rare super rare

4

I’ve been thinking about high school drarry for a while and then pillowcasey was like “HIGH SCHOOL AU” and then she was like “DRACO IN HARRY’S FOOTBALL JACKET” and I was like “do you want to kill me or was that unintentional”

So Harry forgot his jacket at Draco’s place on purpose last night, and Draco put it on and completely outed their relationship also on purpose, but he would never admit to that

here, have a preview of Tangled Sheets, an upcoming three-part unconventional love story based on this –


Someone is knocking on Harry’s front door.

He hadn’t been sure, at first—he’s got a hangover that’s making him think a little wistfully of the time he’d literally died, and the thunderous pounding in his skull is loud. Obnoxious. Painful. His mouth is dryer than a cotton ball; there’s a strange, prickly sort of soreness emanating from between his shoulder blades; and his stomach is rumbling angrily at him despite the greasy wave of queasiness puttering around the back of his throat. He doesn’t remember what he’d had to drink the night before.

He doesn’t remember much of anything about the night before, actually.

He groans, burying his face in a veritable mountain of pillows before he rolls out of bed. The knocking continues, and he badly wants to punch a hole in the nearest wall. He wonders if Hermione’s decided to stage another intervention. The last one hadn’t ended well, but that hadn’t been Harry’s fault. It had been Malfoy’s. Possibly Kreacher’s. More than likely not Ron’s, although Ron had been the one to encourage Harry to go through with Auror training, so—it was all semantics, really.

Harry stumbles down the stairs.

The knocking becomes increasingly more aggressive.

With an exasperated huff, he flings open the door, immediately recoils from a harsh beam of sunlight, and then—

Freezes.

Squints.

Adjusts his glasses.

Stares.

Because Pansy Parkinson is standing in front of him, looking like every primly proper Pureblood nightmare Harry’s ever had, and he can’t quite reconcile her presence on his doorstep with the fairly predictable version of the world he currently inhabits.

Cognitive dissonance.

That’s what it is.

Because Pansy Parkinson and her glossy pink lips do not belong here. At Grimmauld Place. With Harry. Her diamond earrings and her pleated tennis skirt and her unimpressed scowl as she gives him a slightly too-long once-over—they’re fundamentally wrong. Misplaced.

He hasn’t seen Pansy Parkinson in years.

“Um,” he blurts out, scratching at the back of his neck. He’d forgotten to put on a shirt, he realizes, only vaguely alarmed. She quirks a neatly manicured blonde brow. He crosses his arms over his bare chest. “What are you doing—I mean—no, that’s what I mean. Yeah. What are you doing here.”

Parkinson lifts her chin, smoothing her fingers down the buttery leather strap of her handbag. It’s a nervous habit, Harry’s sure, and the thought irks him. He doesn’t particularly want to notice things about Pansy Parkinson.

“I imagine you know quite well why I’m here, Potter,” she replies, accent just as crisp and posh and awful as it had been at school. “Now, are you going to invite me in, or do we have to have this conversation where your neighbors can see us?”

“My neighbors can’t see us,” he says, automatically. “There’s a charm—oh, my god, what the bloody hell—”

He cuts himself off, swooping down to pick up that morning’s edition of the Prophet. His own face, split in a dazed grin, winks at him from the front page, hair a sweaty, disheveled mess, and hands resting suggestively on the button-fly of his jeans. He’s visibly drunk, and the fine print beneath the accompanying headline—“The Boy Who Lived…for Indecent Exposure!”—promises a whole spread of photographic humiliation from pages 6 to 10.

“Is this—did I—did you have something do with this?” he demands, glaring at Parkinson. “Is that what you’re doing here?”


“Dude, it’s midnight, we’re already waaay passed curfew. We might as well stay out a little longer, sit on the roof and laugh at stupid memes, we NEVER get to chill anymore!” (For Ectober Day 2: Midnight)

Tabimatsu: Super Ultra Rare Episode 006 (Mie)

EP 006: Osomatsu vs Jyuushimatsu / おそ松vs十四松
EP 006: Osomatsu vs. Jyushimatsu

hesokuri wars is releasing an official iyami kart event on new year’s day, so it’s probably only fitting for me to post this one! don’t race and throw crab shells at your siblings at home, kids.

T/N: The Suzuka International Race Course, also known as the Suzuka Circuit, is located in the prefecture of Mie and holds many major racing events such as the Super Formula and the Japanese Grand Prix.

Jyushimatsu: Race race! Circuit!! Vroom vroom vroomvroomvroom—!!

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