Every Friday at exactly 3:50 pm Draco makes sure to kiss Harry.
He hasn’t been late once either. Because Draco always drops everything
he’s doing, no matter what he’s doing, to go and look for Harry. It’s
not that easy sometimes. Harry has a job that, unlike Draco’s, requires
him to actually leave the house. Whenever Draco shows up at his
workplace, Harry’s face lightens up. He has never complained about Draco
interrupting his work. Not once.
Even when they’re fighting and they’re both in a bad mood, they briefly forget about it when it’s 3:50 on a Friday. Like right now.
They had an argument last night about Harry getting a motorcycle. Draco
just doesn’t get why Harry would want to spend that much money on
something that will probably kill him. They both fell asleep with a
scowl on their face and they didn’t talk while eating breakfast. Harry
left the house while Draco was reading the paper.
But now, as
Draco stands in front of him, Harry is smiling at him fondly. Merlin,
Draco just never tires of that smile. Even after all these years.
glances at the clock and sees it’s 3:49. His eyes find Harry’s and they
hold so much love, it makes Draco shudder. He takes Harry’s hands in
his and pulls him closer. When his lips brush Harry’s, a familiar
feeling washes over him. It’s warm and invigorating, reassuring and
exhilarating. Kissing Harry will never fail to consume and mesmerize
Harry leans away again and brushes his thumb over Draco’s cheek.
“I still have a bit of work to do, but I’ll try to be home early, okay?”
“Okay,” Draco whispers, his eyes still closed.
feels Harry kiss the tip of his nose and can’t help but grin. He pulls
Harry back into a tight embrace and relishes the feeling of Harry’s body
shaking against his, as Harry laughs out loud.
“I love our Friday afternoon kisses,” Harry murmurs.
“I love them, too.”
Draco really does. Because it was 3:50 pm on a Friday afternoon when
Harry Potter said “I do” and kissed Draco for the first time as his
Langst for the fandom. I don’t know if this qualifies as a drabble, because I’m not sure of the length on those. Loosely based on ‘Scars to Your Beautiful’ because I mentioned makeup and all I could think of after was the line ‘covergirls don’t cry’.
hurt them. He always did in the end. Get a little too careless at just the
wrong moment, forget to think before he acted just once- all leading to broken
bones, tense emotions, and shattered hearts. He’d always been better at taking
things apart than putting them back together.
So what do you do?
when you want to scream.
when you want to be silent.
when you want to cry.
Because all your life you’ve
watched your sisters apply makeup upon makeup and make it look natural- so if
they can do it with product you can do it with emotion. It’s all in the
brushstrokes and the blending. It’s about trial and error and working until its
effortless. It’s about practice, day in and day out until you can’t seem to
quite remember who the person is underneath the lies. Because that’s what
you’re telling, no- showing the
world. Lies. Deceit. Your fake emotions and feelings wrapped up neatly with a
pretty bow for everyone to notice, all while you lay raw underneath begging for
a release that no one wants to see. Because covergirls don’t cry, and neither
Because beauty is in the eye of the
beholder, and you know that you’re not beautiful- not even close. You’re
superficial and invincible, all with a class clown attitude and an easy smile.
Hell, how long has it been since you last smiled? Truthfully, easily, without
prompting or pressure? How long has affection been your awaited spoil of a day
that never seems to come?
You worry about and crave the day
that someone takes the time to look at you closely, because even makeup is
noticeable if you look at the skin carefully enough. The day you find someone
who won’t break when you slip. Who take what bad luck and twisted fate you
bring them with ease and grace. Who fall and get up again. Who greet you with a
smile and open arms.
you’d willingly surrender your life for.
honestly, you love life even if it doesn’t love you back.
You want it more than anything you
know- that single person who makes you believe that you are worth the sun,
moon, stars, and the galaxies. Who tells you every single day that you are gorgeous without the makeup and
the mask and the lies and the deceit. Who holds you close while the tears
stream down your face, because they’ve broken that unspoken rule- they’ve told
you that covergirls are allowed to
cry- more importantly so are
“Sonny’s Day Off”, an Uptown Funk/In the Heights Rotoscope
ahhhhhh it’s finally done!! the beast is conquered! i can doodle once more! i hope you guys like it, i’ve been doing this since november,, and now i’m looking forward to spending this week doing requests :)
Okay, so I just saw a Tony and music headcanon which I absolutely and totally respect, because a classical music Tony is an awesome Tony that is a valid way of viewing the character. However, I also completely and totally disagree with it and didn’t want to highjack that post to disagree. Basically, fellow writer, you’re awesome and so is your headcanon which is totally valid and legit, but I’m gonna rift off it because I keep arguing with the post in my head.
Maria started Tony on the piano at a young age. Howard yelled and complained about how the kid could never keep still, so Maria taught him cords and basic piano warms ups. She told him if he couldn’t keep still, he could go over the piano fingering in his mind. He could even move his fingers if he needed to, going through the motions with his hands at his side as Howard ranted at him about how his latest robot was a failure, and keeping him still enough for photographers to take pictures of the engine while Howard put on his fake smile.
Tony would often hang in the doorway as his mother played and sang, hesitant to come in and interrupt her. Music was numbers and frequencies and all sorts of things that were fascinating to Tony, but he couldn’t quite manage to fit them together into a song.
It wasn’t until Maria came upon Tony struggling through “You’ll Never Walk Alone”from Carousel that she teaches him how to play music. Maria the brilliant scientist who loved show tunes could explain to a young Tony Stark how to make music from the notes.
From then on, Tony was a quick study. He would often play as Maria sat by his side and sang along, from My Fair Lady to Evita, he would play and sometimes hesitantly sing along. He fell in love with the quick wit of Cole Porter, often playing a quick bar or two and sing in a sarcastic tone when Howard railed on him for his failures. Maria was always more fond of Irving Berlin, and he’d play “Blue Skies” whenever she was tired or angry.
He always liked it when she played Rodgers and Hammerstein. Sometimes she’d play “Impossible” from Cinderella when Tony felt like he couldn’t meet Howard’s high standards. He was always mesmerized when she sang “Some Enchanted Evening” or “Something Good”.
He sometimes thought about running away and working on Broadway. He never had a way with lyrics, but he could compose a tune. Surely he could find a partner and they’d create loads of shows that would become world famous. But Howard would surely find him, so close to home, and the one time he tried to sneak off to the West End while visiting Aunt Peggy in London ended with her taking out a man who had been following Tony for nefarious purposes. She was kind about it, but she had to take him home.
Soon enough, he gave up on that dream and entered MIT, but he still couldn’t shake stealing away into one of the music shops and playing the occasional tune. Some of the others found out about it and bullied him until he stopped. But Rhodey could sometimes pull him away and ask him to play a song from The Wiz or some of the old Ella Fitzgerald jazz standards. He also started to branch out at this time, coming up with piano versions of rock songs that he would play to make Rhodey laugh.
“Try to Remember” was the last song he heard her play before she died, and was always one of his favorites. It was years before he could listen to the song again, much less play it. Rhodey was the one who sat with him when he finally managed it, softly singing along even though he was never much of a singer because Tony couldn’t quite manage the words.
Steve was shocked to hear old familiar songs coming from the Avengers common room one night when he couldn’t sleep. He walked in to see Tony at the piano, singing some of the old Cole Porter songs. Tony switched over to his own piano rendition of Highway to Hell as soon as he realized Steve was listening, but Steve had already found out. After that, he’d sometimes join Tony, sitting at the piano and listening to the old tunes.
It was during one of those times Tony admitted his mother had taught him, and he played “Try to Remember” for Steve. It wasn’t one he recognized, but it had a soothing melody that made him think of Bucky, who he was still trying to find. It was then Steve decided he could never tell Tony about what the Winter Soldier had done. `Tony was finally in a place where he could play the song as a fond memory, and learning the truth would only cause more pain.
After everything burned down, Steve only felt guilt when he heard the song or looked at a piano. There were a lot of things he would never do differently, but not telling Tony the truth was a mistake.
After everything burned down, Tony sat at the piano, but couldn’t play. He stared at the keys, but couldn’t will his hands to move. When Rhodey would ask him to play, Tony would smile and say he was fine.
He’s always fine.
Sometimes Peter would hear haunting melodies of songs he had never heard before when he visited Avengers Tower. He never found out where they came from, but he kind of liked listening to the old melancholy tunes before Tony finally showed up and gave him the latest upgrades for his suit.
a thlaise au ; essentially a messy train of thought because i’m struggling with maths so word dump it is.
this is dedicated to everyone who has blessed me with their thlaise, you know who u are 💓 , you’re all the bestest ily.
the first domino that falls is the bash of a cheek against drunken lips in the dark of the corridor
the next morning, they write it off as an anomaly, both pretending to have forgotten the feverish way blaise had then pressed theodore against the wall, the warmth of theodore’s breath against the shell of blaise’s ear
and the soft slow slide of lips as theodore curled up and up into blaise as if he was trying to ingrain himself in blaise’s soul. he was already there but he didn’t know that.
and so the second domino teetered and toppled.
a mistake, a mistake, a mistake
the thought throbbed deep and heavy in theodore’s head when he woke up hungover with the unmistakeable indent of blaise in his sheets, on his skin
he meets blaise’s eye when he enters the kitchen and he knows that he can’t let “whatever this is” happen ifhe wants to keep blaise.
he wants to keep the blaise who runs his hand soothingly through theo’s hair when he’s ill and asleep (or at least, whilst he thinks theodore is asleep)
the blaise who returns theodore’s books to the library when he forgets
the blaise who slumps down next to him on the sofa and passes him a mug of lemon and honey tea with his slight crooked smile.
but what he doesn’t know is that keeping that blaise is not a choice he gets to make.
they can’t go back, not now that blaise knows what his lips taste like, not when blaise has realised he’s been in love with his best friend for longer than he’s been aware.