The Tinsel Elf is here to play 💙🧝♂️💙 • Dropping this mini set on Patreon & OnlyFans Pick your poison 🖱️ • • _____________________ Tinsel Elf set available on Patreon tiers Cuccos+ or on OnlyFans [L!NKS !N B!0] 📸 @ready_productions #Elf #ChristmasDecorations #TinselElf #BlueElf #Blue #Sparkle (at Tinsel) https://www.instagram.com/p/B6MM6d1DLzx/?igshid=jjoyfhfpfm02
The only jonas brothers album i never had was it's about time and NOW GUESS WHAT i found it on spotify so guess what i'm listening to now I WAS FIIIIINE TIL SEVEN OH FIIIIIIVE
(onE MORE) amelie prompt: when harry finds louis' scrapbook (just initial thoughts and how he found it, cause this could potentially be long lol)
IT IS COMPLETE! actually decently happy with this one. almost fucked up the verb tenses at first. had to start again. turned out okay i think?? also bonus points if you can guess who louis’ notes are about…
It was him again. The guy that Harry had seen as he was leaving the bar after reuniting the memory box he’d found in his bathroom with its owner. Except this time, he looked much happier. His eyes were a brighter blue, his cheekbones looked sharper, and Harry found himself envying the effortlessly cool way that his hair was styled. The one thing that hadn’t changed was the fact that they’d literally run into each other. Again.
The guy was mumbling apologies or swear words or something, but Harry was too dazed to catch any of it. He was sort of frozen to the side of the entrance to the tube station behind him, vaguely aware that people were passing the pair of them in either direction.
“Right, so,” the guy was saying. He’d resituated his messenger bag on his shoulder, but its flap was still open. Harry saw, in his periphery, that something was hanging precariously out of it. “Okay then.” The guy turned to leave, sparing Harry a curious glance, blue eyes squinting in the midday sun. He took one step down the stairs and was immediately jostled by someone else. Harry went to reach out to steady him, but he had already recovered and was skipping his way down the steps, into the bustling crowd, and out of sight.
It took him a moment to regain his composure (and realise he hadn’t managed a full apology to the guy upon running into him), and he therefore didn’t immediately see the large book that was sitting at the top of the steps. Someone just barely kicked it with the toe of their shoe, and its cover flipped open, revealing brightly coloured pages. They caught Harry’s eye, and he bent down to retrieve it, save it from further damage.
The page it had been opened to had a handful of pictures pasted in, surrounded by sharp, jagged handwriting. On one side were pictures of a guy in running gear, alternately sitting on a park bench, running through said park, and stopping for a drink of water from his water bottle. The words written around him appeared to be notes.
Not buff enough to be a meathead. Health conscious. Water bottle’s eco-friendly. Flip phone, is he serious? Money or laziness? Social media? Clearly Irish family, he’s got way too many freckles. Probably would look decent with a goatee. No ego: t-shirt, not tank, like Ni. Probably older sibling. Hard worker. Focused. Totally oblivious to everything I’ve been following him for 20 minutes straight and he hasn’t even seen me.
There were more notes, but Harry stopped reading, because they became more illegible and started writing in what must be shorthand or code. Sufficiently creeped out, Harry glanced at the opposite page. The pictures there looked like the same guy, at first glance, but he was noticeably shorter. He had no freckles. He was much more tan. He—had bright blue eyes instead of brown or hazel and—. Well. That was the attractive guy Harry’d bumped into. He closed the book with his index finger marking the page, and wandered over to a sitting area, quickly casting a look around in case this guy had come back looking for his scrapbook.
Once seated, Harry flipped the book open again examined the pictures more closely. The wardrobes were almost identical, the settings similar, but the lighting was different. They were close, but not exact. Harry tried to turn his attention to the notes around the imitation pictures, trying not to be distracted by the fact that this stalker was unreasonably attractive. He attempted to tamp it down. This guy had terrible handwriting and snuck pictures of strangers and then dressed up as them. No matter how pretty he was, it was probably inadvisable for Harry to get interested in any way. Which was why he steadfastly ignored the fluttering in his stomach every time he caught himself looking at the guy in the pictures, and focused instead on the scribbled notes on the other page.
Weirdly everybody was ignoring me. Like I wasn’t invisible but like, I’m pretty sure I could’ve stripped naked and no one would’ve noticed. Probably the body language. Neutral and unassuming. Decent background character. Polite, only interesting if he talks probably. Wish I’d heard him talk to people. He checked his watch often enough for him to have some kind of daily schedule, so that was interesting to plan. I assumed he’d be a Subway kind of guy. Got chicken. Fit in pretty nicely. Just wish I could’ve added the freckles and paleness. Would’ve been fun. Covering the tattoos was good enough, though.
Harry shook his head and blinked a few times. This was seriously weird. What kind of hobby was this? Was the book full of stuff like this? He flipped through a few more pages and found just that: More pictures, more notes, more costumes. More curious than anything, Harry flipped to the cover of the scrapbook and found nothing, save for a scribbled L.T. in the corner in black sharpie. The inside cover, though, was written all over. Another set of initials, some doodles of fancy script letters, stick figures, skateboards, skulls, all littered the inside cover. It looked decently normal.
Harry stopped inspecting a particularly lopsided sketch of what was probably a butterfly, and saw block letters at the top of the page.
LOUIS TOMLINSON’S BRILLIANT METHOD ACTING JOURNAL AND CHARACTER STUDY, PRIVATE AND FUCKING WEIRD, SO STOP READING
Below that was what looked like a scribbled phone number.
“Lewis? Louie?” Harry said aloud to himself in a quiet voice. He ran a finger over the page, read the block letters to himself again, and anxiously eyed the phone number.
He should probably call Louis. He’d be wanting this scrapbook back. Anybody else probably would’ve called the cops by now. But Harry glanced at the title one more time, before flipping open to another random page. This one was of an older man. Louis had managed to do a decent old age makeup. He looked just as old as the guy he’d photographed. This page, though, included a double selfie of Louis with the guy.
Brilliant old man! Name’s Timothy. Didn’t know what a selfie was. Told him and he said he took one in the 50′s, once. Fucking ace.
Harry smiled. He closed the scrapbook, tucked it under his arm, and kept walking home. He’d call Louis tonight. Probably.
