Driftingdoll - Look Alive, Sunshine

i love joining discord servers and then never saying anything ever

Seventeen Mag’s Hot Guys Issue +

“I haven’t got any options! I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole family!”  ( Harry potter and the Half-blood Prince) Today is Draco’s Birthday! so…… Happy birthday Draco! 

@ fic authors what do you personally consider a successful fic? What’s the bar?

Hermione is alone on the porch when he arrives.

Everyone is asleep inside, drowsy after Molly’s Sunday roast and countless bottles of celebratory champagne.

Her stomach twists into a thousand tiny knots.

“Congratulations.”

“Don’t,” she says sharply, another knot welling up in her throat.

Beneath the amber lantern, his eyes are bloodshot. The last time they saw one another, they were bright and melting, burning holes into her skin that she wished to fill with him.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and stands there, looking at her.

She can’t stand the weight of his gaze, so she stares at her knee. At her hand on her knee. At the sparkling jewel nestled around the finger of her hand on her knee.

“I still read Muggle literature,” he says, sitting beside her.

They used to discuss Muggle books for hours, far past curfew, hiding in empty classrooms where nobody could find them.

She notices he’s holding a slip of parchment.

“Different material, though,” he resumes. “Poetry. You know how you would look at the oil landscape on the fourth-floor corridor and say a storm was brewing, but I envisioned it as the end of one?”

“It was literally titled ‘Brewing Tempest’.”

“Not,” he taps her knee with his, “the point.”

She smiles.

“Poetry is kind of like that. Imaginative. Inclusive. Even a stranger can read a few lines and feel at home.”

“Why haven’t you written to me?”

“I was giving you time to be with your friends. You missed them.”

“I miss you.”

The parchment rustles in his hands. It’s folded eight times over. He folds and unfolds it restlessly. “I’m not a writer.”

“I know that.”

“Neither are you,” he adds, insulted by how quickly she agreed.

She breathes a laugh. “I never claimed to be.”

“Do you know what a haiku is?”

“Did you write me one?” she asks, amused.

“No. But I found one that expresses how I’ve felt these last few weeks, watching you slip away. It’s by an American poet. Billy Collins. Maybe it’s too late to give it to you, but I knew I’d regret if I didn’t at least try—”

Hermione snatches it from his hands.

Draco rebukes her impatience, but he rambles when he’s nervous and she's brimming with curiosity.

“Where are you going?” she calls after him.

But he’s already halfway gone, shaking his head like he can’t stand to be there anymore.

Heart in her throat, Hermione reads:

He may compare you

to the dawn, but I

stayed up all night to watch it.

She reads it again.

Twice more.

And then she’s running.

“Draco!” she cries, afraid the pop of Apparation will go off before she can stop him. “Draco!”

It’s too dark and she hasn’t cast a Lumos spell and she can hardly see where she’s—

“Oof!” he gasps as she barrels into him.

It’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard.

Hermione throws her arms around his neck.

“I made a mistake! I never should have said yes. You didn’t write, so I thought you didn’t want me. You never said anything at school. But I’ve felt this awful regret since the moment he put the ring on my finger and I know it’s because of you. I know—”

He cuts her off with a bruising kiss, pressing into her with such conviction, a thousand knots come undone. Hermione buoys.

The next day, Ron awakes, groggy and hungover.

Alone.

A letter sits on his bedside table. Hermione’s engagement ring sparkles on top.

(588 words, prompt: it's a poem, I read this haiku by Billy Collins and remembered this prompt and had to do something with it.)

Almost every single question Ben asked was heavily, heavily loaded and the potential to be a disaster. He was pushing indirectly for a particular answer the whole time, and the more times he got denied, he got more bitter about it…. like holy hell that a mess on four wheels. God bless Liam for taking the brunt of it, and god bless the rest of them for all the shade

The Wicked King 👑

“It’s literally impossible to be a woman.

You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don't think you're good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow, we're always doing it wrong?

You have to be thin, but not too thin, and you can never say you wanna be thin. You have to say you wanna be healthy, but also, you have to BE THIN.

You have to have money, but you can't ask for money because that's crass.

You have to be a boss, but you can't be mean.

You have to lead, but you can't squash other people's ideas.

You're supposed to love being a mother, but don't talk about your kids all the damn time.

You have to be a career woman, but also, always be looking out for other people.

You have to answer for men's bad behavior, which is INSANE, but if you point that out, you're accused of complaining!

You're supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you're supposed to be a part of the sisterhood, but ALWAYS STAND OUT and ALWAYS BE GRATEFUL. But never forget that the system is rigged, so find a way to acknowledge that but ALSO, always be grateful!

You have to never get old. Never be rude. Never show off. Never be selfish. Never fall down. Never fail. Never show fear. Never get OUT OF LINE. It's too hard! It's too contradictory, and nobody gives you a medal or says 'thank you!' And it turns out, in fact, that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also, everything is your fault.

I'm just so tired of watching myself, and every single other woman tie herself into knots, so that people will like us.

And if all of that, is also true for a doll just representing a woman, then I don't even know." -Gloria the barbie movie

this is it. this is exactly it oh my god.

love them so much🥹🥹🥹🥹