"Smoking is bad, you know." The placid voice speaks up from the distant dark corner, nothing to see but a tall silhouette and an orange glow of a cigarette cherry. "It's the least of my problems," I murmur with my own between my lips, proceeding to feel the stagnant debris valley my throat when I suck delicately. He exhales a chuckle of cynical amusement, his footsteps getting every step clearer to my eardrums until I eventually sense body heat burning my back. "And why is that?" He whispers over my shoulder, hands inviting themselves to grip the railing in front of me so I become a prisoner between his inked arms. I swallow. "Because you'll be the one to kill me first." // Aven Brooks is hired to take pictures for the world-renown punk rock band known today as Duplicity; hoping the experience gets her into her most elite-dreamed university. However, when her lenses accidentally capture more than just cheeky sound checks and performances, she comes to a horrifying discovery that Duplicity is anything but a band. Appalled and frightened, she's trapped. *HIGHEST RANKINGS* #1 IN HARRYSTYLES #1 IN ONEDIRECTION ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO @happydays1d NOT ALLOWING TRANSLATIONS! CONTAINS VULGAR LANGUAGE / DRUG ABUSE / SEXUAL CONTENT / DESCRIPTIVE VIOLENCE / MENTAL HEALTH READ AT OWN RISK!

"The Picture of Dorian Gray" tells of a young man named Dorian Gray, the subject of a painting by artist Basil Hallward. Basil is impressed by Dorian's beauty and becomes infatuated with him, believing his beauty is responsible for a new mode in his art. Dorian meets Lord Henry Wotton, a friend of Basil's, and becomes enthralled by Lord Henry's world view. Espousing a new hedonism, Lord Henry suggests the only things worth pursuing in life are beauty and fulfilment of the senses.

❛stay a little longer❜ there is a list on my profile of the available translations of this story.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒. 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊. ❝𝙒𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙄 𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪?❞ A war between the souls. For each soul holds another story. And each story holds another love. But not all souls love in the same realm. Not all souls love. ❝𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙧.❞