Latest Posts by lushrooms - Page 4

Frens 🥰

Royalcore pt. 2: Suspicion

when a character is empty-handed & surrounded by weapons pointed at them but they're calm and maybe even smiling, and the attackers are the ones who look afraid??? very sexy i think

Chapters: 2/5 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Blaise Zabini Additional Tags: Vampires, Clubbing, Drinking, Bodyguard Harry Potter, Potioneer Draco Malfoy, Post-Canon, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Third Person Limited, Getting Together, Minor Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini Summary:

After quitting his job as an auror Harry finds himself frequenting one of wizarding London's grimy underground bars. Along with it comes a new drinking partner in the form of alleged illicit potions dealer Draco Malfoy and rather more run-ins with creatures of the night than Harry ever expected.

a draco drawing today

kinkuary 2022 is here!

well! here we all are again.

i kind of can't believe that we're staring down the barrel of february 2022 in much the same shape as we did february 2021...the more things change, the more they stay the same, eh? i think we could all use a little kink in our lives again :)

just like last year, kinkuary is a very casual event, and both fic and art are welcome. there are no wordcount minimums, all ships are welcome, and there’s no participation requirement—you can create for one, some, or all of the prompts. fics do not need to be beta-read if you don’t want, but i do encourage comprehensive tagging for any potential triggers.

**i've made one major change—this event is now open to all fandoms. your mod is primarily involved in two fandoms, with two main ships, but if you feel like sharing this with people in other fandoms, please feel free to reblog with fest/event tags! the same general rules, outlined in the collection link below, apply—basically, be kind, tag thoughtfully, and enjoy yourself!

you can find the collection and the (very few) rules for this event on Ao3 here! happy creating!

**just like last year, this event is 18+ only. please respect that.

Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Blaise Zabini Additional Tags: Vampires, Clubbing, Drinking, Bodyguard Harry Potter, Potioneer Draco Malfoy, Post-Canon, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Third Person Limited Summary:

After quitting his job as an auror Harry finds himself frequenting one of wizarding London's grimy underground bars. Along with it comes a new drinking partner in the form of alleged illicit potions dealer Draco Malfoy and rather more run-ins with creatures of the night than Harry ever expected.

Fanfiction is becoming people’s primary form of entertainment right now because most media right now is so cheap, bland, recycled, and sponsored by people who love money more than the source material. Fanfiction is written for free by people who genuinely love what they’re writing about. That’s why it’s better. That’s why it’s more satisfying. Fanfiction is a home-cooked meal made for yourself and for your friends. Media today is junky fast food spoiled by too much grease and the knowledge that the people producing it are being criminally mistreated and underpaid. 

I have a date with the Chesapeake Ripper.

✨They’re dating✨ I needed a boost of serotonin so I decided to draw my beloved couple: possessive Draco and clueless Harry.

Btw, I feel like he’s prettiest Draco I’ve ever drawn. I usually prefer him with wavy long hair with a man-bun or something like that, but I think that it makes more sense that he didn’t have such long hair or that kind of hair style before his 20s.

Love,

Cuckooboo

The Potion 🧪

Digital drawing, do not repost, do not use without permission.

hello! 3 or 16 for writer asks? 🙌

Hi fw00sh!! 💕

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway) OHOHO HELL YES THANK YOU FOR THIS GREEN LIGHT cw violence and like, mild dubcon? nsfw ish. wc ~900

Draco slammed his locker shut, revealing Potter in the doorway of the locker room, looking like death warmed over.

Looking, as he usually did, fucking furious.

“Again?” Draco sighed.

Harry’s boots echoed in the empty room as he marched toward Draco, who grit his teeth in frustration.

“Oh, for fuck’s—” Draco was cut off by Harry’s fist and an explosion of pain in his jaw, then the back of his skull as his head hit the locker, because of fucking course.

But this wasn’t new. And Draco was tired. He’d had the same shitty day as Harry. They’d both been on that bollocksed-up raid. They’d both seen horrible, painful things.

Harry followed it up with a punch to Draco’s gut, knocking the wind out of him, and a familiar grunt of “Come on, you fucking—”

Draco whirled on him with an elbow to the face, a satisfying, sickening crack, and blood poured from Harry’s nose. Harry was used to that, though, and barely reacted before grabbing Draco’s shirt and slamming him back into the lockers. He pulled his fist back, and Draco said, “Stop.”

Harry’s expression flickered—guilt, fear, desperation—Draco had never before tried to stop this. In fact, Draco had usually landed twice as many hits by now.

It was the only time he was ever allowed to touch Harry. Of course he had never tried to stop it.

Because in a few minutes, Draco would give the final blow and pin him down—against the floor, the wall, a door frame, a desk, it didn’t matter. He’d have Harry’s wrists in his hands and Harry’s wide green eyes staring up at him, and Harry’s conspicuously hard cock against his hip, and Harry’s face would get even redder as he spluttered and tried to wriggle away.

And he could have. But he never did.

Instead, he’d fight with himself until he felt Draco inevitably getting hard, too; until Draco’s whole body was pressed up against him, holding him down; until Draco slotted his thigh between Harry’s legs, and Harry gave in with a shiver, frotting against him with a quiet little moan, breathing hard against Draco’s neck. Until they both came in their pants, and Harry made that sweet, broken sound that Draco was already addicted to, and Draco had to let go of him and run, unable to face Harry’s disgust in the aftermath.

It wasn’t disgust. He knew that, now.

Harry didn’t stop. His fist hit Draco’s cheekbone, but the whiplash was worse. Draco ducked under his arm, using his shoulder to ram him into the opposite wall of lockers. Harry’s back hit the metal with a loud bang and a heavy oof, and he pounded his fist against Draco’s back, trying to knee him in the gut, but Draco was faster, as always, and had his wrists pinned to the cold metal in the blink of a swollen eye: “Harry, stop.”

Harry froze, then grit his teeth and started squirming again, trying to buck Draco off. “No.” He wasn’t even hard, this time.

Because it wasn’t about the sex. It had never been about the sex. It wasn’t even about the fighting, and it had taken Draco way too long to figure it out: that while this was the only way Draco was allowed to touch Harry, this was the only way Harry knew how to ask for it.

Harry’s eyes grew brighter, shinier, and he growled as he bucked and squirmed and pushed against Draco’s hold, desperation renewed under Draco’s piercing, knowing gaze.

“Harry.” Draco quickly gathered Harry’s arms to his chest—a calculated risk, Harry could easily push him away like this, but Harry grabbed onto Draco’s shirt, instead. He still squirmed, shaking his head frantically. “Harry.” Draco wrapped his arms around him, pressing him into the lockers, locking him in a tight, confining embrace. Harry’s body shook against his, his fists clenched in the fabric of Draco’s shirt, his breaths harsh through bloodstained teeth.

“Sweetheart,” Draco breathed. “It’s alright.”

Harry tensed; Draco could hear his teeth grinding as he held his breath. Harry let out a small gasp, and another, and Draco held him even tighter as Harry finally, finally let himself cry, breaking apart in the safe, containing circle of Draco’s arms.

Draco ran his hands over Harry's sides, his arms, his shoulders, burying his fingers in those wild curls and pressing Harry's face into his neck, kissing the side of his head and whispering in his ear—I've got you, sweetheart, I'm here—and relished in the freedom of finally letting himself break, too, as all of his love and care poured out of him, surrounding them both.

"I couldn't—" Harry hiccuped, "—save them—"

"You can't save everyone, Harry," Draco interrupted. "I couldn't save them, either."

Harry clung tighter, sobbed harder, soaking Draco's shirt with blood and tears. He didn't let go, didn't pull away, not even once his sobs had subsided, his breaths slow and even against Draco's neck.

"Let me take you home," Draco said, combing his fingers through Harry's hair. "With me." Harry reluctantly pulled back to look at him. "Please?"

Harry looked awful, with blood on his face and exhausted, red-rimmed eyes, but he eventually nodded, and Draco immediately started planning which healing charms he would use, which bath potions, which dinners he could prepare on short notice.

And all the new, gentle ways he could touch him.

I try to stay away from a lot of fandom discourse, but since I’ve been seeing this on my dash again and in tags, I feel the need to make a statement on this, particularly for any young fans who follow me that might get drawn into this mindset.

Stay away from purity culture. Warn your friends away from it too, if you see them starting to fall for it. It’s very easy to get drawn into it

Almost always, it starts with one of three roots, pedophilia, incest and/or abuse. Usually it’s pedophilia. Funnily enough, that’s also what congress usually uses to try to justify passing bills that undermine online privacy & security. Because it’s an easy, extreme target, and when people attempt to argue against it, it’s nice and easy to say “Oh so you like pedophilia” rather then actually engaging with their argument.

The logic goes like this, although there’s many forms of it.

“Pedophilia is bad.” -> Obviously, you agree with this. You’re a reasonable person, and the idea that anyone would do something like that to a child is horrible. This is a normal human reaction.

“Because pedophilia is bad, all fictional explorations of it must be equally bad.” -> Here you might hesitate, but it adds up, doesn’t it? The thought of pedophilia in any context probably gives you a bad feeling, that makes you inclined to go along with this logic. 

“Anyone who creates content with a fictional exploration of pedophilia is also bad.” -> Maybe you pause here, or maybe you don’t. But still, it adds up, it’s a very easy flow. After all, we’ve decided that that is Bad, so why would anyone Good want to create something like that?

“Since people who create content with a fictional exploration of pedophilia are just as bad as people who engage in pedophilia in real life, it’s okay to harm them.” -> Here’s where you might pause again. The argument might not win you over entirely, you might not be willing to do harm yourself, but you may be a lot more willing to turn a blind eye to harm being done to someone. Or to consider it ‘justified’.

The pattern now repeats for anything else that’s considered “morally impure”, and “pedophilia” is expanded and expanded, often to ridiculous points, such as merely shipping two underage characters. “Abuse” becomes any ship that the person pushing doesn’t like, for any reason. And so on and so forth.

This is the foundation of “anti” culture, and it’s important to be aware of it so you can catch this false equivocation. Fictional explorations of something, are not the same as the thing itself. Fictional explorations are fiction. The characters are not real people. There is no actual harm being done. Equating fake harm and real harm is a dangerous, slippery slope, which leads us to fundamentally flawed ideas of moral purity. It’s a form of controlling people & making them feel guilty for their very thoughts, rather than holding people accountable for their actions. 

A very handy trick for when you encounter this sort of argument, is to replace whatever the selected purity term is with murder. After all, we can all agree that murder is bad, but at the same time, we understand that a murder in a book =/= a murder in real life.

Let’s see that argument again, shall we?

“Murder is bad”

“Because murder is bad, all fictional explorations of it must be equally bad.”

“Anyone who creates content with a fictional exploration of murder is also bad.”

“Since people who create fictional explorations of murder are just as bad as the people who commit murder in real life, it’s okay to harm them.”

Hopefully, it’s now easy to see why the above argument is fundamentally flawed.

Keep your eye out for purity culture in your fandom spaces, and when you see it, refuse to engage with it. Warn your friends if you see them falling into the same traps, although try to be kind about it; this is a very easy thought pattern to fall into. I don’t recommend trying to argue/debate anti’s. The attention only feeds them. Block them instead. Don’t let people control or shame you for what you create or consume, and don’t control or shame others for what they create or consume.

Also, as a note, let me be clear about something. If you are uncomfortable with any of the above discussed things, or anything in general in fiction (ie, underage ships, murder, incest, abuse, penguins, needles, etc), that’s perfectly fine (it’s also called a squick, for those that haven’t heard that term before). Absolutely control your fandom experience by blocking people, filtering tags, unfollowing, etc. However, just because you are uncomfortable with something, does not give you the right to control other people. Other people have no right to control what content you create or consume, and you have no right to do that to them either. 

Okay?

Slytherin Snakes 🐍

My brother passed away last year during a time when I couldn't see friends or all of my family due to lockdown. AO3 absolutely helped me get through the darkest days of my life.

I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m perfectly happy to explain my philosophy. I’ve had a quarter of a century in fandom to think about it, after all.

No one can donate to every cause, and every year there are horrible things going on in the world.

You have to pick.

If you try to do everything, you will accomplish nothing.

I don’t owe anyone my time or money and I don’t feel guilty when people try this hackneyed anti-AO3 tactic on me. It’s common in every activist space too as a form of sealioning. It’s not a gotcha: it just means you have bad values and don’t understand how to be an effective activist in real life.

For a lot of people, their AO3 donation is part of their entertainment budget, not their ‘help starving people’ type donation budget, so they aren’t even related in the first place.

For me personally, supporting arts organizations is about recognizing that spiritual and emotional needs are valid too. Literal physical survival is only one small part of human existence.

AO3 has been fantastically important for people’s mental health during the pandemic.

basically the insistience that a work of media has to be “sensitive” or “good” in order to be about something traumatic or bad presumes that the nature of art is to be consumed instead of created and it gestures, shittily, toward the complete professionalization/commercialization of all art. 

Draco Malfoy 🖤

writing should be fun.

make oc playlists. spend hours on moodboards that have no purpose. write self-indulgent fluff that’s never going to be published. scribble three lines of poetry in the back of your history notebook. draw fanart of your own characters. write stupid dialogue that your publishers might hate. start new wips that you might never finish but write those three chapters that make you happy because if you don’t write them, who else will?

writing shouldn’t always be about “will publishers like this” or “i have to reach this word count” or “how do i get the most likes”.

have fun with your writing.

draco malfoy: ‘what i want’ world tour

inspired by the fic Star Quality by who_la_hoop on AO3

The Grim, my dear, the Grim! The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen—the worst omen—of death!

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban 2004 | dir. Alfonso Cuarón

Rhetoric

drarry | E | 1k | kinktober, public sex, exhibitionism, sort-of enemies to lovers

Summary: Harry thought he was past being lured in by Malfoy’s dares.

Read on Ao3

“I dare you.”

Harry ignored him, glancing across the room of well-dressed gala attendees. It was tedious, one of the many little performances he was required to put on to maintain the goodwill and good behaviour of the political elite of their world. Malfoy loved it all though. He loved the formal robes and the glittering chandeliers that floated above the party, he loved the tiny hors d’oeuvres and the sparkling elfwine. He loved the pantomime of getting along.

“Come on, Potter, don’t be so fucking dull. I know you like the idea.” Malfoy paused, stepped close enough for Harry to catch the scent of him, and leaned in as though he was telling secrets. “You’re bored and I’m offering to help.”

His breath was warm against Harry’s ear. Harry stifled the shiver it prompted, but not quickly enough; the only person who noticed it was the only person he wanted to hide it from.

Malfoy lowered his tone, injected a breathy note of excitement to his voice that could have been entirely manufactured for all Harry knew. “You like the idea, don’t you? Dirty bastard.”

At the very moment Harry was about to deliver his stinging reply, the vast gong in the corner of the hall was battered by an over-enthusiastic waiter, and an usher came to hurry them to their seats.

Harry was put in pride of place at the top table—ready to give his speech and convince the landed elite of the wizarding world that donating vast sums of money to causes they shouldn’t need persuading to support was the sensible and elegant thing to do. Malfoy was seated next to him; he’d had the common sense to start throwing his money at good causes as soon as he was spared a sentence in the post-war trials.

At first Harry had thought it was pure self-interest, and he was still sure that accounted for at least eighty percent of Malfoy’s motivation, but Harry was on the board of governors of most of the charities Malfoy donated to, so he knew the sums he was donating and they were not insubstantial. These days Malfoy didn’t even talk about most of his philanthropy publicly, so it wasn’t like he was benefiting in any real way.

He was still a bastard though, and never failed to sidle up to Harry at parties and galas with a mean quip about someone’s outfit, or a suggestion so scandalous Harry would have to work not to blush.

Harry had learned to take it all with a pinch of salt though, even if sometimes he wondered whether Malfoy was actually just joking.

Benedict Hughes—rich, alcoholic, and a desperate social climber—was tonight’s host. He stood to a polite smattering of applause and began one of his infamously nasal and long-winded speeches of introduction—he was clearly pleased to have scored the prize of Harry Potter at his high table and made no attempt at subtlety in his exploitation of it. He opened his address by listing Harry’s medals of honour—awarded long after the war, when the Ministry decided a bit of a history rewrite was needed—and Harry immediately tuned out everything the man said.

“Utterly intolerable, isn’t he?” Malfoy whispered as he leaned in. He was probably only doing it to make it look like the two of them were friendly. They weren’t. They didn’t talk outside of these events. “I might actually fall asleep if I don’t take drastic action.”

Malfoy never fell asleep at parties—he glided around looking bright and engaged until the sun came up, he was the definition of a social butterfly and everyone loved him, even if he spent the entire the time criticising one half of the room to the other.

“You’re just annoyed it’s not you giving the speech,” Harry replied.

Malfoy hummed, then rearranged himself in his seat. “I’m annoyed because you used to be interesting. Can’t even rely on you to throw a punch, these days.”

“Is that what you want, then?”

Harry looked out across the room, more than fifty tables were filled with the beatifically smiling faces of people who had never been touched by the poverty this fundraiser was supposed to fight.

“I told you exactly what I want,” Malfoy muttered. And then his hand slipped under the table and he leaned against the side of his chair—it looked comfortable, insouciant, but it brought him within inches of Harry. Close enough to reach across and undo the zip of Harry’s finely tailored suit trousers.

“What the fuck are you doing, Malfoy?” Harry whispered, carefully maintaining the bland smile that was the particular mask he wore when he was being paraded on stage like this.

Malfoy’s hand was deft, he had his fingers trailing up and down Harry’s cock before Harry’s words were out of his mouth. Harry stared ahead, desperately trying not to give away what was happening. Malfoy’s hand was warm, and Benedict was droning on, and Harry was getting hard.

Malfoy laughed along with whatever asinine joke Benedict had made—Harry didn’t hear it, couldn’t hear anything above the roar of shocked arousal and pumping blood in his ears—and thumbed at Harry’s foreskin. It was wet now, with precome, which Malfoy smeared around to make the tiny, gentle twists of his wrist even slicker, smoother, more devastatingly aching. Harry held his breath.

“Potter,” Malfoy said, before he used his free hand to lift his wine and take a sip. “I’m going to make you come before dear old Benedict has finished his speech. I’ll even charm you clean before you have to stand up.”

“I’m not—”

Malfoy continued as though Harry hadn’t spoken. “You are.”

He was. He was dangerously close already; hundreds of eyes on him, and one hand, and Harry couldn’t think of anything but the strength of Malfoy’s fingers and how gently, how expertly they dragged pleasure out of him. If they got caught—he clenched his hands into fists, grit his teeth, and tried to ignore the way that thought made his belly hot and tangled with anticipation.

“You are going to come,” Malfoy said. “And then after this farce of a night, I’m going to let you bend me over and fuck a load into me. How’s that for fair play?”

Harry’s balls tightened. Fair play, indeed.

Read on Ao3

October 5th from this prompt list

Read the series here on Tumblr or here on Ao3

Written for day four @hpkinktober prompt Amortentia.

Thank you so so much to @rockingrobin69 for the wonderful beta and great cheerleading. You really helped my spirits.

Amortentia is fickle. It's a fickle potion, due to how its properties constantly change. The ingredients stay the same, Draco knows them like the back of his hand. But the smell changes — consistently.

He would brew small portions, to keep a few vials on hand. Wanting the shop to smell comforting, clean and welcoming with the potion happily bubbling in the far back, behind a closed door.

Everyone smelled something distinct, a sensitive nose to what was lingering around the bottles, trinkets and ingredients. All customers would comment on the fragrance of the shop, saying how lovely the smells always were. Many would comment on the familiarity, only changing the most miniscule amount. Draco always found that rather fascinating.

Were these people falling out of love? Did their heart split into two and the aroma linger on two or more objects of their affections? Draco always wondered and pondered. Others would stop in while browsing and compliment the new fragrance for today, making Draco aware of their own hearts wandering nature.

It was something to pass the time. Pure amusement when he would watch his customers’ eyes glaze lightly — the smell entrancing them for mere seconds. Shaking their heads and continuing on as if nothing had stopped them in their tracks.

He enjoyed this, but also did this for selfish reasons. His shop was home, and this helped solidify that notion. Smells being the closest to memory and emotion — Draco knew how his Amortentia smelled.

It never did change.

When Granger first walks into the shop, a tiny bell tinkling announcing her arrival, Draco is rather surprised. She asks about Valerian root, and what potions he has in stock for sleeping aid. He's still rather surprised she's even here, looking at his inventory and asking about proper sleep potions.

However, she does compliment how clean the shop is — and how gorgeous it smells.

"Like a crisp autumn morning and baked treats. A lot like treacle tart."

He knows his eyebrows raise to his hairline, and also knows she has to be smelling Weasley. Which is a little off-putting — but he thinks it's because Weasley has never really been his favorite person. He'd rather not know what he smells like.

Granger brings Potter into the shop a few days later. Draco finds it amusing how he ogles the crystals at one side of the shop, eyes wide with wonder. Poking at the magical plants in the corner and picking up a few potions for purchase.

Almost as if he hasn't been a wizard all his life.

They both walk towards the counter as Draco opens the till and the smell is so overwhelming that tears prickle his eyes as he raises a hand quickly to his nose.

"Are — are you alright?" Potter looks concerned and Granger has one brow raised in a quizzical expression.

"Yes — I thought I was going to sneeze. Pardon me."

Draco continues with their purchase, with the bouquet circling up and around his nose, filling his head and making him float.

It's broom polish, sandalwood with hints of citrus. Still the same after all these years —he just wasn't aware of who the potion portrayed.

Days go by, and he contemplates the idea of throwing away any and all of the potion that sits in his back room, behind the closed door. Wants to scrub the pearlescent liquid away and never have it trace his shop again.

But this smell — the one that smells of home and love. He's grown so accustomed to it, that he can't bring himself to toss the cauldron. Lets it simmer and sit like he always does. The incense and deep perfume still wafting throughout his shop as he sits in the back with the small sign on the door flipped to closed.

Granger is a regular now. Picking up items that she needs for additional health purposes, potions for Weasley and their tiny freckled baby at home. She's an interesting witch, though Draco will never speak that aloud to anyone — she invites him to the pub. His mouth hangs open and she smiles as he agrees and is now irritated with the predicament he's placed himself in.

He slides into the seat next to Granger as she passes him a glass of whiskey and a pint.

"I wasn't sure what you drank, so I grabbed the drinks I thought you might enjoy."

He smiles at her, and feels oddly at home.

Draco is well into his third pint when Potter stops by, sliding into the open seat next to him.

"Hello. Hermione did say that you'd be here this evening."

Potter grins and Draco's stomach jumps into his throat. He's never really been this close to Potter before and he smells exactly like his shop. He's mortified with himself and doesn't quite understand it.

The smell has never changed all these years.

"Did you work today?" Potter takes a sip from his glass, foam stuck to his beard as he dabs it away with a napkin.

"Earlier I did, yes." Draco sips on the small shot of whiskey, the burn sliding all the way down his throat.

"Ah, that makes sense — you smell just like your shop. It's like parchment and lavender. I always wondered how you made it smell so nice."

Draco chokes on the rest of his whiskey.

where would we be without those 60s housewives and their gay little kirk/spock fanzines. where would we fucking be

Just Harry :)

Does anyone have a link to a back-to-basics article about good fanfic practices, like standards of content and chapter length and such (speaking as an old fart who only wrote a couple of shitty one-shots back when lemons were a thing)

Slams the jjk intro music and dies instantly

person: you shouldn’t ship [ship name here] because it’s problematic

me, draped over a piano surrounded by rose petals and sipping wine: oh no