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It's sooo good

“What were you thinking?” Thorin rounded on the hobbit. “How could you be so reckless?” If Thorin thought for even a second he might get the same dejected response as he did once on the mountainside so long ago, he was sorely mistaken. Bilbo was not the same hobbit that started that quest with him, and he realized he was about to be quickly reminded of that. “You-!” Bilbo didn’t get to finish before a hand slapped down over his mouth. Bilbo looked up at Dwalin, his eyes blazing as the muffled protests increased in frequency and volume. “Not in front of others, lad.” Dwalin reminded him softly. Bilbo’s eyes darted to the soldiers of Erebor still standing behind him, to Marlok’s men scurrying about on the deck, and finally landing on Marlok himself. Bilbo took a deep breath in before releasing it with a flutter of his eyes and a single nod. Dwalin removed his hand, and Bilbo gave him one hard look before his nose went primly up in the air. “Very well. I’m headed to my rooms so my wetness is no longer offensive. Good day to you all.” He sniffed before marching away.

@drarrymicrofic | prompt: dream | wc: 500 | rated: mild m

The dreams had begun years earlier. Sometimes lurid, all sweat-slicked skin and desperate moans. Sometimes sweet, hands clasped on dates—one time they went to the zoo. Sometimes a litany of nightmares: the tower. The bathroom. “I can’t be sure.”

The strange thing was, he always dreamt through Harry’s eyes. His own face, lust-blown pupils and pink cheeks; Harry’s thumping heart. Feeling a leap of hope in Harry’s throat as saw himself bite his lip, eyes shining down at a ring as he nodded. The same nightmares, tempered by Harry’s sympathy, regret, pride.

The dreams were an unconscionably cruel move by his subconscious. His mind healer suggested a dream diary; he stopped after a year. It hurt too much, seeing what he could never have, feeling things he knew Harry would never feel. He didn’t need a book about it.

—

A knock distracted Draco from his calculations; he scowled as Harry strolled in.

“Do the Unspeakables need a potion?”

“If they did, I don’t know why I’d know,” Harry said, grinning. Draco rolled his eyes. Less subtlety than an erumpent in a dollhouse.

“Why are you here, then?”

“For you,” Harry said, then flushed.

Draco stared, heart racing. He didn’t let himself speak.

“Right,” Harry said. “What do you know about dreams?”

Draco swallowed, refusing to remember the previous night’s dream: Draco in Harry’s body, licking his own scars with a lascivious groan, whispering into his own ear, with Harry’s voice, how he wanted to—he shook himself.

“Do I look like a dream expert?”

“No. But Hermione is. And I was doing some research”—Draco scoffed—“and she. Well. She found out. When I explained, she gave me a book.”

Draco leant back, arms behind his head. “And you need me to read it to you?”

“No, you tosser, I managed.” Harry’s smile faded. “But … I think you should read it too.”

Draco frowned, heartbeat thudding in his throat. “It’s about dreams.” 

“Yeah. And … other stuff. Anyway, I just—here. I’ll need it back, Hermione’d flay me alive if I—I’ll go.”

Looking far more cowardly than any Gryffindor should, Harry shoved the book across Draco’s desk and fled. Draco tugged it closer.

A Short Treatise with Various Observations and Theories on the Metaphysicks of Soul-Bonds and Certain Peculiarities of Shared Dreams

Draco stared, mouth dry, before noticing the scrap of parchment tucked inside.

Draco— If I’m wrong, this might be the creepiest gift you’ve ever received. I hope I’m right. Can we talk? Tonight, 7pm, my place. —Harry

Draco sat, hands shaking, and opened the book to the first page.

At 6:59, Draco stood, book in hand, at Harry’s door. He took a breath and lifted his fist to knock.

Harry opened the door, rumpled and beautiful. He looked hopeful. He looked frightened.

“They’re your dreams?” Draco blurted. “I—they’re your dreams.”

how measurements work in canada (ie/ badly)

Here's a UK version:

So ok look. The point is not the flared leg by itself. These cannot be yoga pants. These are, and you have to understand this if you are too young to have worn them, BLUE JEANS. And this was the last years before all jeans were 70% spandex.

They were denim, and they weren't bell bottoms. They hung loose from the knee in a way that would make a wizard envious. We all walked around like we were wearing hakama. And they dragged on the ground. That was important. Ragged cuffs. If your jeans weren't so long that they had ratty cuffs, they were embarrassingly short.

And the thing about denim is that it's a twill weave and it's cotton. So not only does it hold a lot of water, it wicks. Walking around in these suckers on a wet day could get you wet to the knees even if you never stepped in a puddle.

Then you'd go inside and take off your shoes and try to avoid letting your freezing, wet, filthy pant legs touch your skin.

• holding ilya’s hand while they cross a busy street full of hazards (potholes, roadworks, etc)

• rescuing ilya from kidnappers (he kicks down the door)

• rescuing ilya from a burning building (bridal carry)

• fighting in a gladiatorial ice hockey arena for ilya’s hand in marriage

• massaging ilya’s bad knee and ilya says with wonderment “wowww wow. shane you’re so good at this… you are better than every physical therapist on earth probably”

• saying “he asked for no pickles” to the mcdonalds cashier

• carrying ilya’s bags

• washing ilya’s hair

• applying o’keefes working hands cream to ilya’s calluses

Dear anon friend,

To be honest when I logged into tumblr this week again and read your message I cried a little because I had a really hard day at work and then your message was so nice, and then the next day I felt really good because I had your words with me, so thank you. Maybe fandom can seem silly to other people but isn't it great that we are still connected in some way after 10 years because of a BBC Sherlock adaptation and get each other through hard days? (´꒳`)♡

I am so happy to hear what your last decade has been like! Thank you genuinely so much for sharing!! I can't wait for the next one and all the great things you will do. You wrote that you were "trauma-dumping". I just want to say I'm really glad you reached out 10 years ago. You were a child and needed help, and you got that child help. I'm really proud you did and I hope you are as well. (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

And just like this it is may 31th again!! Where did the last year go? What happened to me wanting to post more comics?? Well, let's try again this year!! (°□°;)

I hope it was a good year for everyone. Sherlock will always be here. And John too! (*ˊᗜˋ*)

Every single fanfic author is giving us the best Draco of all time. From a bullied character in the canon (from she_who_must_not_be_named) to a complete wonderful complex human being.

I love slutty Draco, I love shy Draco, I love traumatized Draco, I love powerful Draco, I love competent at his work Draco, I love Draco in the muggle world, I love tattooed Draco, I love every single one of them.

A Fierce and Jealous Love