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major-toast · 8 hours
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The fanart that marked the beginning of a friendship I couldn't be more grateful about. My soul sings your praises, Pan. May your pillow always be cold and your sleeves never to touch any water.
The way your artstyle is just kissed by heaven humbles me in every way. I couldn't be prouder, and quiver in the wake of your talent. As always.
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Priest remus as redraw of one of my very first marauder fan art based on a scene in Tear You Apart by @major-toast !!
Original bellow the cut
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major-toast · 2 days
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Grinning from ear to ear. I thank you, my darling.
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Little gift for @major-toast!! Thank you pookie for the microfic it was lovely and made my day <3
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major-toast · 2 days
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7 Words // cw: blood, murder // minors dni
This one is for my beloved @panchashire
I know it's not the streamer AU, but I hope it's worth your precious time regardless <3
Hunting - it's an ancient thrill. Without it our ancestors would have starved, our civilisations sentenced to fail. Humans are predators, after all; vile and cruel. Hunting - it is the foundation of our very being. Why keep to a life of rules and manners, if it so against our nature? Why not embrace the killers we are built to be?
Barty believes playing by the rules of righteousness and good-natured morality is part of society's decline. It is boring, bleak. He? He is born to hunt.
And - fuck - is he good at it.
Laughing, he crashes into the corner of the hallway, his broken arm throbbing in pain at the impact. Still, he laughs. What is a little pain if the outcome is so rewarding?
"You cannot escape from me forever, Alice", he mocks, following it with another manical giggle. "I'll get you sooner rather than later!"
Alice doesn't even turn around, stumbling along the hallway as fast as her feet can carry her. Of course, it's not enough. It will never be. No matter how fast they run, Barty is always faster.
They always try so hard.
Adorable, really.
In a frantic attempt to ward him off, to bring distance between them as Barty slowly walks after her, the knife held firmly in hand, she pushes over a small side table. Clinking and crashing, the vase on top falls to the ground, the shards falling all over the carpeted floor. Casually, Barty steps over them, taking all the time in the world.
"Oh, thank god!" Alice exclaims in shrill panic, falling into Evan's arms, who just appeared at one of the doors. Raising his brows in surprise, he wraps his arms around her small and shivering figure, the blood on her hands leaving pretty stains on his clothes.
"What's wrong, Al?" he asks calmly.
"He's- he's trying to kill me! Evan! Evan- He already killed Frank! Please, you have to help me! Please..."
Barty smiles, twirling the knife in his hand before wiping some of the sweat off his forehead with this same wrist. It ends with even more blood smeared all over his face. Can't she see she just walked right into a trap?
"He's not going to help you", Barty coos. "You're lost, Alice. You hear me? Lost as all of you petty souls have been."
"Evan, please", Alice begs, tears streaming down her face as she tugs at his hoodie. "He's insane..."
Evan, whose eyes had been on Barty the entire time, finally looks down on her. Suddenly, the bored expression receives a devious glint.
"Who tells you I am not?" he simply remarks, his lips twisting into a cruel smile.
"W-what?"
Before Alice knows what's happening to her, Evan slides out a knife of his own. Wrapping the arm now around her neck, he turns her around, holding her in a tight headlock. Barty grins devilishly as her widened eyes meet his own.
"Rosie is not as innocent as he might look", he comments, stepping closer and closer. "But the innocence makes for a good alibi, I have to give him that."
"Shut up, Crouch. You had your fun."
Fair enough, Barty thinks.
Huffing, he takes a small bow. "After you, Mr Rosier."
Rolling his eyes - if a little fondly - Evan raises the knife to Alice's throat. He doesn't blink once as the smooth metal glides through skin and flesh. Doesn't even wince. Whenever Evan kills, he does so with no empathy, no remorse. Barty believes it's the hottest thing to ever witness.
With the gurgling sound of someone choking on their own blood, life leaves the delicate frame that once has been Alice Longbottom. Barty watches pleased as the light dims inside her eyes, how the blood stains the floor and the gorgeous dark tone of Evan's skin. Licking his lips, he cannot wait to taste the blood now clinging to it.
As the body slumps to the ground, Barty slams into him.
Breathing heavily and crazed with desire, he presses Evan into the door long closed. Evan doesn't hesitate to tear into his clothes.
"Ever made out on top of a corpse, angel?" Barty pants into his mouth, biting his lower lips and tasting his tongue and teeth over and over again.
Evan smiles into it, gripping the back of his head.
"Something tells me I am about to find out"
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major-toast · 13 days
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I took like a two day break and immediately forgot how to draw them
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major-toast · 13 days
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There was no doubt about it that Evan Rosier was beautiful. Girls whispered as he passed in the halls, boys winked at him at parties, beckoning him to the dark corners of the common rooms where they could remain undiscovered.
Yes, there was no doubt that Evan was beautiful, but he didn’t feel pretty.
He wasn’t sure when the word had become significant, it was as if the word beautiful was superficial, as if he was superficial. He supposed the meaning had started to sound different when he listened to them come from Dorcas’ mouth. The way she described Marlene, as if words could only pale in comparison, Shakespeare himself would be threatened by the pure emotion that dripped from Dorcas’ words, so much so that the word pretty made Marlene sound like the greatest treasure ever to grace the earth.
Fucking lesbians.
Evan had never felt like a treasure, as an heir he was worth something, but that was a job, his birthright.
He had never once believed that there were soulmates, someone who could mirror even the darkest most broken parts of his soul, someone who would accept every flaw, every scar, every wall that his mind put up. But watching his friends with their partners?
Watching them made him believe that someone could truly love him unconditionally, like they needed him like air, as if the sun couldn’t rise without him. He believed there was a chance, but that didn’t mean he was deserving of it. He could hope, maybe even pray, but at the end of the day he couldn’t imagine even a soul as broken as his could have once come in a matching pair.
That was until, of course, he met Barty Crouch Jr.
And by Merlin and Morgana alike did that boy make his soul sing.
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major-toast · 14 days
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I have been once again tagged by the brilliant mind that is @panchashire to annoy you all with my quite... polyjamorous music taste. Therefore, I created a teeny tiny list of the songs currently on my speaker at all times.
Come Wander with Me - Jeff Alexander
This may or may not have to do with a rather specific Church AU I am currently rotting. Iykyk.
2. Dark - WesGhost
Rosekiller. There is nothing more I can say.
3. Suck It Up - She Wants Revenge
Is it really me if I am not listening to SWR once a day?
4. Chihiro - Billie Eilish
A masterpiece for when you're walking home at night, me feels like.
5. All I Want - The Cure
Yes. Yes, I consider myself to be part of the goth sub culture.
np: whoever wants to
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major-toast · 14 days
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major-toast · 16 days
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Beagles on the brain again so here’s some travel doodles of my fav trio<3
[Click for better quality]
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major-toast · 16 days
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Slight update on bartys design + fangs
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major-toast · 16 days
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A beautifully dreadful night
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major-toast · 17 days
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Nightwalkers by Ben J
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major-toast · 17 days
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Not only this, but I believe Barty would even go as far as dig up his bones and pretend they were still flesh and blood; talking to him, sitting him up at dinner, clothing him. He is that mentally deranged.
the "came back wrong" trope except it's evan after barty brings him back and barty just... doesn't care. he'll love him anyway. he'll keep him anyway, even if he's wrong, even if he's barely an echo of the real evan because barty is just that selfish
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major-toast · 17 days
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Deathblow
@rosekillermicrofic // lies // words: 701 // cw: grief, mentions of death
The air feels stuffy, stale. No matter how run-down – how ancient – the courtroom looks, to Barty it will always feel too clean, too uptight.
He hates it here, hates the people in it. A flood of wizards with prim and proper robes, hard-nosed expressions, and an attitude too haughty for their lack of importance. Just looking at them makes him sick.
But he has to. For the sake of his mission, he has to. Born and raised in the wealthier social class of wizarding society, with connections reaching throughout the entire Ministry, it had been a simple decision to appoint him an undercover agent. All he had to do was pull a few strings, charm his way in, make false promises. Barty Crouch Jnr – the perfect fucking son.
Lies.
Yeah, he doesn’t like it, despises it even. The room is too stuffy, too stale, and the people have no soul. The faster he’s out of here, the better.
“Next?” calls Crouch Snr from his bench, dressed in his most formal judge’s robes, looking the sternest in this place. Barty wishes he had set this stupid piece of clothing on fire. Preferably while the man is still wearing them.
“Karkaroff, Igor” comes the business-like response, followed by the ruffle of paper.
Barty frowns. Karkaroff had been one of their most important connections to the north. Shame they’ve caught him. But, then again, he’s an annoying piece of shit, so maybe not a shame they caught him. The Dark Lord needs people, who can be discreet, and trustworthy. Not an obnoxious loudmouth like the man currently wheeled in. Easily, the frown turns into a condescending huff.
Two weeks. Two weeks ago, the Dark Lord has been defeated. By a toddler no less.
Lies.
He’ll be back, Barty is sure of it. No one can defeat someone as brilliant and considered as Riddle. All they need to do is to lay low for a while, wait in patience.
Growing bored, he leans back in his seat, staring at the ceiling, whistling a tune. Irritated glares are thrown his way, throats cleared in indignance, but Barty doesn’t care. He smiles and waves at them, treating it like another Potion’s lecture. It never interested him, to begin with.
“Rosier?”
The question is a sharp blade cutting through the air. Immediately, Barty perks up. He hasn’t heard from Evan in… well, since their fight a while back, honestly. 
I am a coward!? You should look in the fucking mirror, Crouch! You’re so fucking desperate for his attention, you’re fucking losing yourself! What do you think you’ll gain out of this? That he’ll love you like a fucking son?
Fuck off, Rosier. As if you have any idea what loyalty is! You couldn’t even be loyal enough to yourself to admit you wanted to fuck me! ‘I am scared, Barty. What if someone catches us?’ Grow a fucking pair, Evan, for Merlin’s sake. And don’t pretend you’re caring about me. You never really did.
It was stupid. A heated argument, nothing more. Barty will apologize to him eventually. They’ll always find their way back to one another. It is fate.
He wonders what Evan is up to right now. How his mission went.
He can’t wait to hear about it.
“Rosier’s dead.”
LIES.
Barty laughs. That’s the stupidest thing, he’s ever heard. Evan can’t be dead. He cannot-
The room grows dark, the walls are closing in. Somewhere a whistle is going off, somewhere near his ears, growing louder and louder, but Barty cannot locate it. Frantically, he looks around. Eyes are watching him, too many eyes. God. He wants to scratch them out, poke them out with his wand. He wants to bite off the dumb fucking grins directed at him, spit it right back into their arrogant faces. Hands. There are hands everywhere. They are touching him, tugging at him. He screams, fights back, but to no avail. They are dragging him. Down. Down, down, down. The light vanishes, plunges him into an abyss. His hands disappear and so does his body. Where did it all go?
Rosier’s dead. The words repeat like a mocking sneer inside his ears.
Look where loyalty got you now, Crouch.
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major-toast · 17 days
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My gratitude goes out to @panchashire who went forth to tag me in this. No idea how it works, but bear with me, I suppose.
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So, yes. I believe this could work as a fraction of my being.
np: Whoever wants to participate. My unsocial ass doesn't know any folks.
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major-toast · 18 days
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Quick anatomy thing ft short haired Evan and some very convenient pair of shorts
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major-toast · 19 days
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@rosekillermicrofic / lies / 415 words / rated M/ Cook Barty meets produce guy Evan
for u babes @fromagony @star4daisy @godsofwoes @bellaxisworld <3
If this is how I die it’s alright was all Barty could think as Evan finished working his tongue around his cock. They had been fucking for close to a year now. When he started flirting with the produce guy, he did it for fun, he was bored that day doing prep when the new guy arrived.
He had been working at that shitty restaurant for far too long if he was honest. He only got along with Dorcas, the Head Cook, but as the new place was about to open she practically left this shithole to Barty and was never there anymore. So when a shiny new toy came in with a tight ass and tired bags under unholy green eyes, he found a way to entertain himself. He never expected for Evan to bite back, let alone for him to leave marks behind.
He became obsessed with Evan. It all started with Barty trying to find any excuse to get Evan close. To grab his hand, then his waist, and eventually his ass. Evan returned every gesture right back at Barty. 
It was Evan who pushed him into the employee’s bathroom and kissed him for the first time. That day Barty felt like a teenager, almost leaving a mess on his work pants because a pretty boy was touching him. But Evan didn’t just touch Barty, he devoured him, with his hands, his mouth, his teeth, his nails. He clenched to Barty’s skin, his scent, and to his bones. 
Barty went home that day and dreamed of Evan. He woke up and jerked off to Evan. He went to work and waited for Evan. It was only Evan. 
Barty tried to tell himself that it was just an itch. That if he fucked Evan it would go away. And so he did, but the itch was still there. So he thought he needed Evan to fuck him. And so Evan did, but the itch was still there. Every fucking time he had the man under his grip, his waist in his hands, his cock in his mouth, his eyes fixated on Barty, he knew. It was all lies. Evan was not an itch he could ever get rid of, nor did he want to. Evan had branded him, through bruises and scratches, Barty could trace every part of his body that belonged to Evan, including his heart. 
Desperation had never felt so good. He didn’t care, not as long as Evan remained his.
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major-toast · 20 days
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bcj coded
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