I Can’t Stop Thinking That Seamus Looks Like Tommyinnit 😭

I only hate certain types of fic the same way I hate mosquitos and ticks. Like get these nasty little buggers away from me but also I respect their place in the ecosystem.

Man, we have got to stop treating art like it has an expiration date. That show stopped airing? Doesn’t mean it can’t haunt your every waking thought. Everybody’s into this album, but you don’t have the energy for new music right now? It’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready. That movie’s fifty years old and indie as shit? Incredible, you have the chance to share it with folks who might never otherwise feel that particular punch of delight. Books don’t go bad. Shows inspire fandoms decades after they’ve wrapped up. We’re still looking at cave paintings and statue work from ancient times and letting the joy of creation bring tears to our eyes. That’s the point of art. It’s as close to immortality as we ever get. Why try to give that magic a shelf life?

“You’ll be all right,” Elphaba said, “now you’re a seasoned traveler. This is just the return leg of a voyage you already know.” She put her face against Glinda’s and kissed her. “Hold out, if you can,” she murmured, and kissed her again. “Hold out, my sweet.”

I AM PULVERIZED

Happy Valentine’s Day 💖

The last train: overtime at the ministry means the they have the whole seat to themselves (a glimpse into the future?) dw Draco only work when he wants to.

Yeah, Draco taking Harry's last name to make a statement about no longer being a part of his stupid family's pureblood ideology is cool, but Harry taking Draco's last name to make a statement about how he 100000% supports his husband as he is, past, present, and future, and is done being the celebrity Harry Potter and is focusing on being Draco's husband is SO MUCH BETTER.

On a fateful day in sixth year, Harry follows Ron and Hermione into the hazy, vapour-filled dungeons for their class with Slughorn. Breathing in woody, floral fumes, he opens up an old annotated copy of Advanced Potion-Making for the first time.

That year, he kisses Ginny Weasley for the first time, too.

He also slices Draco Malfoy open in a bathroom.

Ten years later, he finishes up at his desk on a Friday evening, chucks the latest case notes into his bag, and wanders down to the D.M.L.E. potion lab. Technically, at this hour, there should be no-one here, but he's not surprised to find a pale blonde head bent over a row of steaming cauldrons.

"Shouldn't you be home by now?" He drops his bag on the floor, hoisting himself up onto the benchtop.

"Funny." Malfoy doesn't take his eyes off his task, peering at the dark, pearly liquid. It looks vaguely familiar. “Shouldn’t you?”

"Not like it matters," Harry says, gaze catching on the damp curls at Malfoy's nape. "Nothing to go home to except more case notes."

"Oh, the life of the Chosen One. Scintillating as ever." Malfoy stirs the middle potion clockwise, then counter-clockwise. "I'll be sure to write to the Prophet tomorrow, first thing."

Harry snorts, and Malfoy grins, wiping his brow with his sleeve. He begins stirring the potion closest to Harry, counting under his breath. Spirals of steam twist languidly in the air as a comfortable silence settles in. Harry breathes in deep, slow, recognising the warm, clean scent of Malfoy’s cologne. He’s sure he could pick out Malfoy blindfolded now, after five years of working together in close quarters.

"I should go home and use my own lab," Malfoy murmurs, brushing his hair out of his face again. "The temperature control charms here are shit. I'm sweating my fucking balls off right now."

Harry can't be blamed for what he says next; he's trying very hard not to think about Malfoy's balls.

"Well, you smell nice, at least."

Malfoy looks at him sharply, a strange look on his face. "What?"

Harry feels a heat creep up his neck that has nothing to do with humidity. "Er, your cologne. It's nice."

Malfoy carefully places the ladle down on the benchtop. "I'm not wearing cologne today."

"Oh." Harry breathes in, helplessly, wishing he would shut up even as he keeps talking. "It smells like your cologne in here." Too late, he remembers where he recognises the pearly sheen of the potion from. Sixth year. Slughorn. "Ohhhh, shit. Is that—"

"Amortentia," Malfoy breathes, crowding in between Harry's knees, and then—he's kissing Harry, kissing him hard, tugging at his hair, shoving a hand up his t-shirt. Shock, hunger, hot and electric, shoot up Harry's entire body and he pulls Malfoy hard against him, desperate. Malfoy's tongue is in his mouth. Harry wants to climb inside him.

Finally Malfoy pulls back, breathing hard. "It smells like me? Really?"

"Yes," Harry groans, chasing after him. "Yeah, this whole fucking—" Harry gasps, clutching Malfoy closer as he sucks at the skin below Harry's ear, "—room smells like you. Oh God. Fuck, fuck, don't stop—"

Draco doesn't.

Floral 🌸 Day 6 of @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean’s unofficial microfic may challenge

I don't think it would be challenging to make an image generator that "respects copyright" (you could train it on public domain art and photos but you could also license massive libraries of stock photos and TV shows and book/album covers etc. from the media companies that hold the rights to them) and I think the existence of such a generator would not lead people currently mad about AI to suddenly be cool with it because it's really not about copyright.

When I say “I love this artist” I either know 5 of their songs that I play on repeat or I know their entire discography and you just have to guess which one it is

Winter, spring, summer and fall, four seasons, four loves

(i did this art for the zukka week of a couple of years ago but zukka still real and true 🤟🔥)