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taylor price

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d e v o n
art blog(derogatory)
macklin celebrini has autism
trying on a metaphor
Cosmic Funnies

titsay
styofa doing anything
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hello vonnie
occasionally subtle
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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@laruedelarue

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Not Anyone Who Says by Mary Oliver
Sergiu Ciochina (Moldovan b.2001), After the Rainlight, Paris, 2026, Oil on canvas
She hurries forward, her throbbing feet begging her to please stop running everywhere, while Malfoy waits – all tall and Pureblood Polite.
"Thanks." Scooting past, she glances up at him, just as he looks down at her. That is all.
Except...
There's such a lack of animosity in his gaze that she freezes in the door-frame, bag clutched to her chest.
—
Tiny first chapter preview of heatwave-flavoured romcom wip.
A cover to celebrate the completion ‪‪❤︎‬ Read it on Ao3 (22k words)
Second Chance Romance; Coworkers; Sex before Feelings; Non-linear Narrative; Mutual Pining; Angst with a Happy Ending

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maybe my favorite still ever from the pitt
she’s coming
writing tip #4186:
have you considered birdwatching instead
by Kitano Tsunetomi.
sealegacy on ig
Mt. St. Helens. May 18, 1980.

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Pee stick (D/Hr)
205 words of fluff. CW: Pregnancy
“Draco?” Hermione calls from the kitchen.
No answer. She tries again from the living room.
“In the garden!”
She halts at the French doors just as he appears from behind a shrub. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think I'm doing?” he replies, crossing the lawn. “Finding you a stick to pee on.”
He presents her a twig, Y-shaped and muddy.
She holds back a laugh and shows him hers. “I already have it. Look, two lines.”
His eyes pause at the white strip in her hand. “I’m so lost.”
“I’m pregnant."
He looks back up. “Really?”
“Really.”
He gapes at her for a moment, then hurls the twig across the lawn where it lands in the shrub it came from.
A sheepish smile on his face when he turns back to her.
Gods, how she loves him.
“I love you,” she says, throwing her arms around him, creasing the pregnancy test while doing so. She doesn’t care.
He holds her tight. “I love you."
“Can we get the twig back?” she asks.
Draco moves his head around, just as he always does when her hair gets up his nose. Freed, he plants a kiss at her crown. “Whatever for?”
“Keepsake.”
borrowed gestures. pencil
ah yes my favourite trope
East Coast - David Leonard
American , b. 1962 -
Oil on canvas , 18 x 26 in.
Women's Flax and Others - Paula von Goeschen-Rösler , 1917.
German , 1875-1941
Tempera and pencil on paper , Â Â 39.4 x 29.4 cm. 15.5 x 11.5 in.

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In this heat?
Theo lets out a small gasp.
"What is it?"
"Is that Draco?"
Hermione scrambles to sit up.
She follows Theo's gaze across the field, past a meadow-like stretch of flowers, to where a runner is pounding along a sandy path. Shirtless. He's pulled back the top of his platinum hair. Panting besides him, a ridiculously excited black and white dog.
"Yes, it's him," she says.
"Who in their right mind goes for a run in this heat?"
Hermione doesn't reply. She's too busy watching Malfoy run, the dog now sprinting ahead, ignoring his whistle commands.
"He has a dog," she remarks.
"That he does."
"Oh Gods, is it coming this way?"
— Working on something new and it's a romcom maybe (unplanned). The heatwave got to me, I think.
bond (49 words)
Malfoy’s still a complete wanker, still introduces himself like he’s James Bond, and now he’s got the license to kill. “No, he doesn’t,” Hermione repeats. “And neither do you! Harry, say you understand.” “I understand Robards wants me dead,” Harry says. “Otherwise he wouldn't have partnered me with Malfoy.”Â
prompt from @drarrymicrofic | my Drarry microfic collection on Ao3