There’s a peculiar Ravenclaw. They are failing practically all of their classes. They barely even do homework. They basically just sit in an oversized armchair in Ravenclaw tower, reading fiction novels almost all hours of the day. The students don’t understand why they’re there, why not Gryffindor or Slytherin? But they soon discover that this strange ball of quietness and lack of academic brilliance is possibly the best advice-giver in Hogwarts’ history. Be it relationship advice, friendship advice, personal life decisions advice, existential advice, they provide the most profound answers. They aren’t gifted in the arts of magic or even in the regular studies of muggles, but even without these book-smarts, they’ve grasped the attention and respect of everyone attending the ancient school. They grow on to be a counselor in the school to help students with special needs, anxiety, depression, ptsd, or anyone that seeks after an ear to listen and sincere advice. Once this Ravenclaw grows old and weary, they pass peacefully in their sleep. The school is devastated….that is until a few days later when they pop back up in their office, continuing on as if death was simply a minor inconvenience. They go on to help students for generations to come, never swaying in their abundance of wisdom, always sure to remind students that a lack of academic brilliance is not a death sentence, just a reminder that we can’t all share the same path in life, and that’s not bad. No, that’s not bad at all.
after missing out on three consecutive HP-related days of celebration (20th anniversary, Harry’s birthday, and 19 years later) due to long work hours and poor health, i must admit I feel like a sort of failure as a fan artist. let me seeth in my self pity and sense of isolation from the rest of you partying folks with a doodle of Albus doing the same thing
each breath was harder to get out as the realization that j a m e s was gone. it was a concept sirius had never thought he would ever have to live through, and now that it was here he wished he could have left with his best mate. his entire world vanished, and now there left nothing. it was the end of the marauders, end of their era.
Draco sat behind Harry’s desk, drumming his fingers against the wood top impatiently. He and Harry had just finished a long and demanding case which meant Draco should have been getting fucked over the very desk he was sitting at by now. That’s how they usually celebrated.
But, Head Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had ruined that by calling Harry into his office for an “urgent meeting” as soon as they’d returned to the Ministry. Draco couldn’t see how anything could be more urgent than Harry fucking him, but he wasn’t about to say that to Kingsley. So instead he was forced to sit and wait. And Draco wasn’t a particularly patient person.
Finally, after what seemed like a month - but in reality was less than half an hour - Harry walked back into their shared office. Draco wasted no time, slamming the door with his wand and casting all the (very necessary) silencing charms around the room. He waited by the desk for Harry but Harry hadn’t moved - he stood just inside the doorway, a dazed expression on his face.
Draco approached Harry, waving a hand in front of his partner’s face. “Harry?” He called out. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”
Oh Lordy– thanks a lot @kaschy
#6 from the Artist Asks: dominant and not dominant hand
Last year I found out my dominant hand was originally my left, and it was until I was about 4. My parents being concerned immigrants who didn’t want me to have any weird disadvantages, see school mandated ESL that they gave up and put me into to “get rid of that accent”. So they decided that being a lefty would just check off another minority box that might make my life harder.
So they forced me to switch which hand I used- and I only found that out at the age of 25.