I Love Personalization. I Love Stickers On Water Bottles And On Laptops. I Love Shitty Marker Drawing

Going away is easy. Coming home is hard.

Running on Air by eleventy7

XVIII. Oval

This is part of a continuous story, you can read the first part here. Based off this prompt list by @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean

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“Glasses?” Harry asked from beside him.

With his eyes closed Draco reached for the floor, searching until his hands touched an oval shaped object. Then he silently handed it to Harry and went back to dreams of golden light and green eyes.

all entries next ->

the "canon isn't real we make our own rules" to "i am begging you people to revisit the source material" pipeline

microfic may day 2: black

drarry. 277 words.

Harry had no idea how Draco drank his coffee like that. He thought it was abhorrent.

Even so, every morning at 6:00am, Harry Potter would peel himself out of bed and smile softly at the pile of blankets, tufts of blond locks and short puffs of breath that lay beside him. He’d take a moment to observe the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders before venturing downstairs and greeting their house with a gentle pat on the banister and familiar rap to the kitchen door.

He’d go through his motions: procure two mugs, set the kettle to boil, fiddle with the French press, measure out exactly 16 grams of coffee grounds and then he’d wait. God only knows what he’d think about until the kettle whistle would gently crescendo and Harry could carry on.

He’d traverse back up the stairs and back into their bedroom. He’d place a both mugs on the bedside drawer closest to Draco. Harry would wake him up with a caress and not a jolt, a feather press of lips, a gentle press to the curve of his shoulder.

And Draco would rise, golden like the light filtering through their curtains, and smile at Harry like he was glad he stayed. Even all these years later.

Harry would pass him his mug with a purposeful brush of their fingers and say, “Awful, awful stuff.”

Draco would only grin and reply, “It’s in my blood, don’t you think?”

And Harry would snort into his tea and hold his husband’s hand. He’d make a mental mark of exactly how many cups of black coffee he’d made but never drank.

2,537.

But who’s really counting?

brash testing

Raven getting wrapped up

(via)

The Tomb of the Red King

Can i say something problematique for terminally online millenials and people born after that point: I think the seeming lack of ability or willingness to call one another and chat on the phone with friends unprompted or out of the blue contributes to whatever hellish loneliness everyone is talking about feeling these days. Say what you want about boomers and old people but those guys mostly knew how to keep in touch with each other. Idk man call a bitch today

《Time-out》9-17