This Art Is So Beautiful

This art is so beautiful 💙

"At the cottage, Harry held his bedroom door open, and Draco slipped inside, hungry and fumbling and sweet. When they were finished and lying close in the double bed, Harry clumsily kissed Draco on the cheek and pushed the sweaty hair from his brow, willing him to stay the night.

“I dreamed about this once,” Draco said, so softly Harry might have missed it if he hadn’t been waiting for it, in the quiet."

Waiting for that Feeling by @sorrybutblog

a very belated wheel of drarry fic for the very kind and talented iota, who was very understanding and allowed me to gift her an art piece instead of a fic for the exchange. thank you so much for your patience and i hope you like your little gift. this fic has become one of my favourite fluff fics because of how tender each moment is written. honestly, reading it felt like going through an old journal and reading through the smudged ink, finding stories that comfort you and bring you light in the darkest nights. of course, i loved the light angst part, but i especially loved the little moments in the fic where i could find tangible moments. reading this fic felt like a being under a warm blanket during a stormy night. ❤

ko-fi | ao3 | instagram (currently inactive but i'll upload my recent art on there when my schedule allows me <3)

Harry leans into Theo’s warm embrace. He thinks about Draco’s gray eyes, the way they narrow when he wants something, and flicker to light when he laughs. He thinks about Draco’s long limbs, his casual saunter. He thinks about the afternoon in the potion’s lab with Draco leaning back beside him. He thinks he always knew it would come to this, his heart full and ready, waiting to spill into pale broad palms.

Read full work here 

Nostalgia is like hey remember that time in your life when you were unbearably sad and angry all the time? What if you weren't? What if you actually miss it? What if magnolia trees never smell like that again?

So flattered to be included in this list!! It means so much to me when people appreciate my blog 💚💜

Have you ever met someone on the internet that you liked so much that you sometimes sit there and think “Oh man there are people who are lucky enough to see this person IN THE FLESH ON A REGULAR BASIS and I wonder if they realize how LUCKY they are”

I love this piece so much! The writing style is so unique and allows such depth of perspective :)

fight just a little to bring back the fire in my eyes

CW: vague references to suicidal thoughts, depression/mental illness. Based on "She Used To Be Mine" from the musical Waitress.

I gave out pieces of myself like candy, after the war. I did before it, too, and during, if I'm honest with myself. But it got worse, somehow, even after I proved to be the hero they demanded, the savior I needed to be.

But it wasn't enough. People want to be saved from more than dangers outside their own control. They want to be saved from the dirty work of confronting their own prejudice, of the struggle of reckoning with trauma from battle. And just because my entire life has put me through a crucible of one soul-wrenching struggle after another doesn't mean I want or need to do that for anyone else anymore.

I look in the mirror and see a twenty-three-year-old man, and while I am hardened and calloused and scarred and used, I am in so many ways still eleven years old and reckoning with the fact that there are other "freaks" and "degenerates" like me in the world. I don't know why I feel like I still need to earn my place here, to be worthy of this home away from the Dursleys. Maybe if I'm useful enough strong enough powerful enough willing enough enough enough enough—they won't send me back.

I still can't believe you are now on the very short list of people I've met to tell me that I don't have to be anything else; with a full household of their own, the Weasleys did more than enough to nurture and love me, but I let myself slip through the cracks, to not be needy, to eat and smile, and to accept and return their love whenever it was given.

But despite Molly and Arthur's best efforts, I didn't have parents to tell me that I was special no matter what. So I guess I'm glad one of us, at least, had one parent alive and willing to teach us that we reach the minimum requirement for love just by breathing.

You're not my father. You're not my mind healer. You're my boyfriend, and I'm sorry if there are times that I make you feel like your job is bigger than that. I know, you'd tell me that I'm not a burden, and I'm starting to realize that, but Draco I don't expect you to carry my burdens for me. I will go to you with my problems, as I hope you still do with me, but I don't need you to do more than love me, as you do.

You're enough, too.

Enough to love me in a way that still takes my breath away, and enough to receive it in return. Enough to be one of the people in my life who make it all worth it, to be worth fighting for. Worth saving, and saving myself for.

I save myself for, well, me. But also for you. And Ron and Hermione, and the Weasleys, and Teddy and Andromeda, for my parents. I save myself every day, and I think that, alone, is all the heroism I need.

It's enough, for me.

This is so interesting!!!

every day i am percieved™️