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Thinking about JB and Jude lately…

JB, who was Jude’s first friend. JB, who carried Jude to the college hospital when he witnessed him having an episode in their dorm.

JB, who shouted and made a scene in that same hospital until a doctor finally saw Jude - and that doctor was Andy, the only physician Jude ever allowed to care for him for the rest of life.

JB, who helped Jude move into the apartment he shared with Willem on Lispenard St. JB, who brought along his friend Richard to help that day. Richard, who later sold Jude his beautiful apartment on Green Street that Jude loved so much. Richard, who secretly looked after him more than Jude ever imagined, who at one point saved his life, and at another point reminded him his birthday was worth celebrating, when Jude himself had forgotten and his world was bleak.

JB, who envied his life, his looks, his career, his relationship (even his limp!). JB, who saw him as competition, rather than someone to pity. JB, who thought he was beautiful, who thought killing something small and adorable was worth it if it meant looking like Jude.

JB, who brought him to parties, who showered him with laughter and provocations.

JB, who asked too many questions and wanted all the answers but got none of them. JB, who then asked Harold to back off from asking all the questions and wanting all the answers as well.

JB, who captured his life in galleries, on canvas, on film. The good and the bad.

JB, who’s art invaded and celebrated and decorated. JB, who’s art froze Willem in time for him.

JB, who was Jude’s last friend. JB, who Jude resented, who Jude hated, who Jude never forgave, who Jude wanted dead.

JB, who found him at last, who put away his suits, who handed out his letters.

JB, who outlived his friends, who was left alone, with his pictures, and his paintings, and his pain.

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Neil's face card never declines I fear🤧

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Bagged the Savior, scurry off now

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confessions

(original: from "Method", a queer Korean movie)

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Hey friends. I always promised that I would write a disclaimer if I ever wrote something sad. So here is that disclaimer: this is sad. Harry is also experiencing some internalized “ace-phobia”, if you will. Just really struggling to believe that being ace is ever enough in a relationship with someone who is not. Yes, the author is hardcore projecting on the poor character.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, and it sounded sincere, even Harry could hear the ring of truth to it over the splintering sound of his heart. “I just,” Draco swallowed, looked down at the glass in his hands, “I think living alone would be what’s better for me right now.”

Harry nodded, shoving down the emotions, pushing back the hurt, the yearning, as he forced a smile, “no. For sure,” he said, keeping his voice light, pushing every ounce of happy-for-you-undertone that he could. “Yeah. You have to do what’s best for you,” he agreed, and he meant it, even though it hurt the way that it hurt when you sliced open your foot on a piece of glass; sudden and sharp, terribly painful in its unexpectedness.

“It’s not you,” Draco said, reaching across the table and squeezing Harry’s hand, giving him a smile and Harry wondered what the other man could see on his face. “It’s not that I don’t want to live with you,” he said.

He nodded, “right. I get it.”

“And you can come over all the time, we can have a movie night whenever we want since I won’t have Pansy and Blaise to worry about.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. Smiling, smiling, smiling. Please Godric, let it be enough that Draco can’t see past it. “Yeah. That sounds great,” he agreed.

“Dinner once a week,” he promised, “and we can cook together!”

He nodded, plastering the smile even harder to his face, “I’d love that,” he said. Not as much as he would have loved doing the shopping together, and cooking together in their shared space but… best not to think about it.

“I love you too much to live with you,” Draco said, like that made any sense at all.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing down the tears threatening to spill, heart throbbing in his throat. “I love you too,” he said. Not too much, he thought, more than his body could hold sometimes but not so much that he couldn’t live with the other man.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said again.

And Harry wanted to make up a lie, wanted to tell Draco he had another appointment or something, but Draco was his best friend. More than that, Harry had thought. They’d started planning a life together; he’d told Draco everything, given him his entire heart. Draco had said that he wanted Harry forever too. Harry’s worked so hard to actually believe him. But that was probably just the mixed signals that Harry sent, confusing everyone that he loved because he couldn’t love them in the way that they wanted. “Don’t be. I still have Ron and Hermione.”

“You could try living alone too,” Draco offered, and Harry knew it was because of the conversations they’d had, about how hard it could be living with people who were in love. About how alone Harry felt even when he was in the same room as them sometimes.

He knew Draco was trying to offer a good solution, “nah,” he said, aiming for casual and hoping that he hadn’t missed the mark by as much as it felt like he had. “I don’t do well on my own. It’s okay. I’m okay,” he assured.

“Okay,” Draco said, giving him a little smile. “I toured an apartment today.”

“Oh,” he said, “tell me about it!” And he let himself get lost in Draco’s joy, lost in how excited he was for his own adventure.

“And it just feels right, you know?” Draco asked when he finished describing his viewing.

“I’m really glad,” he said, genuinely because he loved Draco. Loved him with his entire heart and wanted what was good for him. But he couldn’t say he understood. He couldn’t. Because all Harry wanted was to be able to come home to Draco at the end of the day. All Harry wanted was someone to sit on the sofa with and eat dinner with. He wanted to be able to take care of Draco, to love him on his hard days and to listen to his stories. Harry wanted a place to come home to where he could just shut off the facade, could just be Harry.

But they didn’t want the same things. That was clearer now than it had ever been. Someday, Draco was going to get married. Someday, he’d fall in love with someone else, someone who could love him the same way, someone whose body wasn’t broken, someone who’d want to have sex with him. Someday, he’d meet someone who could be enough, who would have the capacity to accept the love that Draco felt like was too much for Harry.

And Harry wouldn’t deny him that. He wouldn’t stand in the way. It didn’t matter that Harry loved Draco with everything that he had, with all that he was, in every way that he was capable of loving another human. It wasn’t enough.

It hadn’t ever been before Draco. It had been foolish to believe that could have changed.

How could he have hoped that it might be now? How could he have let himself dream that he might ever be enough for the best person he knew?

He loved Draco more than anything, so he did the only thing that he knew how to do.

He loved him with every beat of his bruised and bloodied heart. Harry set aside his own needs, his own wants, his own desires and loved Draco in the way that he needed and not in the way that Harry wanted. Harry set aside his hopes, and dreams, the plans they’d made together and begged his heart to be happy for the other man.

Be good, he begged himself. Be kind.

Love was sacrifice. How could he have let himself forget?

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Drarry dads morning.

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Harry was a lot.

And if he was being honest, he felt like he'd always been a lot. Like the burden of his company came with far too many complications, far too many challenges for his friends and loved ones to bear. His emotions were big, his sense of duty and justice were big, his opinions of the world were big.

His body and its desires (or lack thereof) were a lot. The way he loved, obsessively, immensely, deeply, every atom of his soul devoted to reshaping itself to fit that of his beloved, was a lot (too much, always too much, and still not enough).

He was just a lot. Loving him, he reasoned, must be a fairly difficult task (it was difficult for him, so surely it would be difficult for someone else).

This dilemma tumbled around in his head as he fried some eggs and potatoes, avoiding the garlic since it did something funny to Draco's stomach. Wondering how he could possibly make himself into something less, or perhaps, if he was unable to do that, how he could give Draco enough in return for his love. Was there a way to repay someone who loved him enough to give up sex, to listen to the endless ramblings in his head, to sit and cuddle with him on the couch even when Harry's most innocent of touches caused a wave of arousal that he then ignored? How-

"Morning, love," Draco murmured, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and leaning against him.

He swallowed around the thoughts crowding into his throat, marbles rolling around in his mouth. "Hey," he rasped, light and cheerful as he could.

Draco moved so that he was at his side, arms still around him, "what's that?" he asked softly, thumb trailing over his side.

"What?" Harry asked as he flipped the potatoes.

A finger traced the frown at the corner of Harry's mouth, brushed over the line between his eyebrows, "What's going on in that marvelous head of yours?"

"Breakfast is ready," he said in lieu of answering the question that he wasn't even sure where to begin with.

Draco caught him as he started to turn toward the cupboard for a couple of plates, "Wait," he said, throwing a stasis charm over their eggs. "Tell me?" he asked softly, eyes warm and soft, curious and just a little afraid.

And Harry couldn't stand that look, couldn't bear the thought that Draco might be wondering if it was something he'd done that had upset Harry's delicate balance inside his head. "It's just," he bit his lower lip and looked down at where Draco's hands had caught his. "I'm a lot. Asking you to live with me, to share a life with me, it doesn't feel fair to you."

He chanced a glance up at Draco only to find him staring back with that particular look of affection that made Harry want to curl up into a ball because it was too much and he wanted that affection too badly. “Darling,” Draco started.

“No,” he said, shaking his head and barely resisting the impulse to cover his ears.

“Harry,” he said, a soft huff of a laugh escaping with the sound of his name. “Light of my life,” he continued, moving closer to Harry again and wrapping his arms around his waist once more, firm chest pressed solidly against Harry’s back. “My love,” he continued.

Harry squirmed, letting out a plaintive groan.

“I love you so much,” he pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s neck and Harry couldn’t help the way his head tipped to the side of its own accord to give Draco room. “You are my most favorite human being in the entire world.” He squeezed Harry’s stomach a little tighter, “better yet, the entire universe. Getting to live with you makes me impossibly happy.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Draco replied. “I choose you, Harry. I choose this life. I want this life. And nothing you can say about it will make me change my mind.”

Harry sighed and let his body relax against Draco’s, the sweetest defeat he’d ever accepted.

“That’s more like it,” he said, holding Harry tighter. “Just love me and let me love you. What else could we possibly want?”

And when he put it like that, Harry supposed there wasn’t really anything else he could ever want.

———————

Read more of my fics if you’d like :)

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At first, I was like, why are all my ships gay

Then I was like.......

Oh

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mini sapphic drarry doodle i did for twitter mutual

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A little rough silly comic with Harry helping Draco out with infant scorp :)

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hi tumblr im back on my sapphic drarry bullshit again

i wrote a very brief oneshot for them on ao3 too If you like shy first kisses, this is for you

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"What?" Harry asked, whined really, squirming a bit in his seat and trying not to feel too pleased. Or rather, trying not to let how pleased he was feeling show on his face.

"What, what?" Draco asked, grinning at Harry as he scooped another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and continued to look at Harry with that particular gleam in his eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, grin stealing over his face without his permission. In his lap, his fingers twisted around themselves as his heart fluttered around in his chest.

Fond. So impossibly fond. Looking at Harry like he was absolutely enthralled by his very existence. "Like what?"

Harry opened his mouth, closed it again, and shook his head. He looked down at his hands in his lap, fingers twisting while his heart continued its merry jig. "Like you love me," he murmured, shy and terrified of being too much, of reading too much into the expression on the other man's face, afraid that he was wrong.

"Harry," Draco said, voice light with gentle laughter.

He looked up, couldn't help himself, only to see that Draco's face was still doing that. Draco was still looking at Harry with such delight, such affection, that Harry couldn't breathe with it. His body was going to simply cease to exist, it wasn't possible for him to exist when he felt this loved, when he felt this happy.

"Is that all my face is saying to you?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shook his head, looked away, bit his lip to stop the smile that was a product of the warmth that had spread from his chest and up his neck, warm and sweet as honey it filled his limbs, filled his brain, tried to erase his fears and doubts with more success than Harry would like, if he was being honest. Fears and doubts kept him safe, kept him from falling too far, falling too hard, falling into a place from which there was no returning.

"Do you want to tell me what else my face is saying?" he asked, teasing, and Harry ached with it.

He never wanted this moment to end. Never wanted to leave this place, leave this love, leave this perfect, crystalline day. Harry shook his head again, he couldn't say it. He couldn't tell Draco what else he saw on his face because what if he was wrong? What if he was just projecting all of his hopes and his dreams, but it wasn't really how Draco felt?

"I'm so into you," Draco sighed, resting his chin in his hand.

Harry looked up at him, couldn't help it. The smile was too big, too wide, his heart in his mouth ready to just spill his guts for what was surely not the first and hopefully not the last time.

"You're so attractive," he continued, giving Harry the words that he so longed to hear. "I love getting to spend time with you. I love when you look like this."

"Like what?" Harry asked, wondering what Draco saw when he looked at him, wondering if Harry said as loudly with his face and with his body that Draco was loved, was cherished. He wondered if Draco knew that he always wanted to be with him; always wanted to hold his hand, to cuddle on the sofa, to eat meals together, to tease him and make him laugh, to hold him when he was sad. "What do I look like?"

"Like you know you're loved," Draco said simply. "You look so happy, and I can't," he broke off, shaking his head, "I can't believe I get to be the one to put that look on your face."

He laughed, "What?" Without his permission, his fingers reached for Draco's, ghosting over his knuckles before Draco's fingers caught his and slid together.

"I love getting to make you happy," Draco said, shrugging helplessly, as he continued to look at Harry like he never wanted to look at anything else, face so open, so delighted that Harry felt like he couldn't quite look at him.

"I want to make you happy too," he said, squeezing his fingers, afraid, so afraid, that he was taking too much and unable to give Draco enough in return.

Draco lifted his hand, pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles, "You do. Harry," he said softly and Harry met his gaze once more. "You make me so happy."

"Yeah?" he asked helplessly, needing the reassurance, needing to hear the words to see his face when he said it.

"Yes," he said, huffing an incredulous laugh as he brushed his lips over Harry's knuckles once more.

"I love you." The words flooded out of his mouth, spilled between them without his permission. "So much, Draco. Do you know that too?"

"Of course I do," Draco assured softly, squeezing his hand. "Yes."

"A lot," Harry added, just in case his face wasn't as good at telling Draco as Draco's was at telling Harry. Just in case all of the love that filled up every nook and crevice in his body was being missed, just in case all of the love he felt and expressed differently was somehow not as readable, was somehow not enough.

"I know, love," he assured again, thumb brushing over Harry's wrist.

He squeezed the other man's hand, "It's different," he whispered, even though Draco already knew that, "Different than how you love me."

"Harry-" he started.

"But it's really big," he said, eyes filling with tears, "I love you so much."

"Hey," Draco said, moving so he could pull Harry into a hug, tucking him under his arm and letting Harry hide his face in his neck. "Hey," he soothed, "It's alright. I know, sweetheart. I know you love me just as much as I love you. I know."

"Promise?" Harry whispered.

He nodded, pressing his face into Harry's curls. "Yes, love. I promise. You're so good," he whispered.

He let out a soft sound, somewhere between a whimper and a word of dissent.

"You're so good. It's such a gift to be able to love you. You're such a good gift."

He wrapped an arm around Draco's waist.

"I love you," he murmured into his hair.

Harry nodded.

"Thanks for letting me," he added.

Harry hummed, he wanted to be loved more than anything, wanted this more than anything. But he could understand what Draco meant, it was scary to allow yourself to be loved, to believe that you are worthy of such a thing. Scary to imagine what could happen if you let yourself open up to the possibility of blossoming into a person who is loved, scary to imagine what would happen if you came to need someone else. Maybe sometimes part of loving someone else was allowing yourself to be loved in return. Maybe believing that someone loves you and letting them is itself an act of love to them. "I'm a little afraid."

Draco nodded, "that's okay. I am too sometimes."

"What do you do?" Harry asked.

He hummed, "Well, I ask if I can just let myself be happy."

"What?"

Draco shrugged, "I ask if I can just let myself be happy," he repeated. "Can today be enough for today? Can I just enjoy all of the good that this relationship has to offer without worrying about the possible loss in the future?"

"Can you?"

"Sometimes," he replied and Harry could hear the smile in his voice. "I try to. Because today is all we have and grieving what I do not know today has never made loss later any easier."

Harry sighed, snuggling a little closer.

"So, Harry Potter, can you just let yourself be happy today?"

He took a deep breath, thought about it, and nodded. He could do that. He could just let himself be happy. One day at a time.

-----------------

Read more of my fics, if you’d like

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Deadlines are killing me so I drew some morning soft boy cuddles. (I also kind of fell in love with the headcanon about them having tattoos dedicated to one another.) (ref.)

This one is a gift for @bixgirl1 - I hope you like it, you fantastic human being. 🥰

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Hello, I'm looking for friends on tumblr. I'm very open-minded , so if you think we can get along, hit me up.

Some of my interests are:

Psychology and sociology

Learning about new cultures

Music (I listen to anything and everything but mainly girl in red, arctic monkeys, xxtxtentacion, Abba, queen)

Reading (I read anything and everything, so feel free to talk to me about any kind of books)

If you need someone to talk to, I'm here always.

I also have a discord, so if you want to add me, feel free to text me here.

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🛐strong women

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“Cuddles.”

Draco blinked and looked over his shoulder to see Harry standing behind him. He had a tumbler of what Draco suspected was whiskey and he was glaring at Draco like he’d stolen his favorite quill. “Pardon?”

“Cuddles,” Harry demanded, lower lip protruding.

He glanced around the bar to see if anyone had noticed, hoping that perhaps no one had seen Harry approach him. No one knew about them, no one knew that they’d been seeing each other for the past four and a half months. “You’re drunk, Potter.”

Hurt flashed across Harry’s face and Draco wanted to slice out his own heart and hand it over. “M’not,” he mumbled. “Just want some cuddles.”

“It’s late,” Draco said desperately, glancing around and wondering who was listening. You could never be too careful when it came to the press. “You’re probably just tired.”

“Why won’t you give me cuddles?” Harry asked, eyes looking suspiciously wet. “Why are you ashamed of me?”

“Ashamed of you?” Draco asked, at this point he was sure half the bar was listening. “What-”

“I’d be good to you,” he said, pouting again at Draco. “If you wanted to tell people about us.” He shook his head, “I’ll be good to you no matter what,” he clarified, as though Draco didn’t already know that. “Please? Cuddles?”

And he didn’t know what to do or to say. He’d been keeping everything a secret for Harry’s sake.

“Oh go on, Malfoy!” Ron Weasley shouted at him from across the bar. “Everyone knows about the two of you already. Neither of you are as sneaky as you think you are, and Harry won’t shut the fuck up about you.”

He looked at Harry, “you tell them about me.”

“He’s obsessed with you,” Ron supplied.

“And you’re obsessed with him,” Pansy called from where she was leaning by the pool table.

“Cuddles?” Harry asked, pulling Draco’s attention back to him.

“Oh, come here,” Draco said, pulling him into his arms and pressing a kiss to his lips.

Harry’s body melted against him, arms wrapping around Draco’s waist as he kissed him back. There was a smattering of good natured applause and wolf-whistling but Draco could hardly hear it, too distracted by the elation inside his chest.

After a moment, Harry pulled back, “take me home?”

And how could Draco refuse?

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Read more of my fics, if you’d like