#pluscharmant

[killedinstead]

            “I’m fine Philippe.” A lie. She had been quiet of the past few days. Not speaking much in class, barely conversing with her friends. She knew they worried. Everyone seemed worried, not that she breathed a word as to why she had gone home on the break before the final term. But in truth, she wasn’t sure she was ready to actually talk about it without completely falling apart. 

@pluscharmant gets pain

[watertorum]

  “     philippe    ,     mate     ,     stop bein’ so bloody thick.     “     eyes roll     ,     a tut forming on your lips.     “     kid’s about as straight as a ruler.     you’d have more chance with that one over there.     “          /          @pluscharmant    

[burnedhopes-a-blog]

         his wand taps against the desk, irritated and bored, foot tapping against the floor at the same time, in the same beat. jason was, at best, a distracted student. he wasn’t very good at staying focused on his work, and he wanted nothing more than to spend all day in his dorms. but, he had a family name to live up to ( even if he weren’t born into that family. ) so he tried. sits there, one hand cupping his chin as he stares at the board at the front of the room, reading, and re-reading the instructions over, and over again. “ i fuckin’ hate this lesson. “ he mutters, looking back down at his parchment. a frustrated noise escapes him, and he shoves his parchment and books away, dropping his wand on the desk, arms folding over his chest. “ fuck this. “          /          @pluscharmant

[goodcredence-blog]

"&"

Credence’s breath caught in his throat, eyes closing as he felt Philippe’s gentle fingers trace over the scar that spanned the length from his right wrist to the tip of his pinky. It happened during an accident, a spell backfiring on him. He hated it. It was raised and a light pink color, easily being the biggest flaw the young wizard hated about himself. 

“Philippe…” he trailed off, a hand reaching for his, stopping him from continuing. He could feel the cool air tickle his eyelashes, a sniffle causing his nose to wrinkle. “Please don’t touch my scars.”

@pluscharmant ​ // send “&” for my muses reaction to yours tracing one of their scars. // accepting

[burncdwings-blog]

      “ ... are you done screaming? “

(@pluscharmant .)

[pasdoux]

     “    i    always   have   a   plan   .   “    /   @pluscharmant    ♡’d.

[nikolacvna-archive]

text:     philippe de lorraine   //  @pluscharmant

TATIANA: you are a savage! TATIANA: did you really eat all the macarons i baked and left none for mashka? TATIANA: she wrote me complaining this morning

to  PHILIPPE  ::   she’d complain if she ate them herself.  why do i get the blame? to  PHILIPPE  ::   fair enough, i did eat them, but i have a 12-hour shift, and she has... art class.  it’s very, very different.  

[mcnsieur]

{ @pluscharmant liked this }

His return had not gone as he anticipated. He wanted to surprise his loved ones, he was back. But of course he couldn’t be awarded peace as he came home. Of course not, someone had leaked his arrival. He was met at the airport by an onslaught of reporters. He doesn’t remember much of it, he remembers the flashes and yells.

He was now sitting at his flat still not even changed out of his uniform nursing a healthy helping of whiskey as his phone went off with messages from his brother most likely, he couldn’t be bothered to check. News stations seemed to be on repeat as they continuously played the story, of how he punched one of the reporters. That was likely why he was getting calls, he tarnished the name of his family. He sighed as some of the whiskey he was drinking slid down his throat.

There was knock at his door. Whiskey on the counter, he got up to answer the door, full intent of informing who ever it was he was in no mood for entertainment, that is til he saw the person on the other side. He was still in no mood for guests, “You’re lucky you’re you and not someone else,” he said standing aside for him to come in.