Malfoy looked up from his desk, quill poised over the parchment as his son hovered by the study door. Aware that he was frowning, Draco lifted his expression into something more neutral. He was vaguely aware of his own father always frowning whenever he’d tried to talk to him as a boy, and he didn’t want Scorpius to one day think the same about him.
“Come in, come in. Shut the door, you’ll let the heat out.”
The Greengrass estate was a crumbling ruin compared to Malfoy Manner, with only half the library and none of the artifacts Draco had spent the last few years archiving and putting safely away behind spelled glass. But for now it was home, chilly stone walls and all.
“Did you want something?”
“Yes.” Scorpius replied, pausing to tug at the hem of his dark shirt. There’s still a bruise under his eye, faded to be sure, but the mere presence of it made Draco’s heart skip a beat. When he’d seen Severus Potter crawling out of the rubble, face covered in blood and no sign of his own son, he’d known terror like no other.
And Draco Malfoy was intimately familiar with the machinations of terror. He’d been hugged by it once.
“Well,” he prompted, setting aside his work entirely and giving his full attention to his son. “What is it?”
“I want my friends to come visit.”
Draco blinked. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Your…friends?”
“Albus Potter and Rosie Granger-Weasley. I would like them to come stay.”
Draco blinked again. Later he’d laugh—somewhat despairingly into a decanter of fire brandy—at the absurdity of the notion that his boy, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, was best friends with a Potter and the hybrid off-spring of a Granger Weasley, but the threat of impeding hysterics was quelled under the defiant gaze of his son, narrow chin lifting at some unspoken challenge.
“I see. For how long?”
“A…a week…maybe two…They’re going to France for the Quiditch Cup Primaries…” he glanced down and Draco spied the curled up parchment hidden up his sleeve. “So it wouldn’t be for long.”
Draco glanced at his desk, to the fireplace, then back to his son. “I don’t…”
I want my friends…friends…how often had Astoria lamented his lack of playmates as a child, how often had she fretted that Scorpius’ only interaction had been with adults—or books, or enchanting his own toys for someone to play with. And how quickly had Scorpius’ face crumpled at the utterance of two simple syllables.
“…know if two weeks would be wise, given your mother’s health. She’s still recovering from the move. But I shall discuss it with her, and see what can be done.”
Scorpius stilled, the beaming smile on his face reigned in to something calmer, even now, not wanting to get his hopes up too much. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, we will be good.”
Draco snorted at that, remembering the last time a Malfoy, a Potter and a Granger and a Weasley had been together at their age. “Somehow I doubt it. Go on off you go, go see what your mother is up to. She’s enjoying having you home.”
“And I am enjoying being here,” Scorpius replied, in that curiously courteous and stiff way of speaking he’d always had, even as an infant learning his words. “I am happy to be here, with you, and mother.”
“I’m…very glad to hear it.” Draco replied, unsure what else he was supposed to say to such an open admission said so politely like one was discussing the weather. “Now go on, off you go, I need to finish this manuscript before I lose the thought.”
“You’ll talk to mother though, wont you?” Scorpius pressed from his space by the door. “You’ll ask…”
“Yes, yes.” Draco waved a hand, “I’ll ask if the Potter spawn can come stay with us. Just for a little bit. To say thank you for…everything.”
Reassured, Scorpius left, closing the door behind himself with a firm click.
Draco waited several more moments, counting to a hundred before opening up the top desk of his drawer and pulling out his correspondence folder, flipping through them until he found the appropriate manila envelope, writing the address of the Ministry Neatly to the front.
Clearing his throat politely, he composed himself, then tapped it to life with his wand.
“Hello Potter,” he spat with a vicious familiar glee, unable to keep from laughing, “I’m not sure which one of us is going to be more surprised by this turn of events, but I swear to gods if you break my son’s heart by saying no, I will personally send you a red Howler on the hour every hour till the day one of us dies. Now, about dates, the last week in June works well for us…”
i can never really it trust when someone that good-looking is into me. do you know what i mean? i just don’t get it. like, if they’re mediocre-looking, i can sort of appreciate why their standards are so low. when they’re that pretty, i’m just like, what are you hiding? you know?
Hiroko Katsuki is good mom. Hiroko Katsuki is best mom.
But let’s talk about Toshiya for a second?
Let’s talk about Toshiya Katsuki who never told his son that it’s not okay to cry.
Toshiya Katsuki, who is literally never not smiling, even though life can’t be easy for the patriarch of a family who owns an inn in a rapidly-declining tourist town.
Toshiya Katsuki, who gets silly drunk and draws a face on his belly and makes his wife giggle like a schoolgirl.
I think there was a point in Toshiya’s life when he realized that neither of his children were going to follow their prescribed roles–Yuuri was not going to take over the inn after his parents got old, and Mari was not going to get married and have children–and indeed that they were switching those roles completely around. Mari is a pragmatist, and good with her hands. She wants to live as quiet and comfortable a life as possible. Yuuri is a romantic. He spends his days with music following him everywhere he goes–with a song in his head and his heart on his sleeve and sometimes that heart breaks.
There was a point in Toshiya’s life when he was faced with his son weeping, just completely losing it over something seemingly inconsequential, and he sat down and held him and told him it was all going to be alright. No bootstrapping, no belittling. Just love.
There was a point in Toshiya’s life when he was faced with his daughter, stoney-faced and stiff upper lipped. Hurting so much that he could feel it in his own bones, but unwilling to show it. And Toshiya sat with her all night and waited to see if she would talk about it. He didn’t force her to talk about it, or tell her to go talk to her mother. He waited.
There is a time in Toshiya’s life when he meets a young man who loves his son so much that it is almost visible. A young man he has practically watched grow up, through television screens and on the pages of magazines. A young man he welcomes into his family as easy as taking a breath because Yuuri loves him, and because he needs a family.
And when that young man comes to him and says How, please, tell me how I show him that he’s everything, Toshiya can only tell him to keep doing what he’s doing. Because Yuuri is a romantic.
There comes a time in Toshiya Katsuki’s life when he is sending his son to Russia, to live with the man he now calls his fiance, and he thinks of the baby he held, and the toddler whose bruises he kissed, and the boy whose heart he saw broken time and time again. And he looks at the man in front of him and knows that his son’s heart is safe.
“I won’t say be careful with him,” Toshiya says to Viktor then. “Because I know you will. So I’ll say…you have my blessing. For whatever comes next. And always remember that you have a home here, in Japan. Both of you.”
And Viktor? Viktor is somewhere in the middle of Yuuri and Mari. He is both emotional and cold at intervals. But Toshiya is confident that he has the tools to be a good father to him, too.
we all love derek nurse for being a pretentious indie hipster who loves poetry and autumn leaves, but we need to also appreciate him for being one of the funniest people on the team. a few of his incredible witticisms and one-liners:
yo chill, chowder, that’s how he was born
sing to her dex
what’s distracting…. is watching someone google “jack zimmermann samwell?”
…technically a thousand could
this is why the tads aren’t on group chat
we’re in the daily again – “men’s hockey team streak derailed by stupidest roadie convo ever”
you’re always free to skype me
basically when will he begin his career in comedy, i’m ready
Wait wait quick rundown on asexuality for any topp dogg fans that don’t know about it
Asexuality (often shortened to ace) is when you don’t feel sexual attraction. It does NOT equal romantic attraction, bc ace people can still fall in love with stuff. Not having romantic attraction is called aromanticism and is different.
There’s a whole spectrum of asexuality including lithsexual, gray-ace, and demi, which can be a little confusing and I won’t go in depth with right now. But many ppl will just say ace for the simplicity.
Attraction =/= libido. Ace ppl can still have sex, if they want. Some enjoy it. They just don’t feel sexual ATTRACTION towards people. However, some ace people are sex repulsed and don’t want sex.
Ace people are often considered part of the LGBT+ community so Hansol coming out is actually HUGE. However, be aware there’s a whole lot of discourse on Tumblr about it and a lot of aphobes and exclusionists (ppl who don’t think ace ppl belong in the community). If any of them find out about this and act shitty, don’t give them a platform
Hansol coming out as ace is HUGE thing though. Please be respectful to him about this and just show him love and support! Any other questions, just ask me!
EDIT: please reblog this because there are a lot of misconceptions and stuff on asexuality and I want people to know!