Ed Zitron, A Tech Beat Reporter, Wrote An Article About A Recent Paper That Came Out From Goldman-sachs

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“be stubborn about your goals but flexible about your methods.” the best advice I’ve ever received.

Several documentaries publically treating Luigi Mangione as guilty before his trial even started got released over the past 2 months.

Here's the billion dollar companies behind them.

I’m sure someone somewhere has made this joke already, but this has been in my head for ages begging to be drawn, so.

(yes, NHS is the one asking.)

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

I missed yesterday so you get a two for one, yay!

XXI. Flicker

<- previous

Draco sat by the fireplace reading a book. The lights would flicker across the pages and he didn’t pay it much mind, assuming it was the work of the flames in the fireplace. It only became a matter of concern once all the lights completely turned off. The low golden light of the fire served as the only source of illumination. 

Draco froze on the couch, his book completely forgotten. The house was massive, he knew this deeply, intimately. Yet, with all the lights completely off, the room seemed too small. The darkness shrinking around him until only his small corner could abate it off. Until the fire burned out.

The wood burning was the only sure sign time had passed.

“Why are you in the dark?” Harry asked.

“The magic gave out.”

“Lumos.” The lights came back on before Harry even finished speaking.

XXII. Harsh

It would take a full day for the muggle light repairmen to install the Elect Tree City. Harry had the brilliant idea to stay out at London for the day to “have a proper date.”

For breakfast they decided to eat at a pâtisserie. They browsed different shops, bought many clothes (Draco), and carried many bags (Harry). It was a very simplistic day and they hadn’t done much at all. Somehow, Draco still had fun.

The change was immediately noticeable as soon as they opened the door. Overwhelming brightness hit them and it was much harsher than lumos.

When confronted with this, Harry replied, “It’ll do for now.”

next ->

all entries read on ao3

Drarry where the Golden Trio are having a slightly tipsy 'Hear me out' conversation as they passed around a bottle of Elvish wine that they nicked from Slughorn's office.

"What about Gordon Horton?"

Harry and Hermione shared a confused look.

"Come on! Keeper for the Chudley Canons?"

"You're supposed to pick people we know, Ronald."

"Well excuse me," Ron said, throwing his hands in the air. "I forgot that you two have no taste."

"No taste! I will have you know that my taste is sophisticated and refined. Clearly something you don't relate to."

"Oh, oh, I see. Well since your taste is so sophisticated then by all means tell us who is your pick."

"There's Merrill Medlar. She's the chief editor of—"

"Who the hell is that? What happened to people we know?"

Harry hadn't had enough wine to tolerate their constant bickering.

"Malfoy," Harry said loudly, interrupting what would have surely been a row. "What about Malfoy?"

"Which one?" Ron and Hermione said at the same time before glaring at each other.

"What do you mean which one?" Harry frowned. "The choice is obviously—"

"Lucius." They said in unison again.

"What?" Harry gaped at them. "Lucius is a right piece of—"

"Wait," Hermione held up her hands, eyes wide. "You can't mean Draco then?"

"Of course I meant—"

"Don't say his name! Ugh, I never want to know him as Draco," Ron said, shuddering.

"Maybe I do!" Harry said, unsure why he was getting heated.

The two of them shared a long look that said a lot more than he could translate and he kind of wished they were back to arguing. At least that was familiar.

"I think I would've rather you had said Snape."

Harry's mouth parted before it closed, and he gave a considering hum. "You know, in the spirit of a true hear me out, Snape would fit."

Hermione snickered as a choked gurgle escaped Ron.

"I was joking!" Ron cried, head in his hands. "Merlin if you ever shag Snape—"

"Shag?" Harry let out a strangled meep. "If I'm going to shag someone it would be—"

"Malfoy," they said together, and part of him wondered if they were really Fred and George under Polyjuice because it was getting freaky.

"I think I'm going to be sick," muttered Ron. "I knew we'd uncover some more about each other, but I'd honestly like to cover it right back up."

"We can pretend it didn't happen," Harry offered, biting his lip as he tried to think of someone else. "What about Charlie?"

"Charlie?" Ron frowned. "My Charlie?"

"Oh," Hermione said, brows lifting. "Yes, I can see it."

"No no," Ron shook his head. "We aren't doing this. Let's get back to Harry wanting to shag Malfoy."

"It's not that I want to shag—"

"I think it's more than that," Hermione said, voice low as if she was sharing a secret. "I think he likes Malfoy."

Ron collapsed backward as if he had been shot, groaned as if he had been too. "This is too much for me."

Harry rolled his eyes, taking a large mouthful of wine. He was going to need it.

"It's not that bad."

"Yes, it is, Hermione. If Harry wants to shag Malfoy and he likes him then they'll get married and have little spawns that look like Malfoy and they'll call me Uncle Ron and then I'll just have to like them because I can't be mean to a child, but they'll look just like him and then I'm going to have a complex—"

"I think you're having a complex right now."

"And whose fault is that? Huh, Harry?"

"I never said I wanted to marry him."

"You never said you didn't though," Hermione argued, tone suggesting she was on to something.

Harry sighed loudly as they continued to debate his future. A future that held Malfoy in it. The longer they talked the more he considered it.

It was true that he wanted to shag Malfoy, but it was also true that he liked him. He just hadn't really let himself think of how much.

"I think I'm going to find Malfoy," Harry said, staggering to his feet and rather proud that he hadn't fallen over. Maybe he hadn't drank as much as he thought he had.

"Great, just great," Ron cried. "My life is over. Might as well start calling me Uncle Ron."

The portrait closed right as Hermione said,

"I think you're being rather dramatic, Uncle Ron."

The Graduation

ITS THAT TIME….

I'm OBSESSED with every fanfic in with Harry has a completely different hair color than black, to the point no one with eyes would actually associate him with James or Lily.

My favorite variant of that is the most horrendous Neon Bubblegum pink, it goes well with green eyes and i love the color.

Said Harry is usually crazy, in my head at least.

And Slytherin.

<333!

microfic may day 1: key

drarry, 229 words. tw for drugs.

“It’s a what?”

“It’s called a key Coco, calm down.”

“How am I supposed to calm down? You bring me to a muggle club, procure a bag of god knows what, the floor is sticky-”

Draco is interrupted mid-rant. Harry is smiling at him fondly and his eyes are flickering with the oscillating disco lights. There’s a hand on his shoulder and the world narrows to a single point.

“All you have to do is breathe it in. I’ll go first.”

It’s strange for Draco to see him like this. His hair is wild and his shirt is unbuttoned more than it should be. Harry puts his house key into the small plastic bag and Draco watches every practiced tap of his fingers as he sifts the white powder into the tip of the biggest crevice of the key.

Harry grins and it’s all teeth, split slicked, reflective like a mirrorball. And then he lifts it up.

A short, sharp pull of air. A sniffle.

“Your turn.”

And Draco feels the hesitation on him, the twitch in his upper left cheek that Harry obviously knows to look for, and clearly, has found.

“I promised. I’ll look after you.” He’s earnest. Sincere in a way that makes Draco gag a little, but what can he do other than take a deep inhale and trust every word that he’s been given?

I feel like pirating media that isn’t sold or offered anywhere legally anymore shouldn’t be called piracy. Girl thats archaeology