco Malfoy is disgruntled at being overlooked for all the high-profile Auror assignments. He's on the brink of quitting his job when he's finally given a prestigious case: to keep Harry Potter safe. Author’s Notes: Thanks a ton to peachpety, trishjames, and PhenomenalAsterisk for beta reading. They did a fantastic job of helping me knock this into shape, and any remaining mistakes are of course my own.

Also a huge shout-out and thanks to fantalf, who created some absolutely terrific artwork for this fic! They stepped in to pinch-hit and were a real gem to work with.

I've always wanted to participate in a Big Bang, and it's been a great experience to take part in this one, in large part thanks to the mods, who have done a wonderful job of running this fest.

Lastly, to anyone who reads this story, I hope you enjoy it. <3

Artist’s Notes: I wasn’t supposed to take any more fics but when the request came for a pinch hitter and with that summary I couldn’t say no. I’m glad I took space_wingding’s brilliant work, that I’ve had the chance to read and illustrate it, and I hope I’ve made justice to such an amazing story.

READ AND VIEW ON AO3

[harrydracobang]

Harry/Draco Big Bang Fic & Art: A Sense of Scale (Mature)

Title: A Sense of Scale Author: @fantalf Artist(s): @dragontamerdame Pairing(s): Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, background original pairing Other Key Characters: Original Male & Female Characters, brief Neville Longbottom and Narcissa Malfoy appearances, mentions to other canon characters Rating: Mature Word Count: ~70,000 Era: Post-Hogwarts, EWE Content/Warnings: POV Draco Malfoy, POV Third Person, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Flying Instructor Harry Potter, Powerful Harry Potter, Castelobruxo, Magical Theory, ayahuasca, Misunderstandings, Housemates, Recovery, Mutual Pining, Possession, Dark Magic, Brazilian Folklore, Brazilian Folkloric magical creatures, Past Relationship(s), Getting Back Together, Draco Malfoy is a bit of a liar, POC Harry Potter, a bit of angst, wildfire, villainous character, Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Animal Violence, Animal Death, but it's brief, latin america, Indigenous Culture Magic and Gods, a lot of bonding, but not between humans, Tattooed Harry Potter, Implied Sexual Content, Neville Longbottom & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Supportive Narcissa Black Malfoy, seriously though I don't claim this story makes a whole lot deal of sense, Draco has an obscene amount of nicknames for Harry, he's also so oblivious, but get mad at him not me, a very stubborn sentient school, and a temperamental parrot, don't kill me for this, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Self-Worth Issues, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Entheogenic/psychedelic substance use (brief), Parselmouths & Parseltongue (Harry Potter), Familiars, Draco Malfoy Has Long Hair Summary: Potter merely shrugged, as if it was nothing. After all, it wasn’t his life’s work. “You can try to win it over.”

Draco snapped, “What?!”

“The school. Win it over.”

“How the fuck do I win a school over, Potter?! It’s a bloody school, not a person!” And he didn’t win people over that easily, overall.

“I don’t know. Use your charms. I know you to be very inventive.”

——

In which Draco spends an obscene amount of time thinking of new nicknames for The Living Git, lying to himself and using his charms to seduce an extremely uncooperative sentient school.

Author’s Notes: Somehow, when I joined the fandom back in January, my brain decided that BB was a great(!) fest to start writing fanfic. Boy, was I crazy. I clearly didn’t know better. I still don’t know what I’m doing half of the time, but I regret nothing.

So, let’s do it!

The name of the story and the quotes on the beginning of each part are from a poem called Detail of the Woods, by Richard Siken.

This is a crazy story that has no business making sense 100% of the time. That being said, there are some sentences in Portuguese throughout the fic. It’s totally understandable from the context and not knowing them won’t jeopardise your experience. But, if you’re really eager to know a bit of Portuguese, I left the translations on the endnotes of each chapter. There’s also I really long ending note—you’re free to ignore—about some history JK ignored when building Castelobruxo.

For this story, I researched a lot, and among my resources are the books Geografia dos Mitos Brasileiros by Luis da Camara Cascudo (Brazilian Myths’ Geography), and Lendas Indígenas (Indigenous Tales) by Iray Galrão; the YouTube channels of Felippe Barbosa and Ler Até Amanhecer (Read Until Dawn). The Moriaetem Potion is inspired by a real potion. I don’t intend to offend anyone, and I won’t claim to try to bring awareness about the question, because this story is purely for fun, but this is a genuine issue that has repercussions to this day.

SoS (pun intended) is totally self-indulgent and was born of my indignation with JK for what she’s done to this school. I wanted to make it right by writing something both fun and respectful about my culture, and though it might sound too insane at times, I love it and I hope you’ll also enjoy it.

BIG, incredible, enormous thank you to the following people: Chay, you’re one of the best best friends I could’ve wished for, thank you for putting up with my crazy ideas and encouraging me not to give them up. Tai, you’ve become a dear friend and your excitement and encouragement about this story kept me going (not only one of the OCs is named after you, but the story is also a gift for you). Crazybutgood… What can I say beyond thank you for being such an angel and such an important part of my life? You’re the best. Em and Spaceboundwitch, your eagerness and enthusiasm about SoS was contagious and made me cry. Thank you so much for all your work, guys.

Last, but not least, how can I not mention how perfect Ash’s been throughout this process? You’re the best artist I could’ve hoped for and I’m confident this was the perfect match. You captured so well the essence of my story and its characters and their differences, and I can’t thank you enough for that. Also, thank you mods for your work and for making this match happening. You can find their brilliant illustrations on chapters 11 and 15.

Disclaimer that the only characters I own here are Francisca, Fernanda, José, Berê, Lua, Tainara, Rudá, some school staff I don't remember the names and the animals. Unfortunately.

There's a playlist with the song on Chapter 8 and other songs I think fits the story's mood. You can find it HERE

No beings were harmed in the making of this story.

Without further ado… Enjoy.

Artist’s Notes: It’s been such a delight getting to have access to and illustrate Lory’s (wonderful, magical, brilliant, imaginative, fascinating) story. And for that, I have to give a big shout-out to the mods for being lovely and pairing me with the fic summary of my dreams. The scenes that I have illustrated sparked my imagination and creativity so much, although I felt the urge to sketch practically every scene as I went on to read the whole story. I hope my illustrations bring to life the tenderness and intimacy between Harry and Draco in the first scene, and the intensity and power of the magic in second scene. Please enjoy this wonderful fic!

READ AND VIEW ON AO3

[slytherco]

hello! if you get this, answer with three random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not. let’s get to know the person behind the blog!

hi darling! 💕💕 let’s see:

1. I have a weakness for old-timey 30s music.

2. I am deadly terrified of all kinds of insects, moths are the worst (with their hairy bodies and legsies and the flailing, UGH) 😂 surprisingly, spiders do not evoke such a visceral reaction.

3. I have three piercings and plan to maybe have a few more.

Instead of sending asks, I invite anyone who’d like to try as well! (just please don’t reblog this post ;))!

[glittering-git]

💖💞This is the Love SLAP Raid Chain, send this to all of your favorite blogs that you think deserve to hear these encouraging words. In return we ask that those blogs send it to their favorite blogs as well. It's December, everybody deserves to hear a few words of encouragement no matter if you're a small or big account. So let's all fill your dash with positivity these last few weeks of 2020. You are amazing. You matter. You are loved. You deserve to have an amazing month💞💖passing this on✨

Omg fantalf! This is the sweetest thing ever 💕 right back at you, dear!!! this ask made my day and your art has made my December 🥺 you are such a gift to this fandom!